Birth Blogging

In a fit of geekdom and 21st century insanity, I have decided to liveblog the birth of the Bean.

As much as I can, I plan to update on progress, perhaps post a few pictures, and keep everyone updated on the arrival. If things go quiet for awhile, you can probably guess I'm either actively birthing or sleeping.

So far, the game plan goes as follows:

4pm: Call hospital; confirm arrival time.
5-7pm: Arrive at hospital, check-in, begin pre-induction treatment (likely low-dosage of Pitocin, for reasons to be explained later.)

7p-7a: Pre-induction.

7a-??: The Main Event!

Things to keep in mind:

1. This is my second child.
2. This is a planned induction.
3. I'm birthing in a hospital.
4. I'm attempting an unmedicated VBAC.
5. I may end up with a second c-section.
6. I'm not looking for advice.
7. I'm okay with everything in my plan so far, and I'm doing this for family and friends alike.

I love comments, but I will not be moderating anything, nor will I defend any decisions I've made. Explanations down the line, perhaps, but I won't change treatment decisions based upon random commentary. Please leave messages of support, and if I know who you are and we have a comfort level, then feel free to leave additional info. If this is the first time you've read my blog, I appreciate the sentiment but please limit yourself to positive vibes...as that is what I most desperately need during this endeavor.

I am fairly camera shy -- at my last birth, I declined the "moments after birth" photo and I plan to do the same here. It's just not my taste. There will be pix of the babe, tho.

Wish me luck! (And if the whole thing goes to hell and the next you hear from me is an update on New Year's with birth stats, so be it.)

ZOMG

I had an ultrasound today. At this point I was supposedly 35 weeks.

The baby is measuring around 8 pounds and according to the tech, my first-week-of-January due date has been revised to "sometime before Christmas."

Okay, I knew the kid would come early but this? Is insane. We don't have a name finalized. We don't have a carseat installed, or Christmas shopping completed, or the crib assembled, or baby laundry done, or any of the other seventy zillion things I was supposed to get done between finals and babytime.

I have finals until the 20th. I just need to last until then.

Just until then.

Crossing A Threshold

Once again, it's Holidailies time!

Hello, my name is Kate.

(Hi, Kate.)

I haven't decided whether I will just do the daily prompts on the Holidailies site, or if I'll branch off on my own. I hope to accomplish 20-25 posts this year, and considering the month I have before me, that will be a fair task. Today's prompt is to introduce myself.

It's funny how such a menial task can encompass so many things. I could tell you that I'm a law student, or a massive John Mayer fan, or a wife or a mother, but you can find those things out on my blog layout.

I could tell you some of my deepest, darkest secrets, but this is a public blog, and I honestly don't think anything in my life is that deep, dark or exciting.

I could share my family drama (of which there is plenty, and more coming down the road) but I'm not ready to discuss the latest dirt just yet.

So I'll simply say this: I crossed a threshold yesterday at the OB's office...one which I didn't think I'd ever see in my lifetime. One that I am not proud of, that being 35 weeks pregnant does not assuage. It scares me. It has to do with my weight, and I'm having a hard time processing the fact. I weigh twice what some of the women in my law class weigh, and yes, I am currently housing two people, but the other person is about 2.5% of my current weight.

This is not encouraging.

The good news is that I'm fundamentally healthy, my blood pressure continues to astound my doctor (118/68 yesterday, thankyouverymuch) and all signs point to a healthy delivery at the end of this month.

Until then, I have five finals to study for, a Christmas to celebrate, a Girl who will turn six and a Boy who has the patience of a saint when I climb into bed at night. (No really. It takes me a good 3 minutes to get everything arranged properly and get comfortable. If you've ever been pregnant, you can relate.

If you get anything out of this post, it's that I am like the fly on the proverbial windshield -- this blog is me all over, and I am who I am. I hope you enjoy visiting my world for a little while, and please feel free to introduce yourself in my comments.

Funk

I came home today in a general funk. I am just so ready for this semester, and this pregnancy, and the holidays and everything to be OVER. Third trimester malaise has set in and I'm snapping at everyone, my mobility is limited and I barely feel like anything will get done in the next few weeks.

I keep thinking about January, and a new semester, with classes that are demanding but of my own choosing, and a new baby, and the ability to walk. For once I'm actually looking forward to getting a new year started, and I'm confident that I've worked my ass off in school enough to survive this semester and then some.

I've worked my ass off on myself as well; it seems like a lot of things have changed over the last year. 2008 was a year of change, for certain. I am not the same person I was on the first day of law school, and for me, that's a good thing.

Classes are over, save for one last make-up session for Con Law and one last class for Misdemeanors.

I have my Negotiation take-home in hand, and while it looks like it's going to be a fair amount of work, my goal is to have it done by the end of Thanksgiving weekend. I don't want to have to think about it too much after that.

