Posted by Lily on Sep 25, 2008 in
Sports These pictures don’t really show off the belly too much as this jersey is huge on me when I’m not pregnant. But they’re today’s installment of Crazy Sports Mom. You’ll have to trust me there are some pictures that show the belly off better, which Bogey can use to show his therapist.
Towards the end of the photo shoot Bogey gave me a swift kick to the bladder, which would explain the second picture. I’m sure we could have come up with some better pictures but he was obviously done at that point so I went in and peed.
For those of you who are slightly concerned about my behavior in case Bogey chooses to participate in sports, don’t worry. John has already put strict rules on what I can and can’t do. I can take him to practice and games. I can’t stay and watch. I can support him in his athletic endeavors. I can’t ever meet his coaches.
We’re totally ending up with a kid who plays Chess.
Posted by Lily on Sep 24, 2008 in
Sports I would consider myself a fairly big sports fan. It started with basketball. I’m fond of a little team you may have heard of called Duke. When we moved to NC from PA in 1989, my grandfather sat me down and informed me about living in the south. The first and foremost important thing to know, is in NC, we follow basketball. We are avid, devoted fans. Second, you have to choose between two teams, Duke and UNC. We are a Duke family. We root for Duke. He proceeded to teach me all about the sport and each player, and of course, our illustrious coach, Coach K.
For those UNC fans out there who are vomiting right now, it’s o.k. I understand. Not everybody’s coach can bring a nation’s basketball program back from the gutter in time to prove you are the best in the world. Really, it’s o.k. You should be pleased with your coach’s performance against his old team last spring. The second half rally really made up for that demoralizing first half obliteration.
But I digress.
I’m a Duke fan. And I became one before all the championships and I have stuck it out through the rough patches. I am also a big fan of one particular baseball team. A team that has clinched it’s division playoff spot for the second year in a row, but has had such an INCREDIBLY hard time getting back into the World Series, I am hesitant to mention their name for fear of jinxing them anymore than they already are. I’ve been a fan of them for ten years. I have stuck it out through the rough patches, which are otherwise known as their seasons. Since meeting John, my world of sports opened up a little
bit more and I branched out into football. This took me a little while to really get into as it was so foreign to me and I had pretty much zero interest in it. However, John respected my basketball addiction and agreed to learn about the ACC and the importance of college basketball in NC and I in turn agreed to get behind his sport as well.
I am in no way an expert, but I get better every year and am a devoted fan of his Tennessee Titans. Luckily I got on board before we moved here or his chances of getting me to like the team would probably be pretty small. His dad has season tickets to the games so every year we get to go to at least one game. As long as I have been going to the games, which I believe has been four years, the Titans have never won when I go. Ever. It was getting to the point that I felt the heavy burden and looks from his family. Oh, Lily’s going. Guess we know how that game is going to end up. There was discussion of revoking my ticket privileges.
But this year, I rallied. I got a new jersey. I shook it up a bit and went with my absolute favorite Titans player of all time, Kyle Vanden Bosch. Probably certifiable, but most defensive linemen in the NFL are. But he’s awesome. I loved him last year, before he became the sensation he has since become, but John wouldn’t give in. No jersey. Being pregnant I get away with a lot more. So this year, I got the jersey. The Titans?
They are 3-0. We’ve gone to one preseason and two regular season games and they’ve won each game. The quarterback did have a complete mental break at the first regular season game we went to, but they still won and it was probably better for the team that he did, so I’m not taking the fall for that one.
For the rest of the week, I will post a picture of me in each of these team’s jerseys so someday when Bogey is trying to explain where his sports insanity comes from, he can pull out these pictures and say, “See? It’s my mom’s fault.”
Posted by Lily on Sep 23, 2008 in
internet I have been tagged. Do I know what this means? Kinda, but not really. See Random Fact #1. Only because I love my friend Kristen dearly am I participating in this. I really cannot think of another person who I would do this for, in part because none of them are as technologically savvy. See Broken Rule #4. And her daughter said my dog was cute, so how can I say no.
