House is Clean, Cats are Traumatized

The floors are very clean. Of course, we still have piles of clutter but the areas around the clutter are sparkling clean. The Molly Maids were very sweet and wanting to hear all about the baby on the way. The one named Eema* had a very thick accent, though, and I’m not sure she and I were always having the same conversation. She probably wasn’t at all interested in hearing about the baby, but when in doubt I just volunteered baby information.

When Eema was cleaning the bedroom it gave us a good twenty minutes of alone time together. I got hopelessly lost in the conversation and I felt bad that I was saying “What was that?” every five seconds. So I just started nodding a lot. At one point, I swear she told me that her son was studying to be a priest but then came out as gay and had to quit his studies. That sounded like an extraordinarily interesting revelation, but I couldn’t be sure that was what she said. I had been nodding for so long and was so lost that I couldn’t possibly ask for clarification without exposing my poor listening skills and my shameful façade of head nods. She looked at me, obviously expecting a certain reaction to what she had just said. I stared at her wide-eyed, hoping for some additional cue on how to respond because I really wasn't at all sure of what she said. It was exactly like that moment in the movies when you can hear a clock ticking, even if there are no clocks around. Finally, Eema said “So that has been hard” and I quickly said “I bet.”

I really wanted to ask more questions, but my ego wouldn’t let me because my phony nods would be exposed. Oh, the shame! *sigh* I win the number one phony baloney award.


Anyway... the maids have come and gone and the house is now much cleaner. Since all the kids are doing it these days, how about I just sum things up with a haiku:

two maid tornado
leaving in its wake pine scent
and terrified cats




*gong*


That’s some high quality faux Japanese poetry right there. Yep, I like to bring a little class to the blog… a little art for art’s sake…a little turtleneck wearing…a little NPRishness… a little buying-an-obscure-album-to-display-but-never-listen-to-ness… you know what I mean. I’m bringing a little of that the blog.

Alright, I’ve got to focus on comforting the kitties now,




*actual spelling may vary

We have an ETA on the Boy!

Induction is scheduled to begin July 30th. Wah-hoooooo!!!!! This is assuming Alexander isn’t twirling his invisible mustache right now and secretly planning a surprise. The doctor said it could take a couple days of labor before the actual delivery happens. Niiice. So the boy will probably arrive on July 31st or August 1st.

The doctor was explaining to me what I could expect. In addition to two separate labor-inducing drugs, I will be put on a “nasty drug” called Magnesium Sulfate. Yes, those quotation marks do reflect a direct quote from my doctor. Not the words I wanted to hear, but I appreciate that she wasn’t sugar-coating things… like when a dentist tells you ‘you may feel a tickle’ as they start up the drill and immediately strike a nerve. *shaking fist in general direction of local dentist’s office*

Anyway, this drug is to prevent seizures, which is a risk for pre-eclamptic preggosauruses such as myself. Reducing the risk of seizures is obviously a good thing, but this drug has some unfortunate side effects like vomiting, muscle weakness, overheating and severe headache. Good times! I’ll have to stay on it throughout labor and for 24 hours after delivery. I feel most sorry for my labor coaches (Tim and mom)… not only will I be whining over labor pains, I’ll also be wrecked on this anti-seizure drug. I’m sure they’ll be fighting over the privilege to hold the puke bucket. I can already sense that I’ll need to send them both an FTD I’m Sorry Bouquet™ when this is all done.

Well, however the boy arrives into this world doesn’t really matter. Just as long as he gets here safely. Still, my hippie dreams of having a totally natural drug-free childbirth have gone to pot (so to speak). I can still, of course, refuse an epidural or pain meds… but my doctor urged me to keep an open mind about things and reminded me that induced labors tend to be both longer and more painful than labors that start on their own. I called her “Dr. HippieDreamCrusher”, threw my pee jug at her and left. (There’s yet another FTD I’m Sorry Bouquet ™ I need to order.)






PS- the Molly Maids are here right now! They are my new best friends.

Our Big Little Guy

I had an ultrasound today in which the boy measured 5 lbs, 12 oz!!! Holy cow. This kid is off the charts HUGE. Maybe it’s a good thing the doctor’s won’t let me go to 40 weeks. If I did, and this trend continued, I project that I’d be pushing a full grown 185 lb man. Instead of coming out crying, he’d come out saying in a deep baritone “Hello, mother. That was rather unpleasant, wasn’t it? Perchance do you have a wet-nap?” (Well, maybe he wouldn’t be quite that big… I’ll have to recheck my math on that.)

