It was a low-key, intimate family gathering.
I had much to be thankful for.
The plentiful and tasty food was only a small part of it.
November 23, 2007
These are the days
Yesterday was Thanksgiving.
It was a low-key, intimate family gathering.
I had much to be thankful for.
The plentiful and tasty food was only a small part of it.
It was a low-key, intimate family gathering.
I had much to be thankful for.
The plentiful and tasty food was only a small part of it.
August 15, 2007
Snapshots: Four months and counting
In less than one week, Evie will be five months old. I've finally figured out how this happened. It's based on the principles of Parent Time:
The Primary Principle of Parent Time
During the first three months of your child's life, time will slow to a near-standstill, forcing you to wonder, in a sleep-deprived haze, how a baby can remain two months old for an entire summer.
The Secondary Principle of Parent Time
After the first three months, your child will grow up with such alarming speed that the passage of time will accelerate until you are attending said child's high school graduation and simultaneously daydreaming about having a free weekend to put together the baby book.
The Primary Principle of Parent Time
During the first three months of your child's life, time will slow to a near-standstill, forcing you to wonder, in a sleep-deprived haze, how a baby can remain two months old for an entire summer.
The Secondary Principle of Parent Time
After the first three months, your child will grow up with such alarming speed that the passage of time will accelerate until you are attending said child's high school graduation and simultaneously daydreaming about having a free weekend to put together the baby book.
July 9, 2007
Would you read this book?
Premise: A book about caring for and nurturing your marriage (or long-term romantic relationship) in the first year of your child's life.
Tone: Informative and witty.
The authors: Me and Sam, in alternating chapters.
Working title: "There's no I in 'It's Your Turn for the 3 a.m. Feeding': The Teamwork Approach to New Parenthood"
Tone: Informative and witty.
The authors: Me and Sam, in alternating chapters.
Working title: "There's no I in 'It's Your Turn for the 3 a.m. Feeding': The Teamwork Approach to New Parenthood"
July 8, 2007
She's drooling at a four-month level!
As a new parent, it's easy to become obsessed with milestones.
I often pull out my copy of "What to Expect in the First Year" to see how Evie measures up against the monthly checklists.
In most areas, Evie is a superstar.
She is 3 1/2 months old, and she's already met some of the 5-month milestones: rolling over (effectively ending "tummy time" as we know it), bearing weight on her legs, and holding her head up like a pro.
I know it's normal for babies to reach some milestones early and others late, but there was one in particular that I was dying to see:
I often pull out my copy of "What to Expect in the First Year" to see how Evie measures up against the monthly checklists.
In most areas, Evie is a superstar.
She is 3 1/2 months old, and she's already met some of the 5-month milestones: rolling over (effectively ending "tummy time" as we know it), bearing weight on her legs, and holding her head up like a pro.
I know it's normal for babies to reach some milestones early and others late, but there was one in particular that I was dying to see:
June 20, 2007
Snapshots
Today is Evie's last day of that seldom-discussed age between 12 weeks and 3 months.
As children grow, the units for measuring their ages grow longer. People speak of 2-day-olds, 6-week-olds, 8-month-olds, and 4-year-olds.
People warn me to be careful, that children grow up too fast. Even though The World Before Evie feels like an old movie that was once recounted to me by a stranger, I'm starting to know what they mean.
And so I take snapshots, reminders that she will never be exactly the same again.
As children grow, the units for measuring their ages grow longer. People speak of 2-day-olds, 6-week-olds, 8-month-olds, and 4-year-olds.
People warn me to be careful, that children grow up too fast. Even though The World Before Evie feels like an old movie that was once recounted to me by a stranger, I'm starting to know what they mean.
And so I take snapshots, reminders that she will never be exactly the same again.
June 12, 2007
I loved...
When I was a child, I loved my animals.
Baby dolls were boring. Cabbage Patch Kids freaked me out. I only played Barbies under extreme duress from my friends.
