Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Human again

I was abducted by aliens this weekend, and my husband was forced to look after four screaming, demanding children while his replacement "wife" dozed in the recliner, ate soup, and watched television. Then got up once a day to go on a random rampage about how she really shouldn't have to be responsible for chores at a time like this, etc. While doing chores.

Actually, being abducted by aliens would have been better than what really happened...because I wouldn't have had to suffer through it, and I wouldn't have to own up to being the one who went on the random rampages. I actually got strep throat Thursday night. Only fever that night (oh, and puking! can't forget that!), but it was sleep-in-clothes-under-two-comforters fever (tested Friday night as 103+ degrees- eek). Friday morning I had a sore-ish throat that quickly turned into a throat that had apparently been repeatedly rubbed with bits of broken glass, and tonsils so swollen that when I talked, people thought I had a head cold...it was weird. My glands were so swollen and tender that I was actually scared I might have mono- even though I had it more than 10 years ago.

So I went to urgent care and got the swab down the throat (didn't hurt, didn't gag- shocking). Bit of trivia: the rapid strep culture West Health (Plymouth) uses looks just like a pregnancy test...little credit-card size piece of plastic with two windows: the "control window" (those familiar with pg tests will recognize this as the window that just lets you know the test didn't malfunction) and a window that shows a plus or minus- I kid you not. Apparently test manufacturers don't consider doctors any smarter than the rest of us. That came up negative, but the doctor was convinced it hadn't worked right, so she gave me amox. anyway (my mom has since confessed that as many times as I had strep since they came up with the rapid cultures, I always tested negative on them...and the doctor always called back two days later with a positive result and a prescription) (oh, and the overnight test was positive...way to call it, doctor!). Very little fever Saturday night, felt much better Sunday...but still didn't go to church. Who knows if someone else here is going to come down with it tomorrow- I'd hate to be responsible for spreading it. Like my...husband. Who gave it to me. But did not have to suffer the agony himself. Ahem.

Yes, I will be taking every one of the pills the doctor gave me- I always finish my course of antibiotics, silly!

Thank goodness it happened on a weekend (so that Jeff was home). Oh, and that my in-laws were kind enough to stop by Friday and let me nap with Jonah. That was awesome.

Hope all your weekends were better than mine.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

&^%#$%#%&@ Classmates.com

I have a high school friend who apparently wanted to say "hi" to me, so she sent an email through classmates.com. The drawback being that I can't read it without paying for membership, since she is not a paying member. I sent her one back, which she will not be able to read, although the site has kindly informed me that if I were to join, she would be able to read it free of charge. Sweet of them, really.

Screw that. I put my current email address in the subject line of the email.

back to the drawing board

excuse the lack of capitalization- jonah has a cold, so there's a lot of late-night feedings to be done here.

things get better, only to get worse again...at least that's how it feels right now. i thought allie was coming out of whatever behavioral fugue she falls into every few weeks, but alas, it isn't so. it's not so bad for me- we have those first two years of pretty much mutual exclusivity going for us, and if it almost drove me crazy, it also means we have near-telepathic rapport. might be because we're so alike, also- although that works against us as well as for us. on the less-helpful end, we both enjoy arguing, but only if we can pretty much grind the opposing party into the floor. as much as possible, i just refuse to argue with her- it's too much like a power struggle. a wise person once told me that you can't win power struggles with children- once you engage in it, you've lost no matter what the "outcome".

so. allie, yeah...jeff is not so lucky. three-quarters of what he says to her she percieves as rejection or attack. the word "fine", in particular, provokes a reaction you would not believe of my sweet little girl. he's trying hard to banish it from his vocabulary; meanwhile, i have a severely anxious and overreactive daughter- make that two of them; myself, who just went up to a slightly higher dose of meds, making me irritable and impatient for a few days; jeff, who is struggling mightily but still feeling like he's losing his mind; and a son who- scout's honor- would drive a substance abuse counselor to the nearest dealer. oh, and one sweet little baby who is growing up far too fast for his poor mommy.

speaking of jonah, he is definitely the prodigy of our family. crawling by 6 months (although it took him another month to really get good at it), pulling himself to standing now, at just under 8 months. and the boy can *stand*- unless gabe shoves him, he's steady on his feet for a good 30 minutes, which seems like an inordinate amount of time to me. he really enjoys walking if you hold his hands, and he uses this really cute marching-band stepping style. he also said his first word tonight ("duh....ck"). it just doesn't seem possible that i'm coming to the point in my life where i will no longer be the mother of any infants. part of me is cheering- no more mandatory 3 am feedings! no more missing concerts because it isn't worth it to introduce a bottle for one night! but part of me is sad, because most of my friends are just entering or preparing to enter parenthood, and while I'm far from done (parenting, that is), I do seem to be done with babies. I love being pregnant, and it's hard to come to terms with never being pregnant ever again.

Notice the caps are back? Jonah finally went to sleep and stayed asleep after roughly three hours of nursing and two failed attempts at putting him to bed. Thank God. The upside was I got to spend some extra one-on-one time with Allie. I walked past her room with Jonah and noticed she still wasn't asleep an hour after I put her and Eva to bed, so I invited her to get up and watch a little TV with me while I nursed him some more. We split the last of the Le Petit Ecoliers cookies (extra-dark chocolate, yummm- another thing she and I have in common), watched a bit of a movie (not Olive the Other Reindeer, thanks be- that's been more or less playing constantly the past two days while Gabe and Eva were sick), then I put Jonah down and carried my big girl to her bed. She's almost too big to carry now, so I am enjoying it while I can. She is so much to deal with right now that the chance to spend some uncomplicated, quiet time with her was really special.

Friday, December 02, 2005

I truly live in an alternate universe

I just finished a yahoogroups posting where I'm trying to convince a mother of two that she is not a bad mom for encouraging her second child (15 months) to only nurse a few times a day, because she is pregnant and nursing makes her antsy. Her first child nursed to age 2.5, so she is feeling very guilty and upset.

Sometimes I completely forget that this is not normal behavior for an American mother. That if the age of my children at weaning were general knowledge, I would get some surprised looks (at the very least). Our American average age of weaning is 6 weeks or so (largely due to the unavailability of paid parental leave, I would assert), and most babies are recieving at least some formula by the time mom and baby leave the hospital.

The hospital. Yeah. Because that's where you go to have a baby, right? I mean, only a complete freak would do anything else, right?

Sometimes the real world is too much like a slap in the face. I like my alternate universe.

