I thought I'd write down some of the things I'm experiencing during this pregnancy, especially since my mom, who was 36 when I was born, can't remember many of the details of her pregnancy. Honestly, that's not uncommon for her (she has always had a poor memory - not a symptom of anything else), but it's frustrating for me when she can't remember if she had stretch marks or a linea nigra or experienced colostrum production in her third trimester, etc.
The first trimester was relatively easy. One thing my mom CAN remember is that she never had morning sickness, and fortunately that was the case with me too. I had a few noontimes where I felt like my stomach was slightly upset, but never any nausea. In fact, the only nausea I had was 2nd trimester motion sickness during plane travel to and from Washington DC and while riding in the backseat of Liftoff Guy's friend's car around the city (we actually had to pull over and let me spit out some of that disgusting pre-vomit spit that can fill your whole mouth). I never actually vomited though.
Around 12 or 13 weeks, a pinched nerve in my back that sometimes caused problems when I slept on my right side or back by making my right thigh go numb decided that it was going to cause problems all the time. My right thigh went numb as I walked, which was a first (I was visiting home in California at the time) and over the next few weeks decided to cause shooting pain if I ignored the numbness. My OB-Gyn sent me to a physical therapist where I learned to do a variety of mild back and core-strengthening exercises, and the exercises (and perhaps just getting bigger and having the balance of my body change) have led to some improvement, although the thigh is still numb most of the time. I've learned that raising my foot during a long shopping trip on anything 6 inches to a couple of feet off the ground really helps. I also began wearing a maternity support belly bra thing in January and that seems to be helpful.
In the last few months or so I've begun getting stretch marks, especially on the lower hemisphere of my belly, around my bikini zone, my hips, and on my upper thighs. They are reddish pink and really irregular. Some are horizontal, some are vertical, but they're all relatively short, say between 1 and 2 inches long. My belly button is still an innie, but flatter than it was. I don't have a linea nigra and I have, indeed, started producing clear fluid and some orangish colostrum within the last few weeks.
I've gotten winded easily since the beginning of the pregnancy and my resting heart rate has been pretty high throughout. I'm just sitting here at the computer and it's 96 bpm. This started really early (like early in the first trimester) and I was told it relates to higher-than-normal blood volume. Walking across campus now makes me pant and it takes a while to recover from climbing stairs.
I first felt Liftoff Boy move on New Year's Eve, 1997. It was a tickling sensation low in my abdomen and was similar to pain. Very strange. As he has gotten bigger it's been a much more physical kicking and knocking, although recently there's been more of a feeling of stretching and rolling. He'll definitely let me know by pushing or kicking if I'm reducing his space too much by leaning my belly into a table or sleeping with my knee pressing into my belly.
I had round ligament pain in my second trimester and it was the sudden-move-feeling-like-you've-been-stabbed-in-the-gut sensation. Recently, though, there has been a variation of round ligament pain where the ligaments that go from my groin into my thighs (especially my left thigh) have gotten into the act and that has been breathtakingly painful. One of my back exercises required me to lie on my side and do side leg-lifts and that was agonizing. I've stopped that and have tried to wear my support thing more and they pain has gotten better over the last few days.
I have a bit of heartburn yesterday and today.
Aside from urinating constantly (normal), I have decided to defy convention and move my bowels constantly. Huzzah! No constipation for me so far. My doctor knows about this and says it's pretty normal, just not as common as constipation. I guess I'm grateful...
Right now I wake up in the night and forget how I've grown and am amazed at how much control I need to maneuver myself around. Getting in and out of bed has become a challenge. And I have 9 weeks or so to go!