Study goals for the remainder of the semester (more for me than you, sorry if this bores you...)

This week:

Mon-Weds (11/24-11/26):
* Outline Negotiation take home
* Do Family Law outline
* Start Misdemeanors outline

Thurs-Sun (11/27-11/30):
* Write Negotiation take-home
* Finish outside reading for Property (Shadow Cities). Begin thinking/outlining for open book final.

Next Three Weeks:
Mon-Tues (12/1-12/2):
* Read last Con Law assignment; begin overview of outline/case studies.
* Finish Misdemeanors outline; meet with prof.
* Finish Family Law outline; write sample exam answers.

Weds-Fri (12/3-12/5):
* Meet with Family Law prof/possibly ASP tutor.
* Review Con Law, continue outline and sample case studies
* Last Misdemeanors class; review tests.
* If done, turn in Negotiation final and journal.

Sat 12/6:
* Last Con Law session. Study session PM to consist of outlining, case studies and finishing up Con Law prep.

Sun 12/7:
* Finish Negotiation if necessary.
* Study for Misdemeanors

Mon 12/8:
* Turn in Negotiation if not already done
* Study AM for Misdemeanors
* PM Self-scheduled exam: Misdemeanors

Tues-Weds 12/9-12/10:
* Study Family Law

Thurs 12/11
* AM: Finish Family Law prep
* PM: Self-scheduled exam: Family Law

Fri-Sat 12/12-12/13
* Review/markup Property outside reading and outline
* Prep for final

Sun 12/14:
*AM: Finish Property Prep
*PM: Property Final (scheduled)

Mon 12/15: OFF

Tues-Fri 12/16-12/19:
*Con Law Prep

Sat 12/20:
*AM: Sleep in
*PM: Con Law Final (scheduled)

I'm also planning to do Holidailies again, and hopefully the Bean will cooperate and maybe give me a really cool blog entry around the 28th or so. Somewhere in the middle of all this I still have to pick out a hospital and go to the OB and and and and...

(breathe, Kate.)

Even Flow

Alright, I'm two days shy of a month in neglecting my poor little blog. Let me explain.

No. Too much. Let me sum up.

Study, study, study. Score 26/30 on Property quiz. Leap for joy at successfully challenging known right answer, score raises to 27/30, leap further for joy at scoring 90% on something in law school. Quite the feat considering my current gestational level.

More studying.

Halloween.

More studying.

OB appointments. Bean still growing. Lurking pain in inner thighs and crotch drives doc to give me an internal, followed by peeing in a cup. Lab monkeys have fun at my expense, ten day course of antibiotics.

Pain between legs persists.

More studying.

All-nighter to finish family law paper, topic of which will likely cost me 20+ poll points and my first election due to lack of commitment to 'family values', despite the paper being written from a purely academic point of view.

More studying.

Change of season forces change of shoes from Crocs to very loosely laced Adidas. No other shoes fit. Stupid swollen feet. Looking forward to post partum, if for no other reason than I'm sick of wearing two pair of shoes.

Fall conferences for the girl results in possible referral to speech therapy. Fast and furious emails to friend from undergrad who is a speech-language pathologist.

Negotiations regarding Thanksgiving dinner ongoing. The Boy insists that he will cook dinner this year due to my lack of energy and/or willingness to be in the kitchen all day. Still contemplating pre-notification of insurance company, landlord and fire department.

New phone! Joined the mobile digital age with a new Palm Centro (in spiffy red color) that has unlimited data, text and enough minutes to get me through. Also? a phone, a video cam, and the world's smallest QWERTY keyboard. The phone signals the shedding of the last vestiges of our old home, as it carries with it a Minnesota phone number.

I can't believe Thanksgiving is next week, finals are in three, and baby's due in six. Where the heck did the time go??

If the baby is due in six weeks, then that means I get to start training in about eight to ten (lightly, lightly...). Pearl Jam's "Even Flow" came on Pandora tonight, and I was reminded that it is the first song on my "Run Like A Maniac" playlist. As someone who can barely walk right now, much less run or do anything athletic, the song is a good reminder of what I will be able to accomplish once I give birth. What I have accomplished in the past, and what can be accomplished next year.

Yes. I will do this.

Results

Quickly, so I don't forget: I passed my glucose challenge, my blood sugar score was 110, and I'm told anything under 120 in a pregnant woman is right on the money, so I'm pretty much in the clear in terms of gestational diabetes. Woo!

They may do a fasting blood sugar again in 4 weeks just to make sure, but I'm feeling like this is just one more piece of good news.

And now, I'm back to my regularly scheduled Sunday programming: more of the same, enjoying fall break and doing the last of my wash. Yeah...rethinking that decision to buy only one pair of maternity jeans...

Too Much Spongebob, or How I Spent John Mayer's 31st Birthday

The Girl has a four-day weekend starting today, and I have no school this weekend! Full of win.

