Thirty-Four Weeks

Showing off our big bellies. 

I feel so different. My energy nosedived a few days ago. I'm struggling to deal with the piles of baby clothes scattered around my apartment. Thankfully, after a three day weekend of working on them (and barely leaving the house, partially due to frigid temperatures but mostly due to my new and total inertia), I'm nearly done. But seriously? It took three days?

I'm having tons of BH contractions and as of today, lots of bladder pressure. I'm having an ultrasound tomorrow to find out, among other things, if Tree Leaf is still breech. I'll also have a biophysical profile and non-stress test because of celebrating my fortieth birthday a few months back.

It's strange to feel her moving these day -- she's definitely getting stronger and stronger, and sometimes I can absolutely feel bony baby limbs poking out at me.

Oh, and in a weird development, the scale moved up five pounds this week. I refuse to call this a five pound weight gain in one week because I think for whatever reason, I was gaining all along but just not showing it on the scale. I checked my blood pressure at work and it was normal at 109/61 so I've decided not to worry about it too much. With my midwife's unofficial blessing (because her collaborating physician doesn't totally approve), I went back on Metformin, though. Just to be on the safe side.

I met with my birth doula today and that went well. After she left, at her suggestion, I wrote a list of emergency contacts and taped it to the kitchen cabinet. I have multiple back up people for Calliope on there as well as my two labor support people and the local cab company. And my midwife, of course. I also wrote out Calliope's daily schedule.

Calliope and I continue to talk about the new baby a lot, mostly of her initiative. She's very excited and now that her best friend Eleanor has a brand new baby brother, she's getting impatient for Tree Leaf to arrive. She's also started requesting that we read The New Baby At Your House at every nap and bedtime (fantastic book; I highly recommend it!).

Last week's theme in playschool was Babies, and after reading a book about big siblings, Calliope reported to the teacher, "Ms Kate, I'm feeling jealous!"

I asked Calliope about it that night, wondering if she understood the word. She did, so I assured her that "it's normal for big brothers and sisters to feel jealous of new babies sometimes."

She earnestly asked me, "But Mommy, why don't we just love our new baby together???"

Be still my breaking heart.

I'm trying to use language of "our" new baby, and normalizing mixed emotions, but still, it gladdens my heart to see her so excited. Even though I know some regressions are to be expected.

I'm also more impatient with her lately, due to the fatigue, and I know that's bound to have behavioral repercussions if I continue. I feel guilty for snapping at her but my goodness, sometimes I just can't bear her ignoring my requests another moment. Or her acting out at the table. Today I actually ended lunch prematurely because she spit on her plate, then committed a few more infractions despite several threats. I think in this case I actually did the right thing but she still cried as if her heart was broken. She's never had food taken away before so I'm sure it was quite a rude shock. To be sure, I don't think she was still hungry or she wouldn't have been acting out. But still.

I've started listening to my Hypno.babies CD's every night and hope that this time around I will actually get to use them.

My doula asked today "are you sick of being pregnant yet?" and I was glad to be able to answer no. But I am definitely a little tired of being tired. Just a week ago I felt fantastic. I'm hoping that the cold I feel developing in my throat is the cause of this new fatigue, and not a pregnancy symptom that will last the next six (or more!) weeks... though I'm not optimistic.

Calliope is completely smitten with Baby Leo, and can't resist constant manipulation of his
poor defenseless body. He, oddly enough, puts up with it with good grace and typically drops off to
sleep despite all the loving attention. Praying we get such a tolerant baby in our family!

Thirty-Three Weeks

The belly was measuring 34 cm (so 34 weeks) at my visit with the midwife last week. And I finally gained some weight... I think I'm up 11.5 pounds, if memory serves.

I definitely see growth in the belly but my face looks strange to me. I can't tell if I am losing weight (from my face) or just looking haggard!

I'm still feeling fabulous, compared to a month ago, so I can't complain about the small increase in fatigue. I'm still less than motivated to get out for adventures, but have done lots more work around the house to be ready for the new baby... much of which isn't really related to babies. But having that looming deadline forced me to clean out my underwear drawer! Everything with holes in it went to textile recycling. And now I can easily open and close said drawer, and find underwear that's actually comfortable. Win.

