Thursday, August 30, 2007
Kate-a-Palooza
Finally, the pictures (evidence?) of the partay. If anyone has more, please send them and I'll post them!
Click on the pic to see the story via our web album...
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
8 month OB appointment
Met with Dr Magically-Delicious on Monday AM. Thursday I will be 34 weeks pregnant, so i guess that was my 33.5 week check up.
I measured 34 cm. (perfection.)
My BP was a little up but still WNL: 128/82
Baby's HR = 154 at rest.
Then the friendly leprechaun said, "Let's see if we can get him to move."
The words barely out into the universe and the bean tumbled all over himself.
(My abdomen moves like a set in an Alien film)
Dr. M-D: whoa... there he is... I am trying to make sure his HR goes up when he exerts himself.
(My abdomen jumps in 4 places simultaneously and as fetal HR increases 20 beats per minute)
Dr. M-D: okay, I guess he likes to show off... good.
I had no questions, I was sweating too much and anxious about getting to work this late. But then I did want to mention that I am having a little trouble breathing-
t: I'm sure it's the heat and the baby getting bigger but... its a brand new discomfort for me...
Dr M-D did a requisite respiratory and cardiac assessment and reminded me that shortness of breath can cause panicky feelings which sometimes exacerbate breathlessness...
"Um, like, yeah... I blogged about that last night," I thought smugly to myself.
One more appointment in 2 weeks, and then we are on to weekly (or more frequent) visits- YIKES!
I measured 34 cm. (perfection.)
My BP was a little up but still WNL: 128/82
Baby's HR = 154 at rest.
Then the friendly leprechaun said, "Let's see if we can get him to move."
The words barely out into the universe and the bean tumbled all over himself.
(My abdomen moves like a set in an Alien film)
Dr. M-D: whoa... there he is... I am trying to make sure his HR goes up when he exerts himself.
(My abdomen jumps in 4 places simultaneously and as fetal HR increases 20 beats per minute)
Dr. M-D: okay, I guess he likes to show off... good.
I had no questions, I was sweating too much and anxious about getting to work this late. But then I did want to mention that I am having a little trouble breathing-
t: I'm sure it's the heat and the baby getting bigger but... its a brand new discomfort for me...
Dr M-D did a requisite respiratory and cardiac assessment and reminded me that shortness of breath can cause panicky feelings which sometimes exacerbate breathlessness...
"Um, like, yeah... I blogged about that last night," I thought smugly to myself.
One more appointment in 2 weeks, and then we are on to weekly (or more frequent) visits- YIKES!
Sunday, August 26, 2007
ugh...
Today is one of the first times I feel truly uNcOmFoRtAbLe... There is simply not enough air.
The bean seems to have (again) crawled into my rib-cage and is playing footsie with my lungs.
I went to gap to try to find a few more maternity options, and a dressy outfit for next weekend's wedding adventures. I brought as many things as I could carry into the changing room, and after a few costume changes, I was sweating like a farmhand. It was air conditioned in there. I could feel the breezy draft, and still, several times a minute, I had to use my forearm to wipe a layer of perspiration off my brow. I was panting, dripping, and then I started to sugar crash. I quickly mobilized my credit card and purchased a huge arm-load of stuff. (I figured I could determine from home whether or not some or all items should be returned) Tunnel-visioning to the only logical cure for a my current jitters, I waddled across the street for a milkshake. But the line at StoneColdCreamery was too long. I was desperate and so I pit-stopped at KFC. It was nauseating but necessary. It was, perhaps, life-saving.
Anyway, that was hours ago. I am now at home, wearing non-restrictive clothing. I tapped the thermostat down to 71 degrees and still can barely breathe. Not to downplay the increasing hugeness of the bean inside my body, I am sure that this is at least 15% psychological. Feeling short of breath can easily initiate an unconscious sense of panic. Just the feeling of not being able to breathe can make it harder to breathe. (DAMN YOU, Biology AND evolution!!!) Plus, anxiety on the Sunday night after a vacation cannot be ruled out as a cause of breathlessness. Also, some bad news about my father's mom and worrying about her health, her future, and the affect it will have on the emotional well being of my parents and extended family is undoubtedly contributing to some of the physical distress.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Indigo Girls Rock the Tent!
Hesitantly, we traveled to Hyannis last night for an Indigo Girls concert. We were all three "quietly hesitant" as in - we didn't mention it until we were on the way home b/c 1) How many times can you see the Indigo Girls? 2) When do you "out grow" their music? 3) $65 to battle traffic and summer humidity in a buggy tent???