I shared my bedroom with approximately two dozen stuffed animals. If I try hard, I can form hazy pictures of a few of them. A droopy-faced puppy with exaggerated sad eyes. A pink, heart-adorned bear who was a Valentine's Day gift. A lime-scented parrot from the Strawberry Shortcake collection. A panda of sorts.
There were all the others, and then there was Russ.
Baby dolls were boring. Cabbage Patch Kids freaked me out. I only played Barbies under extreme duress from my friends.
I shared my bedroom with approximately two dozen stuffed animals. If I try hard, I can form hazy pictures of a few of them. A droopy-faced puppy with exaggerated sad eyes. A pink, heart-adorned bear who was a Valentine's Day gift. A lime-scented parrot from the Strawberry Shortcake collection. A panda of sorts.
There were all the others, and then there was Russ.
May 29, 2007
T.G.I.F.M.L.A.
This is the last day of my maternity leave. It's been twelve weeks since my doctor advised a very pregnant me to stop working.
It is hard not to feel a twinge of disappointment in myself.
I didn't do a scrapbooking project. I didn't write every day. I didn't get in shape or read a great novel or test new cake recipes. I didn't figure out the secrets of training employees to be better critical thinkers and problem solvers.
On the other hand, I did a lot in twelve weeks.
It is hard not to feel a twinge of disappointment in myself.
I didn't do a scrapbooking project. I didn't write every day. I didn't get in shape or read a great novel or test new cake recipes. I didn't figure out the secrets of training employees to be better critical thinkers and problem solvers.
On the other hand, I did a lot in twelve weeks.
May 12, 2007
Elegy to a feeding
The crackle of the baby monitor jolts me out of a dream. The room is silent. I wonder if I dreamed the whole thing. A moment later, I hear the next in a series of staccato pleas that intensify as I throw off the down comforter and roll my legs toward the floor.
As I climb out of bed, I treat myself to a quick swig of water and a glance at the alarm clock. 3:00. Or maybe 3:15. But certainly no later than 3:30.
I perform a quick calculation on my way across the hall. Her last feeding was around 11:00. She fell asleep around midnight. Four hours between feedings. Three hours of sleep. Perfectly reasonable, for a newborn.
As I climb out of bed, I treat myself to a quick swig of water and a glance at the alarm clock. 3:00. Or maybe 3:15. But certainly no later than 3:30.
I perform a quick calculation on my way across the hall. Her last feeding was around 11:00. She fell asleep around midnight. Four hours between feedings. Three hours of sleep. Perfectly reasonable, for a newborn.
May 2, 2007
Six weeks is a lifetime: Things I've learned from my daughter
No matter how snugly I place it on her head, that hat will be gone the moment I turn around.
Yes, there is a difference among diaper brands.
Man has never created a baby toy as fascinating to gaze upon as the track lighting in my kitchen.
Compared to staying home, my job is really, really easy.
Sometimes it feels like the only thing standing between myself and greatness is a good night's sleep.
The Innocence Mission's "We Walked in Song" is the perfect soundtrack for feeding a baby at 3 a.m.
The vibration and white noise of a car engine can lull the angriest infant to sleep. That is, unless the car happens to be a hybrid.
When I look at Evie's hands, I see a resemblance to my own. It gives me chills every time.
I wouldn't mind spending a rainy afternoon being cuddled while wearing an ultra-soft pair of feet pajamas.
Chili's offers a wide selection of tasty entrees available for takeout.
I would offer my firstborn to the inventors of the Swaddle-Me wrap, the Hotsling, or the Soothie - except that my firstborn is Evie, and I wouldn't really need those products if she weren't in my care.
There is no sound more distressing than hearing my baby cry.
There is no sound sweeter than the absence of Evie's cries when I step out of the shower and realize she has fallen asleep in my absence.
Mothers who have time for scrapbooking frighten me.
The milestones have a way of clustering together. In one week, Evie started to smile, hold her head up, reach for things, and turn at the sound of a voice. She doesn't do any of these things consistently yet, but she seems like a different baby than she was last month.
