Monday, January 31, 2005

Ever Felt Stuck?

Beautiful day today. The sun is shining. The gardener next door is working on his yard. The weeds in my yard continue to thrive.

There's a million things on my To Do list, but I'm stuck. I've felt stuck for awhile and I'm not sure how to fix it. Is it simply procrastination because sometimes it feels so much heavier.

As I've told you before, I work at home. It's been over a month since I've been in the office, which you would think would be good, except I miss it. I miss the people, the productivity, the quickness of the networks and availability of the resources. I miss having someone stop by my office to ask me to lunch, or having someone come in and tell me the latest gossip. I am damn lonely here at the house.

I no longer have my office here at the house since we're changing that room into a nursery. My office stuff is now in the living room, but it's not comfortable yet and I have no workspace in there yet. I've tried working from my bed, my couch, and my dining room table. I can't concentrate or focus. It's too quiet. I turn on the TV and it's too distracting (and there's Nothing on, believe me). I turn on the radio and it plays the same songs over and over, or talk radio has the same news updates every hour.

So I end up on the internet checking blogs instead of getting things done. And then my To Do list gets longer and I start feeling disappointed in myself. So I start writing, and here I am.

I know what you're thinking. "Pazel, just get back to work." Yet, I feel like I'm stuck. I feel like I can't. Like my mind is addled and my desire is gone, washed away. What can a workaholic do without work? Apparently, not much but feel stuck.

I'm about to get up and move my work site once again. I'll try a different spot and hope that it makes a difference. I doubt it. I just have to force myself to do it. Really. Starting now. I mean in a few minutes after lunch. Then I'll really get going. Really. This time I mean it.


Saturday, January 29, 2005

The Blues

I'm feeling decidedly better. For now at least as I seem to change course pretty regularly. My worst times are in the morning and afternoon when I feel sick and stuck. In the evenings I start to feel better, and by night I can be downright chipper.

Okay, I'm going to talk about the baby room so bail out now if you're not interested.

Today was supposed to be a day of great progress on the nursery. Yesterday, we had gone to the Home Despot where I pointed out to him the bi-fold doors I wanted for the closet. He didn't agree so we went and looked at mirrored doors which reminded me too much of the 80s. Next we investigated the traditional doors which upon seeing them he determined looked too ugly and depressing. Invariably we ended up back at the bi-fold doors which we purchased.

This pretty much sums up my husband. I have told him that he needs to be more like George on Seinfeld and always do the opposite of whatever he's thinking which would save me a lot of time and aggravation. Trip to Disneyland? He complains for weeks about the crowds and money and weather and travelling. Once we get there, he has a blast and brags to everyone afterwards about the trip including sharing pictures and stories with all his relatives. Minivan? He tells me how unsexy it is and all the various cliches that I will suddenly grow into. Now he loves it because it has the loading capacity of a truck but without having to rope the load up. (Yes, there are other good things about it, but this is what interests him.) Father night at Janie's school? He doesn't want to be hanging out with a bunch of strangers and would much rather have a nice quiet evening at home. When he gets back, he's talking about the good guys he met and how much he learned about what she's working on at school.

I could go on and on but I think you get the picture. My nickname for him has always been "my little raincloud" because he never seems excited or happy, especially not about anything new. Yet, over the years as I have dragged him on my many ideas he has come away having a great time and extremely glad that he went. But it is not always cute and sometimes it gets hard to always be the positive one.

So today was supposed to be a day of great progress on the nursery. He was going to paint and then hang the closet doors as well as the door to the room. He borrowed a paint sprayer from a friend which he said would make the job go quicker. I had my doubts since these doors aren't that big anyways, but I didn't voice them as I knew it was just another opportunity to use a new tool. Fine. Anyways, he spent the morning playing with the paint sprayer which he couldn't get to spray the right consistency of mist for the doors. He ended up painting them with the brush anyways. Trouble is, he didn't prime the wood as I had told him. I had bought him everything for priming as these were bare wood doors. He decided that they didn't need priming, just paint because he spent all the time on the paint sprayer and he wanted to make up for it.