Anyway, fears unfounded. The concert was awesome. The $ well-spent. The opening act (Girlyman) was the best opening act I've ever seen. They must have released some tickets at the last minute, b/c 2 days before the concert, we bought 4th row seats near the revolving stage on Ticketmaster-dot-com. I could see Amy Ray and Emily Salier's facial expressions, jewelry, sweat-beaded brows, and excited spittle. It was only the girls and their guitars, no band, nothing fancy... pure music! The venue was packed- a crowd of about 2400 most of whom knew every lyric to every song.
The bean was rocking -out inside of me - going nuts!!! He either loved or hated his first concert, but he was jumpin', jammin', and slammin' all around his little womb-condo. I went home to find skin abrasions where my soaked, cotton bra had been rubbing against my flesh during the festivities (a result of my dancing around not his.)
Other highlights:
1) Dr. Brokeback's 20 minute diatribe throughout the extended remix version of Chicken Man. During which she revealed her theory that this song's prominent position on the Indigo Girls' concert play list is the reason for the pair's much discussed "strained relationship." ie -
Emily: I just can't do it again... "Chickenman, chickenman, chickenman hold my hand" I just can't go out there and do it again
Amy: You have to... the crowd loves it... it's my best song
Emily: No, it's not. No they don't. They just humor you... no one even understands the song... I just can't... I swear, I'll quit the band...
I laughed so hard I nearly pee'd my pants...
2) Katy using our pregnancy for the first time to secure a primo parking space... "My wife is 33 wks pregnant. Is there a place to park where we are not trapped in the lot?" Sure, park right here near the exit...
Anyway, fears unfounded. The concert was awesome. The $ well-spent. The opening act (Girlyman) was the best opening act I've ever seen. They must have released some tickets at the last minute, b/c 2 days before the concert, we bought 4th row seats near the revolving stage on Ticketmaster-dot-com. I could see Amy Ray and Emily Salier's facial expressions, jewelry, sweat-beaded brows, and excited spittle. It was only the girls and their guitars, no band, nothing fancy... pure music! The venue was packed- a crowd of about 2400 most of whom knew every lyric to every song.
The bean was rocking -out inside of me - going nuts!!! He either loved or hated his first concert, but he was jumpin', jammin', and slammin' all around his little womb-condo. I went home to find skin abrasions where my soaked, cotton bra had been rubbing against my flesh during the festivities (a result of my dancing around not his.)
Other highlights:
1) Dr. Brokeback's 20 minute diatribe throughout the extended remix version of Chicken Man. During which she revealed her theory that this song's prominent position on the Indigo Girls' concert play list is the reason for the pair's much discussed "strained relationship." ie -
Emily: I just can't do it again... "Chickenman, chickenman, chickenman hold my hand" I just can't go out there and do it again
Amy: You have to... the crowd loves it... it's my best song
Emily: No, it's not. No they don't. They just humor you... no one even understands the song... I just can't... I swear, I'll quit the band...
I laughed so hard I nearly pee'd my pants...
2) Katy using our pregnancy for the first time to secure a primo parking space... "My wife is 33 wks pregnant. Is there a place to park where we are not trapped in the lot?" Sure, park right here near the exit...
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Cape Cloudy
Vacation is super.
Except, my skin is getting more pale by the minute.
It has been "cold" - 70 to 75 is not really cold, but it feels cold because of the previously mentioned 90 degree days. There has not been more than about an hour of sun a day, so we have not gone to "sun bathe." Yesterday, I did do some kayaking with Dr. Brokeback while kt sat on the shore (and shivered) and read.
The bean seems to be enjoying all the sleeping and walking- there's lots of fetal movements. But I definitely am starting to feel LARGE...
We bought indigo girls tickets for tonight in Hyannis- what's better than that?!?
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Mental status update
This will be brief because (as I have said) we are on vacation, and the point is to chill and "escape" a little, but it would be dishonest to talk about celebrations and home renovations and perfect OB visits without also talking about the other reason there haven't been many posts in the last few weeks. The last time I wrote about about katy's boss, I was still unaware of the magnitude and the media attention that the tragedy would warrant. We rarely mention it to anyone without being told that "everyone is affected and traumatized" about it... I was even told by one of my friends, "If you had children, this would be even harder for you- it would be more devastating..."
WHAT?!? whatever... anyway...