Here are the rules:
1. Link to the person who tagged you
2. Post the rules to your blog
3. Write 6 random things about yourself
4. Tag 6 people at the end of your post and link to them
5. Let each person you have tagged know by leaving a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is posted.
Six random things in case this blog didn’t have enough random things about me on it already:
1: I’m considered the computer guru at work, I have a blog, I always want fun gadgets like digital cameras and iphones, but I’m technologically and internetlly not all that gifted. I do about three things on my computer, which is capable of a million things. I never remember to check things or update things like facebook, even though I know it is really fun. I’m horrible at responding to emails. If something doesn’t work, such as my email or the computer, I take it personally and will boycott it for awhile as if the computer really cares and notices I’m not paying attention to it. This leads right into fact #2.
2. I am insanely stubborn. I know this has been brought up before, but anytime there is any information about me being shared, this fact has to be mentioned as it is a core part of my personality.
3: I have an unusual phobia of old food. Certain food items in particular are the worst, such as milk and salad. I know, I know, most people don’t like bad milk, but I really am kind of scared of it. If the expiration date is past due or even the same day I will make John open it, smell it, and taste it. Wilted, dead salad that has gotten to that brown, liquidy phase is almost if not worse. One day I was cleaning out the fridge and grabbed a bag of spinach to throw in the trash. I pulled it out and threw it towards the trash in one motion and it was open, which I did not realize, and rotten, which I also did not realize. All of a sudden there was rotting salad juice all over me and I was screaming at John, “GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!” I could feel the one drop on my toe that he missed. If I had access to a chemical shower, I would have used it.
4: My belly button defies reason. It was an inny. I got pregnant and it fought and fought to stay an inny, far past when it should have. When it gave up, instead of becoming an outy, like oh, gosh 99.9% of the population, it has just gone incognito. It is trying to become a part of my belly. It is totally flat and stretched out. John says it looks like a bullet wound that has healed over. It now looks like the scar it actually is.
5: I secretly like 90210. The old one. I used to watch it when it was originally on and everybody was watching it so it was o.k. to admit to. But then, I found it on the SOAP network. I watched it. It was such a great mind distractor in nursing school. And then when I was working in the hospital. I watched it further than anyone ever did. Like to when Donna and David got married. Did anyone else in THE WORLD know that they got married? They did. In the last episode. I even watched the new 90210, because I couldn’t help myself. But it is awful.
6: We are narrowing down names again, and actually have a couple we like. That’s right. This kid might have a name soon.
And broken rule #4. I’m not tagging anyone. Mostly because none of my friends have blogs. Or at least that I know of. The couple that do (and I mean couple, maybe three) I’m pretty sure would hunt me down and fill my fridge full of spoiled milk and rotten spinach if I tagged them.
I promise there are pictures coming soon for those of you who really only check in on the blog to see me expand.
Posted by Lily on Sep 18, 2008 in
pregnancy We had both a midwife appointment and Childbirth Class: Week Two on Tuesday afternoon/evening. There was about an hour window between the two so we went over to the Obama headquarters and volunteered for a little while.
What? We support Obama? How could that be? We live in TN where you have to cut your finger and write Fred Thompson’s name in your blood so they have your Republican DNA on file anytime you get pulled over for a speeding ticket. Apparently, we missed the finger cutting day most likely because I was too busy promoting abortions as I am pro choice and that’s what that means, right? I like to kill all babies? It does make this whole pregnancy thing seem to be a bit of a conundrum when you think about it.
Due to falling through the cracks, we are able to travel in the dusk of afternoon to sketchy locations, such as Obama’s headquarters. We then volunteered to do terrible things. I for one called people to harass them about the yard signs they had requested. I told them the signs had arrived and could be picked up at their convenience. That in essence translates directly into vandalism as people will now LITTER THEIR YARDS with such smut as Obama/Biden ‘08. Cover the children’s eyes. Cover their eyes.
No political issues here.
So….the midwife appt. We continued our round robin of midwives and I didn’t like this one as much as the others. John pointed out I don’t like a lot of women so it is not unreasonable to think in a practice made up of lots of women I might run across one I didn’t like too much. Point taken, but I decided I’m done with the round robin and am just going to stick with my usual midwife. Whoever is going to deliver Bogey will be there whether I meet her first or not.