I can't tell you why, but for some reason this just got to me. It did. Isn't that stupid? I'm not a controlling person, but for the nursery I felt deflated that he didn't also feel the unsaid importance of everything being done with quality. And it threw me into a black hole of sadness thinking that he didn't care. These are closet doors. Yet, I felt like it represented so much. And I couldn't get back from it. I didn't yell or scream (not my style) but stood there just watching him paint for the longest time. In my mind I was saying the most horrible stuff, and thankfully only about 5% of it came out my lips.

I came inside and lost my will to work on the nursery. I instead worked on organizing my new office area in the living room. Not nearly as much fun, but I was no longer in the mood for fun. He came in, saw I wasn't working on the nursery, so decided to work on his electrical project in the garage instead.

So no progress. None. Maybe a few steps backwards instead.

Tonight I cooked up steaks and fatty mashed potatoes (with sour cream, cream cheese, butter, shredded cheese and garlic powder), his favorites.

Tomorrow I have great plans for the room. Hanging the wallpaper border. This will be the only wallpaper in our whole house. I've wallpapered once before at a different house, but this is decidedly different because it's for my baby. See how much pressure I've created for myself on this one room?

I think it all stems from the fact that I've wanted to do this room.... forever. I've always wanted to create a beautiful nursery. I couldn't with Janie because we moved when she was 2 months old and then moved into a temporary rental. This feels like my first and last nursery and I want it to be so very perfect. And nothing is perfect, especially not my budget or craftsmanship. I'm not much of a decorator so this is kind of me taking a chance. It could end up being the first fully decorated room in our whole house (with the exception of Janie's room which is half decorated by me and half by her overflowing supply of stuff - another thing I've got to work on). I want something to show that says how much we're wanting this child, even though anyone who knows us knows that already. It's not showing off since we don't have many visitors, but some sort of validation. I don't know how to explain it. Nursery fever? More like nursery pressure. Wish me luck.

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

An Apology

From an inferile sister who doesn't name my blog, may not be meaning my blog, but well could be, not happy about happy pregnant posts. What I don't understand is the part where the fee for pregnancy has been increased to not just some suffering but to reach the highest level to become deserving.

"And, of course, in true Pottery Barn People fashion, it's usually the one's who haven't been through 12 miscarriages or 7 IVFs.
Uh huh.

I never expected everyone to like me. But I never meant to hurt anyone. If I did, I'm sorry. I mean it.

I haven't forgotten what it's like to be infertile, I don't know how anyone possibly could. I am not strolling through this pregnancy carefree and happy, but with doubts and fears and my head turned backwards looking for the bogeyman who is bound to jump out from behind the bushes and take away all of this. Some things are too good to be true.

I spend a lot of time trying to fight these fears. To feel normal. To let go and feel pregnant and normal. I haven't paid as many dues as some women, but this didn't come easy either. Sometimes I'm able to let my mind take a rest and my hope to take over. I lay in the daisies, stare up at the clouds and imagine I see happy, fluffy clouds rather than the dark ones on the horizon. I allow myself to buy baby things or start decorating the nursery. It's a hard leap to make, and when I do it I get proud of myself. Sometimes I post about it because I want to share this new, fresh feeling.

Yet, being a pregnant infertile is an oxymoron and there is no clear path. Dare I to complain about my aches and pains? Then I'm ungrateful. Can I post a happy post about finally purchasing some baby things? Then I'm flaunting that happiness. Too happy.

So what am I supposed to be? What am I supposed to act like? Tell me what is right, because I certainly don't know. That's why I fluctuate and can't seem to stay in one mood for a whole day or even a whole hour.

I'm grateful I haven't had to suffer as much as other women. I could give my fertility resume, but it won't compare but I don't understand why that's required. Why pick on a pregnant infertile? I haven't gone through this scar free. It wasn't easy. Time goes by slowly when you're dealing with infertility.