Finally, emotionally it has been interesting. As Liftoff Boy has gotten bigger, I can feel him through my abdominal wall, but I'm having trouble visualizing him. I have moments of extreme tenderness and teariness, but sometimes it's because of the anticipation of meeting him, and other times it's because I'm worried about the changes his emergence is going to bring (arrival always seems like the wrong word - I mean he's HERE, not anywhere else). I can't say I'm feeling love for him yet because I've never met him. He's an abstraction more than a baby to me. I've never been good at visualizing things that are hidden. I don't feel like I'm playing a creative role in his growth. I feel like my body is being used for some other purpose and my conscious will and desire has little to do with it other than being consenting. I will sing and read to him sometimes, but I worry he can't hear since he doesn't react much to sound. I like it when I give a little push and he responds, though. Usually when I give a little push he seems to ignore me. So far this doesn't seem like a spiritual experience, and anything I read or watch that suggests that it should be makes me mildly uncomfortable. Instead, it's an interesting biological experiment that involves me growing a small person in my body, much in the way that you can grow bean sprouts in a glass of water. He's definitely more active than bean sprouts, though. Despite not feeling what seems like "love" yet, though, I feel very, very protective of my body because of his presence. I'm sure love will arrive when I have a better sense of him, i.e. when he's on the outside.
Whew! Now I can save all of this for posterity. Liftoff Boy probably won't care, but if we have another child, I'll probably want to look back on this for comparison's sake.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Copacetic
Today's OB-Gyn appointment went fine. I've only gained a pound since two weeks ago (better than the shock of gaining 11 in 5 weeks then 5 in two weeks!). Apparently I decided to explode weight-wise (or Liftoff Boy did), but that seems to have stabilized. Seriously, nothing like gaining 16 pounds in two months.
Blood pressure today was nice and normal, down from last time. I saw my doctor in her secondary office and she seemed a lot less rushed than normal and so we got to chat quite a bit about going for tenure while pregnant, my decision not to take any official maternity leave (I'm giving birth during summer vacation, so this works), and general stuff. I learned that my current situation of...um...not being constipated at ALL...is actually okay and normal, and that the stabby pains I've had where my left leg meets my groin are yet another lovely variety of round ligament pain. LB's heartbeat was around 145, which is very nice, and he's still head down.
The only slightly "hmmm..." thing, and it's very minor, is that my fundus (uterus height) is 32 cm, which is where it usually would be at 32 weeks, and I'm only at 30 weeks. This may indicate that LB is a big boy, so the doc wants to do another ultrasound at 34 weeks to check his weight.
We had a nice cuddly moment this morning where Liftoff Guy kind of spooned me before we got up, and put his hands on my belly, and LB kicked for him a couple of times. But then I had to run to the bathroom (natch) so the moment couldn't last. Still, it was very nice.
Blood pressure today was nice and normal, down from last time. I saw my doctor in her secondary office and she seemed a lot less rushed than normal and so we got to chat quite a bit about going for tenure while pregnant, my decision not to take any official maternity leave (I'm giving birth during summer vacation, so this works), and general stuff. I learned that my current situation of...um...not being constipated at ALL...is actually okay and normal, and that the stabby pains I've had where my left leg meets my groin are yet another lovely variety of round ligament pain. LB's heartbeat was around 145, which is very nice, and he's still head down.
The only slightly "hmmm..." thing, and it's very minor, is that my fundus (uterus height) is 32 cm, which is where it usually would be at 32 weeks, and I'm only at 30 weeks. This may indicate that LB is a big boy, so the doc wants to do another ultrasound at 34 weeks to check his weight.
We had a nice cuddly moment this morning where Liftoff Guy kind of spooned me before we got up, and put his hands on my belly, and LB kicked for him a couple of times. But then I had to run to the bathroom (natch) so the moment couldn't last. Still, it was very nice.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Haroldson's Coffee World
When I was 17 years old, I got a job at a store called Haroldson's Coffee World, at the City Shopping Center in Orange, California. It wasn't my first job, but it was the first job I liked. I did an internet search for Haroldson's this morning, and nothing came up, so I decided that if the memory of the place was going to be preserved, it was my job to do it.
Haroldson's was owned by Harold Bregman, and his son, whose name I don't remember. Harold was a short, round, mustachioed Jewish man from New York, probably in his late 60s or early 70s at the time, which was 1987. I remember his bald head and his imprinted apron and the restless way he moved his hands. He had been a cab driver in New York, and his manner was very brash, which probably made sense doing that kind of work. He hired me right after I graduated from high school, when I was looking for a summer job. I stayed on and worked there for a couple of years, by which point he sold the store to an Italian family from Canada. They were okay, but Harold was an amazing boss.