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Good things and bad things

I have a great deal to be thankful for these days, and also a large number of things that are worrysome. The best of the good things is that my mood seems to be stabilizing, and on the first medication I've tried (Lamictal). I've been taking it for three weeks now, and my grossly out-of-control irritability is pretty much gone. I still have mood swings, but instead of switching daily or several times a day, for now I seem to have settled into a pattern where I feel good (but not manic) during the week, and depressed on the weekends. The depression started to appear when I stopped using my light box, but discontinuing that was also what took care of my daily descent into bitchyland (the remaining irritability), so good riddance. And as Jeff pointed out, I get to have my cake and eat it too- Lamictal is only really effective for treating bipolar lows. So I get to keep my hypomanic periods. Unless I should suddenly start to develop mania with psychotic symptoms, hallucinations, or grandiose delusions (which seems unlikely), I'm golden.

Jeff is also feeling better, which feels good for all of us. Things were really rocky for a while- with my mood completely unpredictable, his depressed and highly irritable, and four small children...well, let's just say it wasn't Disneyland. At least not as it's portrayed in the commercials- I've been there and know better ;)

I'm also supposed to be making some lifestyle changes- Making Sure I Get 8 Hours of Sleep Each Night, and No Caffiene After Noon. Obviously, this is a lot harder for me than taking the medicine (just look at the time stamp on this post, realize my kids get up around 9, and do the math). But I am trying. I'm not a person who goes to bed at 9- never have been. That's Jeff. But I'm striving to become a person who goes to bed around midnight. Caffiene is my life's blood in the winter, so that isn't going so hot. I think I'd actually take it by IV if I could. Nah...I know I would.

The worrysome things really aren't so bad when I consider what things were like a few months ago. We have a consultation at our mental health clinic for Allie on Friday to hopefully start the process of getting her help with whatever is going on with her. We are scheduling screenings for Gabe and Eva to make sure they are developmentally on-track (and very likely, we'll discuss behavioral referrals for them). Jeff is missing a decent chunk of work to keep all these appointments, but thankfully a bus driver's schedule is pretty flexible, so it's not a threat to his job- just our finances.

There are more good things, though...I made feta jalepeno dip today, and while it could have used a little more jalepeno, it was still scrumptious. My pumpkin cheesecake for Thanksgiving turned out looking almost professional (and tasting fantastic, if I can be pardoned for saying so). Thanksgiving went great. We had it here, just us and our parents. They brought stuff and I made the turkey, stuffing, and cranberries. It was the first holiday gathering I have completely enjoyed since Allie was born...because since that day, we've been pressured to attend two (sometimes three) different celebrations each Thanksgiving and Christmas, often on the same day. And by "pressured" I mean coerced. But this time, instead of hitting Jeff's folks' house at 11:30, eating, dashing out with crabby kids in tow at 3:30 to arrive at my grandma's by 4 and spend the remainder of our evening trying to protect her 300+ music boxes in their glass-fronted cabinets from toddler hands, we just relaxed the morning away as the turkey cooked, played with the kids, and waited for our parents to arrive. Then a thoroughly restful meal where for once I didn't have to worry what my kids might be breaking, because whatever it was, it's mine and I probably didn't need it anyway.

Sorry that this was kind of an aimless post- I haven't written in a while, so I just sort of hopped around through all the things I felt like talking about.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

My Pet Peeve

I have to write this, because it's been bothering me for years now, but for some reason the last few days it won't leave me alone.

I hate the way we refer to doctors' involvement in a birth in this country. It drives me absolutely batty. And I know I said "doctors", but I mean midwives too, most of them (and most of us) use this terminology and when I'm dictator, I'm going to glare very sternly at anyone who uses it, and maybe make them give me five dollars. For now I'm just going to beg all of you lovely, mindful people to pretty please think about the language we use and decide for yourself if my objections are valid.

Women say in this country "Dr/Midwife Sally delivered my baby". It's like fingernails on a chalkboard for me, people. Like someone peeing in my Coca-Cola.

The problems with this:
1. In most cases, the only thing a doctor does at a birth is arrive in time for the grand finale, coach the woman in pushing (which she doesn't need anyway), and announce the baby's sex (again, unnecessary...I'm guessing most people able to have sex can figure out on their own which one the baby is).

2. Even in cases which require some sort of dramatic intervention (forceps, surgery, whatever), saying that the doctor delivered the baby completely robs the woman of any sort of crucial role in what happened. In this phrasing, the doctor, not the woman laboring, is the star. I always want to ask, "So, what were you doing while the doctor was delivering your baby?" not out of a desire to humiliate, but because I want women to realize that the doctor is there for them. The show can't go on without them.

3. It implies passivity. That birth is something that is done to us, not something we participate in. I think it was Henci Goer who put it like this: "There's a big difference between being the magician who pulls a rabbit out of a hat and merely being the hat." Who wants to be the hat?

4. It's just sloppy English. The word "deliver" (as a transitive verb) has 9 meanings at dictionary.com. Only one (#7) concerns birth. The rest are either nonsense in this context (#1-6, #8), or truly horrible when applied to the doctor's role in birth (#9). There's got to be a better way to say this.

I'm open to any and all suggestions for a replacement phrase. Sadly, I have caught myself saying this from time to time, and it always makes me sad. Because any doctor worth the money knows that s/he's not the magician when it comes to a birth. The laboring woman is. The doctor is more akin to the magician's lovely assistant- sometimes crucial, sometimes clumsy, but always second fiddle. Stand there, look pretty, help me if I need it...good doctor.

Sunday, October 16, 2005


I'm happy to report some improvement here. We seem to have finally found a med combo that is working for Jeff. That's the first thing, but it's affected everything else. We're getting along better, he and the kids are getting along better. Dinner time is becoming more predictably pleasant, instead of being our daily exercise in falling apart as a family. This is a great relief.

On the less-happy front, I had my first episode of can't-wake-up syndrome today. This is really typical for me in winter, and I was sort of hoping it wouldn't start this year. But, blessedly, Jeff not only ran the household and got breakfast this morning, he also fixed the clogged pipes under the kitchen sink and did the dishes. When I finally dragged my ass out of bed after 11, he told me he'd been hoping to get more done. I was overwhelmed. I still am. For months now, we've been living lives of bare civility and occasional angry outbursts, also occasional affectionate outbursts. Between me being ill and untreated and him being ill and ineffectively treated, things were not going well. But my hope for the future of our family, which never died completely but needed life support at times, is now getting steadily stronger.