Maybe it's just a minority opinion or she was just having a particularly bad day. It's not the three of you who responded to me today. Three different women in three different situations and you seem to understand.

And I shouldn't let it bother me, except that I never intended to hurt anyone. I've instead just sputtered through posting when I can and on my thoughts at that moment. Not well thought out. Not well planned. Not even well written. Just honest pictures into my mind. Even then, it's edited as it's written as who can possibly express all that they think or feel into a blog? Well, I ask that but I know that there's those with the gift of word who can. Me, I'm not one of them. I can put words together, but they still come out vanilla. I hope it's only because I have a vanilla vocabulary and not an actually vanilla person with a vanilla life. But maybe I am and just don't know it.

So again, in case you haven't seen it already, if my pregnant posts have bothered you, I apologize. I have no idea what I'm doing. Really. This is all new territory for me. The last person I'd ever want to hurt is an infertile because I know they're hurt enough already. I'm not sure what I should make of this blog or which direction it should turn. Maybe I haven't worked on it hard enough, or I've taken it for granted. I'm not sure. I've got more thinking to do.

Many Doubts

I'm trying to think of something witty or interesting to say but I'm not coming to anything quickly. There's a few things on my mind.

I could write about school. How in my class last night I was called upon and couldn't grasp the question so gave a stupid answer. Thereafter I questioned the wisdom of getting her to let me in despite not having taken the prerequisite. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea. I've made myself a new promise to reawaken my inner overachiever to make special preparations for this class.

I could write about Janie. Usually she reports to me who she played with at school, and it's generally a good sized list. Yesterday she told me noone and my heart broke (although I hid it well). I told her to ask them to play with her or if she could play with them. She told me that she was afraid because they could say no. I wanted to wrap myself around her and protect her from the world. Instead I had to casually tell her that if they did, she just had to ask someone else because she is so much fun, so funny, so smart and so pretty that anyone would want to play with her. Then I laid awake in bed last night thinking about how similar she is to me when I was that age and how I want more for her. And I thought about her elementary years and desperately hoped that they would be happy. This motherhood thing really hurts.

I could write about the nursery. We painted it two shades of blue this weekend, one for the ocean and one for the sky. We now leave the door open so we can look inside each time we walk by. It is so beautiful, calming, and promising. So happy and hopeful. I can't help but smile when I see it.

I could write about work. My big project is moving along, but has to speed up to get done before I have this baby. It's a financial projection for a huge project that will be going to the board of directors while I'm on maternity leave. It's all on me. Just this week we fired the consultants (who I told my boss were a bad a idea back last March) because they haven't added anything of value and I've had to do everything anyways. I've got to do good on this project. If I don't, well, I can't see them keeping me if I don't. If I do, then I could have a chance to possibly be in charge of it financially when it is built. No pressure really.

Truth is, I'm having doubts about my blog. I'm wondering if I should continue it. I used to hold the notion that I had something interesting to say if only I had an outlet. Now I do, and I find that I don't. What do you know, I'm ordinary in yet another way. It's kind of disapppointing. So I've been doing a little soul searching and part of me doesn't want to give up. I'm not writing this as any sort of plea. I'm not the pouting take-my-toys-and-leaving sort, but more of the throwing a party, don't think many are attending or having fun so thinking of calling it sort. Maybe I just need a new direction, or to write on new subjects. I can't rant on about the RE's office anymore, or talk about my fears of IVF or it not working. I'm a scared pregnant woman with many inner doubts about pretty much everything that means anything to me. I'm just not so sure of my ability to express them.

Monday, January 24, 2005

A Quiet Baby Makes a Worried Mother

Friday the baby was too quiet. He's been quiet for awhile, but more so. I ate an apple and two cookies, laid on my side, and tried to count kicks but there were none. No movement. After an hour I called my doctor. After 2, I went to OB triage. I learned that my little son hates monitors, so he tried to kick them of. He was active, he was fine, and I cried.