I had a doctor's appointment today. Officially, I'm 28 weeks, and in my third trimester. This pregnancy has flown -- on one hand I feel like I've been pregnant forever, but on the other hand, the past 28 weeks or so have been some of the best of my life. I'm in such a good place right now... school is (mostly) under control, the Girl is thriving in Kindergarten, I'm healthy, and I've dealt with so much crap in the last year that I think it's time to take some time for myself and sit back and enjoy.

Yes, this time of year is rough on me. I have had so many bad things happen during the cycle of Libra, which is really strange considering it is normally a time of balance. Perhaps I'm supposed to get my bad out now, in order to balance the good and Awesome that happened this summer? Karma can be a bitch, if you believe in her I guess.

Anyway, I plan to do some school work this weekend, but I also plan to camp out with the girl, watch too much damned Spongebob, bake some banana bread and catch up on laundry, and generally chill.

Today, we did just that. Except the part where we went to the OB's office. The Girl was thrilled -- she's beyond excited for this new baby and she loved the idea that she could go and hear the baby's heartbeat. I also had to take my glucose challenge test, which should frankly be against the law for its grossness and disgust. (Come in early after fasting 3+ hours, drink 5 oz of nasty flat cola soda without bubbles, go see the OB, come back, get blood drawn and pee in a cup, await result.)

The idea is to see if you have either developed or have the possibility to develop gestational diabetes, which can be bad bad bad if undiagnosed. Ironically enough, I purposely scheduled this appointment on the 16th, because I knew I wouldn't forget it if it was on JM's birthday. Such is the life of a fangirl.

In case anyone's interested, the appointment by the numbers:

Fetal HR: 150 (rock steady at this rate since we first caught it. This kid is nothing if not consistent).
Fundal Height: 32cm (appx 3-4 weeks ahead, again consistent)
BP: 130/65 (top number high most likely because the lab monkeys had their heads up their asses, and it got me riled up)
Weight: +3 since last appt, +10 total pregnancy.


In other news, looks like JM is back with his last girlfriend. I actually think they are pretty good together...they just have to work out a timeline that's good for both of them. I really hope if they decide to have kids together they decide to move someplace quiet -- this latest brouhaha with the police escort in front of his house is just too much to put a kid through. I also hope her ego is strong enough to handle living somewhere like NYC or another place where nobody cares who they are. I do wonder if her ego is feeding some of the crap, but I don't know her personally. He seems to have no problems slipping back and forth between the public and the private, and it's nice to go a few weeks without seeing a picture of him at dinner. I love it when he gets a week of positive publicity for spending time teaching class and mentoring music students at Berklee. If I had a birthday wish for JM this year, it would be to be happy and be in love, but make it all about the music.

Happy Birthday, John.

In Due Time

"How wonderful!"
"You look great!"
"When are you due?"

It's that last question that bugs me. Let me clarify. It's when people don't accept my answer to that last question that bugs me.

When someone asks me when I am due, my standard reply is "this winter, likely around the New Year." The reply is generally, "oh, do you have an actual date?"

Yes. Yes I do. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my chart at the OB's office, calculated by a combination of a magic wheel with a pharmaceutical logo on it and a dating ultrasound done in June, there is a Date. A specific Date by which, it seems, everyone must live or die. A date that was plucked out of the air by the use of my self-reported last menstrual period date (LMP for short, and highly dubious, as I hardly paid attention to my cycles during April and May of last year -- finals, you know), plugged into the magic wheel, and presto! The Date.

The Date was confirmed (roughly) by the ultrasound, which measured the Bean against what I must imagine are actuarial tables and normative values, plugged into the scanner's hard drive by some code monkey at GE Medical Systems. Measure here, plot there, compare to chart, presto! You are X weeks along, and your Date is Y.

However, in my usual manner, I am being recalcitrant and stubbornly refuse to acknowledge said date. Why? Because I had a number of dates with the Girl, none of which coincided with her actual birthday. All of which were fairly inaccurate. And that got me thinking.

For hundreds of years, woman has expected her child based on nature cycles, moon cycles, old wives' tales, and a general communal knowledge. Women could look at other women, and just know. Before doctors, midwives would anticipate gestational age by "quickening" and maternal feelings, as well as outward signals -- a change in skin condition, hair color, and the obvious swell of abdomen. Perhaps a prairie woman would say she was due "after harvest." A Native woman might count lunar cycles and say "around the time of the Wolf Moon."

In other words, the baby will come when the baby comes.

Of course, I balance this outlook with one of modern practicality: had we continued to wait upon the girl to decide to be born, there could have been massive ramifications for both of us. In my mind though, the flexible attitude regarding the Bean's birth actually bodes well in that aspect. I'm more apt not to cling to a particular date, and I'm also more aware of what my body does when it grows babies. If I go a couple weeks early, or if I wait it out a little while, it's all good.