Another conversation that strangers like to have is the WHAT I WOULD DO IF I WERE HIM tangent. This usually involves a lot of people impetulently stylizing an outcome based on empathy... as if you perseverate for a long or a short time on a man's tragic loss, you might know what it feels like for him or you might imagine a course of action if it happened to you... as if detached logic or other rational and ordinary life experiences might bring you to an understanding of the recreation of routine life after the unimaginable....
This invariably leads to many claims and projections: "I would have done XXX inside that house..."
Right. Thanks. If that makes you feel better... thinking that you could have stopped this...
"That's why I have a gun..."
Fine, but that would not have changed anything in this case...
Or my favorite: "I would just kill myself."
Really? How brave of you to be so convinced you'd have the will or strength to live or die.
I get moody. Because it seems invasive to focus on the WHAT IF of reordering your own possible grief, in a situation that is inconceivable and has not happened to your family. Instead of just sadly acknowledging the limitations of empathy and quietly hoping for some peace to settle on this horrific-ness.
Katy and her colleagues at work are doing amazingly well at holding things together and taking care of each other. It was nice to see many of them in our yard this weekend- to share some conversations and be together outside of a professional setting.
When we got to p-town, we walked 3 blocks behind houses on quiet, darkened streets to get to the center of town, and I admitted to my wife, "I feel scared for some reason." I am not used to the sensation, to be honest. I am used to general apprehension or slight anxiety. But I rarely feel vulnerable to physical attack. Kt, wisely pointed out that we haven't really been anywhere new without other people around since everything happened in the Pet.it's home that night.
This is not our tragedy, but we are close to this violence, this evil, this devastating loss. I keep replaying the few conversations that I ever had with jen. Katy keeps forgetting that jen and the girls are gone. All of it is happening in the context of high publicity that has friends, neighbors, and the general public feeling vulnerable and therefore justified in all of their opinions and judgements of all the players involved. Kt leans toward physical illness every time some patient or passerby describes the details of an imagined vengeance s/he would like visited on the perpetrators of these crimes. Not because she disagrees necessarily, but b/c she is sensitive to images of violence. Even when justifiable, vengeful retribution sickens her because she recognizes the that one violent act is not entirely unlike another.
I watch her- amazed; because she is so capable and multi-dimensional and protective without letting displaced fear and anger and grief consume her life right now.
We know this is not our tragedy. But we are affected and forever changed. We are here for after the photo and videographers go home to see if there is anything we can do to help pick up the pieces. We are willing to sit silently in this grief and loss for a while with a friend and mentor- if there is any way we can.
WHAT?!? whatever... anyway...
Another conversation that strangers like to have is the WHAT I WOULD DO IF I WERE HIM tangent. This usually involves a lot of people impetulently stylizing an outcome based on empathy... as if you perseverate for a long or a short time on a man's tragic loss, you might know what it feels like for him or you might imagine a course of action if it happened to you... as if detached logic or other rational and ordinary life experiences might bring you to an understanding of the recreation of routine life after the unimaginable....
This invariably leads to many claims and projections: "I would have done XXX inside that house..."
Right. Thanks. If that makes you feel better... thinking that you could have stopped this...
"That's why I have a gun..."
Fine, but that would not have changed anything in this case...
Or my favorite: "I would just kill myself."
Really? How brave of you to be so convinced you'd have the will or strength to live or die.
I get moody. Because it seems invasive to focus on the WHAT IF of reordering your own possible grief, in a situation that is inconceivable and has not happened to your family. Instead of just sadly acknowledging the limitations of empathy and quietly hoping for some peace to settle on this horrific-ness.
Katy and her colleagues at work are doing amazingly well at holding things together and taking care of each other. It was nice to see many of them in our yard this weekend- to share some conversations and be together outside of a professional setting.
When we got to p-town, we walked 3 blocks behind houses on quiet, darkened streets to get to the center of town, and I admitted to my wife, "I feel scared for some reason." I am not used to the sensation, to be honest. I am used to general apprehension or slight anxiety. But I rarely feel vulnerable to physical attack. Kt, wisely pointed out that we haven't really been anywhere new without other people around since everything happened in the Pet.it's home that night.
This is not our tragedy, but we are close to this violence, this evil, this devastating loss. I keep replaying the few conversations that I ever had with jen. Katy keeps forgetting that jen and the girls are gone. All of it is happening in the context of high publicity that has friends, neighbors, and the general public feeling vulnerable and therefore justified in all of their opinions and judgements of all the players involved. Kt leans toward physical illness every time some patient or passerby describes the details of an imagined vengeance s/he would like visited on the perpetrators of these crimes. Not because she disagrees necessarily, but b/c she is sensitive to images of violence. Even when justifiable, vengeful retribution sickens her because she recognizes the that one violent act is not entirely unlike another.