I'm so attached to him, I am deathly afraid of something bad happening. I know that they do. I can't help but have these bad thoughts, these dark fears. Saturday he was even quieter, with probably only one kick for the whole day. I didn't go in this time, I just tried to stay busy and remind myself that he's fine. Sunday morning he woke me at 4:30 trying to kick his way out. I was tired, but relieved. He returned to his normal movements and schedule and my mood has improved.

It's hard to love a child you cannot see. I put my hands on my belly and feel the lumps, trying to guess what they are. I talk to him, but I'm not sure what to say. It brings me to tears. I want to tell him how much I want him and love him. I want him to know that I'd do anything for him. I want to tell him that he needs to stay in for now, but one day soon I will hold him in my arms. Yet, it's hard to talk to him outloud. It makes me too vulnerable. I can barely get a few words out and I feel like I'm in too deep. I let it happen. I got attached and now I can't turn back. I don't know what I will do if he is not okay.

My best friend's daughter was stillborn. Having it happen so close makes it very real. I witnessed her grief and I understand it. She became pregnant with her son as soon as she got the doctor's okay. But what if you're infertile. What if it took everything you had, physically, emotionally, and even monetarily, to get pregnant and you lose the baby? I can't say that the pain would be worse, because I don't think there is worse when it comes to death. She wasn't replacing her daughter by getting pregnant right away, she was doing what anyone would do. But what if you can't? If I lost him now, I'd have all the pain but no second chance. The fact that I'm this far is no less than a miracle. I can't help but think that I'm over my quota on miracles. If I lost him, I'd be out.

It is an attachment to him. To this baby. There's only a few things I know about him. I know that he loves to get up early. He kicks when he's hungry, like he can smell food and wants some. His favorite target is my cervix (my daughter, I think because she's a girl, would never do that). He must think that my coughing is normal, so he sleeps through it. And he hears Janie sing songs to him and he kicks and wiggles in response.

I never thought I'd have a son, and I dared not to dream it. I had given up on the idea years ago when I learned the odds were slim when dealing with severe male factor. Daughters are great and I'm not picky. But now despite all odds, I am having one. I hold my belly and whisper that he's mine. I can't say it loudly for all my fears. I'm afraid the fates will see me getting what I shouldn't have and make a change. I want to hide him, protect him from the bad things that swirl around, that I know can happen.

I wish I could just become one of those blissfully happy fertile pregnant women who spends this time planning her showers, decorating her nursery and complaining about the ten pounds she's gained. Sometimes I forget and play along (although my gain is far more than 10 or 20 or... ). But sometimes, like when he's quiet, I get worried and let my demons out.

Meanwhile as I type this, he's kicking me pretty good. Wants to cheer me up I guess. Wants to let me know that he's fine. He is. He really is.

Friday, January 21, 2005

Blusher not needed

I will blame this on pregnancy for lack of better excuse.

Tuesday night after class. I approached the professor to sell my experience and get past the prerequisite. When explaining my work experience I... BLUSHED. Totally and completely red faced.

Last night during class (a different class). The professor has each of us give a 1 minute introduction including our background in healthcare. I... BLUSHED. Later, when he asked for suggestions for interesting topics in healthcare to discus, when I gave my idea I did it again. Bright red. Whole face. And I just knew that everyone in class was looking at me and wondering why I was blushing.

I haven't blushed in so long. I am used to speaking in public, giving big presentations, and can speak well about myself to other people. Why all of a sudden am I turning red in the face whenever I open my mouth in class? It's killing me! I'm no shy butterfly, but I sure look it. And my face is so pale that it's very obvious.

I hope this is temporary.

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

Checking In, Still Sick But Recovering

I've been having problems with Blogger lately so let's see if this will even post.

A few updates... I'm on antibiotics and have cough medicine with codeine which I take at night (although I want it now). Basically, at my OB appointment in December, I had been sick only two weeks so they told me to take only Claritin and Tylenol and try to heal myself. Now I've been sick six weeks (two week-long colds, one 6-week lingering horrible cough), so they've opened the doors to all sorts of pharmaceutical treatments. I'm so worn down and exhausted that I'm willing to try. So my baby won't go to an Ivy League school. It will save me tons on tuition.