Bogey is doing well. He has flipped around and is all snuggled into his head down position. Hopefully he will stay that way. His butt is sticking straight out my left side, and his arms and legs are all mushed up under my ribs on my right side. The midwife asked if I’d been feeling any kicks on that right side and I said yes, in fact if you look close enough you can see the Nike imprint from his cleats. I’m not sure about his choice of endorsements, but I don’t want to stifle him too much. I just hope he didn’t sign a long term contract so he can wear all of those converse I’ve already bought him.
The midwife was amazed at how tight my belly was and how incredibly easy it is to feel each little bit of him due to the lack of anything but baby in my belly. On the one hand I was quite flattered by the comment, but on the other hand, as someone who has NEVER had a tight, perfect belly, I feel the universe is laughing at me by giving me a tight, perfect belly now, when it is also the size of a small planet.
His heart continues to be super easy to find and his heartbeat is strong. Next time I think I’m going to challenge them to find the heartbeat just by looking. Our next appt. is in two weeks at which point I will have my Group B Strep test and we have to come up with our birth plan. We are going to try and behave and come up with something serious as I don’t think the midwife quite got that I was joking when I said my birth plan was to have a baby. I suggested a choose your own adventure birth plan as another option. At least the midwife student laughed at that one.
On to Childbirth Class: Week Two. The start did not put me in the best frame of mind. It was in a smaller, cramped room where I couldn’t sit up high and watch everyone and then gossip to John about them. And when I walked in there were two girls chit-chatting about their midwives and omigosh they had the same midwife and omigosh she was like so fabulous and omigosh they just LOVED her. And oh my gosh, she was the same midwife I had just seen and disliked.
I also don’t think I was the best at childbirth class this week. Jury is still out, but it wasn’t as clear cut a victory as last week. The first problem was that I forgot my book. The one that I have looked at once so I could make fun of the pain assessment scale. But the instructor said we didn’t actually need to bring it. Only if we wanted to follow along as she went through things in class. To be honest, the video of the woman’s vagina ripping in half is really plenty for me, I don’t actually have to read about it in full detail as well.
The second problem was that I apparently did not follow the “childbirth class dress code” which is, look comfy yet chic, and always accessorize with a bottle of water. I was THE ONLY pregnant lady in scrubs, without (gasp) a bottle of water. I drink water. I drink lots of water. But I don’t have it by my side 24/7, which I now realize is a grave error on my part. I got really excited at the break when the docile, “good” wife pregnant lady came back with a coke. But then I realized she was the docile, “good” wife pregnant lady and had gone and bought it for her husband. So much I’ve yet to learn.
I told John next week I’d bring a partially empty 40 or maybe just a few Red Bulls to set on the desk. He asked why I would stop there and suggested bringing a paper bag with a bottle in it and swish some sort of alcohol around in my mouth just before i went in the room. He gets me. That’s how this whole marriage thing works so well.
Another week down, four more to go. We’re moving back to the other classroom next week, so I can have my “A” game ready. John doesn’t think I won best in class for the week, but I pointed out I picked the seat closest to the door. So when it was break time and a dozen+ pregnant ladies charged out for the one bathroom? Who do you think was already done peeing as the second wave of women were still wobbling out of their seats?
That’s got to count for best of something.
Posted by Lily on Sep 15, 2008 in
Animals We can check something off our list of a million things we still need to do.
We finally found a doctor. A wonderful, kind doctor. It is one of those things that has been hanging over us for awhile, and after much trial and tribulation, we have made a choice.
It is a small practice, and family run, which is wonderful because already everyone knows us and I don’t feel like one more person with my baby in the hubub of everyone else. The paperwork is simple, everyone from the front desk to the techs to the doctor are wonderful and kind and warm.
The doctor is great. He is not overly cuddly and fluffy. He isn’t going to get down there and snuggle and hug anything, but he is warm and kind and to the point. There is not going to be sugarcoating or dumbing down of language, he is going to let me know what’s going on and what different options will be if needed. However, with that being said, he is not going to put pressure on me. I feel like he will do his best to lay out a variety of choices, and let us choose, without judging that choice and making me feel like I picked the wrong one.