I watch her- amazed; because she is so capable and multi-dimensional and protective without letting displaced fear and anger and grief consume her life right now.
We know this is not our tragedy. But we are affected and forever changed. We are here for after the photo and videographers go home to see if there is anything we can do to help pick up the pieces. We are willing to sit silently in this grief and loss for a while with a friend and mentor- if there is any way we can.
7 month OB appointment
I missed the 7 month update:
All is well.
Baby's heart rate 157 bpm
Lots of fetal movements
my BP 120/78
measuring 28 cm at 28 weeks
Total pregnancy weight gain: 6lbs
Yes, that's right. 6lbs!
Dr. KSBL: "Is there a reason that you lost a pound since your last visit?"
t: (Not spoken out loud) At my last visit, I FELT really FOS and had to take a crap bad, but it wasn't until later in the day that I evacuated my bowels... I think it is not so much that I lost a pound this time, but that I had an extra pound of digested food onboard at the last visit.
t: (Actually spoken) Well, I'm eating. I don't feel sick. I'm trying to stay active. I think my metabolism is just working with me.
Dr KSBL: Okay, we just like to make sure that you are not not eating or not feeling sick.
t: No- Lots of heartburn, but that's not stopping me from eating...
Dr KSBL: no nausea, vomiting, diarrhea?
t: no
Dr KSBL: okay. Questions???
We then had quick conversations about my ankle strain, loose ligaments, laboring at home with the help of friends who are midwives who would get me to the hospital in time for the delivery, but not so early that i would be pressured toward induction or intervention. I was impressed by Dr KSBL who's response was a non-hesitant, "the longer you stay out of the hospital, the better for you." Yes, that's what I was thinking too.
All is well.
Baby's heart rate 157 bpm
Lots of fetal movements
my BP 120/78
measuring 28 cm at 28 weeks
Total pregnancy weight gain: 6lbs
Yes, that's right. 6lbs!
Dr. KSBL: "Is there a reason that you lost a pound since your last visit?"
t: (Not spoken out loud) At my last visit, I FELT really FOS and had to take a crap bad, but it wasn't until later in the day that I evacuated my bowels... I think it is not so much that I lost a pound this time, but that I had an extra pound of digested food onboard at the last visit.
t: (Actually spoken) Well, I'm eating. I don't feel sick. I'm trying to stay active. I think my metabolism is just working with me.
Dr KSBL: Okay, we just like to make sure that you are not not eating or not feeling sick.
t: No- Lots of heartburn, but that's not stopping me from eating...
Dr KSBL: no nausea, vomiting, diarrhea?
t: no
Dr KSBL: okay. Questions???
We then had quick conversations about my ankle strain, loose ligaments, laboring at home with the help of friends who are midwives who would get me to the hospital in time for the delivery, but not so early that i would be pressured toward induction or intervention. I was impressed by Dr KSBL who's response was a non-hesitant, "the longer you stay out of the hospital, the better for you." Yes, that's what I was thinking too.
New living room
(PHOTOS TO FOLLOW)
Conversation 2 months ago:
t: I think we need to do it. I think we need to bite the bullet and just do it.
k: We've been talking about it forever.
t: Truth be told, every time I see the rug, I get nauseous. I mean, the rug is nasty.
k: We can't bring a child into this living room
t: And we can't invite peeps or babysitters over to watch a 25 year old tv
k: And you're not even exaggerating about that- really, the tv IS 25 YEARS OLD...
t: And if we don't do it now...
k: yeah, I'm mean if we don't do it now...
t & k: When will we really get the chance to do it...
So, we re-did our living room.
New couches, rug, TV, digital receiver... New arrangement of furniture, new focus and direction for entertaining and family raising. It looks sleek and CLEAN, slimmed down, and simpler. It looks hipper, hopper, and more zen. It makes me the opposite of nauseous. We spent the extra bucks to have the "stain-cleaning" service that offers "life-long" protection from any fabric damage that is not caused by a "claw, paw, or beak." We have no claws, paws, or beaks and are only expecting a child who has "blood, sweat, vomit, tears, urine, and excrement" all of which (remarkably) are covered in the "stain-cleaning" service.