It's a good time for it. Because the feeling we've had for a long time, that there is something off about Allie, is getting stronger as well. It's hard to explain to someone who doesn't live with us, because 90% of the behavior that concerns us happens at home, with only our family around to witness it. But here's some highlights:

Allie asked us the other day, out of the blue: "why do some parents hate their children and kill them?"
She has started hitting her siblings again, and seemed poised to choke Eva with a jumprope the other day (put it around her neck and started pulling the ends in opposite directions), although I intervened before the actual choking started
She screams inconsolably when I leave the room until I return
She is becoming more defiant, lying more, and refusing to listen to Jeff or me in most instances
She has out-of-control screaming tantrums, where she is mentally unreachable (but obviously terrified) and cannot participate in calming herself down- we have to wait them out, sometimes for a half-hour or more

She was an extremely intense baby, and she has always had periods like this ("difficult stages" is our family nomenclature), but as she gets older, not only are they getting worse, but they're getting more and more out-of-sync with expected, normal behavior-for-age. She reminds me of my brother, which is a very scary thing. Since her preschool screening was A-OK, I think our next stop is a referral to a behavioral specialist for evaluation. Hopefully they'll take our word for it, because she is still her normal, bright, charming self when not at home. I wish I could see inside her head and know what is going on with her, because I know what a wonderful girl she can be.

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

The days pass

I've been struggling, ever since I posted last, with whether or not that last post should remain up or not. Not so much because I swore (I do, occasionally, and we have a rather liberal attitude toward "bad language" in our house), but because I was so open. I have trouble being vulnerable. But in the end, it remains up, and will remain up, because I decided if I can't be honest here, I'm in a whole heap of trouble.

I'm not angry all the time. Right now, I'm not angry at all, just anxious to get started with treatment...to start getting better. Such is the dualistic nature of this disease, I guess. Daily doses of evening primrose oil (suggested by a friend) seem to be heading off my descent into depression for the time being, but I'm wondering if that is also the cause of the low-grade mania I seem to be dealing with on and off. But for now, I'll take the low-grade mania, even though it's only in fits and starts, because I know when I detour into full-blown depression I will slip from finding it difficult to get daily tasks done to feeling overwhelmed at the thought of having to make lunch. It's hard to describe what it's like to be completely paralyzed by contemplating simple, routine tasks- except to say that I dread it immensely, and while I love autumn, winter to me is a sinister season that sucks away everything I am and everything I love, until I'm left with only the memory of life and enjoyment.

But there is a silver lining, even now. Being aware of my cycling has helped me immensely in managing my emotions. It doesn't help me manage my moods, but that's where drugs come in, I guess. To explain what I mean, differentiating between moods and emotion: sadness is an emotion; depression is a mood. Fear is an emotion; anxiety is a mood. This may not be how a psychologist would categorize things, but it is aiding me, so I'm keeping it. A mood, for me, has emotional manifestations (crying while depressed, biting nails while anxious, talking fast while manic), but in itself, it is not an emotion, and it is not necessarily responsive to emotional triggers...petting a puppy probably won't make me happy while I'm depressed, nor will talking about our atrocious financial situation bring me down when I'm manic. The more I think about it, the odder it seems how completely disconnected my moods are from my emotions. And how disconnected my self-perception is from reality (or, if not reality, at least from others' perceptions...but if you tally up enough people's perceptions, and they agree on the whole, I think it's fairly safe to call the sum "reality"). I think part of the reason this diagnosis in general has been such a crushing blow to me is that I'm a type 4. For someone (in this case, a doctor) to tell me that my perception of reality has some serious flaws was basically telling me that I can't trust my perceptions. And if I can't trust my perceptions, what *can* I trust?

So I'm lucky beyond words to have Jeff. For now, I trust him more than I do myself. And thankfully, he trusts me enough to tell me when I'm full of it (like when I question the validity of my diagnosis). A lot of the time, he can see my mood shifting before I can...example: when I'm getting manic, I start to talk pretty fast. And interrupt people. And talk over them. And almost shout (which I don't realize I'm doing). I don't notice the change until I'm literally stuttering because my brain is running so far ahead of my mouth (which is struggling to keep up). He can hear the change in my speech way sooner than that. It sounds like a small thing, but with something like manic depression, even a small warning that a shift is coming can head off a minor (or not so minor) disaster. Oh, I'm getting manic? Perhaps I should postpone that shopping trip until my mood settles a bit (of course, once I *am* manic, convincing me to postpone *anything* can be a major undertaking...which is why I end up scrubbing the bathrooms down at 4 in the morning).

Small victories, but victories nonetheless. It's not all doom and gloom here...but there are definitely good days and bad.

Since I probably won't be posting again before Friday, happy birthday Michelle and Chico!

Friday, September 30, 2005

Thank God, I'm not Crazy

Or, rather, I am crazy...but not uniquely so. For the past month, I've been confessing to Jeff almost every day that I don't really feel sick. I know what depression feels like, and it's easy to classify that as illness. But I'm not depressed. And I've ranted about how what is pathology for me (mania and hypomania), in people who do not suffer the depressive side of the coin is not considered pathology- and how damned unfair that is. They're not sick- they're your tireless leaders, your undauntable explorers, your unflagging visionaries and reformers. So they came with a thermostat set a little higher than the average- they only sleep 5 hours a night, say, or can come up with fresh ideas for saving the world when everyone around them is dozing off in exhaustion ("It's 5 am? Wow, time flies!"). They're not sick.

It's incredibly. Fucking. Unfair.


"I'm honestly not scared - yet - of the diagnosis. It's not a complete surprise. What I am nervous about is the medications...But it's more than that. I don't feel bipolar. Good moods don't feel like mania or hypomania to me - they feel like - good moods."

Quoted from this article, but I could have written the exact same thing. And I think it may be harder for me right now, as someone who has never displayed a lot of classic psychotic symptoms (hallucinations or grandiose delusions) with my manias, to frame mania in terms of illness at all. Yes, I understand this is a progressive disorder, that without treatment, I will deteriorate until I die (from either natural or self-inflicted causes, self-inflicted being more likely without treatment). I understand that mixed episodes, like I have been experiencing ever since my second week of Zoloft- these will become the norm for me. The giddy, pure mania that I'm trying desperately to reclassify as something other than illness will disappear almost completely. But it's not enough. I don't know if "enough" exists to make me comfortable with permanent medicated status. Did I mention that I don't like taking drugs? Not even Tylenol.