My mom (Alexander’s Grandma) came along with me to the appointment today, which was really fun. Despite the archaic ultrasound equipment they were using, the tech got a few interesting views. The baby was opening and closing his hand, as if he were waving at my mom … so he is already making his grandma very proud and happy! That’s a sizable portion of his job description right there, so he is already outstanding in the field of baby excellence.

Tim’s World

As you can imagine, I spend many hours a week in the doctor’s office. The office visits are seriously a part-time job in themselves as they can take several hours each, and they are often placed right in the middle of the day so as to ensure maximum inconvenience. Tim’s really gone to more appointments than the average dad, and met all the doctor’s at the practice … so he’s already earned his kick-butt Dad-to-Be stripes. Since my appointment schedule has gone into overdrive, Tim doesn’t usually go with me so that he can go about building his (evil) audio and video empire.

We have a role reversal today, though, as Tim is going to an appointment and I am staying home. No, they aren’t slathering his belly with goo and strapping him down with various monitoring devices (as far as I know). He is actually out interviewing our potential pediatrician right now.

I picked the pediatrician because she is down the hall from our family doctor, and in her bio she said she had two grade-school age kids and a Labrador Retriever. OK, it was the lab that really tipped the scales for me. Someone with an outstanding dog must also be an outstanding doctor. It was hard to come up with good questions… but I knew we were supposed go in with questions ready. At first, all I could come up with is…
(1) So… you like kids?
(2) How is your dog?
(3) Did you ever see that one episode of Seinfield where the pediatrician referred to both an ugly baby and Elaine as breathtaking? It was funny.

But thanks to a consultation with Dr. Google, Tim and I came up with some better ones. So Tim is grilling the doctor with questions right now, and hopefully making good use of that extra bright interrogation light I sent along with him. The thing is, I am sure we’ll use her unless Tim comes home and says she is just way too twitchy.

When he's not out playing 'good cop/bad cop' with the interrogation light, Tim has been keeping really busy with his audio/video empire building work. He spent most of yesterday “making sibilance” into each of his gazillion microphones. It’s for some… thing… with a compressor… and… this guy…??? I don’t know. I try really hard to understand audio engineering stuff, but I get confused and inevitably get the story completely wrong. I really do try, though. I just don’t have the techie brain for it so everything he says about compressors and preamps and patchbays and buses barely manages to get into my ears before my brain scrambles it into the sound of Charlie Brown’s teacher (“wha-wha-whant-wha-whan”)

In addition to the studio building stuff, he’s also been busy working on two video commercial projects, as well as a music video for a neighbor. So he’s been bringing home some fine bacon.

And that is Tim’s World…as far as I can tell. Actual “Tim World” may vary.

Slothy Wife Calls Maid Service

While Tim’s been bringing home the bacon, I’ve just been bringing home artificial bacon bits. It’s weird that I am still getting a paycheck from work seeing as I am not working. I’m using sick time. Every time I see a paycheck come in through the mail, I just think “suuuckers”. It doesn’t seem like I should be getting paid for slothing around at home. It feels very unearned, and like I said, very artificial-bacon-bity.

I am thinking about getting this book for Tim to help him understand my transformation:



Well, it's been less of a transformation and more a magnification of my pre-existing slothy traits.

I figured I’d really pile on the baby weight since all I am doing is lounging around and eating large amounts of ice cream. Surprisingly, load mode has resulted in my dropping about 8 lbs in the last two weeks. The doctor said that is normal and it is due to a reduction in swelling. I still have a lot of swelling – but now it is more in my hands and face and legs rather than my feet and ankles. Mmmm…gravity. So I am celebrating the re-emergence of my ankles, but sadly my hands are now like two big potatoes. I can’t even make a closed fist anymore. Whenever I pet Cow with my clumsy potato hand, I can’t help but say “I'm gonna love her, and squeeze her and call her Cow."