We've decided we will do some rewiring and hanging of the flat screen so that the room is pleasant both for TV-focused entertaining and for non-tv centered events. It is nice to have that new-aged flexibility. We've also decided to make the leap and not buy a replacement Steve-o but just rent the DVR from the cable company.
Our new living room is very satisfying.
Conversation 2 months ago:
t: I think we need to do it. I think we need to bite the bullet and just do it.
k: We've been talking about it forever.
t: Truth be told, every time I see the rug, I get nauseous. I mean, the rug is nasty.
k: We can't bring a child into this living room
t: And we can't invite peeps or babysitters over to watch a 25 year old tv
k: And you're not even exaggerating about that- really, the tv IS 25 YEARS OLD...
t: And if we don't do it now...
k: yeah, I'm mean if we don't do it now...
t & k: When will we really get the chance to do it...
So, we re-did our living room.
New couches, rug, TV, digital receiver... New arrangement of furniture, new focus and direction for entertaining and family raising. It looks sleek and CLEAN, slimmed down, and simpler. It looks hipper, hopper, and more zen. It makes me the opposite of nauseous. We spent the extra bucks to have the "stain-cleaning" service that offers "life-long" protection from any fabric damage that is not caused by a "claw, paw, or beak." We have no claws, paws, or beaks and are only expecting a child who has "blood, sweat, vomit, tears, urine, and excrement" all of which (remarkably) are covered in the "stain-cleaning" service.
We've decided we will do some rewiring and hanging of the flat screen so that the room is pleasant both for TV-focused entertaining and for non-tv centered events. It is nice to have that new-aged flexibility. We've also decided to make the leap and not buy a replacement Steve-o but just rent the DVR from the cable company.
Our new living room is very satisfying.
Life is oddly-satisfying when it's a little bit soggy*
There are many missing posts...
I'll try to catch up a little in a retrospective venture in the next few posts...
We are currently on vacation in P-town with some fairly reliable Internet access, but without our computer or without photos to compliment above promised posts... and with the Atlantic Ocean/National seashore less than 2 miles away, and Cape Cod Bay really only about 1/2 mile, downhill walk from our rental... So the point being- I don't know how much blogging will get done.
We arrived in P-town on Sunday night just after dark. It's getting darker earlier (just as it does every year.) It's funny how you associate longer days with summer and I associate summer with August, but the solstice is June 21st. So really, on August 21st, there is the same amount of daylight as on April 21st- which we can all agree, is not summer at all. So at 8:15pm when we arrived, it was dark, but the drive was painless and primarily traffic-free. We planned to leave for vacation "as early as possible" but ended up breaking down the party and cleaning until about 2pm, then we took a nap, then we finished packing- THEN we hit the open road. What can I say, we like to live on the edge!
What party you ask? Kate-a-palooza, of course! Katy's 30th birthday celebration.
We had a rip-roaring time: About 150 people dropping in a various points in the day; food that was totally yummy; a yard and house living up to their absolute BBQ potential; an ice luge in the garage and about $500 worth of liquor and beer to keep everything "lubricated." All worlds were colliding (we invited family, neighbors, school-mates, work colleagues from various jobs, old peeps, new friends...) which can be a little stressful, but worked out fantastic.
The weather which has been tipping into the high 80's and sometimes 90's for the last several weeks, somehow broke under the weight of my silent, begging prayers. Unbelievably, a stormy, soggy cool-off did not reveal itself, but rather, one of the more perfect and pleasant days of the year. The tents we set up as potential heat-stroke refuges were places that guests needed to don sweatshirts to stay comfy by late evening.
My gram made her now legendary eggplant parm. My mom made some homemade sausage and peppers, my sister brought the farm fresh corn on the cob. All those food items made the catered food more palatable. Katy's parents cleaned up our estate and transformed our garage into a college-kid's dream party/ hangout. Her brother initiated the evening fire pit. Her dad christened the horse shoe pit. My dad took several early shifts at the grill. The womb whisperer drove into town to play the role of indentured servant and continue her odyssey as the life-long, reliable, loyal, ass-kicking, pregnancy-protecting, I'll-do-all-the-dirty-work-at-your-major-celebratory-events kindred spirit. She hauled everything from ice to tents and sipped Jager quietly and steadily, as if it would prevent dishpan hands.
More to follow with pics and observations about the party. But the planning of it and the details have been one of the reasons for the paucity of posts in the last few weeks- the lists and preparatory arrangements consumed my thoughts. And it all went off better than we could have hoped. Yesterday was katy's actual birthday, and she spent it relaxing and tooling around a sweet, gay, summer town.