Something else that in the back of my head I knew was always important to me, but hadn’t really articulated in the front of my head, was having a doctor who is intellectually curious. By this I mean someone who I know is up to date on the latest in medicine. Who not only subscribes to journals, but actually reads them, and guides his practice based on the latest research. Evidenced Based Practice. Shoved down my throat in nursing school to the point of never wanting to see those three words again, but I must say it is a fairly important thing to me.
He may not be rumply, but he is kind and warm, knowledgeable without making me feel like an ass if I choose option “a” over option “b”, is current on the latest medications, and my animals don’t seem to mind him at all.
Fine. So I have picked a vet. But this was super important and something I’ve been trying to do for over a year. This was high-up on my priority list of things that really needed to be done. I realize we are going to have to be way faster on the pediatrician thing as I don’t have a year+ to choose, but I think it was a good first step for me. I figure things age faster in animal years anyway so a year of vet searching must be equivalent to a month of pediatrician searching.
And I figure worst case scenario, maybe my vet will accept kids. They’re pretty similar in the beginning anyway.
Posted by Lily on Sep 12, 2008 in
parenting My midwife called me today and left a message on my cell as I was in with a patient. I hear her on the phone and my brain immediately starts racing. We are rotating through the midwives right now so we can meet all the possible people who might deliver Bogey so I haven’t actually talked to my midwife for a few weeks.
I immediately begin to panic. Sheer panic. What horrible thing is wrong with my baby. Something so horrible she has to call me on Friday when my next appointment is only on Tuesday. My brain, not being what it once was is going through every possibility. I have HIV. Bogey has CF. I have gestational diabetes. My blood pressure is too high, I’m preeclamptic. The cord is around Bogey’s neck. He’s not growing right. He’s going to be early.
Later, as I reflected upon the phone call, I think that last one was my favorite IMPOSSIBLE worry to have. He’s going to be early. There is literally no way that my midwife, who hasn’t seen me in well over a month, could tell that he was going to be early.
I call her back and find out that she wanted to talk to me because everything has been going so well. She is also an instructor for Nurse Midwifery students and she has a new class this fall and she wanted to see if I could come in for one of her classes. She is going to teach them how to determine the position of the baby by palpation and how to find the heartbeat, all that good stuff. She said due to my so far uncomplicated pregnancy and how cooperative Bogey has been in his prenatal visits with positioning and measuring and heartbeat she thought we’d be perfect for new students.
I told her no problem. In fact, there really isn’t even much need for palpation because if you just look the right way at my abdomen I’m pretty sure you can actually see him making faces through my uterus. And count every individual toe as they push through my ribs. With his rabbit heartbeat, they will also barely need to touch the doppler to my stomach. My kid’s a superstar.
I’m hoping he’ll get some sort of certificate of participation I can take to childbirth class, because I’m pretty sure this makes him a shoe-in for winner of the second day of childbirth class.
Posted by Lily on Sep 10, 2008 in
pregnancy Last night was our first childbirth class. We went back and forth on whether we should even bother with it, and decided it wouldn’t hurt anything. Everyone kept telling us one of the best reasons to do it was for the social aspect so we could meet other pregnant couples. I really don’t know why that appealed at the time. I don’t do social. It was a long evening.
While driving to class:
L: You know, you’re going to be one of those people.
J: What people?
L: Those people. That guy. That guy that everyone goes home from childbirth class and says, wow. You will not believe this guy in our childbirth class. I feel kind of sorry for his wife.
J: That’s not fair. You’re not even giving me a chance.
L: It is totally fair.
J: No it’s not. Although I am going to tell all the women there is no way their vaginas are big enough for this whole thing.
L: Exactly.
While walking to class and spotting another couple obviously going to the same class:
L: Am I bigger than her?
J: No.
L: I’m still going to be better than her at childbirth class.
J: YOU are going to be one of those people.
L: What are you talking about? I’m just saying, I’m going to be the best at childbirth class.
J: You realize this isn’t a competition right? There is nothing to be better at. It’s about relaxation and education.
L: Right. And I will be the best at it. Now drop back a little. We don’t want to get too close and have to socialize.