Due to my potato hands and load-mode status, you can imagine what our kitchen looks like. Not pretty. It’s not that I’ve ever been a clean-freak (my parents would be happy to show you embarrassing pictures of my teenage bedroom to prove it) but I always like to keep the kitchen nice… and now look at it:



OK, that isn’t our kitchen… but you get the idea. Just take it down a couple of notches, and that’s almost semi-sorta-kinda-close to the squalor level of our kitchen. But Tim has made me the happiest slothy wife in the world by agreeing to let me have a maid service come in and clean one afternoon. I know!! How la-tee-dah, huh?

As excited as I am, I felt soooo weird calling up Molly Maids and asking for someone to come clean the house. I felt like I was really apologizing as I called and trying to justify why I would even need their services. It’s not like I work an 80-hour week or travel a lot, which I suspect is the case for most of their clientele. So when the maids show up and I am at home, they are going to be like “Why do you need us? Why can’t you clean the floors? What’s wrong with you? What kind of wife are you, anyway?” Geez, imaginary maids are SO MEAN. Anyway, I think I managed to awkwardly slip in “I’m on bedrest” a couple of times during the phone call to Molly Maids as my pathetic attempt to offer justification for requesting their services.

I suspect I’ll get over these feelings as soon as the maids come and go and our house is shiny. They are scheduled to come in next Tuesday. I realized after I hung up that Tuesdays are my pee jug days. Great… nothing like a jug of pee in a cooler on the bathroom floor to tell a stranger “a real twisted piece of fruit lives here!” Oh… the shame compounds.

Well, like I said, I’ll get over it quickly. I am so thankful to have this service come around, and I’m so lucky Tim is being Mr. Supportive Pants and letting me have strangers come into our house to power clean.

*sigh* I can’t wait to have a shiny clean house for our baby to spit-up all over.

Who would’ve thought I’d be the picture of stability?

I’m stable and I have the blood tests to prove it!! Ha-HA! The doctor called today and told me the latest blood tests showed things are not getting worse right now. I wanted to go “whoo-hoo!” drop the phone, run out the door and go rolling around in the grass with the neighbor’s dog. The doctor obviously sensed my overexcitment and said “You still have pre-eclampsia and you still have to be on bedrest and do twice weekly NSTs and…blahbity blah blah blah.”

I’ll admit, part of my mind wasn’t really processing everything she was saying because I had that stupid montage theme from Rocky going through my head “Getting Stronger! Getting Stroonger!!” Yeeeah!!

The other pop culture reference that just keeps creeping into my mind is (not surprisingly) courtesy of the Simpsons. I feel like I’ve had nearly every possible pregnancy complication at some point. So I think I may have a pregnancy version of Three Stooges Syndrome…



So if anyone needs for me to fix their electrical wiring, retrieve their cat out of a tree, or wrestle an alligator in their backyard – now is the time to ask.

I’M INDESTRUCTIBLE!

I don’t know how much longer I’ll have this ‘indestructible’ superpower. But I’m keeping this sweet cape and unitard forever.

Of course, the someone has already beaten me to the punch in creating a pregnant superhero. Anime is already a bit weird for my tastes (maybe I just don’t get the appeal of big-eyed, short skirted school girls) but Yuki ramps up the weirdness to a level that is hard to not appreciate.



Well, before you become too freaked out and write an angry letter to Japan, you should know that Yuki isn't real anime. She was created as a punchline for the movie Juno. But pretty funny, and completely believable. What was I talking about? Oh yes… I’m doing well and totally…




(No… not hoarse. Stable. I’m totally stable.)

This is bedrest?

Soooo… I was gone all day enjoying the world of modern medicine. The latest pee jug showed an increase in protein, so my intuition/sense-o-denial that told me the last two tests were flukes didn’t really pan out. They say the pre-eclampsia is progressing, but progressing slowly – so that’s good news. Yea!!

In addition to bedrest, the doctors have beefed up our monitoring schedule a bit. So here is the new official schedule…
-weekly biophysical profiles
-twice weekly non-stress tests
-weekly 24-hour urine tests
-weekly blood tests for kidney and liver function
-every-other-week growth scans
-daily ice cream therapy (note: this is a patient initiative)

Maybe Alexander loves suspense …or maybe he just loves sleeping. Once again his napping schedule caused drama when he slept through most of the non-stress test today. Twice the doctor put that buzzer to my belly to wake him (which made the poor little guy jump in surprise… then go back to sleep). Just when they were about to give up, he started moving and *just* passed the test.