I'll try to catch up a little in a retrospective venture in the next few posts...
We are currently on vacation in P-town with some fairly reliable Internet access, but without our computer or without photos to compliment above promised posts... and with the Atlantic Ocean/National seashore less than 2 miles away, and Cape Cod Bay really only about 1/2 mile, downhill walk from our rental... So the point being- I don't know how much blogging will get done.
We arrived in P-town on Sunday night just after dark. It's getting darker earlier (just as it does every year.) It's funny how you associate longer days with summer and I associate summer with August, but the solstice is June 21st. So really, on August 21st, there is the same amount of daylight as on April 21st- which we can all agree, is not summer at all. So at 8:15pm when we arrived, it was dark, but the drive was painless and primarily traffic-free. We planned to leave for vacation "as early as possible" but ended up breaking down the party and cleaning until about 2pm, then we took a nap, then we finished packing- THEN we hit the open road. What can I say, we like to live on the edge!
What party you ask? Kate-a-palooza, of course! Katy's 30th birthday celebration.
We had a rip-roaring time: About 150 people dropping in a various points in the day; food that was totally yummy; a yard and house living up to their absolute BBQ potential; an ice luge in the garage and about $500 worth of liquor and beer to keep everything "lubricated." All worlds were colliding (we invited family, neighbors, school-mates, work colleagues from various jobs, old peeps, new friends...) which can be a little stressful, but worked out fantastic.
The weather which has been tipping into the high 80's and sometimes 90's for the last several weeks, somehow broke under the weight of my silent, begging prayers. Unbelievably, a stormy, soggy cool-off did not reveal itself, but rather, one of the more perfect and pleasant days of the year. The tents we set up as potential heat-stroke refuges were places that guests needed to don sweatshirts to stay comfy by late evening.
My gram made her now legendary eggplant parm. My mom made some homemade sausage and peppers, my sister brought the farm fresh corn on the cob. All those food items made the catered food more palatable. Katy's parents cleaned up our estate and transformed our garage into a college-kid's dream party/ hangout. Her brother initiated the evening fire pit. Her dad christened the horse shoe pit. My dad took several early shifts at the grill. The womb whisperer drove into town to play the role of indentured servant and continue her odyssey as the life-long, reliable, loyal, ass-kicking, pregnancy-protecting, I'll-do-all-the-dirty-work-at-your-major-celebratory-events kindred spirit. She hauled everything from ice to tents and sipped Jager quietly and steadily, as if it would prevent dishpan hands.
More to follow with pics and observations about the party. But the planning of it and the details have been one of the reasons for the paucity of posts in the last few weeks- the lists and preparatory arrangements consumed my thoughts. And it all went off better than we could have hoped. Yesterday was katy's actual birthday, and she spent it relaxing and tooling around a sweet, gay, summer town.
*This blog post title was just a quote from this morning's cereal conversation that seemed hilarious and profoundly accurate to me.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Steve-o
By the way, in the middle of all of this, Our TiVo died.
I know this will seem insignificant in the scheme of things...
But Steve was a member of our family.
Fortunately, a replaceable member.
I know this will seem insignificant in the scheme of things...
But Steve was a member of our family.
Fortunately, a replaceable member.
Life is Good
I've always liked this line of clothing. Cute, comfortable, fun, and a "chill-out" message you can really get behind.
We went to RI this weekend and I'm going back for 2 more days after my OB appointment this morning. And being near the ocean is really rejuvenating for me. Even though kt is not a big fan of the big drink, she likes the sites and smells of the beach and will even sometimes come in the H2O with me. When I'm staring into the sea, I find a peace and balance that helps make sense of the world. It is vast and still scary, but it is regular and reliable and somehow comforting. We were away with my family- 2 grams, sister, B-in-Law, Mac-a-doodle, Ma and Pa, but I got to spend a little time there with everyone (in my mind, you were all there relaxing too.)
Yesterday, I saw someone wearing a daisy hat like this on the beach. And just as I glimpsed it, a cool breeze flapped thru my wet hair and a gentle wave crashed on my toes. I took a deep breath in and whispered a prayer of agreement with the mass-marketed commercial slogan.
But before I could exhale, my thoughts were of katy's boss and concern of how he might find a way to feel that type of emotion again...