I'm sorry that I ever described my cat as "high maintenance."
No matter how many pictures I take, it's not enough.
The idiom "sleeping like a baby" is silly, unless you're describing a fitful, 2-hour nap punctuated at 15-minute intervals by spit-up, wild flailing, and the occasional sleep snort.
BabyGap is a dangerous place.
Newborns are, in many ways, not ready to leave the womb. They're afraid and easily overwhelmed. They need a lot of comforting. Watching a baby's fear subside to curiosity, even in fleeting moments, feels like watching the "real" person being born.
It is impossible to own too many burp cloths.
Perhaps babies are not strong enough to sit up or roll over without months of practice, because all of their strength is concentrated in the grip of their tiny fingers.
Even if hunger wasn't the original problem, a snack can fix an otherwise inconsolable mood. (Unfortunately, this one applies to me, too, and unlike Evie, I'm not trying to triple my weight this year.)
Grocery shopping at 10 a.m. on a Thursday makes an ordinary Safeway feel like a luxury getaway.
The vibrate function on the pack-and-play was worth the extra $40.
Time takes on a new meaning in the presence of a baby: Somehow a month can pass in the blink of an eye, a half hour of crying can last an eternity, and six weeks can literally be a lifetime.
Yes, there is a difference among diaper brands.
Man has never created a baby toy as fascinating to gaze upon as the track lighting in my kitchen.
Compared to staying home, my job is really, really easy.
Sometimes it feels like the only thing standing between myself and greatness is a good night's sleep.
The Innocence Mission's "We Walked in Song" is the perfect soundtrack for feeding a baby at 3 a.m.
The vibration and white noise of a car engine can lull the angriest infant to sleep. That is, unless the car happens to be a hybrid.
When I look at Evie's hands, I see a resemblance to my own. It gives me chills every time.
I wouldn't mind spending a rainy afternoon being cuddled while wearing an ultra-soft pair of feet pajamas.
Chili's offers a wide selection of tasty entrees available for takeout.
I would offer my firstborn to the inventors of the Swaddle-Me wrap, the Hotsling, or the Soothie - except that my firstborn is Evie, and I wouldn't really need those products if she weren't in my care.
There is no sound more distressing than hearing my baby cry.
There is no sound sweeter than the absence of Evie's cries when I step out of the shower and realize she has fallen asleep in my absence.
Mothers who have time for scrapbooking frighten me.
The milestones have a way of clustering together. In one week, Evie started to smile, hold her head up, reach for things, and turn at the sound of a voice. She doesn't do any of these things consistently yet, but she seems like a different baby than she was last month.
I'm sorry that I ever described my cat as "high maintenance."
No matter how many pictures I take, it's not enough.
The idiom "sleeping like a baby" is silly, unless you're describing a fitful, 2-hour nap punctuated at 15-minute intervals by spit-up, wild flailing, and the occasional sleep snort.
BabyGap is a dangerous place.
Newborns are, in many ways, not ready to leave the womb. They're afraid and easily overwhelmed. They need a lot of comforting. Watching a baby's fear subside to curiosity, even in fleeting moments, feels like watching the "real" person being born.
It is impossible to own too many burp cloths.
Perhaps babies are not strong enough to sit up or roll over without months of practice, because all of their strength is concentrated in the grip of their tiny fingers.
Even if hunger wasn't the original problem, a snack can fix an otherwise inconsolable mood. (Unfortunately, this one applies to me, too, and unlike Evie, I'm not trying to triple my weight this year.)
Grocery shopping at 10 a.m. on a Thursday makes an ordinary Safeway feel like a luxury getaway.
The vibrate function on the pack-and-play was worth the extra $40.
Time takes on a new meaning in the presence of a baby: Somehow a month can pass in the blink of an eye, a half hour of crying can last an eternity, and six weeks can literally be a lifetime.
April 8, 2007
Evie's first Easter
Today has been Easter.