My sister brought all my 0-6 month baby clothes from her basement this weekend. They are charmingly arranged in plastic garbage bags in the crib. Sigh. She also brought a giant load of 4T clothes for Calliope, who only started wearing 3T a few months ago but has suddenly outgrown at least half her clothing.

Saturday was my "sprinkle." I had a few last minute cancellations, so it was a small group of six friends and family... but perfectly lovely. I had a great time. It seemed very cozy and comfortable, with wonderful Middle Eastern food and a fabulous henna artist that my SIL had hired as my gift. She tattooed my belly first and then all the guests, except for the newborns, got a henna tattoo as well. The designs were beautiful.

Unfortunately, my belly didn't react so well to either the henna or the lemon juice/sugar mixture she recommended we apply afterwards to deepen the stain. So I woke up during the night the next time with intense itching, and have been applying prescription strength hydrocortisone and ice packs as needed. It's unpleasant but sort of funny, too.

Pregnancy buddies once again... we all have three and a half year olds and will soon all have newborns.

The babies (six day old Leo and 9 week old Nora) were clearly the stars of the show. 

Henna belly

Boundaries

My brother called me last week and laid into me, presenting me with a list of The Many Ways I Have Done Him Wrong. After the third or fourth item, which went back to something almost a year ago, I cut him off. I asked him if he could please just talk to me about issues that are recent, but he said "No, because this is a big trigger for me."

I told him I couldn't listen anymore, it was just too much, and I would get back to him.

A few days later, after much pondering, I sent him an email. I used a "Communication Wheel" that my sister shared with me last year. It seems like a good and healthy model that promotes relationship building, not tearing each other down.

In my email, I responded to the issues he had shared on the phone and shared just one of my own. He responded in a way that was generally agreeable and I hoped that we might be close to moving on. Then he sent his own list. Using his own, much more judgment-oriented model, which allowed for the expression of lots and lots of anger. It included items such as not sending a thank you note for his contribution to Calliope's college fund. Which he made when she was a newborn.

Let me be clear: I greatly appreciated the contribution. I thought I had caught up on all my thank you notes before I went back to work. When she was four months old. I guess I missed his. Oops.

The fact that he's still stewing about such an oversight boggles my mind. I'm not one to really care about things like receiving thank you notes, beyond wanting confirmation to make sure that a gift was received. But if it's an issue for him, golly, why not raise it, say, three years ago? Instead of stewing about it for all this time?

Other issues reach back pretty far as well, though that one gets the Blue Ribbon At the County Fair for longevity. Most of them I had no idea existed. And wouldn't have been a big deal if raised, individually, when they happened. But to receive a whole pile of them all together, along with heaps of judgment -- his supposedly work-approved communication model apparently allowing for judgments like "selfish," "self absorbed," and "petty" when mine used nothing like that -- plus a "so do you want to have a real relationship with me or do you want to have a superficial one" smack in the middle... I just felt tired. And hurt. And nothing in me wanted anything to do with having any relationship at all. I just wanted to walk away.

I talked to my sister the next day and she entreated me not to walk away. It would make it hard for her, she said, to be caught in the middle. Family is important, she reminded me. (I'm not at all clear why this is so.) She suggested that I write back to him and ask him to rewrite it in the model she had shared with me.

I finally just sent that request. Along with my very best attempt at being empathetic to his first two issues. I apologized for the ways I hurt him. I sent generous gifts, because he stated that that was very important to him (it's not to me, and he felt our gift giving was unequal). I reiterated his feelings (and even his judgments). But I only had it in me to do that for is first two issues. After that, I had nothing left. I couldn't bear to parse his words and his judgments another minute. It was tearing me to shreds.

So now I wait for his response.

What's so stinking hard about all this is that he has the ability to get into my head. To make me question if I am a good friend. After all, I rarely give gifts. What if all my friends think that I'm as shitty as he does? What if, gasp, my own darling child thinks that? What if everyone sees me as selfish?