This little Bean knows when she's supposed to be born, and she'll let me know. It'll be around the turn of the new year.

Sunday Night

It's Sunday night, and I'm feeling rather peaceful.

The girl is bathed and fed, and is now watching her umpteenth episode of Spongebob whilst happily munching on blueberries, a substitute for a third (!!) piece of pizza or MOAR DUNKERS, MOM.

We ordered pizza for dinner. The kitchen is now clean, and I rearranged the pantry, which was reaching crisis point for disorganization. For some reason the shelves like to throw up of their own volition and things end up on the floor in there, to be discovered months later when one is searching for the reusable bags in an effort to be environmentally responsible at the grocery store.

We went to a very fancy party last night, a grown-ups only affair in honor of Jon and Julia's engagement. It was a lovely time, and I had the chance to do up my hairs and put on a sparkly frock and peep-toe heels. I actually wore makeup, for the first time in about a year (I think.)

The girl stayed at a friend's house from school, and said friend has a lovely little girl, around nine months old. Apparently the girl got a taste of what life would be like when 2.0 goes from theoretical probability to actual, real life baby. I have a feeling we'll have a rude awakening. On the plus side, my friend said that the girl was awesome and very cute.

If I can get ahead on Family Law and Con Law, I plan to volunteer for Obama on Tuesday night. Other highlights for this week: Robin Williams in concert on Thursday, and a shrimp boil on Saturday night with the boy's coworkers.

Six weeks into school and the novelty's definitely worn off. I need (NEED)to get my binders reorganized, and start getting ready to outline. We have a Property midterm in two weeks and I haven't even thought of it. On top of which, a Family Law paper... and yeah...then there's this impending thing that keeps kicking me in the innards and reminding me that this is supposed to be the easy semester.

And for those interested...the OB stats from last week's 24(?) week appointment:

BP: 117/70
Fetal HR: 150
Fundal Height: 27
Maternal Weight: +5 (+4 overall during pregnancy)

Glucose challenge at my next visit...oh the joy of drinking flat orange soda and then giving vials upon vials of blood... the lab monkeys will just LURVVE me...

Swollen

My belly is swollen.

My feet are swollen, and have been since 9:30 this morning. My internal thermostat is also off -- I'll be freezing, then sweating, then freezing, then fine, but warm to the touch.

My hands are also starting to swell.

I am going to take a cool shower and then get a good night's sleep, and in the morning if I'm not un-swollen, I'm going to go to student health and have my blood pressure checked, and if it's high, I'm going to call my OB. I have an appointment on Thursday anyway but I generally trust my gut when it comes to my health. Since I'm so rarely sick, I know when I feel this way I should pay attention, especially since pregnancy brings its own set of weirdnesses -- what is one day a freak occurrence can turn into something serious very quickly. Granted, I've done this before, and I'm probably more laid back than a lot of other people about it, but like I said, gut reaction.

I am planning to clean up my eating a bit more in the next few months -- laying off the soda and sodium, caffeine and chocolate. I figure if I can lay a little groundwork now, I can hit the ground running, swimming, and biking after the baby is born. We've already got the strollers purchased (yes, plural -- I have my jog stroller from the girl, and we just bought a pram for the first six months), and I also have YakTrax for my shoes, so going for a stroll on "warmer" winter days will be doable. I also need to figure out how to get back into the pool - I can walk or do the elliptical with the bouncy seat or stroller next to me. The search for a sitter is on!

I will compete next year, and with any luck, better than ever. I want to break 1:50 at Danskin, and I want to do an Olympic. Sooz challenged me to a half Ironman, but I can't fathom that, even in the best of circumstances next year. I think I'd be satisfied with running a half mary at the end of next season, then ramping up to a half sometime next season.

I want my kids to be proud of me, and I want to set an example. I want to be able to write a story like this. More than that, I want to do this for myself. Because any other excuse isn't enough. It's not about a number on the scale, it's about my performance and training and knowing that I can *maybe* look in the mirror and be okay with what I see.

Changes

Who'd have guessed I'd learn to let the walls around me burn
Light up the hillside
My words, I ate them for so long and nothing changed...it was just the same
And I don't know if you see me here, but I can tell you your face is clear
I will see you...

Forever, forever
I will see you...forever, forever

I wanted you to be everything to me, now I've got to learn to carry on
I know I cannot hide this emptiness inside,
But nothing is the same since you've gone

"Forever" -- Vertical Horizon

The last few weeks have been a study in change. I returned from a trip to Florida to find that the last throes of summer in Minnesota had left in my absence, and left a trail of cool winds and 65 degree temperatures in their wake. It's as if the State Fair closed, and the carnies took the summer with them as they towed the midway rides off to their next engagement.

The baby has begun to kick more noticeably and more frequently. I'm beginning to follow her rhythms of activity and rest, and the movements no longer feel spontaneous or erratic. She's learning her own circadian cycle and it's quite interesting to note that I can now recognize her patterns, something I never knew to watch for with the girl.