It was Evie's first holiday.
To prepare, Sam and I ventured to BabyGap and bought her an irresponsibly cute dress.
This morning, we brought her to church, where I was terrified of being Those People With the Baby.
Nobody wants to sit next to Those People. The baby invariably screams, the parents try to act nonchalant, and everyone in a 3-pew radius misses the sermon on Christian charity because they're too busy casting dirty looks at Those People With the Baby.
It was Evie's first holiday.
To prepare, Sam and I ventured to BabyGap and bought her an irresponsibly cute dress.
This morning, we brought her to church, where I was terrified of being Those People With the Baby.
Nobody wants to sit next to Those People. The baby invariably screams, the parents try to act nonchalant, and everyone in a 3-pew radius misses the sermon on Christian charity because they're too busy casting dirty looks at Those People With the Baby.
April 5, 2007
Getting to know Mom
It's hard for me to believe, but I've successfully kept Evangeline alive for over two weeks now.
Of course, I can't take all the credit. Sam unlocked his latent super-Dad gene, and my mother just left town two days ago. Nonetheless, I feel proud of my accomplishments in the field of motherhood.
I regret that I haven't written anything in two weeks, because somewhere along the way, I feel like I've become a new person. I can't pinpoint the exact moment when I started thinking like a mother (it wasn't the moment she was born - I was still just me, except I had a messy little human flailing on my chest), but I can tell you about some of the things that have changed in that time:
Of course, I can't take all the credit. Sam unlocked his latent super-Dad gene, and my mother just left town two days ago. Nonetheless, I feel proud of my accomplishments in the field of motherhood.
I regret that I haven't written anything in two weeks, because somewhere along the way, I feel like I've become a new person. I can't pinpoint the exact moment when I started thinking like a mother (it wasn't the moment she was born - I was still just me, except I had a messy little human flailing on my chest), but I can tell you about some of the things that have changed in that time:
March 21, 2007
Baby day: A running commentary
8:20 a.m.:
Mood: Bored but cheerful. Pain level: Minimal. Baby: Snug as a bug in a rug.It's been four hours since we checked into the hospital, and I've finally figured out how to a) connect to the wireless network, b) type with one arm connected to an IV and the other wrapped in a blood pressure cuff, while c) not dislodging the fetal monitor.
Here are some of my observations from this morning: (I am functioning off approximately two hours of sleep, so I apologize if they lack in profundity):
3 a.m. just might be the worst possible time to try to wake up for any reason.
Mood: Bored but cheerful. Pain level: Minimal. Baby: Snug as a bug in a rug.It's been four hours since we checked into the hospital, and I've finally figured out how to a) connect to the wireless network, b) type with one arm connected to an IV and the other wrapped in a blood pressure cuff, while c) not dislodging the fetal monitor.
Here are some of my observations from this morning: (I am functioning off approximately two hours of sleep, so I apologize if they lack in profundity):
3 a.m. just might be the worst possible time to try to wake up for any reason.
A cavalcade of late-night emotions
It's midnight.
In five hours, I'll be checking into the hospital. Then, if all goes as planned, it is highly probably that my daughter will be born sometime tomorrow.
It's almost too much to comprehend.
I'm running the gamut of emotions right now.
I'm scared. Even though I trust medical technology and I'll sign up for all the drugs I can get, there will be parts of tomorrow that are going to hurt like hell.
In five hours, I'll be checking into the hospital. Then, if all goes as planned, it is highly probably that my daughter will be born sometime tomorrow.
It's almost too much to comprehend.
I'm running the gamut of emotions right now.
I'm scared. Even though I trust medical technology and I'll sign up for all the drugs I can get, there will be parts of tomorrow that are going to hurt like hell.
March 17, 2007
3 Open Letters
Dear Cadbury Company,
I understand that, in the Christian tradition, Lent is a time of conscious suffering. Enduring Gestational Diabetes while your delicious products beckon from the grocery shelves has been my personal walk through the desert (on swollen feet).