It's especially hard because, as you loyal readers know, I'm well into my third trimester. I'm vulnerable. I'm trying to gather strength for this upcoming birth, and to welcome another child into my life. I met with a birth trauma counselor last week. She and my midwife have both talked to me about looking at my life as evidence of strength, as a way to encourage me in thinking about this upcoming (terrifying) birth. And it helped, a lot. Until I got this email. And suddenly the wind was taken out of my sails. My confidence in myself has plummeted.

I'm slowly talking myself in off the ledge. I don't see a lot of judgment in Calliope's face as she chatters away through the steamy glass door of my shower in the mornings. My friend Mike and his wife and toddler surely wouldn't have come over this weekend to assemble the crib and hang artwork if they thought so little of me, right? I actually texted my two closest friends to ask directly if they thought I was shitty and selfish. They both, of course, responded in the negative.

So I'm somewhat better if nowhere near fully recovered. I choked back tears today as I placed online orders for gifts . I feel no joy in giving these gifts, only that this is the price I must pay for making duty-bound attempts at family loyalty. I've never felt so bad giving a gift before.

And I dread getting his response. If he lashes out or simply refuses to rework his "issue list," I know that logically, I have the option of walking away. And that that is in my own best interest. But I'm scared that he won't just say "no" and leave it at that. That he will lash out once again and hurt me once again. Or god forbid, he will agree and somehow I will end up having to work through a painful list of issues all over again. Honestly, I would much prefer to just be done and to walk away. I don't want to know anymore the many ways I've failed him. I have a responsibility to my current and future child to be present for them. He's way far down the list below them. And currently, his issues are serving as an enormous distraction from them.

It sounds so silly, I know. If you know someone makes you feel bad, walk away. If someone says something that hurts, you have the choice not to listen. But my brother has inherited my narcissistic father's ability to wound, along with a deep working knowledge of my innermost vulnerabilities and a profound ignorance of his own failings.

So... tell me how have you worked to maintain your boundaries, to keep family from hurting you? When they are not so awful all the time as to be outlawed from your life, but not so trustworthy, either?

Thirty Two Weeks

32 weeks. Up a total of 10.5 pounds (regained most of last week's loss) but feeling pretty big.

32 weeks outtake. Because my expression looks so funny.
But I think this one more accurately captures how big my belly is.
This thing is going to grow for how many more weeks???

I am relieved and thrilled to share that the new reflux medication my primary care doctor prescribed has been... life changing. Proton.ix plus Zant.ac means I can eat again. I don't have heartburn. I don't have frequent stomach cramps and mad dashes to the bathroom six times a day and occasional nausea and bloating after every meal and the desire to stop eating just to avoid that feeling of overwhelming fullness All Night Long after even a small dinner. I feel... normal.

I mean, I still get full quickly. But I don't feel sick.

Tomorrow I start attempting to wean off the Zant.ac. My doctor said that if necessary, I can take it at night but to try not to take it in the morning with the Proton.ix.

... Edited to add, "tomorrow," that it didn't go so well. My stomach felt fine but I felt really short of breath. Even sitting at my desk and answering my phone left me panting. I called the doctor and on his advice, added the Zan.tac back in. If that didn't help in an hour, I was to go to the ER. I still feel a little short of breath, but I'm definitely better. So no ER trip, phew....

In the meantime, I haven't gone for my abdominal ultrasound or dealt with the stool testing kit because I feel so very normal and healthy. I feel like I've consumed quite enough health care resources without going for any more tests and appointments. Not to mention that I feel guilty calling on my support network for help with Calliope for all these appointments when I'm feeling fine. If I were sick, that would be another story.

But Amy, who shares the nanny with us, is forty-one weeks pregnant tomorrow. And while her mother in law is here to help with Eleanor, I still would rather not ask for more favors than I need.

Speaking of which... I'm just the teensiest bit envious of Amy right now. She's got a husband and four living, healthy, vibrant, energetic grandparents for her daughter. All of whom adore Eleanor. The sort of adoration that includes watching Eleanor so that her parents can go on adult vacations.