Harold was the kind of guy who would yell at customers if they got on his nerves. He'd yell at the (mostly) girls he employed too, but he was also extremely generous and trusting and warm. You'd be scared of Harold if you didn't know him and caught him in the wrong mood, but when Christmas season came around, he made sure his employees all got a share of the sales they made. He was funny and kind, and although I can't remember his wife's name (it started with a Z), he loved her very much. I think she was a concentration camp survivor and he was very protective of her.
The store, pre-Starbucks (at least in Southern California), sold coffee beans of 20-25 different flavors, including a hazelnut with real hazelnut slivers. I learned to drink coffee while working there, and to be able to describe the difference between Sumatra Blue Lintong and Jamaica Blue Mountain. We ground coffee beans, sold the whole beans, and sold chocolate-covered espresso beans. We made capuccinos and espressos. I learned to foam milk. We also sold coffee cups and mugs, tea sets, loose teas, bagged teas, jelly beans, cookies, and coffee makers of a wide variety of types, from drip filters to percolators to French presses and more. I loved describing the flavors to customers, learning what our regular customers enjoyed, and teaching them how to use a stove-top espresso maker. For a future anthropology professor, it was good training for teaching, explaining, and learning a bit about the coffee-growing societies of the world.
The next door over was a men's clothing store run by a Persian family. The husband (Abraham? Ibrahim?) would frequently come over for coffee, but he didn't like to wait in line and sometimes he'd pour himself a cup without waiting. This happened too often and eventually Harold kicked him out of the store! I can remember Abraham standing, amused, in the mall just outside the entrance, buying cups of coffee without actually coming in. Eventually Harold's temper would subside and things would go back to normal, but there was an ebb and flow to it all. Customers would sometimes tell us employees that it must be a challenge to work for him, but if you stuck around and got to be friends with him, he was very loyal and reasonable and funny. Still, the Muslim-Jewish tension that resulted from the mall layout was a fascinating subcurrent in an otherwise calm work situation.
One day, I think soon after Christmas, he said he had an announcement. I was hoping to become assistant manager and really thought that might be it. But no, he was selling the store. And the era of Harold and Haroldson's came to an end. Haroldson's continued for a while without him, and the new family actually opened another store, but eventually the City Shopping Center shut down, was razed, and replaced by The Block. I miss Harold and completely lost touch with him. But working for him was the first time I had a job I looked forward to going to.
Haroldson's was owned by Harold Bregman, and his son, whose name I don't remember. Harold was a short, round, mustachioed Jewish man from New York, probably in his late 60s or early 70s at the time, which was 1987. I remember his bald head and his imprinted apron and the restless way he moved his hands. He had been a cab driver in New York, and his manner was very brash, which probably made sense doing that kind of work. He hired me right after I graduated from high school, when I was looking for a summer job. I stayed on and worked there for a couple of years, by which point he sold the store to an Italian family from Canada. They were okay, but Harold was an amazing boss.
Harold was the kind of guy who would yell at customers if they got on his nerves. He'd yell at the (mostly) girls he employed too, but he was also extremely generous and trusting and warm. You'd be scared of Harold if you didn't know him and caught him in the wrong mood, but when Christmas season came around, he made sure his employees all got a share of the sales they made. He was funny and kind, and although I can't remember his wife's name (it started with a Z), he loved her very much. I think she was a concentration camp survivor and he was very protective of her.
The store, pre-Starbucks (at least in Southern California), sold coffee beans of 20-25 different flavors, including a hazelnut with real hazelnut slivers. I learned to drink coffee while working there, and to be able to describe the difference between Sumatra Blue Lintong and Jamaica Blue Mountain. We ground coffee beans, sold the whole beans, and sold chocolate-covered espresso beans. We made capuccinos and espressos. I learned to foam milk. We also sold coffee cups and mugs, tea sets, loose teas, bagged teas, jelly beans, cookies, and coffee makers of a wide variety of types, from drip filters to percolators to French presses and more. I loved describing the flavors to customers, learning what our regular customers enjoyed, and teaching them how to use a stove-top espresso maker. For a future anthropology professor, it was good training for teaching, explaining, and learning a bit about the coffee-growing societies of the world.