When life is crappy and hard and hectic and busy and depressing, you can remind yourself via the brand-name on a hat or scarf that you are focusing too much on the bad and not enough on the good... But when life is bad. Really bad.
I'm
the
only
surviving
member
of
my
family
on
the
cover
of
People
magazine
bad...
What the fuck do you do?!?
I know I should be thinking of his family more, and grieving just as hard - harder- for their loss. But to me they seem safe now. Somehow in my mind, they are protected and whole. Their loss is awful, but my prayers are unevenly directed at him.I just keep thinking, I hope there's some way... I can't imagine it... But I hope there's some way that someday, he'll feel a gentle breeze on a certain sunny day and feel that inner peaceful sigh. That despite this horror visited on his existence, despite his loneliness and loss, something will bring that old familiar tide of gentle gratitude for life- that I know he experienced at least daily up until 2 weeks ago.
Harry Potter
Finally finished #7 on Thursday. The Deathly Hallows came to us at a bizarre time.
I'm gonna have to read it again. I started it Sunday, July 22nd which ended up being the night this happened... I read it not in chapters, but groups of pages at a time- in between periods of extreme sadness, anxiety, hospital visits, memorial services, and sleeplessness. I had about 24 more pages to go when we were deciding whether or not to go to the hospital b/c we couldn't feel the baby moving...
Long and short of it is that is was a strange time to be reading a book about dark and good magic, that is about growing up, overcoming impossible odds, and symbolizes the end of an era. I thought the book ended the series well, but I think I'm gonna have to read it again to say anything more.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Buddha playing possum
It's been a stressful couple of weeks.
Tracy has pretty much summed up all of my emotions in her last two posts so I won't belabor the point here. I'm simaltaneously entirely done talking about it and constantly seeking out people to process this with. It's like a mental tug of war only there can almost certainly never be a winner.
So it almost tipped us over the edge when our nearly 30 week fetus decided to play possum. Up until now, from the day Tracy started feeling him move, this kid has been a mexican jumping bean. He kicks, he punches, he rolls, he flips, he boogies, he practically shakes hands with people. Then, perhaps just to provide a "dry run" for the actual trip to the hospital, he decided to pretty much stop moving. The last two days he's been kind of quiet, but still hitting hard enough to almost hurt her. Then last night, after a rousing game of softball (Tracy "coaches" us - which is to say, yells at me to at least try - and it usually works), we came home and crawled into our bed with our Harry Potter books.
And we couldn't wake him up.
We tried ice water, walking, sitting, turning, talking, music playing, and begging. Nothing worked. With echoes of our birthing class teacher saying "If you're worried you should call" in our heads, we made the call to our OB. Our primary happened to be on. She recommended 12 ounces of good ol' Coca Cola. Never one to pass up an opportunity to break open that red can, Tracy put one back. We waited the requisite 40 minutes for it to make it into her blood stream, then his blood stream...
And nothing. Well, maybe a flutter. But just one, and not very noticeable.
So, the OB called back and very calmly recommended that we go to the hospital for a non stress test. We spent the 15 minute ride taking turns reassuring each other that there was just no possible way that there was something wrong with this kid. We're too close to the edge already. Can't look over the edge. Not sure if our parachutes are packed just right yet.
After missing the turn for the parking garage, parking on the wrong floor, having a nurse practically smirk at us and tell us she can get in this door but we have to go upstairs, a security guard who thought we were visiting someone and didn't want to let us in, walking right by L&D and having to turn around and come back, and a L&D receptionist who was doing our paperwork but wouldn't look up to even say hello, [BIG BREATH] Tracy's bladder was practically bursting. 7 glasses of water, and 16 ounces of Coke later she was nearly splashing down the hallway.
Now, almost always when you're pregnant they want to see your urine. So I had to pull some major distraction tactics out to keep Tracy from running away and hiding in a bathroom with the door locked. "But you said you'd get me anything I want! And I want a toilet!" "I know honey, look at my blue blue eyes. No, over here. Do I need to sing you song?" And on and on.
This all leads up to nothing that funny, but definitely some relief. His heart was beating just fine and he was moving a little bit that we could hear on the Doppler but she couldn't feel. They did an ultrasound to check the fluid which all looked fine. So we took the opportunity to see him and ask what position he was in.
Imagine a buddha. Then superimpose that image on Tracy's belly. That's right, FRANK BREECH. Legs crossed, sitting in her pelvis, head on her ribs. (To be fair his back is a little turned to her right) Now, it's early still and he can still move and be head down. But seriously? If anyone was going to get a kid out of them with inspiring grace and courage it's Tracy. Now we just have to get little buddha who thinks he is a possum to turn around.