They also moved my due date up to 4/6. They said it's because of the size of my baby during the ultrasound (at 15 weeks), but I think it's because they're using LMP instead of considering my IVF transfer date. They told me I was 28 weeks 4 days Monday, so I asked when I would be having the Gestational Diabetes test since that's usually given 24-28 weeks. "You haven't had it yet? That's strange. Usually you would have had it by now." You'd think they'd be on top of it considering my last baby was nearly 9 lbs, but I'm just another pregnant woman to them. Anyways, I took it yesterday. We'll see.

Over the weekend I went on a three day mandatory retreat with my classmates to a beautiful resort in Santa Cruz. I had a 180 degree view of the ocean from my suite with a fireplace and robes laid out. Unfortunately I rarely spent time there as we started early and went late each night. It was a type of business simulation competition among teams which I can only describe as similar to "The Apprentice" complete with all Type-A competitive personalities. Although I can lead, I don't consider myself a typical Type-A. Yet, what I can't stand is for someone to try to control me. It brings out a rebellious side of me that I don't even try to control. Let's just say that one particular German teammate and I went head-to-head. He became very flustered at my unwillingness to roll-over (especially a pregnant woman of all things), he actually told me once to "shut up." Them's fightin' words. And let's just sum it up by saying that I didn't. Actually, it made the whole thing a little more interesting as I didn't lose my temper but stayed clear-headed and kept a smile on my face. Nothing bothers a controlling person than the inability to break someone else. And I, my friends, am unbreakable.

My current dilemma stems with how much of school load to take this semester. There's a class I'm considering which ends March 31st, or in other words in perfect timing with the whole baby deadline. The class is Mergers and Acquisitions which is interesting but not exactly an area I plan to work in. The class is reputed to be very intense and hard work. There's 4 team projects in 10 weeks, and one is usually a lot of work. Tons of reading, cold calls in class, and it looks like there may be Saturday sessions with the GSI (graduate student instructors). While I normally do not back down from a challenge, this may not be the time. And I'm feeling like a wimp for not taking it on, for wanting to drop it based on the amount of work. I want to prove my strength, except I'm not at my best in this last trimester so there's a real fear of failure, especially at school where I try to stay my shark best.

So my plan is to prepare for and attend the first class. If I get a bad feeling, I will drop it. If I can't find time to prepare for it, then I'll definately drop it. Or maybe I'll just get over my ego and drop it anyways. Should I?

Maybe. Most Likely. I just have to get over myself.

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

Third trimester

Here I am in the 3rd trimester. I can hardly believe it except for how uncomfortable I am. I don't know how I'll make it a few more months. I know that I will, but I know it will be no fun. I'm not very good at keeping track of my weeks or knowing which month I am since nothing is so clear cut (40 weeks does not equal 9 months except in pregnancy). What I do know is that today is January 12th, and I'm due April 12th, so that leaves me with 3 months left... thus 3rd trimester and start of 7th month. Right? Now, since I'll be having a c-section the first week of April, I've got less than 3 months left, and I'm glad because I want to hold him but getting anxious about not having everything ready for him.


  • Sciatica pain - This is sort of like a pinched nerve that goes from my lower back to part way down my left back cheek. It hurts when I walk or put any weight on that leg. Heating pads are my friends.
  • Out of breath - I carry this baby high, just like I did my daughter. My lungs are crushed. I'm constantly out of breath. I think it also has to do with dragging all this weight around. I just can't do things part way. I'm huge which doesn't help.
  • Pain on my left side. - This started last night. I think I cracked a rib coughing. It is a sharp pain, but I have a strong feeling it's rib pain and not internal so I'm not worried, just hurting, especially when I move. Forget twisting, turning, or leaning over on that side.
  • Cough - I've had this same cough since early December. I can't take anything for it so it just continues. I'm really tired of it. Really. Matt says the baby is getting shaken baby syndrome by all my coughing.
  • Flashing spots - I noticed this yesterday. I can see flashing spots in my peripheral vision when I'm in the bathroom or anywhere else where there's white walls. They flash in tune with my heartbeat. Doesn't hurt, just strange.
  • Constant kicks to my cervix - Only a boy would do this. My daughter never did. Please son, move on, I no likee.