Meanwhile, I tried to talk to Susie, our nanny, tonight about extra help after the baby is born, if needed. It was an awkward conversation. I so strive to not put pressure on her, to just ask if she would be interested, for example, in staying over occasionally. Not to work the whole night, just to maybe take the early shift so that I could go to bed when Calliope does and sleep until midnight, say, then take over. I would pay her extra, of course. She got kind of hedgy and weird. And I totally understand that it's a lot, what with working the next day. But I kind of wish I could at least ask without it being weird. Even if she said no. But I think she hates to say no, so just kind of winces and raises her eyebrows and then I feel so damn awkward.

And then I feel pissed off that I have to ask. That I have to have a million back up plans, because I don't know if I will have another postpartum hemorrhage. I have a postpartum doula lined up for 20 hours so far, and I can ask her for more hours, if needed, but I can't reserve more hours without paying her. And I'm loathe to do that when I might be perfectly fine. I'm inclined to think that I will be fine. Taking care of a newborn just isn't that hard... unless something goes wrong. Or I get a difficult newborn. Apart from a week of spring break (starting nine days after my due date), I have fifty hours of child care per week for Calliope, as usual. Unfortunately, Eleanor and her parents (and infant brother, assuming he decides to arrive sometime soon!) will be away for about half of that spring break.

... Tomorrow again. I was feeling so damn cranky about this that I called Amy for advice. And on her suggestion, I emailed the doula and asked to reserve an additional 20 hours of postpartum help. I will view it as a gift from my late mother, since she can't be here to help me herself. And Calliope's playschool teacher mentioned that she's available the week of spring break, when the nanny is off, so I have already asked her to reserve some hours for us. And I clarified with my friend about her offers of help, and she said she can stay with me for a week, if necessary. I think it's more likely I might ask for an occasional overnight but it's good to have the option of more, just in case I need it.

Phew. So that anxiety has been dealt with, at least.

I must admit that my mood has taken a downturn for the last week or so. Usually I'm in a great mood while pregnant, so I'm not sure what's up. I've also had less motivation for adventures and leaving the house, so maybe the two are related. (Though I'm also finding myself more impatient with Calliope than usual. Suddenly I start to wonder if I even like kids, and if maybe I should have gotten a dog instead of getting pregnant.)

But meanwhile I'm panicking about my to do list. Like, I am just about done with Calliope's baby book -- I finished all of it except I decided I wanted to add a few more photos, just six more, so I ordered them and hope to pick them up today. But I also decided that I kind of hate her baby book, and that I really need to also do a photobook of her first year. But photos are saved all over the place, so I have to download some from one photo website, save them to my computer, then upload them to the new photo website. You know, the one that I have a coupon for.

Sigh.

I'm also panicking because I'm having a "sprinkle" next weekend, a very small shower for family and my very closest of friends, no gifts. And the apartment isn't ready. The crib isn't set up and photos aren't framed and hung and baby clothes aren't sorted and folded and put away. And suddenly I just have this giant need to have everything perfect and done.

I believe the technical term for this is nesting. And it may be perfectly normal but it's still annoying.

Thirty One Weeks

I've lost two pounds, so up a total of nine. The belly seems to be growing steadily, though.

Tree Leaf is definitely getting more active. A couple nights ago at bedtime she danced for ages... on my cervix. It was the most vigorous movement I've felt. I love feeling her, and will miss it, but it's certainly a strange sensation.

I went to my family doctor yesterday and got an EKG -- normal. He's switching me to a new reflux medicine, but wants me to take it for a week before I stop the current one. Hoping for better relief!

And he's having me stop the iron supplements, even the herbal one, and the Metformin (which I take for PCOS). And wants me to cut out dairy for a week. All to see if I get some relief. I'm very nervous about not treating my (borderline, by pregnancy standards) anemia, since I lost so much blood last time. But I can see that I need some relief from my GI symptoms NOW, so I will see if it helps.

In other news, Calliope's new latex mattress arrived yesterday! She's been sleeping in her new Big Girl Bed (I don't actually call it that, lest I cause a rebellion against growing up, what with the new baby coming) since last weekend, but with the crib mattress on top. So last night we got the new bed all set, with new fuzzy flannel sheets -- just like Mommy's! -- and her new soft mattress -- just like Mommy's! -- and her new purple quilt that she picked herself. Plus the ugly bed railing that we will use for at least a few days, until she's feeling more sure of herself in this tall bed.