We arrive at the class. It is a classroom, but one of those stadium seating auditorium classrooms. We sit up top, where we can look down and see everyone. And so I’m close to the exit so I can get to the bathroom first. Although if you asked John, he would probably say so I can sit from above and make judgements about people.
Our instructor starts the class by saying we are all going to introduce ourselves, say what our jobs are, when our due date is, do we have a name for the baby, do we know the sex of the baby, what our pain level is, our greatest fears, etc.
Let me just take a moment and talk about the pain level assessment. It ranges from a +10 to a -10. +10 would be for women who not only don’t want to feel pain during labor, but really would prefer to take a couple of valium before they even think about labor. And actually, maybe could they have some for the class as well? A -10 is for women who are into S&M. Truly. Here is the actual definition of a -10: “Desire that the mother forgo all medications, even for cesarean delivery.” That sounds bad, but John and I both think maybe -9 is even worse. -9: ” Desire that you and the staff deny the mother pain medication, even if she requests it.” I’m pretty sure that definition is a DSM-IV diagnosis.
Back to class. The first couple speaks. The woman says she wants an epidural. 100%, no labor pain, thanks for playing, she doesn’t want to feel a thing. The next couple goes. The third couple goes and the fairly gruff, blunt husband says, “I thought this was a class for people who wanted natural childbirth only.” ie, NOT PEOPLE WHO WANT EPIDURALS. Silence. Five minutes into the class and a world class awkward moment of total and complete silence. I must say my interest perked up a little. Perhaps this class wouldn’t be too bad.
I told John when it was our turn, I was absolutely going to rate myself as a -9 or -10. We couldn’t decide which one to pick. John decided we should go with -9, and he would tell everyone it was because he was just the teensiest bit curious to see what would happen if he actually denied me pain medication I asked for while in labor.
He is currently scared to deny me a glass of water.
We are second to last to introduce ourselves. So far, everyone except for epidural lady, is a -5. Pretty much average in the pain scale for a bunch of first time, want to have natural birth women. No medication unless it gets too bad, blah, blah, blah. I was definitely going for that -9. Every one’s fear was of complications, not being able to stay calm, blah, blah, blah. One woman’s fear was actually that she was going to curse during labor. And she didn’t mean put a hex on someone. She meant, the use of foul language. Because if she cursed at someone, she would have to live with that the rest of her life. She was not kidding.
Um… We are about to go through the most incredibly painful life changing event there is. Staying calm? Not cursing? Please. If I manage to get out of there without physically assaulting someone I think we can consider that a good birth.
Our turn. We say what we do, what the sex of the baby is, no, no name yet, and I’m ready for my -9, but she never asks! She skips right to my fear. All joking aside, I do have a fear. My biggest fear is once Bogey is here. It is that everything will go o.k. and I will be ready to take him home and he will spike a temp. A newborn with a temp is a rule out sepsis. You can’t leave the hospital. Blood cultures are drawn, antibiotics started, it is a one-way ticket to the inpatient peds unit. My fear is I can’t get him out of the hospital.
What does the teacher say? How does she allay my fears as she has done for everyone else? ”Oh, yeah. That is a good point. Especially as you all are having children born in the fall, during…” I finish her sentence, “RSV and flu season?” ”Yeah. Remind me during our newborn class, with your background, I want you to talk about that with everybody.”
So I don’t get to reveal my -9, which is probably best as I don’t think many people would have understood it was a joke and we don’t want to alienate ourselves completely during the first class. My fear is not only not helped, but validated as something everyone should be worried about and could I please teach everyone about it? We have guided relaxation time at the end in which Bogey spends the entire time drop kicking my sides, dampening that relaxation just a little.
There are 14 couples in the class, including us. Out of 14 couples, my baby is due first.
That means I totally won the first night of childbirth class.
Posted by Lily on Sep 8, 2008 in
pregnancy I know, I know. It’s been awhile. I would love to say that there have been a million things going on and my life has been such a whirlwind of excitement that I haven’t been able to catch my breath long enough to post. But that’s totally not true. I did go away for the weekend, but that doesn’t really explain the other week in there unaccounted for.