Speaking of whom, the girl started kindergarten yesterday. She gets to ride the bus and pack a lunch, and we are working on our school and chore routines. So far, so good. She came home yesterday with a glowing report and this morning was after us to go out to the bus stop a full 45 minutes prior to bus time. I hope the enthusiasm carries forward.

My sister and her husband have decided to divorce. There was a bit of limbo for awhile, and the decision was made after a few months' contemplation. Apparently they came to the conclusion a couple days ago and, while it is never an easy thing to see a couple part, nor is it a good thing to see my sister hurting, I hope the decision is for the best.

The fact that both my parents and now my sister are divorcing in the last year makes me want to run home and cling tighter to the boy -- with all I'm worth. I can't imagine loving someone for as long as I've loved him, sharing a life and a bed and a family for as long as we have, and then turning it all over into sadness and acrimony. I can't say how long we'll last -- but I can say we will always be a work in progress.

As for me, my changes are physical and educational... after a massive growth spurt in the last two weeks, I am officially full-time into maternity shirts and am working my way out of my regular jeans. I have a feeling I will be into my maternity jeans this time next month. School is so much better this year -- perhaps it's all the work I did last term, but I'm feeling more solid academically, I have a much better mindset, and things are looking up. I'm watching the change of weather, knowing things will stay green for awhile, and preparing for the leaves of fall.

Ultrasound, v 2.0

This is what I did yesterday morning.

The ultrasound experience is nothing new to me -- I did it at least 3-4 times with the Girl and this is the second one for the Bean. I was a bit disappointed with this one- the monitor was faced directly away from the exam table so I wasn't able to see most of the exam itself. Eventually the tech turned the monitor toward me and I got to see the Bean in motion. I will say that what I saw was just as cool as every other time I've seen a fetus of mine up on the screen. As you can see, she's become less bean than baby.

And yes, the use of the female pronoun here is indicative that there is a very strong chance that this bean is also a girl.

I've mentioned it before, but the confirmation of gender brings me to a weird place -- essentially it means I have emulated my family of origin. (My sister and I are approximately six years apart -- roughly the same as my girls will be.) I don't think I did this on purpose -- matter of fact, there's really no way that I did it on purpose. It really threw me for a loop -- last night the boy and I went to bed and he asked me how I was feeling about having another girl. It really threw me for a bit of an anxiety bender, and it brought up a lot of things I hadn't thought through -- I think I was getting used to the idea of having a boy (this pregnancy has been so drastically different than my first...and I'm in a better position to know how to handle an infant).

I don't know that I would want a third child at this point -- and I don't know that I would want to go for another baby just to try for a son. I don't know if it's selfish that I wouldn't want to give up another triathlon season, or that if we had another baby, I'd want to do it almost right away (seriously, at this point, an eighteen month delay wouldn't be a bad thing.)

I'm not disappointed that the bean is a girl -- not by a long shot. Having a sister is an amazing blessing for any girl. If we had a third child, I'd be fine with it...the boy and I have talked about two or three from the get-go. I think the worst part of this whole thing is that I feel like I should be happy and excited, and all I feel is confused and just...weird. There's absolutely no pressure from his family to "carry on the family name" and the Boy told me last night he likes the idea of being surrounded by "his girls."

I just wish I knew better how I felt...I wish I could pinpoint it. I know I'm happy that the Bean is, by all accounts healthy and growing, and I'm happy that the girl is excited to have a baby sister. For now, that's what I have to rely on.

Half Baked

Had my 20 week OB appointment this morning, and according to the doc, all is well for another four weeks. Ultrasound is next week and we are going to find out the gender of the baby. I don't mind knowing this time around -- the novelty wore off after the first one, and I have a need to plan due to limited space and limited planning time. The boy is in agreement, and I think the family is quite thrilled. If, however, I receive oodles of pink and frilly madness upon the news of a female, I shall scream.

We have preliminarily decided upon names, which of course will not be broadcasted here, in continuation of my privacy policy. They are very nice names.

BP: 122/68
Weight: +3 since the last appointment, -5 total.
Fundal Height: 20/21 cm (right on track)
Fetal HR: 150

The thing that was most remarkable about this visit was the utter difficulty in finding the baby's heartrate. The doc chased around my belly for a good couple minutes and ended up using a second dollop of gel before she finally found the baby. I was almost to the point of worry, especially since I haven't felt much in the way of real movement yet, but we finally caught the little stinker and the heart sounded normal and strong. It seems my body has a talent for making babies, and this one seems to be no exception.

I'm halfway done with this pregnancy, and that seems hard to believe. In four weeks, the baby would be potentially viable if I were to go into pre-term labor. In six weeks, the baby would have a better than average chance of survival, and I will officially be in my third trimester. In eight weeks, I will be staring down midterms and outlines. It will be fall in Minnesota, and I will be wearing maternity jeans with my autumn sweaters.

