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.
Monday, November 13, 2017
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.
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.
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.
(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.
"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.
Monday, October 16, 2017
Social media and the sum of its parts
Last night I added a miscarriage and infant loss ribbon to my facebook profile picture. It's about as "out" as I have ever been about my losses on social media.
Meanwhile, I am somewhere in the ballpark of 13 weeks away from meeting this little person. I've just had the conversation with my HR department about my leave benefits (and don't hate me, but for the US they are plentiful). We Also started trying to clean the house out a bit more this past weekend. It's clear to me that Viking doesn't have the same sense of urgency as I do (and Niblet for that matter). But after fifteen years together this isn't a surprise.
Later this week I am volunteering some zumba-ish dance warmups for a kids fundraiser at the school. There are plenty of neighborhood friends of ours who still don't know I am expecting. They see me dropping Nibble off at school in the carpool lane. I'm guessing that word will spread fast after their kids get a load of me in workout clothes.
It's occurred to me that the Parent Teacher Organization will likely take some pictures of me zumba-ing with the kids and post them with tags (they did last year). That's certainly one way this news might spread. It's not like I can hide a baby, and it's not like I would want to. With the world being a literal dumpster fire right now, my news is joyous and bright.
I always said I would never share a pregnancy on social media, partly because I didn't want to trigger other people who were struggling. But, like fertility itself, the control we have over our selves and stories isn't as cut and dry as we would like to believe it is.
Meanwhile, I am somewhere in the ballpark of 13 weeks away from meeting this little person. I've just had the conversation with my HR department about my leave benefits (and don't hate me, but for the US they are plentiful). We Also started trying to clean the house out a bit more this past weekend. It's clear to me that Viking doesn't have the same sense of urgency as I do (and Niblet for that matter). But after fifteen years together this isn't a surprise.
Later this week I am volunteering some zumba-ish dance warmups for a kids fundraiser at the school. There are plenty of neighborhood friends of ours who still don't know I am expecting. They see me dropping Nibble off at school in the carpool lane. I'm guessing that word will spread fast after their kids get a load of me in workout clothes.
It's occurred to me that the Parent Teacher Organization will likely take some pictures of me zumba-ing with the kids and post them with tags (they did last year). That's certainly one way this news might spread. It's not like I can hide a baby, and it's not like I would want to. With the world being a literal dumpster fire right now, my news is joyous and bright.
I always said I would never share a pregnancy on social media, partly because I didn't want to trigger other people who were struggling. But, like fertility itself, the control we have over our selves and stories isn't as cut and dry as we would like to believe it is.
Monday, October 9, 2017
Musical furniture and Help me.
So I am approaching 26 weeks, and there are so many things. That aren't getting done. My house is a hilariously fucked up obstacle course . Donated rocker/glider chair with an ottoman sitting in the hallway? Check. Children's art shelves sitting in the dining room? Sure. Attic crammed with five million things that need to be cleared away so I can store other things in there? But of course.
We have an office crammed with Viking's desk and our books that is ostensibly going to be a nursery. Maybe? Assuming she makes it to 40 weeks? I don't wanna cast blame, but Viking, I'm looking at you. Those books won't stack themselves and carry themselves off to the book donation site we like, or the attic.
Nibble has a million school projects (third grade is no joke at her school), ballet class 3X a week, violin and sunday school every other weekend. That's not counting the birthday parties and play-dates.
I have a fuck ton of work to get done before I hand off my work life to my work husband. One of the reasons I can't post here as often as I'd like is when I get to the office, I am working. Nonstop. So I can leave by 5 to get the Nibble across the universe.
I am also the asshole who agreed to help the PTO do a fundraiser with some Zumba next week. Because sure, why not.
Ok, we have fifteen weeks to get this shit done, if I'm lucky. I'm operating under the theory that something will go awry and Nutmeg is going to try to emerge sooner. I wish that this would spur Viking into action, but sadly it isn't. He spent his last Sunday lying around - with me audibly sighing and furrowing my brow at him. This is the sexy stuff marriage is built on of course. I know you've been hitting the gym in the early mornings and just sanded our kitchen counters, but what makes you think you can just lie around Viking????
My co-workers are appalled that I haven't started a registry. What do I need? What don't I need? Honestly, I have to do an inventory of the attic, and kids, PSA announcement, this is what happens when you choose not to really acknowledge a pregnancy until after 20 weeks.
I am amazingly fortunate to have these stresses, but I have to get my act together, stat. I am even second-guessing the trip I booked for us to the beach, later in the month. A cheap four-day weekend at the ocean, while amazing, is also four less days to accomplish something.
Oh well. We DID save a nice bassinet we can put this baby in. We don't have a room with any space for it, but we'll get there. We could use some clean sheets, and some car seats too, but we'll get there when we get there too.
Let the marathon begin!
We have an office crammed with Viking's desk and our books that is ostensibly going to be a nursery. Maybe? Assuming she makes it to 40 weeks? I don't wanna cast blame, but Viking, I'm looking at you. Those books won't stack themselves and carry themselves off to the book donation site we like, or the attic.
Nibble has a million school projects (third grade is no joke at her school), ballet class 3X a week, violin and sunday school every other weekend. That's not counting the birthday parties and play-dates.
I have a fuck ton of work to get done before I hand off my work life to my work husband. One of the reasons I can't post here as often as I'd like is when I get to the office, I am working. Nonstop. So I can leave by 5 to get the Nibble across the universe.
I am also the asshole who agreed to help the PTO do a fundraiser with some Zumba next week. Because sure, why not.
Ok, we have fifteen weeks to get this shit done, if I'm lucky. I'm operating under the theory that something will go awry and Nutmeg is going to try to emerge sooner. I wish that this would spur Viking into action, but sadly it isn't. He spent his last Sunday lying around - with me audibly sighing and furrowing my brow at him. This is the sexy stuff marriage is built on of course. I know you've been hitting the gym in the early mornings and just sanded our kitchen counters, but what makes you think you can just lie around Viking????
My co-workers are appalled that I haven't started a registry. What do I need? What don't I need? Honestly, I have to do an inventory of the attic, and kids, PSA announcement, this is what happens when you choose not to really acknowledge a pregnancy until after 20 weeks.
I am amazingly fortunate to have these stresses, but I have to get my act together, stat. I am even second-guessing the trip I booked for us to the beach, later in the month. A cheap four-day weekend at the ocean, while amazing, is also four less days to accomplish something.
Oh well. We DID save a nice bassinet we can put this baby in. We don't have a room with any space for it, but we'll get there. We could use some clean sheets, and some car seats too, but we'll get there when we get there too.
Let the marathon begin!
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