So, anyway, I tell Jeff I'm not sick. And he always responds with this totally priceless look...it's the look our kids are going to get when they ask if they can stay overnight at the hotel after prom, or have a kegger for their underage friends at our house (ok, so it's probably wishful thinking that they would ask if they could have the kegger). And that helps, because to be brutally honest with you all (and I think I can do that, after dropping the f-bomb on ya), if it was for my own sake, I would not seek treatment.

Oh, ok, I love being in therapy (c'mon, what could be more fun for a type 4 than having someone listen for an hour while I talk about myself and how I feel?)...so I'd probably do that. Mood stabilizer? Forget it. I'd rather ride the waves than blunt them. When I'm not in the thick of depression, it's easy to convince myself that there is romance in the crushing despair. When I'm not in the grip of mania, it's easy to convince myself that it's just Stacey 2.0...me, only better- smarter, more creative, more interesting, more energetic. It's easy to forget the frightening loss of control...the things I have said and done that were an excruciating embarassment months or years later, the risk-taking, the overspending, the frightening rages, the eventual crash-and-burn.

But regardless, I don't have the option of complete selfishness. I have children who need a mom who isn't incapacitated for 1/3 of the year, who doesn't rage without warning, who can provide some consistency and predictability and structure. I have a husband who needs to be able to trust me with the finances, and trust me with myself. None of that is happenin' without a friendly little dose of lithium (or depakote, or whatever they end up picking for me). I love my kids to death, and I firmly believe that that fact balances out a helluva lot of crap they might otherwise carry, but it doesn't cancel out "my mom's bipolar". This is a case where love isn't...can't be...enough. I have to cooperate. Be a good girl. Take my meds.

And I resent it, intensely.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

What a ride

If you all read Jeff's blog, you know that I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder a few weeks back. At the time, I was had just started taking a small dose of zoloft for depression, and it made me nuts...I was constantly bouncing from very high to very low, and thankfully, the psychiatrist had me stop taking it right away. Unfortunately, she wasn't comfortable prescribing a mood stabilizer (that's what's generally used to treat bipolar- lithium, depakote, etc) because I am breastfeeding. So while the pendulum is swinging less quickly post-zoloft- every few days instead of several times each day- it's still swinging, and with the year heading toward fall and shorter days, the lows are starting to get lower and longer, while the highs are disappearing completely.

Season is a big influence on when mania and depression manifest in me, although obviously not everyone with seasonal affective disorder should be diagnosed bipolar (you could, however, make a pretty strong argument that SAD is itself part of the bipolar "family"). Pregnancy wields a lot of influence, too- I wonder if a lot of the reason I have been so much "healthier" the past five years is because I have had very stable, mostly uncycling hormone levels thanks to pregnancy and lactation. Which begs the question- does that mean that when I am no longer breastfeeding I will rapidly lose ground to this illness? I doubt that the influence of hormones and lactational amenorrhea on bipolar women has been studied (heads up to any research psychiatrist or psychologist who wants to break ground!), but I think it's likely that they have therapeutic effects. I know that it has been found that buildup of hormones during late pregnancy makes bipolar women manic, and that it usually lasts 4-6 weeks after delivery (then we tank). Jeff's comment: no wonder you feel so good when you're pregnant! My response: yeah, and now that I know that, I don't think I like being pregnant as much as I used to...being in a good mood is a wonderful feeling. Knowing you're in a good mood because you're getting manic kind of kills it, at least for me.

I also think that if you go through my archives, you could probably get a decent idea of where my mood was at by the length of my posts. I don't have the energy to write as much when I'm down (right now I would characterize my mood as "headed down"...but not there yet).

Oh, hey, if anyone needs to get ahold of me, your best bet is to either email Jeff or call our house...I probably won't be checking for comments, and my response time for emails right now leaves much to be desired.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Back in the saddle?

I can't tell you how much I don't feel like blogging. Yet, I'm also troubled by how long it's been since I last posted. I'm not even going to look at the date of my last post, as it would only depress me. I have plenty of good excuses- Jonah, illness, Allie, Gabe, Eva, moving, unpacking, and Jonah. Yes, he's supposed to be on there twice- poor kid is sick, so he's been on me (nursing or sleeping) literally 21 out of 24 hours each of the last three days, and on top of it, I've been feverish and miserable. Thanks, kids, for bringing home this latest little bacteriological pet.

Speaking of pets, we're about to get more, temporarily. Maddy got herself knocked up about a week before Jonah arrived (we think)...I was certain I had kept her out of trouble when she was in heat, but apparently, I was mistaken. Three of the kittens (available sometime in August) are spoken for, but if you're interested, let us know...we're pretty happy with just one cat. If we get a hankering for more animals here, I've already declared that we'll be getting a pair of rats. But that's a long way in the future- we had a pair when I was pregnant with Gabe and Eva (females, I'm guessing I don't have to spell out the reason a same-sex pair is desirable), but found ourselves completely unable to give them the attention they needed once Gabe and Eva were out of the hospital, and long story short, they were kindly adopted by another couple at the Porch. I think they've both since died- one advantage to rats is that they're a fairly short-term commitment as far as pets go- 2 or 3 years, usually. And unlike most other rodents, well-bred rats (from a breeder, not Petco) don't bite.

I'm still in vocational limbo...I just can't seem to decide what I want to do with myself. Do I go back to school? Find a midwife to apprentice to? Become certified as a doula and pursue that as my calling? I love birth and babies, but more and more of the birth stories that are shared with me are painful to hear- not that the outcome was awful, but the experience itself women too often falls criminally short of what it could and should be. The cesearean rate in this country is approaching one in three- that in itself is criminal. Vaginal birth after cesearean rates (VBAC) - have been dropping for about a decade, and aren't likely to rise anytime soon, since most women choose an OB/GYN as their provider for pregnancy and birth, and their (OB/GYN's) professional organization's requirements for allowing VBAC are such that most women won't meet them (this wasn't a reason that I chose homebirth, but it is a reason I was glad I wasn't dealing with an obstetrician). So I hear these stories, and I grieve for these women who are being subjected to care that is not evidence-based, who agree to procedures that put them at risk when the risks, or even the fact that there are risks, have not been explained to them, when they come out of childbirth feeling that it was traumatic or excruciating or not how they imagined it. There are a few people I can talk to about it, but most of this stuff is so taken for granted that people look at me funny, like, "what's the big deal?"