Since it took so long, the doctor decided to send me off to the radiology department for a biophysical profile ‘just to be safe’. Then I swear the doctor muttered under her breath “cha-ching!” I was like “what was that?” and she said “a ring… I’ll give the radiology department a ring to let them know you’re coming.” This seemed plausible since ‘cha-ching’ and ‘a ring’ do indeed sound similar -- but the way her eyes were darting back and forth only added to my suspicion. Well, even if they were just throwing some extra money towards their friends in radiology, I’m pretty sure Blue Cross/Blue Shield can afford it. Plus getting to see the mini-muffin on an ultrasound is always fun,

The biophysical profile (or BPP as acronym lovers call it) is timed and the baby has to pass several components to get a passing score. Unfortunately two of those components involve movement… and Snoozy McSleepinstein wasn’t so much as wagging one tiny finger. If he didn’t pass, it would mean another trip to L & D (or Labor and Delivery as acronym haters call it). When we reached the twenty-minute mark, the tech was getting antsy. I tried to reassure her that Alexander wasn’t in distress, he was just living up to his established idiom of being uber mellow. She wasn’t impressed with this explanation and ran to get me a lollipop. Yeah, I didn’t see that coming either but apparently she was hoping the sugar would get him moving. At the thirty-minute mark, the tech was really supposed to end the test -but we had bonded and she was trying to help avoid a hospital trip. So she gave my belly and the boy several well-placed jabs… and the kid finally woke up and passed the test at the 32 minute mark.

Phew. And, of course, he’s been up and kicking since I’ve been home. Maybe we need to get him a little PDA so he knows what times he needs to be awake to pass tests,


(By the way, he is definitely a boy – I saw his bit and pieces with my own eyes!)

News From a Reclined Position

The doctors say that the ‘hope’ is to make it to 34 weeks before delivery. (I think I’m about 31 1/2 now.) Everyday, I sing to the baby the montage song from Rocky that goes “Getting stronger! Getting stronger!” I think it motivates him… plus everyone knows that babies love references to movies from the 80’s. I think we'll make it closer to full term, but I can't tell if that is due to my overpowering sense of optimism or denial. So let's just say it's maternal instinct.

Dr. Gobbles seemed to low-ball the bedrest, and another doctor told me last week that I am only allowed to get up to use the bathroom and sit up in bed to eat. I’m supposed to be on my left side as much as possible. I am sitting up right now to type this, but just don’t tell the bedrest police. You can only lay on your left side for so long before the entire left side of your body goes to sleep … which leads to all kinds of hilarities when you try to get up to go to the bathroom.

So far, the baby and I are both doing just fine. I have lots of non-stress tests and ultrasounds to keep track of the baby… and pee and blood test to keep track of me. In fact, I am about to head out for a non-stress test right now. I get strapped down with two stretchy pregnant-lady-sized belts around the belly. One belt monitors the baby’s heart rate, and the other monitors contractions. As it runs, it spits out a graph – which I find very distracting as I am naturally drawn towards data. I am always trying to crane my neck around just enough to read it. Mmmm...instant feedback....

At the start of the test, the nurses always say ‘this will just take about twenty minutes’ – but I think the shortest non-stress test I’ve ever had was just shy of an hour. In fact, I had one of these on Friday and I think they had completely forgotten about me. Fortunately Tim was there keeping me company, so he went out and told the nurses that if I didn’t get unhooked soon I’d have to unhook myself so I could pee. I really love all the nurses at the doctor’s office, but I think they are asked to multi-task far beyond their multi-tasking capabilities. This always results in a pregnant woman getting stranded at the non-stress test machine with an overly inflated bladder that becomes an enticing trampoline for the baby.

Anyway, I’m doing one of those tests today and we’re having another biophysical profile (aka fancy shamnsy ultrasound) on Friday. Oh...and, of course, there will be the good ole’ pee jug to fill on Thursday. Yep… so my date book is full. I hope I haven’t intimidated you all with my newfound glamorous lifestyle and active social calendar. I’m still just regular people.

This was a fun weekend at our house. Harrison came over to go fishing with grandpa and he caught a fish ***THIS BIG***. Here is the picture to prove it – you can see Harrison is giving his celebratory “YES!!”