For weeks, I have come face-to-egg with your purple displays when entering Safeway to buy protein shakes and pick up insulin refills. I have turned away from the strategically placed baskets of creme eggs at the gas station counter and feigned interest in polyester roses and tasteless keychains. I have resisted the urge to break open one of your smooth chocolate eggs and lick out the sweet goo inside while drifting blissfully into a diabetic coma.
I understand that, in the Christian tradition, Lent is a time of conscious suffering. Enduring Gestational Diabetes while your delicious products beckon from the grocery shelves has been my personal walk through the desert (on swollen feet).
For weeks, I have come face-to-egg with your purple displays when entering Safeway to buy protein shakes and pick up insulin refills. I have turned away from the strategically placed baskets of creme eggs at the gas station counter and feigned interest in polyester roses and tasteless keychains. I have resisted the urge to break open one of your smooth chocolate eggs and lick out the sweet goo inside while drifting blissfully into a diabetic coma.
March 8, 2007
What's in a Ras-Birthday?
There's a Ras-Birthday on the horizon.
This morning, my doctor told me that, barring any unforeseen developments, she'd like to induce labor on March 21st.
It's reassuring to have the date set. It's a bit later than I expected (39 weeks and 1 day), but Rasbaby's doing so well that my doctor doesn't feel the need to rush things.
I've always been fascinated by birthdays.
Throughout the world, throughout human history, we have tried to understand people based on when they were born. Astrology, numerology, the Chinese zodiac, the Roman Calendar of Saints... all of them tell us that a fundamental piece of our identity or our destiny is determined by the date that we emerge from the womb.
If that's true, then might scheduled inductions and C-sections disrupt the balance of the cosmos?
This morning, my doctor told me that, barring any unforeseen developments, she'd like to induce labor on March 21st.
It's reassuring to have the date set. It's a bit later than I expected (39 weeks and 1 day), but Rasbaby's doing so well that my doctor doesn't feel the need to rush things.
I've always been fascinated by birthdays.
Throughout the world, throughout human history, we have tried to understand people based on when they were born. Astrology, numerology, the Chinese zodiac, the Roman Calendar of Saints... all of them tell us that a fundamental piece of our identity or our destiny is determined by the date that we emerge from the womb.
If that's true, then might scheduled inductions and C-sections disrupt the balance of the cosmos?
March 1, 2007
Due to medical conditions, Monica is excused from gym class for the rest of the semester
If you read last night's blog, you might be wondering where I (and Rasbaby) ended up after today's checkup.
I'm not in the hospital, and I'm sitting up in a chair, so things went better than I expected.
My blood pressure was borderline-high, so my doctor wrote a note officially excusing me from any professional responsibilities until at least 6 weeks after Rasbaby's arrival. Tomorrow will be my last day at the office, where I intend to tidy up my desk and hand off my projects to other people for the next couple of months.
Once I stop working, I don't need to start bed rest yet. I can remain reasonably active, although my doctor did recommend I avoid unnecessary stress and sodium.
And what about my favorite little fetus?
She's doing great. Her heart rate and activity level are quite healthy, so there's no reason to rush her delivery at this point. We'll let her stay where she is, at least through the weekend, and check up on her again next Monday.
There's a part of me that's disappointed to spend a portion of my maternity leave baby-less. That's another week - or two or three - that I could have spent at home being a mother.
On the other hand, I feel like I've been handed an amazing gift. I've been specifically ordered to stop working, relax, and concentrate on improving my own physical and emotional conditions. How often does anyone get this opportunity?
Maybe I'll put together an MP3 playlist for when I'm in labor. Maybe I'll finally pack my suitcase for the hospital (I'll probably need more than just makeup and Cadbury Creme Eggs). Maybe I'll go to Babies R Us on a weekday and finish decorating the nursery. Maybe I'll print out all my baby-themed blogs and paste them into a nice journal for Rasbaby's future reading.