We are slowly closing in on the homestretch. I’m in week 34 now (plus or minus a couple of days, I have so much trouble keeping exact track of these weeks), which means I’m about six weeks from the actual due date and only about three from his fully cooked date.
Everyone at work can’t possibly see that I’ll make it the whole time. They’re predicting a mid-October birth. John set October 12th as his over/under date. I chose over, he chose under. Then he changed it to October 15th, which clearly violated the over/under rules as you can’t change your original value set. He disagreed. I disagreed. So the 12th-15th are neutral days. If he’s born before the 12th, John wins. If he’s born after the 15th, I win. If he’s born in that neutral time, it’s a tie. John is concerned I will hold him in just to win. I said, um, no. For once in my life I think the competitiveness loses out. The desire to have this wonderful little squirming, kicking HARD HEADED baby out of me wins.
Not that pregnancy isn’t still wonderful. Again, I have been incredibly lucky with remarkably few pregnancy problems. I love having little man with me and feeling him moving around and snuggling. The problem lately has been that he has chosen to snuggle with my right lung.Smart choice by Bogey as the right lung is the one with more cushioning, what with that extra lobe and all, but really, when he tucks himself up in there, it is not so comfortable. I might go as far as to say uncomfortable. He wedges his head up into my ribs as far as he possibly can, and then kicks his legs out on the other side, rearranging those ribs as well. I think he likes the feel of intercostal muscle between his toes. After he has snuggled in there for awhile he’ll do a flip-kick so you can feel (and actually watch) his butt move across my abdomen, and settle into the newly vacated space in the right lung. All my fears about the recessive ADD familial genes kicking in are being realized.
I haven’t done any more family introductions of the animals for awhile because I’m deciding who will actually still be a member of the family when Bogey arrives. One cat was violently ill for the last couple of weeks. One cat has decided to wage a personal war with one of the dogs. One cat is now spending her dawn hours howling, waiting for that blissful two hour window between times I get up to pee when I manage to get back to sleep to actually commence with her howling. One dog has lost all bed privileges until further notice due to some territorial behavior on the bed, which she knows does not fly around here. I guess the other dog has been o.k. Although he did kill a cat a few weeks ago. Not one of ours. Which at the time I thought was a good thing. I’m reconsidering…
I will pay for shipment of animals for those interested in some cuddly friends.
Posted by Lily on Sep 1, 2008 in
parenting We can now buy toys and play with toys and build with toys and not feel the least bit guilty that we don’t actually have a child. Not that we actually did that. Much. We did always have the dream of a Lego Room.
Something we felt would be a little harder to rationalize when it was just the two of us. We can’t wait now until we live in a space big enough so we can make a Lego Room. For Bogey, of course. I have a friend who checks Craig’s List daily for baby/kids stuff to see what she can find for me. The other morning, first thing, she finds an ad for two storage boxes for sale. Along with the items inside. One box full of dinosaurs and one full of cars.
The whole thing for $25. The only minus is that dinosaur is spelled wrong on the label, but I have set my
OCD to the side and gotten over that. Because I now have a box full of dinosaurs and a box full of cars. Well, Bogey now has those. I guess I’m supposed to be excited about the actual storage boxes themselves. And they’re great. But the dinosaurs are awesome. I promise I have not actually spent all my time playing with the dinosaurs.
We actually have spent the weekend putting Bogey’s room together. It was tempting to leave it empty and just enjoy the openness and cleanliness of it. Sort of a zen room. Minimal living. We figured that would be practical for only so long and the basement full of stuff might get on our nerves eventually. And so began the great haul of stuff upstairs. I can’t actually take credit for it, John did all of the moving, but I took the piles of stuff and actually made it into a room. We washed and folded all his clothes, which took approximately thirty hours longer than I had anticipated. Not only are the clothes deceptively small (don’t worry John, it’s only one load, this will take us no time!) but they are like gremlins and multiply when they get wet. I shudder to think what would happen if I expose them to light.
It is nice to know (read-calms my psycho organized inner self) that now he has a room, a bed, diapers, clothes to cover him, and a car seat to bring him home. This kid has it made. What more will he ever need from us.