She was very excited. Though it took ages for her to fall asleep.

And without my ever having said anything (except accidentally calling it a crib mattress in front of her), she said excitedly, "Now I can give my old mattress to my baby sister!"

Be still my beating heart.

I know that this really means nothing about how she will react to an actual sister, but still, I can't help but me optimistic.

Thirty Weeks

Up eleven pounds. Belly measuring 32 weeks.

This past week was HARD.

Friday night I got depressed, thinking how could I possibly be sick for ten or even twelve more weeks? It was just unthinkable.

I was struggling with what felt like yet another stomach bug, my fifth since the week before Thanksgiving. And terrible reflux. Monday I came to work 90 minutes late. I called in sick Tuesday and Wednesday. Thursday I came to work but had to take a break to lie down. And Friday, I worked for two hours and then went to the ER. Because on top of my GI symptoms, I was dizzy and occasionally short of breath.

Luckily my midwife was able to be with me at the hospital. Apart from my urine showing dehydration, all the tests came back normal. Well, I was still anemic.

So I got some IV fluids and felt a bit better and went home. I think with my stomach hurting so frequently, it's hard to eat or drink, and then I was having diarrhea, which meant I was losing more fluids. I felt like I had drunk a ton before I went to the ER but apparently not enough.

Saturday was another day of feeling bad. Just tons of stomach cramps.

But Sunday, hallelujah, I felt better! I actually slept in my own bed! Not propped up on the couch! And Monday was good, too. I mean, both days I had much less energy than I'm used to. And I barely left the apartment, which is exceedingly rare for me. But I organized Calliope's room -- which was strangely exhausting -- with her new bed and new shelves. So that was satisfying.

Unfortunately, I didn't eat smart on Monday night. My midwife had recently made an offhand comment about, "at some point you need to be able to eat some vegetables." And I was home for the day, so I made big trays of roasted cauliflower and roasted brussel sprouts. And I had generous servings of each, as least by my new standards of not being able to eat much. And, oh Nellie! What a terrible night I had. Searingly painful reflux despite trying every kind of medication under the sun. Eventually I had to take Zofran.

Tuesday was spent in recovery mode at work. Not able to eat much again. And today, Wednesday, I feel more distended than ever and like I am eating less. Sigh.

But at least I don't feel sick like I did last week. It's more reflex and distention making me feel sick now, as opposed to cramps and shortness of breath. So I guess I should be grateful.

I'm taking medications by the fistful, which feels very strange since I rarely take medicine when I'm not pregnant. And of course one hopes to avoid taking medication at all while pregnant. And I had acupuncture today and will go to the chiropractor on Friday, in hopes that both will help my reflux symptoms. Or whatever else ails me.

My midwife is sending me for a EKG, to make sure my heart isn't making me dizzy. I'm confident it's not, but I'm willing to get the test done if it isn't too inconvenient. And I'm supposed to get a stool analysis, to make sure I'm not carrying around a gut infection. The logistics of this, though, are leaving me stymied. I won't say more about that.

Mostly, I'm just tired of thinking about my digestion all the blessed time. And feeling bad every time I eat.

And now, it's time to rest at my desk... feeling sick once again.

Wearing a sundress, pulled down to her waist to make it into a "down skirt" -- she's obssessed
with skirts that come down to her ankles, strangely hard to find for the three year old crowd.
And all bundled up... except for a winter coat, which she refused.
Our compromise: she's cheerfully carrying it in a backpack on her back. 

Twenty-Nine Weeks -- Feeling Better!

Losing the separation between breast and belly? 

Long and lean girl with suddenly very long hair riding the bump

I'm thrilled to report that I think I've turned the corner on the reflux front! It finally occurred to me to try Zant.ac as a preventative med (one hour before meals instead of after eating, for relief of symptoms). Two days ago I did this in the morning and felt great... until I ate dinner. And then felt wretched all evening. And had to sleep on the couch, head propped up high while leaning on my left side to keep baby parts from pressing on my very sore right ribs.

And yesterday I remembered to take Zant.ac preventatively both morning and night and... I'm a new woman! I ate more food than I had in weeks! Which is not to say huge portions, but big in comparison. It felt amazing to actually get a little bit full!