And now, I must finish the Property reading I avoided yesterday, and get going on Family Law, before my 2:30 class this afternoon. Ah, the joys of law school...

A Moment of Beauty

This made me cry this morning, during a study break.

No Language Required

We are waiting for the notoriously slow elevators at St. Vincent’s after one of my checkups. Standing next to us is a nurse, a new baby, the new mom, and a couple of her friends. The new mom doesn’t speak English, so her friends translate what the nurse is saying. It is an exciting day; they are taking the new baby home.

When the elevator finally arrives, we all step inside, and I cannot stop looking at the little baby, fast asleep in the carseat, tiny and pink and perfect.

The mom notices me noticing her baby, so I give her a smile. Congratulations.

Her eyes flick to my belly and she smiles back. Good luck.

Eastsidegirl is due any day now. I love her writing, and so should you. Best of luck to her.

Knocked Up, Out of My Mind

Apologies to Messrs. Hancock and Mayer for ruthlessly ganking the title of their lovely collaboration. Which by the way, sounded FAN-TASTIC in Milwaukee and St. Louis.

We now interrupt the Summer of Awesome and its regularly scheduled blogging to bring you the following PSA:

I have oft been asked "why don't you like being pregnant?" As ridiculous as that question may be alone, it is often asked by people who have either never been pregnant, or were pregnant over 30 years ago. In other words, they don't know, or they don't remember.

My feelings toward pregnancy are...complex. (Gee, me? Complex? Naaaaaaaaaaaaah.)

When I was growing up, I was fairly ambivalent about having kids. I didn't know if I wanted them - I didn't know if I was cut out for motherhood. I think I figured I'd probably have them eventually. If I did, I did. If I didn't, well then.

Then I met the boy. The boy had always dreamed of fatherhood. He knew he wanted kids. When we got married, having a kid or two was non-negotiable in his book. Theoretically I had no objections, I had no reason to think I was unable to get pregnant, I knew the mechanics, and I figured we'd have them at some point. Cue three years into our marriage, and the girl was born. We never had to "try" to get pregnant, we never struggled with infertility or conception issues. So many of my friends who desperately wanted kids had issues getting pregnant and when they did, it seemed practically unfair that someone like me (the ambivalent, reluctant, sarcastic one) would be a Fertile Myrtle.

During my pregnancy with the girl, I feel like I did pretty well - I gained a good amount of weight for someone my size, didn't have any serious issues or complications, suffered a garden-variety of maladies (nausea and a bad nose in the first trimester, car/motion sickness in the second and third, general exhaustion, misery and snoring throughout) took my prenatal vitamins, ate pretty much what I wanted, staunchly avoided "What To Expect When You Are Expecting", tried to avoid caffeine (sorry kid, sometimes a fountain diet Coke is a must), craved french fries from McD's, and in keeping with my rebel streak, took Bradley classes from a home instructor rather than the three sessions of hospital-instructed Lamaze (what I affectionately termed "What To Do Until The Epidural Arrives").

I intended to give birth commando - no drugs, no monitor. Old school style - which meant if I needed to scream my head off and birth squatting, so be it. Lithotomy position be damned. Gravity would not work against me. I will never forget the look on the tour guide's face when we went to the hospital tour - she proudly pointed out the mirror on the ceiling "so we could watch the baby being born!" The pride quickly melted into a shade of horror when I told her it was ridiculous to put a mirror on the ceiling, because if you are squatting, you can see for yourself what is going on down there.

I don't know if she knew that stirrups were optional in childbirth. (They are.)

Of course, our well-intentioned plans were shot all to hell because the girl refused to cooperate. For two weeks past my "due date" I squatted. I took castor oil. I took evening primrose. I drank gallons of red raspberry leaf tea with a tincture of blue cohosh. We had sex. (Seriously - not the fun kind, the put me in labor, damnit, kind.) I walked. I ate Mexican food.

Nothing happened.

Bottom line, the kid was happy and wasn't coming out the way God and Mother Nature intended, and we ended up scheduling a c-section about 12 hours ahead of time. I was both devastated and relieved - I really did not want to have a c-section, but I wanted to be done being pregnant and meet our daughter.

And in a matter of 35 minutes in the OR, I was, and we did. And it's all good. Over the last six years, I've managed to figure out being a mom - not without a fair share of bumps and bruises along the way. I truly dig my kid - she's just the right blend of the two of us, and I'm hoping the bean is going to be equally as cool. "We make great kids," the two of us have said to each other repeatedly over the last few months.

It's that thought that will get me through the next five/six months or so. At the end of the bloating and edema and cravings and weird vision and placenta brain and all that stuff, will be a kid who hopefully will fit right into our little tribe - and I'll have to relearn how to be that kid's mother. I’m cool with that.