The next door over was a men's clothing store run by a Persian family. The husband (Abraham? Ibrahim?) would frequently come over for coffee, but he didn't like to wait in line and sometimes he'd pour himself a cup without waiting. This happened too often and eventually Harold kicked him out of the store! I can remember Abraham standing, amused, in the mall just outside the entrance, buying cups of coffee without actually coming in. Eventually Harold's temper would subside and things would go back to normal, but there was an ebb and flow to it all. Customers would sometimes tell us employees that it must be a challenge to work for him, but if you stuck around and got to be friends with him, he was very loyal and reasonable and funny. Still, the Muslim-Jewish tension that resulted from the mall layout was a fascinating subcurrent in an otherwise calm work situation.
One day, I think soon after Christmas, he said he had an announcement. I was hoping to become assistant manager and really thought that might be it. But no, he was selling the store. And the era of Harold and Haroldson's came to an end. Haroldson's continued for a while without him, and the new family actually opened another store, but eventually the City Shopping Center shut down, was razed, and replaced by The Block. I miss Harold and completely lost touch with him. But working for him was the first time I had a job I looked forward to going to.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Baby sleep
I am not a co-sleeping type. I am one of those weird people who, despite being affectionate and lovey-dovey in waking life, cannot sleep with anyone touching me. I've never fallen asleep in a lover's arms and even feeling Liftoff Guy's foot against mine in the night is enough to get me to pull away.
This works because we have a giant king size bed and so there's plenty of space. But I can't sleep if someone (even a cat) is touching me. It's weird, I know.
So, when I hear of blissful arrangements where everyone, Dad, Mom, and Baby, are all in bed together in happy slumber and Mom just pulls Baby over to nurse when Baby starts to fuss, I respond with trepidation. If I can't sleep while barely touching my husband, I certainly could not drift off with a baby making physical contact with me. I don't have a problem with a baby sleeping in my arms, for a while, but the whole sleeping thing just wouldn't happen.
So, we are getting a crib. My mom gave me her credit card info and after exploring my registry, checking out prices, looking for similar/the same crib at other sources, we have decided! And so the picture above is of the convertible crib we're getting (it's going to be on the way next week or the week after). It'll be a crib for Liftoff Boy, then a toddler bed, then a grown-up bed and it matches all the oak in the bedroom and should be really nice.
Grading, grading, grading....
It's that time of year when I receive somewhere around 90 fresh, new 7-9 page papers to grade and have to get them back to the students (at least I feel guilty if I don't), before they "evaluate" me. While some of them are fascinating to read, they tend to be repetititive, and as an ENFP, doing the same thing over and over makes me cranky and semi-depressed.
ESPECIALLY when it's clear that they either misunderstood or ignored the guidelines for the assignment. When I ask you to cite at least three academic sources, I mean that those sources should, you know, be cited. In your text. Not that you should give me a lot of unsupported information and then give me a works cited page where I'm reading authors' names for the first time and wondering how on earth you thought you incorporated their work.
From dictionary.reference.com:
cite /saɪt/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[sahyt] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–verb (used with object), cit·ed, cit·ing.
1. to quote (a passage, book, author, etc.), esp. as an authority: He cited the Constitution in his defense.
2. to mention in support, proof, or confirmation; refer to as an example: He cited many instances of abuse of power.
3. to summon officially or authoritatively to appear in court.
4. to call to mind; recall: citing my gratitude to him.
5. Military. to mention (a soldier, unit, etc.) in orders, as for gallantry.
6. to commend, as for outstanding service, hard work, or devotion to duty.
7. to summon or call; rouse to action.
Maybe they're thinking of definition number 4, and fleetingly recalling various works as they write their papers.
To be fair, most of them aren't doing this. Most of them are being good. But when an otherwise good student can't manage to follow directions...
BTW, in case you're wondering why I don't sound like an ENFP right now, stressed ENFPs start acting like ISTJs - and ISTJs are all about rules being followed. Aargh.
