Friday, November 17, 2017

Out

Well, it's done.  I am out on Facebook and Instagram. 

If you can believe it, there were many friends and family members who didn't know before today.



Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Niblet's Birthday

So Niblet is nervous and excited and all of the rest about Nutmeg.

She also turns nine exactly nine days before Nutmeg's due date.

Can you feel my stress?

We are trying to put a party together for her on Saturday the 6th or Sunday the 7th.  Theoretically, this puts me in the 38 week arena.  Niblet didn't arrive until 41+2.  My OB won't let me go past 40.  

Niblet *understands* in the way that a nine year-old can understand, that Nutmeg can arrive anytime.  But honestly, who gives a shit - she wants her party.  Can you blame her?

So I am putting a deposit down on either two hours at a local bowling alley, or a craft store.  The bowling alley is the easier of the two, everything is provided for, but it's more money up front.  And then I am praying that I am not in the hospital on the weekend of January 6th.  I love her to death, but I don't want my mom anywhere near me in the hospital.  It's Viking or no one.

I am trying to stay rational.  I have no reason I believe that I am going into labor early.  Labor is like a 20 hour ordeal anyways.  What's two hours in the grand scheme of things?  Worst case scenario I lose a deposit.  We can cancel and promise Nibble to reschedule the party after Nutmeg arrives. 

And in more comical news people are asking me if I am having a baby shower.  Are you fucking kidding me? 

Monday, November 13, 2017

When your brain goes to dark places

We are trying to line our ducks in a row, as one does when a newborn may arrive into your house in less than 10 weeks.

Viking's benefit enrollment period begins in a few weeks.  I have that magical unicorn of insurance known as cadillac insurance in the states - no co-pay, no deductable, no costs at all.  All employer paid.  Covering everyone in my family.    However, we've been paying a few hundred dollars a month for Viking's employer insurance for one reason:  IVF coverage.

Naturally, with me heading out of work for six months, some of this time unpaid, and with mounting expenses of daycare looming, we should drop Viking's insurance.  Right?  Of course.

Unless you worry that something terrible will happen.  To the baby you are carrying.  And deep in the recesses of your mind you worry that you will have to endure another IVF cycle.

But the baby is dues in January and we need to make this decision by the end of November.  Which means we are likely throwing caution to the wind and dropping his coverage.

What's it like to get ready to deliver a baby, and just imagine delivering that baby without incident.... to just walk around without any sense that something can go wrong?  Beats the fuck out of me.

Thursday, November 9, 2017

Fragility

I was sitting in Dr. W's office today, waiting on the nurse to get my BP reading.

The walls in her office are paper thin.  I could hear the sound of the doppler.  And distinct the lack of whooshing.  I have too much experience with these scratchy sounds.  It was clear: they couldn't get a fetal heart rate on the baby of the patient next door.

I stared at my phone and the google search I had done on "ear clogged pregnant" (for reals, I haven't been able to hear outta my left ear in almost 2 weeks).  Anything to not focus on the idea of a mother not hearing her baby's heartbeat.  Anything to keep this 40-something's blood pressure down.

"Write out the ultrasound order" I hear my nurse being instructed.  She rushes in, fills out a paper, runs back out, and I am grateful to the gods above that the patient next door can be seen by an ultrasound tech just down the hall (Dr W's high-risk practice is a godsend in this regard).

My BP was fine, 124/76.  I gained two pounds in the last three weeks. Then I laid down for my own doppler reading.

"150s.  Totally normal.  Your baby decided to be cooperative."

Thank you Nutmeg.  I am going to believe that the couple rushed to the ultrasound room merely had an uncooperative baby.

Friday, November 3, 2017

She creeps up on me

Celine is on my mind daily during my morning commute.

My fingers aren't quite swelling yet, none of me is, really, but the stacking rings I wear get a little tighter each day.  29 weeks pregnant will do that to a gal.

Lately, I wonder if I should have named her Ciel the french word for sky instead of a beloved Parisian grandmother. Did I make a grave error in using the name on a dead child?  Could I change her name.... would it matter, since she has no grave regardless?  Viking - who actively chooses to avoid thinking of her as often as possible - once called her by her name.  It was literally once, and I could feel his tongue tripping over the soft C and the vowels.   

Dans le ciel is where she resides, on those days I choose to believe in a non-earthly plain.

Other days I wonder if theory of the spirit baby is true.  Is Nutmeg the ultimate manifestation of all of the babies who came before her?  I often describe the compulsion to bring her into my home as the need to bring this missing person to our family.  The one and only psychic I ever spoke to about the topic seemed to believe strongly in this.

Niblet has many ideas for her sister's name, and will be part of her naming (on a pre-approved list though, y'all, since I otherwise run the risk of Nutmeg's name sounding like some sort of mermaid/pony/stripper as an 8 year old is apt to create.  You think I jest).

But taking Celine out of the mix, it feels a little awkward.  And then thinking that thought makes me feel terrible, as if I've given short shrift to my little girl who never made it.

Grief immersion can be a pool with bottomless depths.


Tuesday, October 31, 2017

The mad scramble when you only acknowledge a baby half-way through the pregnancy.

Nutmeg is kicking my bladder as I write this, I'm almost 29 weeks.  Moms at the school drop off are just starting to notice and comment, and thankfully, no one has said anything that hasn't been sweet and kind.


(And is my work bathroom the most depressing space in the universe, or what?)

Sometimes I can't believe how much this pregnancy is like the one I carried Niblet.  I look the same, feel the same, eat the same things.  I happily DO NOT have gestational diabetes.  My cervix remains sealed up tight.  I'm starting to get a little more sleepy in third-trimester-land, slowing down a bit from my usual frenetic pace.

Our house is a disaster - there is literally no where to put this baby should she arrive early.  Nibble joked that in one of her books a baby was placed in a dresser drawer, and I sadly realized we don't even have this option.  Viking and I have even come up with a desperate action plan this holiday season - I will take Niblet to NYC to see my 'rents alone, while he stays behind to get the office cleaned out and baby furniture assembled and installed.  (TBH, this is fine, his relationship with my parents is best summed up as "cordial").

I've drafted a detailed work plan for my work-husband in my absence, which I now am certain will be six months.  Back to work sometimes in July.

I've begun a registry, because coworkers are harassing me about it, but I can't get my act together to throw a shower.  There's no way people will be allowed to enter my house en masse at this point.

We need car seats.  We need an infant carrier.  We need a day care spot reserved (STAT).  We need a will and new power of attorney papers because despite our youthful visages, Viking and I are as old as fuck.

Eleven weeks left y'all. 

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

The things that were said

Things said to me today, when I gave a zumba warm-up at Nibble's school as part of a PTO "walk-a-thon" fundraiser, my bump in full view in work-out clothes:

"OMG, wow, are you like, excited?  Or maybe not?"
I was excited when I thought we were bringing a new kitten into our house.  This, well, meh.

"Was this planned?"
Are you asking me if I still have sex with my husband?  

"I had no idea!  Actually, I thought that [Niblet] had two homes, I have never met her father and just assumed...."
Are you asking me if I still have sex with my husband?  Well you're right.  This one's got a different baby daddy, I've got another hot one on the side.