Now, on to the point of this post: pregnancy, to me, feels like the invasion of the body snatchers. You gain weight. You have uncontrollable urges, cravings and mood swings. Your core temperature rises on a whim and you go from incredibly horny to don’t effing touch me, I swear you will be banished to the sofa! in 3.2 seconds or less. I am less weepy than others but I am weepy (for me.) You have to go to the doctor and pee in a cup on a regular basis, and they weigh you, and they take your blood pressure, and every damn time I go in for a prenatal appointment I feel like they are passing judgment on me. I swear, I had a 15 minute discussion in the exam room with the NP at my first appointment wherein I had to defend my lifestyle and my weight to a woman who barely knew my name. I truly had to convince her that my life and my choices are fundamentally healthy ones – I just happen to like carbs and sugar, I don’t have much portion control, and truly the only thing “wrong” with me is that I am, by some random governmentally approved standard, overweight. Yes, I know, I know. This is neither the time nor the place, children. Close your email clients. Now.

I tend to look on pregnancy as a necessary biological process. It’s something you live with, is temporary and hopefully has a pretty cool permanent effect. It’s no miracle how pregnancy occurs – it’s actually quite fun if done properly. It’s also no miracle that women give birth every day – yes, each pregnancy and each mother and each child are different, but fundamentally, the process remains the same, no matter what type of birth one experiences.

I think the other thing that bugs me about pregnancy is the whole societal “thing” with pregnancy. How many times have I heard sickly sweet platitudes about pregnancy, and how wonderful it is that we’re giving our daughter a sibling, and how nobody wants you to lift anything, and how any kind of chemical at all, ever, is bad bad bad, and somehow when you become a pregnant woman you are identified merely by the swell of your abdomen. There is a definite loss of self, of identity. I worked for 31 years to become the person I am, and just because I have a kid on the way is no reason for you to treat me any differently than you would if I didn’t. Yes, I know how to ask for help, and sure, I get tired more easily, but for God’s sake, I am not made of glass, nor must I be treated as such. If I’m tired, I’ll sit down. If I’m hungry, I’ll eat. If I need to go to the grocery store a week past my due date and push a cart with $300 of groceries in it, I will. I never take kindly to unsolicited advice, and pregnancy is surely no exception. Part of the reason I don’t have a separate pregnancy blog, or a counter or anything cutesy like that, is because I view this pregnancy as part of my life. There’s no reason to compartmentalize – if anyone wants to skip over the pregnancy bits, I have no problem with that.

In the end, I’m generally laid back about the pregnancy – yes I do wonder what kind of kid our DNA will bring forth this time, if this one will be male or female, if this kid will have the same black stripe of hair amongst the blonde that the girl has had since her first breath. I worry about breastfeeding (sometimes) and I worry about remembering everything that goes with a new baby (seriously – amnesia sets in after awhile).

But I also don’t worry too terribly much about it. If I seem laid back and nonchalant about pregnancy, it’s because I’m lucky enough not to have to think about it much, and also because I know that however faint, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. Without pregnancy I wouldn’t have the girl or the bean. And those two things are worth the aggravation and body-snatching.

Meet and Greet: Milwaukee

This is the true story of the first two John Mayer concerts of the season. Well, we'll get to the shows later. This is the true story of how I met John Mayer.

A round trip of about 1300 miles from the TC to the hometown to St Louis and back. The equipment: one Audi A6, one booster seat, my entire collection of John Mayer CDs (with some Colbie Caillat, Sara Bareilles, October Project, Vertical Horizon and Matty Nay thrown in for variety), two suitcases, a scooter and helmet for the girl, and a backpack with my laptop and class stuff. Even on summer break, law school waits for no woman.

The girl and I headed out the afternoon of the 2nd - about six hours behind schedule. This didn't bother me so much - I wanted to have some stuff ready for the boy when I left and didn't have enough time to run all my errands and stuff the day before. I will say that I had time to run to Target and buy the special edition of Where The Light Is, and it kept me thoroughly entertained for about half the drive.

Upon arrival at the mom's, I saw that two very important packages arrived: Jen's Minolta camera, and a copy of Continuum on vinyl. Both items went to the concert with me the next day, for a very important purpose:



As the lucky winner of an L-83 meet and greet, I was thrilled and overwhelmed to meet John Mayer. For about a week beforehand, I kept telling myself "he's just a guy." Just a regular guy who happens to be an amazing musician and is beyond gorgeous and... yeah. Right. The only thing I was determined NOT to do was to break down in tears, all NKOTB fanstyle.

