Stuff

So much is on my mind that I'm just going to have a gobbledy-gook post this evening. Sorry about that.

Went for my prenatal blood test today. We went all the way down to Porter Medical Center to do it so we could see the Birthing Center. It's about an hour drive. Today it was snowing. Fifty minutes was good enough, especially considering I didn't know exactly where I was going. Come August, it will either be easier or harder to make it in an hour, being in the heart of Construction Season and all.

The blood draw was easy. I hate blood draws, so the lab tech letting me babble at her was fantastic. I hope Alex's first real blood draw isn't traumatic; I'm pretty sure she's O neg like me. I'd like her to be able to donate blood without inducing trauma on volunteers.

The tour was cool. The Birthing Center is tiny. We were shown the recovery room that one might be moved to if they are really busy. There are two of those. Then we were shown a birthing suite. If it's not busy that would be the room I'm admitted to, labor and deliver, and recover in and the baby would room-in. There are three of those rooms. The nursery is all glass and the nurse reassured us that the baby would only really be there for a heel prick, or in an emergency, that is where the baby would be stabilized before transport.

I live a fifteen minute bus ride from the hospital they would probably transfer the baby (or myself) to, if there were an emergency. Taking public transit from my house is a quicker ride than in a speeding ambulance from Middlebury... I know that birth is normal and natural and has happened all over the world for eons. As a reader and student of the female condition, I have a hard time forgetting that women and infants have died in childbirth, or shortly thereafter, for eons. I was a C-section because my mother's pelvis would not separate. After 46 hours of labor, my delivery was an emergency. I spent a week in the NICU at Mary Hitchcock (a tale worth its own post). Alex was born after my membranes were ruptured for me and the doctor had me on pitocin for a total of 16 hours. I got nine hours off for sleep and one for lunch. I'm a little nervous. I think Bryn is too, but we haven't really articulated our fears to one another. He doesn't like "dwelling" and thinks that bad thoughts can manifest into the things feared. I want to talk about our fears, but I don't want to upset Bryn. He'll just tell me there's nothing to worry about.

I want waffles.

So Dev, I've been reading a bit and I'm not sure I need a doula. At least not this far out. I'll still need to research a bit, but I think I may (oh boy) be fine. I have a fantastic set of midwives - who are beloved of the nursing staff at Porter, by the way. The nurse who gave us the tour asked who we were going with and she just had fantastic things to say about each of the midwives. She loves the midwife we are going with, but she is pregnant so we are going with Martha for our visit next week, which was just fantastic with the nurse, but Anita is really very sweet too, she should know, she used to work in their office. And then there is the fact that my mom's new best friend is a midwife who has offered her more maternal services. Lord knows I'm not letting Mom in for delivery, but her best friend may be welcome. And then there is Bryn. I think the family friend may be what I need. I'll keep researching though.

I think I may be over the worst of the queasy thing. I still have bouts of it, but my main urge is to eat my way through it. What I really want is cantaloupe. Or waffles. I had a mad craving for cheese steak sandwiches two weeks ago. I must have eaten three of them that week. Spinach salads sound good until I go to choose a dressing. I like creamy dressings on my spinach, vinaigrettes don't really cut it, but the smell of the creamy dressings just puts me off. Pretzels were unappealing for a while. That was just weird. Peppermint tea, one sugar, room temperature is the greatest beverage ever. I can even forgo the sugar, just don't make me drink it hot.

I want a Twizzler.

I have a new primary care physician. He's asked me to call him by his first name. I feel old. He's really friendly and super sweet though. He checked me out, told me that the midwives can check my abdomen and breasts, and recommended a new brain care specialist. I was not in the least off-put by his attitude towards my pregnant places - I kind of liked that he was more than happy to defer to the ladies who DO pregnancy. I will see him again in a few months.

The new brain care specialist (I have seen counselors, therapists, psychologists, psychiatrists, etc... I've seen them all for the same thing - my mental health (that I stole the phrase from a Vogon is irrelevant)) is a neat lady in the same office as the new doctor. She let me babble for the first hour. Maybe at tomorrow's meeting she will speak more. She implied that she would, but time will tell. I was working on weaning off of my anti-depressants while I was trying to get pregnant. The stomach virus finished the job. She and I are going to work on keeping me that way, at least until the baby is weaned. That is my goal. I had a rough time last year. Wish me luck.

I've been a bit of a hormonal mess. Bryn can probably speak to it better than I can so I will leave off with the fact that I was bawling yesterday about dishes. I was threatening to pile them in the driveway and run them over with the car rather than wash them. He couldn't understand me through the blubbering and thought I said "tissue", as that was what I was looking at when I spoke. He really didn't get the driving pantomime in reference to the snotty tissue. It wasn't just the dishes, of course. I was also a mess about not hearing him correctly. He teases me but I haven't been able to hear his smile lately; all I hear are the words, which I then have an over-reaction to. So he teases me about not doing the dishes, I freak out on him, he tell me to calm down, I realize I'm over reacting and completely meltdown. Within said meltdown I bring up all the other things that make me unhappy. I have no passion anymore, I can't hear his smile, I can't stand being touched, I have no idea what I'm going to do with my degree, I have no idea how we are going to pay for the trip to Boston, I have no Work-Study money this semester, crap I haven't finished reading Uncle Tom's Cabin, I sleep too much, there's too much laundry, should we cloth diaper the baby?, if I could afford disposables I can afford the diaper service, right?, AAAGGGGHHHHH!!!!! And then I start driving over tissues. It's a good thing Bryn loves me. Alex worries when I cry. Bryn tells her I'm fine and I try to reassure her as well, but I think it may be a bit scary for her.

Anyone have a Fudge Round? Twix? 3 Musketeers?

I think I'm doing better. Next week is the midwife appointment where I may actually lie down on a table and get my belly prodded. I may get a sonogram. We may discover the gender (maybe).

I want a boy. I want a boy badly enough that I'm wondering if I'm willing to have three girls in an effort to get a boy. I am the only daughter of an only daughter of an only daughter. Bryn has female cousins and a sister. He's it for the Milks name. A boy would be so cool. My mom thinks it's cool enough that I'm breaking the only child chain, a boy would be gravy. (Please little Zoe, if you read this, don't be offended. We love you.)

Mmmm.... when is cantaloupe in season again?

Yes, we have names picked out. Yes, if it's a girl her name will be Zoe. Alexandra and Zoe. Get it? I'm not divulging the middle name. I was on a forum when I was pregnant with Alex and we went around one day and shared the names we had chosen for our April babies. A woman who delivered on Alex's due date used my boy name, first and middle, for her son. I was so offended. I looked back and she was going to call him Micheal. I suppose it means I have better taste, but it was weird and I felt robbed. Suffice to say, I'm not really worried about anyone stealing the names so much as I want there to be a bit of surprise. On a side note, neither of our mothers like the girl name. We're sticking to our guns though. We think it's perfect.

I think I've blathered enough for one post. I'm off to find some ice cream. Or an apple. Fruit leather?