Good News:

  • No contractions. No bleeding. This is good because it was at this point during my last pregnancy when I had premature labor and was put on bed rest.
  • Low blood pressure. I checked it in the grocery store. 96/56 which I don't think can get any lower. My blood pressure is low naturally which means I get dizzy easily but if it wasn't low I'd be more worried about seeing the spots.
  • No swelling. I had tons of this in my last pregnancy, so much so that I couldn't wear shoes or jewelry. I'm still wearing my wedding ring which is amazing to me.

So no medical emergencies, just normal complaints. Nothing I can't handle but I reserve the right to whine and complain as much as any fertile myrtle.

On other news...

Last night I got the itching to spend some money. I was feeling like I wasn't getting ready enough for the baby. I went to the baby store with the intent of buying a stroller. I checked it out and think I picked out the one I want. Or I thought I did. It seems like a good stroller with the car seat/carrier combined. Then I looked at the very expensive ones and couldn't help but wonder why they were so special. They didn't include a car seat but their styling was more modern. Is it style? Or something else? So I started doubting myself and thought about how I'd just have to store this giant behemoth a few more months anyways, so I didn't buy it.

So instead I registered. It may sound strange, but I liked doing it on my own instead of with Matt. He would have hated it anyway. I'm not going to have a shower, and probably won't tell anyone else I'm registered, but it was fun shopping for all the items and making an electronic list. It's very short because there's things I don't need and I looked mainly at the large items. When I handed it back in, they gave me back a long list of things I had "forgotten" to register for.

Meanwhile, I ended up purchasing clothes, especially undershirts and gowns. I'm sure I'll get some clothes from family as gifts before the birth, but I couldn't shake this panicky feeling that I'd bring this baby home with nothing to dress him in. My best purchase was a tiny navy sailor suit with matching hat. I understand now why so many mothers dressed their baby boys in sailor suits. It's the only thing nearly as cute as the baby girl clothes. Considering I'm doing his room in sailboats etc, I'm going to find if there's some way I could display this outfit in the room somehow.

Monday, January 10, 2005

Practical Pazel's List for Last

This will be our second and last baby. There will be no more. Despite the fact that we've proven that we can't get pregnant on our own, I am planning on getting my tubes tied to make sure it doesn't happen. This seems strange. Birth control of any form has been out of our lives for so long that it's hard to get my mind around it.

So I've been working on a list of things I will be giving up by having my tubes tied:

  • Ever getting to become pregnant for free or naturally or by surprise. I imagine that there must be a certain sense of accomplishment with having achieved pregnancy without a syringe or team of doctors. I'd feel like a normal woman, one on tv or in the movies who feels a little sick and lo and behold is pregnant.
  • Each month getting my hopes up. Calculating due dates, thinking about symptoms, checking my basal temperature, and sometimes taking hpts. Then having them crushed when I get my period anyways. Kicking myself and calling myself stupid for believing that I could ever get pregnant on my own.
  • The chance to surprise Matt with a cute pregnancy announcement.
  • All visits to the RE. No more dildo-cams. No more tests. No more personal questions. No more wondering what they think of my half naked self. No more appointments in the middle of the workday. No more staff who thinks I'm too uninformed to be informed about the details of my test results.
  • Ever having twins or children close in age. Actually, this I can give up easily. I think twins are so cute together, but I know the realities of raising a child and my own limitations. I'm not that good of a mother, and definately not that organized. I'd end up mixing them up or losing one somewhere.
  • Spending all our money on infertility treatments. I think I may have already given this up as with purchasing the van and some other things, spending the money I had saved for a second IVF.
  • Knowing the exact day of my cycle at any time and tracking when we had sex in relation to that cycle. I want to give up baby-making sex altogether and go back to passionate love. Right now it's kind of hard with this huge belly in the way and the fact that I'm always tired or unable to breathe. But, I have grand hopes for our future. Hang in there Matt.
  • My excuse for not exercising as much as I should. I have big plans for getting back into shape after this baby. No more using the drugs and infertility stresses as excuses for gaining. No more using the possibility that I may be pregnant as an excuse either. And I will be able to take drugs that pregnant women shouldn't handle and drink wine whenever I want. Oh, I miss wine and sushi.
  • Ever feeling a baby kick inside me again after this pregnancy. Or bringing a baby home from the hospital or watching as he/she grows. Never again will I buy tiny baby girl clothes for my own daughter. This will be my last nursery to put together and my last maternity leave.
  • All the pains and discomforts of pregnancy. I could list them all, but considering this started as an infertility blog there may not be much empathy. It's okay, I can handle it.
  • An additional few more years of parenting and juggling more children. I am still trying to figure out how I could possibly give another baby as much love and attention as I give to Janie, must less trying to figure out how to do it with a third.
  • A third child. We'll never know what that child could have been like or what they could have added to our lives.
  • Feeling out of control as to the size and make-up of our family. When you're faced with primary infertility, you're constantly having to decide when to keep going or when to change directions or when to stop. Even after having a baby, then going through secondary infertility, there's the same questions again. Such an important choice as to family size and when to have children is taken away from us. Our bodies don't work right and we don't know what things will be like in 6 months or a year. The same? Different? I really want to be able to get that control back. Make the decision instead of having it made for me. Make plans for the future and live in the present.

So I'm about 99% sure that this will be our last. I hope to be 100% by the time I get to go time. Of course it all sounds so cocky of me to talk about this baby as if he's certainly going to be born healthy and fine. There are no guarantees. Yet, as big and uncomfortable as I am, I have to think that I am having a baby so that I can continue feeling that it's worth it.

Besides, all I'm taking away is the chance to get pregnant for free. Since I had to go through IVF anyway, if I suddenly got desperate for a third child, I would probably have to do that again. Tubal ligation doesn't take away that option, it just takes away the ups and downs of each month. Yes, it's that bad that I could get them tied just to feel normal again.

And it's more than that too. I am so grateful for two. To go back for thirds would be gluttonous.

Friday, January 07, 2005

With Pretty Maids All in a Row

The maids just left. I love the maids. Just knowing that they're coming makes me clean up all the clutter and organize like crazy. I don't vacuum or anything that they're going to do, just make sure it's ready to be vacuumed. And they're here for just a short time and when they leave the house is clean and blissful. I just want to stroll from room to room admiring it.

When I was a kid, toiling over my chores, I would promise myself that when I grew up and became rich and successful I would get a maid. Well, I couldn't wait that long, so I started the service shortly after I became pregnant. It's not because I became pregnant, but because I can't do everything myself. I spend my free time outside of work going to class, doing homework, grocery shopping, doing laundry, putting toys away, spending time with Janie, etc that the house was not getting clean that often. If I spent my time cleaning toilets, showers, floors etc, then I couldn't do those other things. (And don't talk to me about Matt and chores. He's good at dishes, but he has never cleaned a counter in his life. He's stumped at the prospect of putting toys away because he has no idea where they go. He never vacuums, dusts or windexes either. But, his garage tends to be very tidy so I know he understands the word clean, just doesn't know how to apply it to the house.)

So, I did the next best thing which was hire someone. It was hard. I don't like having people in my house, especially ones I don't know. But it's two women who keep to themselves and work quickly. I stay out of their way and tip them well at the end.

The first time they came after I bought the crib and put it in the office, one of them went in there and looked at it and the bedding and started talking loudly and excitedly. I have no idea what she said since it was in Spanish, but it didn't sound happy. I couldn't help but wonder what it was. I had to wonder if she was infertile and did not want to be cleaning a nursery. How could I tell her that this baby was from IVF and that I didn't blame her? Then I wondered if she was talking about how much I must have spent on the crib and changing table. Since they look brand new, she probably couldn't guess that I bought them used. She could have also been commenting on my lack of design style, but I think they're cute and one of my better purchases.