Also, mom (aka grandma) came over to help paint the nursery. It’s a very cool shade of green and we’ll (er… 'they' will) paint some funky mod squares for a little… how you say?… flare. Babies love flare.




Where was I in all of this, you may ask? I enjoyed watching the backyard fishing channel from a reclined position by the house. As for painting the nursery, I was allowed to do the honorary first paint stroke (it took them hours to cover up my poor artistry) but otherwise I was just barking out suggestions from a reclined position.

Ah… the reclined position. I recommend that you enjoy the reclined position today at your work or home. Now if only I had a man with a giant fan, and another one feeding me grapes. Where can I get those? At Sloth Liquidators Warehouse Emporium?

D’oh!!!

Well, I just got the official diagnosis of pre-eclampsia. Or maybe that’s preeclampsia. It’s seems unfair to have a condition that I don’t even know how to spell. Anyhoo, that second jug-o-pee yielded a result of 420 and put me well into the “over 300” range.

But don’t cry for me, Blogentina. There is some good news in all of this:

(1) The baby passed the non-stress test, and is therefore not showing any signs of distress at this time. He was sleeping through the first half of the test, but woke up just in time to pass. Nice one, mini-muffin.

(2) The doctor placed me on “modified” bedrest rather than complete bedrest. This means I have to spend at least 3 hours in bed in the morning, at least 3 hours in the afternoon, and generally take it as easy as possible the rest of the time. Dr. Gobbles said I should be in “princess mode”. Hmm… not really my style. In fact, I had to repress a gag reflex when he said that. I still prefer the term “load mode.”

(3) There really isn’t a third thing… but a list of two just seemed silly.

The doctor said an early induction is inevitable, but is just a question on “when”. If my condition worsens or if the baby shows signs of distress, we may have to deliver right away. But if I can remain in stable condition and the baby is doing fine we should be able to put it off for a while. According to Dr. Google (not to be mistaken with Dr. Gobbles) the average time from diagnosis to delivery is 2 weeks. Of course, I am hoping and praying that we get to keep this kid baking for at least another 6 or 7 weeks.

In addition to the modified bedrest, I’ll continue with the weekly non-stress tests and regular ultrasounds until delivery. I’ll also have to start doing weekly 24-hour urine tests. The doctor’s office had run out of those large orange biohazard jugs used for the 24-hour collection. So I had to go down to the lab to get one for this week’s test. So they gave me the jug, but as if the bright orange biohazard jug wasn’t embarrassing enough to walk around with they also put it in a big bag that clearly reads “24-HOUR URINE SAMPLE” on the outside. Yep, I’ll tell you folks… leave your sense of shame at the door when pregnant.

So that’s the update. Sorry I don’t have better news to report, but we sort of saw this coming too. Again, the most important news is that the baby is doing just fine right now. Prayers and/or “low-protein-in-pee vibes” are welcome.

Today’s post is brought to you by the letter “P”

Just because I know posts about urine are immensely appealing and popular, I’ll tell you that I have another pee jug day today. The doctors are making me take the 24-hour urine test again since as I was very close to failing it last time and the swelling continues to make me look like the Michelin Man’s daughter. (Seriously, put a blond wig on the Michelin Man and that’s like looking in the mirror for me.)

I knew it wasn’t good when my doctor walked into the office shaking her head. Then, my second clue that it wasn’t good was when she said “it isn't good.” The last jug I turned in gave me a score of 294 (or 296). I know, that sounds pretty good, right? Woo-hoo! Well, apparently the “cut-off” before they diagnosis a patient with preeclampsia is 300. D’oh!

While this may sound a bit alarming, I should again state that the baby is doing just fine. He’s big, he’s kicking, he’s power napping, he hasn’t shared any complaints with us. There is a possibility of bedrest if I do end up with preeclampsia, but that will just be an opportunity to get caught up on America’s Next Top Model once again. They’ve probably produced about five more seasons of that show since the last time I was on load-mode three months ago. But we’ll cross that bridge when and IF we come to it. I should know the results on Monday.

I must be getting old because it seems that medical issues have replaced the weather for favored small-talk topics. I should go hang out at a local nursing home and just dish with the residents.

The good news is that I finally have the re-writes to my book off to the agent. She told me her lovely assistant would be giving it the first read today. So I am checking my e-mail every two seconds and just hanging out with my orange biohazard jug today. Um… so, what are you doing?