Oy.
They let us come home around 12:30am. Tracy spent the night trying to not trip while sprinting to the bathroom. And we both had a much easier night knowing that our kid is fine. And he's probably excited that he got out getting grounded ONLY by virtue of not being born. Next time we won't let him get off that easy.
Tracy has pretty much summed up all of my emotions in her last two posts so I won't belabor the point here. I'm simaltaneously entirely done talking about it and constantly seeking out people to process this with. It's like a mental tug of war only there can almost certainly never be a winner.
So it almost tipped us over the edge when our nearly 30 week fetus decided to play possum. Up until now, from the day Tracy started feeling him move, this kid has been a mexican jumping bean. He kicks, he punches, he rolls, he flips, he boogies, he practically shakes hands with people. Then, perhaps just to provide a "dry run" for the actual trip to the hospital, he decided to pretty much stop moving. The last two days he's been kind of quiet, but still hitting hard enough to almost hurt her. Then last night, after a rousing game of softball (Tracy "coaches" us - which is to say, yells at me to at least try - and it usually works), we came home and crawled into our bed with our Harry Potter books.
And we couldn't wake him up.
We tried ice water, walking, sitting, turning, talking, music playing, and begging. Nothing worked. With echoes of our birthing class teacher saying "If you're worried you should call" in our heads, we made the call to our OB. Our primary happened to be on. She recommended 12 ounces of good ol' Coca Cola. Never one to pass up an opportunity to break open that red can, Tracy put one back. We waited the requisite 40 minutes for it to make it into her blood stream, then his blood stream...
And nothing. Well, maybe a flutter. But just one, and not very noticeable.
So, the OB called back and very calmly recommended that we go to the hospital for a non stress test. We spent the 15 minute ride taking turns reassuring each other that there was just no possible way that there was something wrong with this kid. We're too close to the edge already. Can't look over the edge. Not sure if our parachutes are packed just right yet.
After missing the turn for the parking garage, parking on the wrong floor, having a nurse practically smirk at us and tell us she can get in this door but we have to go upstairs, a security guard who thought we were visiting someone and didn't want to let us in, walking right by L&D and having to turn around and come back, and a L&D receptionist who was doing our paperwork but wouldn't look up to even say hello, [BIG BREATH] Tracy's bladder was practically bursting. 7 glasses of water, and 16 ounces of Coke later she was nearly splashing down the hallway.
Now, almost always when you're pregnant they want to see your urine. So I had to pull some major distraction tactics out to keep Tracy from running away and hiding in a bathroom with the door locked. "But you said you'd get me anything I want! And I want a toilet!" "I know honey, look at my blue blue eyes. No, over here. Do I need to sing you song?" And on and on.
This all leads up to nothing that funny, but definitely some relief. His heart was beating just fine and he was moving a little bit that we could hear on the Doppler but she couldn't feel. They did an ultrasound to check the fluid which all looked fine. So we took the opportunity to see him and ask what position he was in.
Imagine a buddha. Then superimpose that image on Tracy's belly. That's right, FRANK BREECH. Legs crossed, sitting in her pelvis, head on her ribs. (To be fair his back is a little turned to her right) Now, it's early still and he can still move and be head down. But seriously? If anyone was going to get a kid out of them with inspiring grace and courage it's Tracy. Now we just have to get little buddha who thinks he is a possum to turn around.
Oy.
They let us come home around 12:30am. Tracy spent the night trying to not trip while sprinting to the bathroom. And we both had a much easier night knowing that our kid is fine. And he's probably excited that he got out getting grounded ONLY by virtue of not being born. Next time we won't let him get off that easy.
getting your news from ESPN
I heard about the highway collapse in Minneapolis only by virtue of the cancellation of the Minnesota Twins baseball game. I've given up watching the news for the most part these days. Last week I sought it out every minute of the day but now I'm done being overwhelmed by information and trying to let it settle out a little.
So, I've been getting my news from ESPN SportsCenter. Tracy loves this. Somewhere in her nightmares I'm positive there's a dream that we have 6 TVs and all of them are playing some version of ESPN. And I'm right there in the middle giggling with joy.
So, I've been getting my news from ESPN SportsCenter. Tracy loves this. Somewhere in her nightmares I'm positive there's a dream that we have 6 TVs and all of them are playing some version of ESPN. And I'm right there in the middle giggling with joy.
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