Suddenly the light bulb is going on...I guess that this is a clue for me that I will be working with women and birth in some form for the rest of my life- I can't think of anything else that upsets me as much, that makes me cry or smile or bitch as often, as this. I guess that means my vocational dilemma is, to a large extent, solved. Now I just have to figure out how I'm going to deal with having my heart broken on a daily basis for the rest of my life.

I've been thinking for a long time that I should do a class at church on childbirth options and sharing stories- most of what American women know about birth is learned from their doctor (who has a vested interest in things being done a certain way) or books- usually the wrong book (yeah, I read it when I was pregnant with Allie, but there are at least a dozen I would recommend over that one for various reasons). So I'm going to do it, sometime. I don't think I want a class so much as a discussion group, though (I think...maybe have a couple sessions of "educational" content followed by an equal number of discussion/debate). My opinions on this are (obviously) very strong, and it's an emotionally charged topic, so I'm going to have to think long and hard about how I can make it happen without driving myself or anyone else crazy.

Enough for tonight. Someday when I feel like it, I'll put up Jonah's birth story. Until then, a big shoutout to the many lovely women who played a part- Rachel L, Colleen W, Brynn, Sarah, and of course, Rolla. I could not have done it without all of you. And anyway, it wouldn't have been as much fun!

Friday, April 15, 2005

Not much to report

I had a great time with Mel shopping yarn and gasping in shock at some of the kit prices (really, $166 for an afghan kit?). Bought some yarn to make Gabe and Eva winter hats, and now I'm too bored with the idea of making more hats to start them. I really want to try out that crop top pattern!

Sunday through Wednesday I had non-progressing (but nonetheless "real") contractions in the evening. I got in the bad habit of timing them, and thinking, oh gosh! It's going to be today! Then I'd get depressed when it was time for bed and nothing was speeding up. My midwife told me to forget them and go to bed, so I did, and good thing, too...the mild heat wave we've had this week has completely drained me! I did get to see my midwife Monday night for a quick visit, since I missed having her over at 38 weeks. Everything still looks good, and baby is on the big side. How big, we'll know soon enough, I guess. Allie and Jeff and I were all right around 7-8 pounds, but Jeff's sister and my dad were both close to 10, so there is precedent for truly large babies on both sides of the family. I'll see the midwife again Saturday, provided she and her children are all healthy tomorrow (there's been a stomach bug at their house).

Jeff's pick for "labor day" is Sunday...day after my EDD. I'm willing to go along with it- all along I've sort of thought I might start labor at church...as long as we get enough time to make it home (30+ min), I'd be fine with that! Having a baby in the car I'm not so hot on. Sounds fairly uncomfortable.

I'm still feeling inexplicably, inconcievably great...if I knew what was causing it, I'd bottle it and sell it (but first I'd give a big batch to Jenell, Heidi, and Melody- three friends who are pregnant with twins- for free). Unfortunately, feeling so good leaves me with very little to say. I read two books this week, Henci Goer's Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth and another one that I can't remember the authors of...A Good Birth, A Safe Birth. I'd recommend both, although Goer's book I'd recommend with more confidence, as the copy of the other one that I have is 20 years old, and while its research was cutting-edge at the time, I haven't seen the changes I'm sure they've made in later editions. But how could I not love a book with a chapter title like "If You Don't Know Your Options, You Don't Have Any" (my second fave was from Goer's book, the chapter about electronic fetal monitoring is subtitled "The Machine that Goes Ping!"- gotta love a Monty Python reference).

Have a great weekend!

Thursday, April 07, 2005

No news is no news

I'm feeling better. My left hip socket still feels like someone is twisting a knife blade in it when I put my weight on it, but I'm able to avoid putting weight on it enough that most of the time I'm ok. Hopefully my chiropractor will be able to do something about it at my appointment tomorrow (today, I guess...it's after midnight).

I still am having trouble believing I'm a week from my due date. Where did the time go? I won't rant about what a crock due dates are (in my opinion), but since only about 5% of babies actually arrive on the date that they are "due", I'm trying to take the long view and think of this baby as arriving "sometime this month". About 90% of babies arrive within two weeks of their due date (plus or minus- although I only have a week of minus left!), so I figure that's a pretty safe bet. The practical part of my brain (it's underdeveloped, but there) reminds me that babies are much easier to take care of while they remain in utero, and that I should be grateful for every day I don't go into labor.

I missed having a prenatal visit last Saturday for a number of reasons, so I'm looking forward to seeing my midwife again this weekend. And I'm going to the Yarn Cafe with Mel again this Sunday, so I actually have a positive reason not to be impatient for labor! Seeing as the "Cafe" aspect of the YC is a little weak, to say the least (although my mocha was good), we'll be hitting a "real" coffee shop for refreshment first. I'm planning on looking for some yarn to knit a tank top for Allie. The pattern uses intarsia technique, which I have never attempted. It may be a disaster, but in that case, I'll just make the top in a single solid color rather than mess with yarn bobbins and all that. Anyone who's done intarsia is welcome to comment/email tips- I would be grateful.

After the new book I got the other day, I think I'm ready to try double-pointed needles. Although if you saw the stuffed rabbit I knitted for Allie this week, you'd probably wonder if there's something wrong with my eyesight. It's homely. But she loves it, and I love her for that.

Have a great weekend, all.

Monday, April 04, 2005

Errata, random bits and pieces

OK because I'm A-R and can't let a mistake sit without saying anything:

Gabe and Eva were not in the most uncommon position pairing for twins. That would be transverse/transverse. Transverse/breech is found slightly more often. Knowing what I know, it seems like common sense. But somehow I mixed them up when I was posting.

I wish I could post more often, and read everyone's blogs more often...I think I'm down to checking two on a regular basis (Jenell's because I sympathize- G&E's pregnancy was nightmarishly painful and difficult, and Jimmy's because, well, I was checking it to see if BSU had arrived. I haven't seen much of anyone's blog in the past two weeks.) And then we missed church this week. Maybe that's why I've been so depressed today.

However, we have a new (to us) stove and fridge, and both are hooked up and working. And tomorrow we should find out if we'll be getting a new house. Cross your fingers for us- there's already been an offer made by someone else (and accepted), so the only way we have a shot is if that deal falls through. And somehow I'm just not comfortable asking people to pray that that happens. Que sera, sera, I guess. If we don't get it, at least I don't have to worry about moving this month!

Allie: mommy, it was a little bit Neptune out today...
me : what does that mean?
Allie: well, it was windy. Neptune is a windy planet.