Or maybe I'll just sleep a lot, storing up some energy reserves for midnight feedings and diaper changes.
Or maybe, the minute I'm finally able to relax and savor my time alone, my water will break and the next adventure will begin.
Either way, I'm determined to enjoy these next few days - or perhaps weeks - of focusing first and foremost on myself. Such opportunities are dwindling by the minute. I can't make them last, but I can make them count.
I'm not in the hospital, and I'm sitting up in a chair, so things went better than I expected.
My blood pressure was borderline-high, so my doctor wrote a note officially excusing me from any professional responsibilities until at least 6 weeks after Rasbaby's arrival. Tomorrow will be my last day at the office, where I intend to tidy up my desk and hand off my projects to other people for the next couple of months.
Once I stop working, I don't need to start bed rest yet. I can remain reasonably active, although my doctor did recommend I avoid unnecessary stress and sodium.
And what about my favorite little fetus?
She's doing great. Her heart rate and activity level are quite healthy, so there's no reason to rush her delivery at this point. We'll let her stay where she is, at least through the weekend, and check up on her again next Monday.
There's a part of me that's disappointed to spend a portion of my maternity leave baby-less. That's another week - or two or three - that I could have spent at home being a mother.
On the other hand, I feel like I've been handed an amazing gift. I've been specifically ordered to stop working, relax, and concentrate on improving my own physical and emotional conditions. How often does anyone get this opportunity?
Maybe I'll put together an MP3 playlist for when I'm in labor. Maybe I'll finally pack my suitcase for the hospital (I'll probably need more than just makeup and Cadbury Creme Eggs). Maybe I'll go to Babies R Us on a weekday and finish decorating the nursery. Maybe I'll print out all my baby-themed blogs and paste them into a nice journal for Rasbaby's future reading.
Or maybe I'll just sleep a lot, storing up some energy reserves for midnight feedings and diaper changes.
Or maybe, the minute I'm finally able to relax and savor my time alone, my water will break and the next adventure will begin.
Either way, I'm determined to enjoy these next few days - or perhaps weeks - of focusing first and foremost on myself. Such opportunities are dwindling by the minute. I can't make them last, but I can make them count.
February 28, 2007
Ready or not.... here she comes.... maybe?
Be ready.
Ever since I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes over two months ago, my doctor has been trying to prepare me for the possible medical interventions that Rasbaby and I might need.
Be ready for a lot of medical tests. Be ready for an amniocentisis. Be ready for a C-section.
The semi-weekly non-stress tests haven't been so bad. Leaving work early every Monday and Thursday so that I can spend half an hour in an overstuffed recliner listening to Rasbaby's heartbeat and counting her kicks... hell, I'd pay for that experience even if my health insurance didn't.
Ever since I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes over two months ago, my doctor has been trying to prepare me for the possible medical interventions that Rasbaby and I might need.
Be ready for a lot of medical tests. Be ready for an amniocentisis. Be ready for a C-section.
The semi-weekly non-stress tests haven't been so bad. Leaving work early every Monday and Thursday so that I can spend half an hour in an overstuffed recliner listening to Rasbaby's heartbeat and counting her kicks... hell, I'd pay for that experience even if my health insurance didn't.
February 11, 2007
A very Ras-baby shower
Yesterday, Sam and I attended a baby shower thrown in our honor.
Even though they're usually hokey, I love baby and bridal showers. I love helping people celebrate joyful milestones. I love giving gifts.
Mostly, I love the feeling of anticipation that permeates the air at a shower. Unlike a wedding or a birthday party, a shower celebrates something that hasn't happened yet. It's a day of pure, unabashed optimism.
It's a shame that people only seem to throw showers for babies and weddings.
We all need more parties to celebrate the wonderful things that haven't happened to us yet.
Even if we don't know what they are.
Even though they're usually hokey, I love baby and bridal showers. I love helping people celebrate joyful milestones. I love giving gifts.