And then to spend the whole night in my deliciously soft and cozy bed... ahh!!! (Except for when Calliope's diaper leaked, which NEVER happens, so I had to get up and change her sheets... naturally I was finally falling back to sleep when the alarm went off this morning.)

I also went to acupuncture twice this week and to the chiropractor once -- all on my lunch breaks -- to help with the reflux as well. The treatments were none too comfortable but I definitely felt better afterwards.

And I went bra shopping to a wonderful shop where the owner personally fits each woman. I probably tried on thirty different bras. And now I have a new bra that doesn't hurt my sore rib. Sitting in my office, wearing my too-big nursing bra with the hooks unfastened, just didn't feel as professional as I would hope for. So my new, surprisingly sexy (but not revealing) and comfortable bra is just the thing.

I'm feeling very, very grateful.

I'm definitely feeling bigger and a little less cute. I think I'm losing the distinction between breast and belly as they appear to meld together into one giant beach ball. My weight is up three pounds in three days (up to 11 total), and I definitely don't think I've actually gained that fast, but still, the belly is growing fast. My midwife said that I was measuring 31 cm this week at 28.5 weeks, but she thinks that's mostly positional -- the baby is in a partially transverse lie. Still, there's no doubt that Tree Leaf is growing, no matter how well or poorly I eat.

Once again, I'm just loving my midwife. I went in with lots of fears about my many BH (or real?) contractions and she put my mind at ease, and again urged me to call (her cell phone) whenever I am worried. She said, "that's why you chose to come to me!" I have this fear of being "that patient" but she really put my mind at ease. She also made me feel so much better about my guilt in taking so many medications. Although they are all Pregnancy Category B, I still have nameless fears about exposing my vulnerable fetus to them. She urged me to remember that first and foremost, I have to function.

God bless her.

I still have tons of BH contractions -- sometimes it feels like every time I stand up -- but they are a lot less worrisome to me now.

I'm feeling like the final eleven weeks of pregnancy are a lot less daunting now that I'm finally feeling better. For the time being, anyway. Hallelujah.

In the meantime, I suddenly panicked in mid December about how quickly time was flying by, and realized that waiting until my February break from work to do all my pre-baby preparation was not such a great idea. After all, by 35 weeks I might very well not have energy to be rushing around doing projects.

So I've swung into high gear. Though my work amuses me because last time around, it was all about the baby. And this time, I've yet to do a thing for the baby. It's all for my big girl.

So I ordered her a fabulous organic latex mattress -- telling her she's "big enough for a soft and cozy mattress like Mommy's" but carefully NOT calling it a Big Girl Mattress because apparently that can be threatening with a new baby getting all the attention -- and a "storage bed" with six drawers underneath, so I can use the dresser for the baby's clothes and not have to buy a new one. This week we picked out a fancy purple quilt for her new bed, and I ordered fuzzy white flannel sheets -- just like Mommy's! -- to go underneath. I moved her toys to her new, much larger, set of shelves, and took photos of all the toys. I ordered prints of those photos last night, and will use the prints to label the bins so she can find her things more easily. I also ordered, at last, some large photos to frame from our two recent photo shoots (in Prospect Park and in Cancun).

So I'm on a roll. Feeling better really helps. But getting things done is also very satisfying. Having a deadline is helpful that way. Just a few weeks until my "sprinkle" -- hoping to have the apartment mostly done and ready by then. But if not, my sister can help me do some organizing then. She will bring Calliope's baby clothes from her basement then, and also all her kids' outgrown 4T clothing, because my current child has sprouted up and it seems at less than three and a half that her age will no longer match her size. So there will be lots of clothing sorting to do but luckily that's not too strenuous.

Now we are on Baby Watch for Calliope's best friend Eleanor, whose mom is 38 weeks today! Eleanor will come to us when her mom goes into labor, and in exchange, Eleanor's parents will take Calliope when I go into labor. Amy's first labor was very quick, about six hours, so I think it will be a very quick hand off when the day arrives! Her hospital is easily an hour away so I've (somewhat but not entirely jokingly) offered to catch the baby (and my midwife offered to be phone support!) if things are moving too quickly. Hopefully it won't come to that!