Thank you, Blue's Clues. I should also mention that Allie is teaching herself to read alarmingly quickly. Today she picked up Hop on Pop and read, "Pop no Stop"...meaning she read "on" back to front, but also that she's connected the letter combo "op" to the sound it makes. At least, that's how it seems to me. Honestly, I find it a little frightening. I'm not ready for her to read.

Justice, finally

The blissful period of this pregnancy is officially over. I'm not quite miserable, but I am getting up at least twice a night, have a backache pretty much constantly, heartburn no matter what I eat, exhaustion, etc. etc. So I have taken the giant leap from feeling guilty for having a painless pregnancy to feeling pretty justified in doing some whining.

I had some prelabor/early labor a week and a half ago, and I'd feel pretty sad that nothing more has happened, except I know that baby turned out of OP position that night (finally! yay!). No more backwards baby. No more worrying about back labor. So I'm left with two worries:

1. that I will start labor with "active", hard labor and find it difficult to deal with, rather than building slowly from "latent" labor
2. that I will not be able to control myself in second stage, will overpush, and will need to go to the hospital for sutures ( I mean, how much of a let down would that be, to make it all the way through, and then have to go to the ER for stitches? ugh)

Apparently my parents think I'm giving birth in the hospital. At least, the word "hospital" came up three or four times while we were together Sunday. Now, I'm certain I told them I'm not (months ago), so I'm not sure how to handle this. For now, I'm sticking with assuming they're just misspeaking, and they already know we're planning a homebirth. My reasoning goes like this: either everything goes fine, and we just let them find out after the fact (when there is no longer any reason to worry), or we transport and end up in the hospital anyway, just like they thought we would be. A bit flimsy, maybe, but I'm not up to dealing with my mother right now. She's already been telling anyone who will listen that I need to pick up my kids less and basically make sure they have to wait for their needs to be fulfilled (more or less arbitrarily, I think), so that they will know that I'm "not at their beck and call". Am I overreacting, or is this her roundabout way of saying she thinks they're spoiled? (For the record, I'm not asking you to judge if they are or aren't- I'm not strong enough for that right now, haha- I just want your opinion of my mother's comment.)

If you've emailed me in the past week, and I haven't gotten back to you yet, I apologize. I'm working my way down the list- gmail unforunately lists my mails from newest to oldest, and so if I don't make it through every stinking one, the same few get left at the bottom again...and again...and again.

Monday, March 14, 2005

a quick post

I threw out my back pretty good this weekend, so I have to keep this short, or risk excruciating pain when I get up off the chair...

We saw our midwife again Saturday, and she's satisfied that I'm only carrying one. It's a big relief for us. Everything else numbers-wise still supports the one-baby theory, so I'm finally relaxing about this. The phantom kicks I get in odd spots must just be due to the extra room this baby has to stretch out in thanks to the extra fluid. I haven't asked for a size guess yet- I don't know if I will, or if I'll let myself be totally surprised.

This back pain has me in some major stage fright regarding labor. You'd think I'd be over this, having labored twice before without drugs (once against my will, of course), but no. I'm not as keyed up as I was waiting to go into labor with Allie, but I'm still genuinely nervous about it. One thing I'm thankful for as far as homebirth is that I just won't have access to drugs. And I know the idea of going to the hospital for them is enough to get me through the most impossible contraction. Both my hospital experiences with the other two births were mostly pleasant ones, but I really don't like hospitals. At all.

For now, Blinky is stubbornly insisting on remaining posterior. It made it really hard to hear heart tones Saturday- what can you do when you have to listen through the arms baby has crossed on hir chest? And, incidentally, when those same arms are being used to punch the fetoscope at every opportunity? What is it about my body that makes my kids gestate in such weird positions? Allie was actually born posterior, which only happens in about 1% of deliveries, and Gabe and Eva were breech and transverse, the most uncommon position pairing for twins.

This is honestly a most uncooperative child...s/he will probably insist on starting my labor during church, which will mean we'll have to leave early (probably on a night we have story time duty, too) and miss all the fun. I wonder if it would be bad form to grab communion on our way out, even if it's not "communion time" yet? I suppose we could just come home and have toast and grape juice instead...

Have a lovely week, all of you. And go visit the Yarn Cafe up in my neck of the woods...I went Sunday morning with my oldest friend (we're going on something like 24 years- hey Mel!!), and it was buckets of fun.

Sunday, March 06, 2005

a reason to be happy and a reason to be in suspense

For anyone who cares or might be curious, Over the Rhine has a new album coming out at the end of the month. If you preorder it, you get a signed copy and a nifty mystery treat! Last time they did this (that would be the release of Ohio in 2003) I got two lovely stickers, seen here (I know, the link is to some t-shirts, but that's what my stickers look like, ok?). I haven't ordered yet, so if anyone wants to go in with me and split shipping, let me know. The preorder is through pastemusic.com, so you could actually order anything on that site, not just Over the Rhine.

Two free songs from the album can be heard here.

Still no tour date scheduled...this child will be the only one of mine born that did not get to attend a great concert in utero. Allie got to go to Sunny Day Real Estate on their final tour (The Rising Tide), and Gabe and Eva went with me to Over the Rhine's Films for Radio show. It just doesn't seem fair. But then, we don't get out as much as we used to...

Two people asked tonight at the Porch, so in case anyone else was wondering but didn't ask, no, we're not 100% positive there's only one baby in there. I go back and forth on what I think, but Jeff's pretty sure it's one. We'll see, I guess...I just have to hope that the baby (babies?) aren't born on April 1st, or I'm going to have a hard time convincing anyone I'm not kidding when I call. When s/he or they arrive, I'll make sure something gets posted, even if it's only a link to more info on Jeff's blog.

And on another note...

I'm so happy to see guys commenting on my blog! Not that I don't love it when girls do, but I like knowing that I have guy readers, at least occasionally :)

So much happening...

I don't know where to start. The big news of the day was that I put Gabe and Eva back in cloth diapers, hooray! They're going to wear a disposeable at night until I figure out a night-time diapering system, but even only using cloth during the day has made me very happy. And my mom said I'd never be able to keep up with cloth diapering two babies!