Mostly, I love the feeling of anticipation that permeates the air at a shower. Unlike a wedding or a birthday party, a shower celebrates something that hasn't happened yet. It's a day of pure, unabashed optimism.
It's a shame that people only seem to throw showers for babies and weddings.
We all need more parties to celebrate the wonderful things that haven't happened to us yet.
Even if we don't know what they are.
February 2, 2007
Rasbaby update
Yesterday, I went to the doctor for a Rasbaby checkup. It was great to see her on the ultrasound, although I'm a little disappointed that I didn't get to take home any photos.
Here's what I learned about my favorite little fetus:
She weighs approximately 4 pounds 5 ounces, which is right on track for her gestational age. I'm very relieved, because diabetic mothers tend to have freakishly huge babies. But Rasbaby is just the right size, and she's expected to gain about 1/2 pound a week until she is born.
I can leave the "Someday, I'll Demand a Pony" onesie on the gift registry, because she is definitely still a girl. No surprises have popped up since we last saw her at 18 weeks.
She has long legs. I don't know how long, but my doctor pointed out and complimented Rasbaby's femurs. I wouldn't be surprised if she turned out to be tall; I just hope she doesn't tower over me the way I tower over my mother, since I'm 5'10". On the other hand, perhaps in 20 years, 6-foot tall women will be the norm.
She has assumed the head-down position that babies are supposed to get into before birth. Her feet are just above my belly button, and the hearty pummeling I feel in my mid-section is coming from Rasbaby elbows.
She's an active little fetus, simultaneously impressing and annoying the doctor's staff with her ability to wriggle away from a heart monitor as soon as it's in place.
Even though she's getting her oxygen through the umbilical cord, Rasbaby is already practicing breathing. That's a really good sign; I couldn't be prouder of my little overachiever.
All the little details - heart rate, amniotic fluid level, etc. are exactly as they should be.
It's a tremendous relief to know that Rasbaby is healthy, strong, and appears to be well-equipped for a few more weeks in the womb. I'm also pretty healthy, all things considered, and there has been no talk of bed rest or starting maternity leave early.
Now, the biggest remaining question is, When?
Because my diabetes makes things a bit riskier, my doctor will continue to peek in via ultrasound every week. If things do happen to go awry, I have to be prepared for the possibility of an early baby.
If Rasbaby needed to be born tomorrow, she would eventually be fine, although she would need a stint in the ICU before coming home.
If she can stay put until March, I should be able to dress her in some cute newborn clothes, put a hat on her little head, and bring her home from the hospital when I check out. Who knows - I might even have her nursery ready by then.
If you want to send Rasbaby some positive psychic energy, just remember: March over February. Aquamarine over amethyst. Pisces over Aquarius (although I would welcome another Aries into my home, if push came to shove).
But no matter when she arrives, I trust that everything will happen exactly as it should. She's a good baby. A strong baby. And she's got her mother's femurs.
Here's what I learned about my favorite little fetus:
She weighs approximately 4 pounds 5 ounces, which is right on track for her gestational age. I'm very relieved, because diabetic mothers tend to have freakishly huge babies. But Rasbaby is just the right size, and she's expected to gain about 1/2 pound a week until she is born.
I can leave the "Someday, I'll Demand a Pony" onesie on the gift registry, because she is definitely still a girl. No surprises have popped up since we last saw her at 18 weeks.
She has long legs. I don't know how long, but my doctor pointed out and complimented Rasbaby's femurs. I wouldn't be surprised if she turned out to be tall; I just hope she doesn't tower over me the way I tower over my mother, since I'm 5'10". On the other hand, perhaps in 20 years, 6-foot tall women will be the norm.
She has assumed the head-down position that babies are supposed to get into before birth. Her feet are just above my belly button, and the hearty pummeling I feel in my mid-section is coming from Rasbaby elbows.
She's an active little fetus, simultaneously impressing and annoying the doctor's staff with her ability to wriggle away from a heart monitor as soon as it's in place.