Anyways, they haven't said anything to me about it, just to each other. I'll never know. What I do know is that I lurve them, as anyone would lurve another who would come into their home and clean it without a single complaint. May they be rewarded with a clean house of their own at the end of the day.

Thursday, January 06, 2005

Slip Sliding Away

If there's one thing that I will remember about this pregnancy it will be hiking my pants up every few minutes. I get out of the car and hike. I walk a few steps and hike. I stand up and hike. Sometimes I walk with one hand on my pants like they're princess dresses just to keep them from sliding down to my shoes as I shop. Othertimes when I'm home I let them slip half down my hips before I pull them back up. It's crazy and I blame the new style of maternity pants.

At first I thought they were very cool. No big panel all the way up to my breasts. Instead there's either elastic built into the waist band or a small panel of only a few inches. The front is meant to go up to the belly button, or below the belly. I bought several pair.

It was difficult for me to choose the size as well. I started this pregnancy more than 20 lbs less than when I started the last one. Most pregnancy clothes come in sizes of S, M & L, but even when pants are sized like regular clothes it's hard to tell what size I should buy. And to try on maternity clothes would have meant admitting that I was pregnant. I don't know how to explain that.

So when I was less pregnant than I am now, the pants would fall down. I would assume it was because I had either bought them too large or my belly was still too small (yet too big for my regular clothes). I would laugh and wear them with a belt, although that didn't always help.

Now my belly is much bigger (think half a watermelon) and they still fall down. And I have jeans that are too tight, and they also slide down, kind of like a sausage slipping out of the casing. The only ones I don't have to constantly hike up are the one or two full panel old school maternity pants that go all the way up and over the belly.

Sometimes I think that they don't work because I just can't grasp their engineering. Without a waist, how are pants supposed to stay up? If the top is at the widest part rather than a narrow, there's nothing to prevent gravity from pulling those suckers down.

Mainly I think my problem is my flat behind. I can gain all sorts of weight, but it will go to my stomach, breasts, hips and never to my butt. Never. It will just get flatter and flatter. Of course the trend right now is all about emphasizing the backside, so I have nothing to flaunt. In pregnancy, my stomach gets huge, but my butt stays just as flat, unable to hold up those very fashionable maternity jeans. Of course these maternity pants sliding down just make my butt look worse, not just flat but saggy.

One of my little sisters has an opposite problem. Whenever she gains weight, it always goes to her butt. It gets rounder and rounder, but her stomach will stay flat as a pancake. For Halloween, I bought her a costume from Frederick's of H as a payback for babysitting. It was a two piece sailor's costume, kind of like a Dallas cowboy cheerleader top with it tieing on the top between the breasts, but with the square sailor collar and design. I would never wear this because although I have lovely breasts, I would never want my bare stomach to see the light of day. Even when I used to be skinny and worked out daily, I never had a flat stomach.

I have a feeling that if my sister was pregnant and wore these pants with the top below her belly, her butt would hold them up no problem. Luckily she's nice otherwise I would growl at her.

p.s. It's a Chrysler Town & Country. I liked it the best because it has the seats that fold into the floor instead of having to remove them. My brother has the Odyssey which he loves and was my second choice. My friend has the T&C too except that she got a more stripped down model with none of the luxury items to save money. She said that she was not happy about buying a minivan so she didn't want one all foofy like a prom dress. She now regrets it because she loves her minivan and wishes she had all those little goodies. For me, although I like the new minivan, I still think it's so mommy-ish that I'm against the minivan because of its connotations. I'm afraid it will turn me into a soccer mom discarding my fierce tiger businesswoman self. Anyway, I got lots of bells and whistles because I wanted to reward myself for driving it and to feel more like an executive in any way possible. Sad huh? It's just a car. It will go down in value and will get me from A to B. But you can't totally dismiss the emotional associations we make with our vehicles. Is it a totally American phenomenon?