I'll see my midwife for my last biweekly appointment early this week. Yes, it's already time to move up to weekly visits, which is very scary- everything is going too fast! In about 20 days, I'll be full-term and ready to go anytime. Birth kit is almost completely assembled, and I'll feel better when that's done. Still have to wash the birth pool and clean the house. Ugh. I cleaned quite a bit (for me) today with Jeff gone, but I have half the house *plus* to go. Allie has been helping quite a bit- reminding me to buy things for the birth kit, deciding what stuff can be thrown away, being generally entertaining...actually, all three kids have been really cute, but Gabe's insistence on bouncing on my gigantic belly is wearing thin. Of the three, I think he's the only one who has no concept whatsoever that I'm going to have a baby soon. Or that I have the feeling he's about to become the lone boy in a tribe of girls (since this is our last, there's no chance of a brother in his future if this baby's a girl, as I suspect).

Beyond mundane domestic matters, not much to report. This pregnancy is still idyllic enough that I feel incredibly guilty watching the other moms-to-be at church suffer. The simple fact that I can still comfortably carry a crabby, sleepy, 40-pound Allie from the van to the couch is a blessing I would never have expected to have this far down the pregnancy highway (34 weeks, if you're counting). Especially as enormous as I seem to be.

Still no baby dreams for me. The count for other people's dreams about this baby is one boy dream, one girl dream, one boy/girl twins dream, and one girl/girl twins dream. Can we try for a little consistency here, people? I'm begging you!

Monday, February 14, 2005

the good and the bad

I finally got to see my midwife on Saturday! Yippee! I was beginning to think she was going to tell me we couldn't work together, what with the number of times I've canceled or rescheduled in the past two weeks.

My blood pressure and other preeclamptic symptoms are back to normal- hooray! Weight- at the doctor Tuesday I showed a total gain of 7 lbs, but my home scale is weighing 4 lbs lower than that- even though it weighs Allie the same (36 lbs) that she was at the doctor on the same scale I used. Huh. Well, anyway, everything is good in that department.

Measuring 32 cm @ 31 wks, which is right on, and for one baby :) Baby is positioned funny- really high (not even a tiny bit engaged, actually anti-engaged if that's possible). Heartbeat could be heard not near shoulder as expected, but near feet. Which caused my MW to poke around all over the place and declare that "it only feels like one baby..." and I would have to agree. Head down, which is good, and still posterior. As long as baby doesn't engage while still posterior, I'm not going to worry about it.

Bought a birthing tub...I think I'm going to use it, too! Everyone I know who has used one in labor would never consider any other way, so it's hard for me to even think it won't be great. Now to get my supplies list...then I think we're ready to go (even though I'm not term until Easter, it doesn't hurt to be done early if you're a procrastinator!).

I went out Saturday night with my mother-in-law...it was a lot of fun. I tend to think we don't have much in common, but we had a good time. I found out she is worried about me giving birth outside a hospital setting, so we talked about that, and I'm hoping she's able to let go of some of her worry. Her births were both pretty traumatic, so I'm sure that's part of what's bothering her. Even though my first birth was difficult and second was an emergency, I wouldn't call either one "traumatic", so I feel really blessed in that regard. I don't know if she'll want to see any of the study results I have access to, or if it would help her feel at peace about things, but I'm trying anyway. I have to have a talk with her daughter, though- apparently, she is very unhappy with our choices, and is feeding mom's fear rather than talking to the responsible party (me). I don't understand it, but this kind of "I'll gripe to my mom rather than talk to the person who I have a problem with, namely my sister-in-law" problem has existed pretty much as long as I've been her sister-in-law. 7.5 years, I guess that is. I'm getting a little tired of it. It's hard to accept someone's smiles and hugs when you know that days before they were on the phone attacking your beliefs and choices. It hurts- I tend to forget she can be like this until it slaps me in the face. I know our parenting crops up in conversation from time to time too, and that is my weak spot- even though I have no idea what she said, the fact that she has criticized me for my parenting choices makes me want to cry. It also makes me hope that her children will be devilspawn, but that's only in weak moments.

I'm not a confrontational person by any measure- I actively avoid confrontation, really- but I hate when people talk behind my back. Enough to get in their face a little. So I'm going to try to play nice and write a short little note about how happy I'd be to answer any questions she has. I want to meet this head-on (easy), but I also want to be diplomatic enough that everyone will still speak to me afterwards (hard). Wish me luck

Thursday, February 10, 2005

Off quarantine!

Well, Allie was finally feeling better today- yesterday was the first day all week that she didn't voluntarily take a nap. Unbelievable. I'm getting over the upper respiratory thing I caught, and so are Gabe and Eva. I'm pretty sure Allie was the only one lucky enough to get influenza- none of the rest of us have been half so sick (although I've been twice as whiny!). Jeff only got a teeny bit sick. Lucky. Now I'm wondering if maybe Gabe and Eva are getting their 2 year molars, because all of the sudden, sleeping through the night is just a memory. Ugh.

I'm so glad a few of you are stopping by to comment- it feels nice to be thought of, especially since I've been posting so erratically the past few months. And Rachel- what you said about the water birth that never happened- that's exactly what I'm afraid of. Gabe and Eva were the longer of my two labors, and they clocked just over 12 hours...Allie was just about 8, even though she was stubborn posterior (facing my belly) and ended up being born that way- sunny-side up, it's sometimes called. As far as I can tell, a birthing tub would have to be filled from the kitchen faucet, which would probably take 4 or 5 hours. And I have no idea how we'd keep it warm, in any case. It just seems like so much trouble...

Speaking of posterior babies, I did a belly mapping exercise last night, and it seems that this baby is posterior too, at least for now. If you scroll halfway down that page, and look at the picture labeled "OP", I'm 90% sure that's how Blinky's laying in there (my runner-up is ROP). No wonder my midwife was having a tough time finding heart tones- you usually hear those through the back of baby's shoulder, and there's no way to access any part of Blinky's back! I'm brushing up on ways to change that- I'd prefer not to have stitches this time, thanks.

I bought two new baby carriers- one wrap-style (like this one, but different brand) and one pouch. I wanted something easy for when Blinky is new and needs to be nursed/changed often (the pouch), and something that would go over both shoulders to distribute weight for later on, and for my bigger kids (the wrap- I also wanted something really versitile, position-wise, and wow, despite it being a little goofy to look at, you can use the wrap a zillion different ways!). I had regular slings with my other kids, and I loved them, but because much of the weight is on one shoulder, I always hurt after using them. I've used a Snugli carrier before, and theoretically, it should be comfortable- straps on both shoulders and all that- but it wasn't terribly. And you can only use them till baby is 25 pounds or something! I had Allie (4 yrs, 40ish lbs) in a back carry with the wrap for a little while today, and it worked great!