Even though she's getting her oxygen through the umbilical cord, Rasbaby is already practicing breathing. That's a really good sign; I couldn't be prouder of my little overachiever.
All the little details - heart rate, amniotic fluid level, etc. are exactly as they should be.
It's a tremendous relief to know that Rasbaby is healthy, strong, and appears to be well-equipped for a few more weeks in the womb. I'm also pretty healthy, all things considered, and there has been no talk of bed rest or starting maternity leave early.
Now, the biggest remaining question is, When?
Because my diabetes makes things a bit riskier, my doctor will continue to peek in via ultrasound every week. If things do happen to go awry, I have to be prepared for the possibility of an early baby.
If Rasbaby needed to be born tomorrow, she would eventually be fine, although she would need a stint in the ICU before coming home.
If she can stay put until March, I should be able to dress her in some cute newborn clothes, put a hat on her little head, and bring her home from the hospital when I check out. Who knows - I might even have her nursery ready by then.
If you want to send Rasbaby some positive psychic energy, just remember: March over February. Aquamarine over amethyst. Pisces over Aquarius (although I would welcome another Aries into my home, if push came to shove).
But no matter when she arrives, I trust that everything will happen exactly as it should. She's a good baby. A strong baby. And she's got her mother's femurs.
January 31, 2007
Remember when I was only slightly pregnant?
I used to think it was silly to speak of pregnancy in anything but absolutes.
Could someone really be "very pregnant" or "kind of pregnant?" Wasn't it a yes/no situation? A matter of black and white, or, as the test would indicate, pink or clear?
Now I know the answer.
I can state, with confidence, that I officially feel "very pregnant."
Could someone really be "very pregnant" or "kind of pregnant?" Wasn't it a yes/no situation? A matter of black and white, or, as the test would indicate, pink or clear?
Now I know the answer.
I can state, with confidence, that I officially feel "very pregnant."
January 17, 2007
Where's the stork when you need him?
I can't stop thinking about the ship in the bottle.
It's a visual paradox.
Most people see the ship and wonder, "How did it get in there?"
I'm contemplating the neck of the bottle and instead thinking, "How badly would you have to damage the bottle to get that sucker out?"
It's a visual paradox.
Most people see the ship and wonder, "How did it get in there?"
I'm contemplating the neck of the bottle and instead thinking, "How badly would you have to damage the bottle to get that sucker out?"
January 6, 2007
Black ice & beige gravy: an eventful Friday night
I was going to stop by Happy Hour, have a Diet Coke with my beer-loving friends, and then head home. I needed to eat dinner no later than 6:30. Perhaps I would have salmon. Then, I might visit MySpace or check in on my Sims.
I was thinking rather mundane thoughts as I stepped off the curb into the office parking lot, momentarily contemplating its icy treachery as I found a seemingly safe patch of pavement on which to place my shoe.
Crash.
In a split second, I was thinking of nothing at all.
My face was pressed against the cold, wet pavement. The contents of my purse were spilled at my side. My laptop case was ten feet in front of me.
I was thinking rather mundane thoughts as I stepped off the curb into the office parking lot, momentarily contemplating its icy treachery as I found a seemingly safe patch of pavement on which to place my shoe.
Crash.
In a split second, I was thinking of nothing at all.
My face was pressed against the cold, wet pavement. The contents of my purse were spilled at my side. My laptop case was ten feet in front of me.
January 4, 2007
Not just a river in Egypt
I can't believe it's already 2007.
The last few weeks seem to have flashed by in fast-forward.
Rasbaby's negative-first Christmas.
Boxing Day.
Back to work again, then another long weekend.
I enjoyed my most pleasant New Year's Eve in several years. Even though the bar was excruciatingly low, it was still a good time.
The last few weeks seem to have flashed by in fast-forward.
Rasbaby's negative-first Christmas.
Boxing Day.
Back to work again, then another long weekend.
I enjoyed my most pleasant New Year's Eve in several years. Even though the bar was excruciatingly low, it was still a good time.
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