ESPECIALLY when it's clear that they either misunderstood or ignored the guidelines for the assignment. When I ask you to cite at least three academic sources, I mean that those sources should, you know, be cited. In your text. Not that you should give me a lot of unsupported information and then give me a works cited page where I'm reading authors' names for the first time and wondering how on earth you thought you incorporated their work.
From dictionary.reference.com:
cite /saɪt/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[sahyt] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–verb (used with object), cit·ed, cit·ing.
1. to quote (a passage, book, author, etc.), esp. as an authority: He cited the Constitution in his defense.
2. to mention in support, proof, or confirmation; refer to as an example: He cited many instances of abuse of power.
3. to summon officially or authoritatively to appear in court.
4. to call to mind; recall: citing my gratitude to him.
5. Military. to mention (a soldier, unit, etc.) in orders, as for gallantry.
6. to commend, as for outstanding service, hard work, or devotion to duty.
7. to summon or call; rouse to action.
Maybe they're thinking of definition number 4, and fleetingly recalling various works as they write their papers.
To be fair, most of them aren't doing this. Most of them are being good. But when an otherwise good student can't manage to follow directions...
BTW, in case you're wondering why I don't sound like an ENFP right now, stressed ENFPs start acting like ISTJs - and ISTJs are all about rules being followed. Aargh.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
No Foolin'
Some good news today!
1. Despite failing the 1-hour test, I don't actually have gestational diabetes according to the more accurate 3-hour test I took last week.
Here are the limits for the test:
Gestational diabetes will be diagnosed if two of the following values exceed the normal limit.
Fasting - 95 mg/dL
1 hour - 180 mg/dL
2 hours - 155 mg/dL
3 hours - 140 mg/dL
My numbers were 60, 139, 126, and 74 - that big drop at the end explains why I had a total sugar crash just as I was getting home from the doctor's. I was sweaty, shaky, confused and kept dropping things. But those numbers are great - the nurse over the phone said my body obviously can really kick the sugar out. I'm happy not just because it would have been inconvenient to have it, but also because it can be an indicator of a greater chance of getting type II diabetes later in life and can cause problems for the pregnancy and the baby.
2. Liftoff Guy finally felt Liftoff Boy kick this morning! We were chatting - I was on the couch with my computer and my half-caf coffee and LG was taking his cereal bowl back to the kitchen, and LB started kicking. He's upside down and I felt the kicks right under my breasts in the upper portion of my uterus. They were pretty strong and so I had LG come over fast and put his hand down and about 3 seconds later, bam! He said he saw my belly move and felt the kick. This is the first time he's ever felt a kick.
It will be amusing to let LB know that he first introduced himself to his father on April Fool's Day. I wonder which one of them that says more about? Of course I first felt him on New Year's Eve, so maybe LB just likes holidays (like his mom!).
1. Despite failing the 1-hour test, I don't actually have gestational diabetes according to the more accurate 3-hour test I took last week.
Here are the limits for the test:
Gestational diabetes will be diagnosed if two of the following values exceed the normal limit.
Fasting - 95 mg/dL
1 hour - 180 mg/dL
2 hours - 155 mg/dL
3 hours - 140 mg/dL
My numbers were 60, 139, 126, and 74 - that big drop at the end explains why I had a total sugar crash just as I was getting home from the doctor's. I was sweaty, shaky, confused and kept dropping things. But those numbers are great - the nurse over the phone said my body obviously can really kick the sugar out. I'm happy not just because it would have been inconvenient to have it, but also because it can be an indicator of a greater chance of getting type II diabetes later in life and can cause problems for the pregnancy and the baby.
2. Liftoff Guy finally felt Liftoff Boy kick this morning! We were chatting - I was on the couch with my computer and my half-caf coffee and LG was taking his cereal bowl back to the kitchen, and LB started kicking. He's upside down and I felt the kicks right under my breasts in the upper portion of my uterus. They were pretty strong and so I had LG come over fast and put his hand down and about 3 seconds later, bam! He said he saw my belly move and felt the kick. This is the first time he's ever felt a kick.
It will be amusing to let LB know that he first introduced himself to his father on April Fool's Day. I wonder which one of them that says more about? Of course I first felt him on New Year's Eve, so maybe LB just likes holidays (like his mom!).
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