This week Allie got a new book, called Runa's Birth (warning- if you click on the "US english" link, it just takes you to a PDF of the book's text- if you want to see what the book looks like, check the buttons on the left). She's very, very excited about the baby. She has informed me that she would like to be the one to cut the cord (just like Runa's big sister Lisa in the book). She also told me we should name a girl baby "Dorothy" after the dinosaur on the Wiggles, but that idea I'm not so open to.

I'm pretty set for middle names- most likely Rae or James, thus keeping our single-syllable middle name streak (Brynn, Kate, Dean) intact. We have to give the kids a break somewhere- their last name is 9 letters, and Allie's first name is the shortest with 6 (Gabe's is 7, and poor Eva's is 10). The first names I'm looking at are all 8 or 9 letters. I don't set out to curse my kids, I just tend to like longer, more old-fashioned or unusual names. Although I thought we should nickname Eva "Jelly". I was voted down.

Saturday, February 05, 2005


Well, Allie and Gabe have influenza. Time to put my money where my mouth is regarding that vaccination I refused to get :)

Allie is almost over it- her white count is in normal range, although she isn't eating again yet, and she looks like the walking dead (ok, so she's unable/refusing to walk still, but you get it). Gabe is obviously not feeling too good, poor guy. Those of you who have cared for him at church wouldn't believe this is the same kid- he slept all day, and then slept on his dad for 90 minutes at urgent care. In fact, he's sleeping now! Eva and I aren't sick, and while Jeff felt yucky this morning, he's doing ok now. There's no doubt I've been exposed, but so far I feel fine. Let's hope it stays that way! Thanks to Gabe nursing, I'm sure my body is making antibodies for both of us, so it might be my system will kill it off without me ever knowing I had it. Neat how that works.

We'll miss you all on Sunday. No bringing the kids out till they're better- doctor's orders. Not that we'd want to. Poor kids.

Thursday, February 03, 2005


For some reason I can't bring myself to settle down and go to bed yet. It's late, and I know we have to get up at 7 tomorrow as part of our newly begun program to get the kids to sleep by a decent hour, but I feel sort of edgy and wakeful. I keep reading blogs or looking at baby carriers online and getting up every half hour to prowl the house a little.

Tomorrow I'm seeing my midwife again. Last time she was here, I had a few of the symptoms of preeclampsia. I'm really hoping they've resolved. High blood pressure in particular is something I've never dealt with before in my life, so it's a little worrisome.

I also discovered that I have an abcessed tooth yesterday. Yippee. It doesn't really hurt, which is why I only noticed by accident. I have an appointment Tuesday to get it checked out and maybe fixed, depending on the time they have available. I have to get a mouth xray, which I know is a pretty minimal danger compared to the risk of allowing the infection to continue and possibly spread, but I still don't like the idea of radiation coming anywhere near me and this baby. Another reason to hope that my blood pressure is down is the long period of time I will be supine in the dentist's chair- which will mean the main artery carrying blood to my lower body will be partially compromised by the baby's weight pressing on it, causing my BP to rise to compensate...really makes you wonder why so many women are still forced to labor and deliver on their backs. I've never had a root canal before, so I'm kind of dreading it, especially because my choice of post-procedural pain relief is rather limited (let's see....tylenol....or, hmm, tylenol? decisions, decisions).

At the same time, I'm excited to have my midwife visit us again, especially since Jeff wasn't able to be here last time. And I'm hoping that this time the baby is better positioned for me to hear hir (that's my intentional attempt at a gender-neutral misspelling there) heartbeat. Last time, I only got to listen to the placenta, which was still pretty neat. Kind of a whoosh-whoosh wavelike sound (it reminded me of putting a seashell to my ear). My friend Reb in TX (the angel responsible for backing the Vecinos booksale/fundraiser) has me half-convinced to waterbirth this time. I know from experience that I probably won't really strictly need it, but I also know that a warm shower has immensely helped me during labor past times, so it might be nice. I just have to decide if it's worth the hassle of setting up a tub or pool and filling it. This is my last chance to try it, so I'm certainly tempted. The drawback would be it would have to be set up in the living room- which could be distracting for me if anyone is messing around in the connected kitchen.

It feels really odd to be talking about this birth in terms of living room and shower. With the exception of the aforementioned Reb, who is having her second homebirth a month or so after I am due, I know of no one else who is not opting to go to the hospital. It doesn't make me angry or sad or anything- I don't think it's a right-or-wrong issue, or that hospital birth is a terrible thing- but my position is sort of alienating. What makes me sad is, I'm sort of locked out of the normal cultural trappings of birth. I haven't had an ultrasound, or a triple screen, or a glucose tolerance test. I get to listen to my baby on a regular old stethoscope, not an amplified Doppler. I don't go to the doctor, my midwife comes to visit me. No one has been less than supportive- that's not what I'm getting at. It's that I wish like crazy I was more able to blend in; be part of the group. I wish I didn't always seem to be isolated by my choices.

I'm sure part of it is just being a 4w5- I think that's kind of a double whammy in terms of living with a certain amount of isolation and social awkwardness (I'm the Bohemian, for those looking to connect the numbers with a title). But sometimes it seems like I'm just programmed to find ways of increasing the awkwardness and isolation. I complain to Jeff sometimes that I just can't do anything in a normal fashion. I'm factory pre-set on "eccentric". And I know that part of me deeply values that- my refusal to pretend I'm like everyone else is a source of great self-worth...and that probably sounds arrogant until you realize that my other choice is to hate myself for something I have no control over- not that liking myself for it is rational, but it is more comfortable. But it's crazy-making too. Try as I might, I suck at chit-chat and other social niceties.

It's not that I want desperately to be like everyone else. I just want to be enough like everyone else that people can tell that I genuinely like them and enjoy their company. Maybe I just need to go to finishing school.

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

I've been neglecting you...

You know, I had this halfway-long post written, and I hated all of it. Completely. Buh-bye.

So all I'm going to say for now is, I'm really happy to have made it to this point in my pregnancy- Gabe and Eva were born at 29 weeks gestation, which I am now, and I was a little nervous that I wouldn't make it this far. And I'm really happy to be diaper shopping- we're doing fitteds this time, which are adorable although pricier, and yes, I know most of you are staring at your screens in confusion at this point, but I know what I mean, and I love buying diapers so much that your confusion is really rather endearing. You're cute when you wrinkle your foreheads that way! Here's a dictionary for anyone interested in the joys of diapers that need to be washed. If not, I'm afraid I really don't have much of anything for you...which makes me feel terrible!

I'll find a way to make it up to you. Promise.