Apparently I did a good job - my friends have remarked that I look very chill and also that I am "glowing." (It might be the pregnant. I don't know.) It was incredibly cool to meet John - he was gracious, shook everyone's hand and asked our names, and signed autographs for everyone, as well as posed for pictures with each of us. We were together for a good 20 minutes before the door to the green room opened. The first person to walk in was Ken Helie, John's tour manager, and right on his heels was John himself. I'll never forget the first thoughts that ran through my mind: wow, he's a lot more tan in person, he's got bedhead and his voice is a little raspy, wonder if he just got up from a nap, cool shoes, niiiice eyes and tattoos... I've read recounts of prior meet and greets, and a few things came to mind to check out for myself:

1. Yes, he is tall. However, I was not surprised - I would say he's about the same height as my husband, maybe slightly taller. Living with someone who is 6'3 gives you perspective on height, I think.

2. He is NOT rail skinny as most people think. Definitely lithe and healthy, but there is some lovely, muscular meat on that frame. When we posed for the picture, I think my arm went roughly around his waist - his went round my shoulders. I was too busy trying to a)smile nicely, b) not touch his ass, and c) get close but not too close as to inappropriately invade his personal space to really get a good feel...but his arms were very, very nice.

3. His tattoos are beautiful. The tattoo sleeve on his left arm is not nearly as dark as it shows in pictures, and the color work he's had done definitely helps it. The tattoo on his forearm (three squares) struck me as a bit faded - but then again, it's however old (at least six years if not a bit older) and like I said before - boy is much tanner than I thought - so that probably contributes.

4. I can confirm that he smells LOVELY. His shoes and watch were both immaculately cared for. He's got a great smile and overall, he seems like a very busy, but genuine guy.

The show itself was fantastic - more later on that. The autographed album is currently sitting in protective cover, awaiting a frame and a place of honor in my study space. And I think it will remain there when the guest room becomes the bean's room - in all honestly, the Bean was there with me, you can totally tell I'm seriously knocked up in the picture, and it will be a cool story to tell him/her when she/he's older. I joked with my buddies that since I'm going to five Mayer shows this summer, this kid better come out knowing six chords and the correct way to hold a Strat.

Nice to meet you, John. Hope we can do it again sometime.

Thursdayness

1. Am I the only person in the world who haaaaaaaaaaaaaaates Jack Johnson?

2. Six days til Summerfest! Mayer, come to mama... It's been waaaaaay too long, baby. And my husband won't be there this time, so... ya know...

3. Seven days til The Lou. Oh hellz yeah.

4. So about a week ago, I went to the doc and they drew about eight vials of blood and made me pee in a cup. And they told me the pee was bad bad bad, and I had to drink a ton of water and cranberry juice and do a seven day course of antibiotics and avoid certain horizontal adult fun activities with my husband, for fear of INFECTING HIM with THE INFECTION. All this, despite the fact that I had NO symptoms. I mean seriously - no weird funk, no weird goo, no burning. Maybe I just have a little bacterial alien hanging around between my legs, making raspberries at the lab monkeys at my doc's office. So NOW... I started my antibiotic course yesterday, and they are going to want to test me again after I'm done, and I'm out of town for a good week after that... so maybe I can wheedle my way into going in and peeing right before we leave for Summerfest. I hope so.

5. So without further ado... the reason I was giving the lab monkeys lots of fun fluids to play with...



Announcing... Kidney Bean Thompson. This picture was taken a few weeks ago at 9.5 weeks. I'm now just going on 12... past the first trimester and due round about the first week of January. Just another addition to the Summer of Awesome... and the reason why I'm not doing any triathons this summer.

Easy price to pay for the coolness ahead. I'll be back next year on the race course...even sweeter to do it post partum. And yeah, I'll be one of those tri-moms who grabs her kids and runs across the line with them. For me - one big, one small, and all happy. The girl will be six when the bean is born. I was six when my sis was born - pretty cool. She'll be an awesome big sister.

For the next six months or so, I'll be gestating, and telling the boy to carry my backpack to school for me, and probably getting all pregnanty-looking, and hopefully figuring out if the bean is a girl or a boy... and having a perfectly lovely excuse to send the boy out for all manner of weird foods at all hours of the day and night, and hopefully telling my mother and in-laws and family to lay off with the visitation. (That's another thing I'm not hip to - the whole WE NEEEEEEEEEED TO SEEEEEEEE THE BAY-BEEEEEEE NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! thing. Geez. Let me get my stitches out and establish a damned breastfeeding pattern before you invade. A week is NOT too long to wait to see a new baby!) (And yes, stitches = c-section. I had one last time and my track record on going into labor on my own is 0-1. I'm told my docs won't induce a v-bac, so yeah. Most likely headed for the OR again.)

I'll update on this when I feel the need - so far I have to remind myself I'm pregnant and, with the exception of a low back ache, a little growth cramping, and one rather nasty occurrence of puking up an empty stomach, I've pretty much sailed through these first few months. Trust me when I say I'm not a touchy-feely pregnant lady, nor do I wax poetic about the whole "magic" and "wonder" of "new life."

Frankly, I prefer knocked up.