Revival of the Blog

A year has passed with no new entries to Blog of the BOY. There are many reasons for this...suffice to say that single motherhood is an extremely time-intensive and demanding job. But the returns make everything worthwhile.

I've never been great at documentation...diaries weren't my thing. However, I will do my level BEST to keep this blog updated, if only to document Babypants's development, important milestones, and major events.

I will start now. Babypants (as I've affectionately dubbed him) is now one year, one week, and five days old. He was born on March 6, 2009 at exactly 9:00 a.m. He was 8 pounds, 5.4 ounces and 21 inches long. Now for the labor/delivery story:

On February 24, 25, and half of the 26th, I took the Alaska Bar Exam for the second time. I studied for it very little, mostly due to lack of sleep from being so pregnant, I had to pee about every thirty seconds and when I didn't have to pee, I couldn't get comfortable enough to fall asleep. Consequently, when I tried to study, I would read the same sentences over and over again with little to no comprehension of what exactly I was reading. I got bored of this after about a week and eventually gave up on studying altogether. The other problem was that I was also dealing with a lot of family drama the week prior to the bar exam...to the extent that my relationship with the family was negatively affected and in some cases, destroyed. Obviously, the destruction of the family in which I had placed so much faith even a month ago was a huge distraction. Needless to say, I wrote off the bar exam as another test run...mostly due to bad timing.

On March 4, 2009, at approximately 6:00pm, I was having dinner at La Mex on Spenard. The reason why I was having dinner at La Mex on Spenard was because I had come down with a head cold and was trying to clear out my pipes with spicy food (to the extent I eat spicy food, which to some, doesn't mean much). I had just finished my fried ice cream and had gotten up to pay my check when I felt a flood of fluid course down my legs and into my shoes. Knowing the likelihood that my water broke, I rushed to the bathroom and confirmed it. Fortunately, there weren't too many people at La Mex at this hour. And fortunately, I was wearing dark sweats that didn't display the fact that I had just wet my pants in a big way. Still, I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I came home, cleaned myself up, packed everything up (including the equivalent of a television broadcast station...digital camera, digital video camera, laptop, speakers, etc.), drove myself to the hospital, the OB triage lady confirmed that my water had broken, I checked myself in, and settled into my birthing room. And waited. And waited some more. I waited through the night for labor to start. But the BOY was apparently on his own schedule and wanted to make his appearance in his own time.

I managed to convince the doctors to let me wait eighteen hours to start labor. By noon on March 5, my status had not changed and the doctors were getting nervous about infection (they had already had me on Penicillin G because I'm one of those streppy women). By 3pm, they convinced me that I needed to induce labor. So much for my laissez-faire, drug-free delivery. ):

At 4pm, they dosed me with a mild contraction inducer they called "Miso" (as in "miso soup"). I was still committed to the idea that the delivery would be pain-killer free, even if it wasn't drug-free. At midnight on March 6, I had only dilated 1 cm. and the doctors had convinced me it was time to haul out the big guns, Pitocin. Nobody mentioned to me that Pitocin contractions are about 80 million times as intense as normal, not-induced contractions. Therefore, I was still blissfully and ignorantly committed to a pain-killer-free delivery. This changed at about 3:30am, after I had suffered through about three hours of the most agonizing pain I had ever experienced...diarrhea cramps on crack is about the best I can describe it. Realizing that all my energy was going into tolerating the pain and that I wouldn't have much left for pushing, I gave up and asked for an epidural.

The epidural was an experience in itself...having to sit excruciatingly still while suffering the worst pain of my life so that the nice epidural lady wouldn't screw up my spinal cord was something I hope I will never deal with again. Sweat was dripping down my arms and legs, the nice epidural lady had to make three attempts before she finally got the damned catheter in, I was contracting about every two minutes and shaking uncontrollably...it was serious crazy-making. However, once the epidural was in, it was IN...and I passed out from exhaustion.

At 7:30 a.m., I awoke to a great deal of pressure on my pelvic bone. I called the nurse, who checked my dilation and found that I was 12 cm dilated and ready to start pushing. They got me all positioned, the midwife came in, and I started pushing. And pushing. And pushing.

From 7:30 a.m. to 9:00 a.m., I quietly pushed and pushed and pushed. Thank god for the epidural...had I not gotten one, I would have been in too much pain to focus on anything other than the pain. There's a trick to pushing that isn't obvious...you have to isolate certain muscles that aren't normally used. But after two hours of pushing different ways, I finally found those muscles and figured out the "right" way to push. Thirty minutes later, my baby was born.

He had his extremely long umbilical cord loosely wrapped around his neck (not in an oxygen depriving kind of way). He also had his right fist in his mouth...which did not make his journey out of my body any easier for me. I needed about seven stitches when the perineum tore. And I was again very grateful for the epidural.

He wasn't crying when they put him on my belly...he actually didn't cry until they started slucking out his mouth. His eyes were open. He stretched out his right arm toward my head and looked at me. And it was amazing...it was everything everybody says it is. I won't gush on and on about it...more articulate people than I have accurately described how intense it is. I'll just say it was probably one of the most important, defining, self-actualizing moments of my life and leave it at that.

And I was not alone for the labor/delivery. Thank you Grace and Goon for being there for me and Babypants! (:

No Rest for the Weary...

Well, I should have known the tranquility I have enjoyed up to now was destined to end. For the past two weeks, I have dealt with nothing but family drama/politics and extreme sleep deprivation from an inability to get comfortable in bed no matter what position I try. Consequently, it looks like the bar exam is going to be a wash this time around...and a rather expensive wash, at that. However, I still have until July to pass the damned thing. And that is a relief.

I'm trying not to blame myself too much. I had no frame of reference to know how uncomfortable I would be at this stage of pregnancy (now at 37 weeks). And the family drama/politics, well...I don't blame myself for that, either. I'll say no more.

As for the BOY himself, he seems to be doing extremely well. After consideration, I fired the doctor who failed to question the complete previa. It would not have taken much for him to confirm the diagnosis, which nearly subjected me and the BOY to an unnecessary obligatory c-section. Although that error was in my favor, I want to minimize the likelihood of future errors. So we have a new doctor, who actually has a better bedside manner than the old one. It's kind of funny their change in attitude...it's gone from "you're a walking, talking hemorrhage waiting to happen!" to "don't worry about it, you're fine" and "nah, we don't need to be doing so many ultrasounds". Which is good, I guess...but I'm now a lot more skeptical about what they tell me than I was before.

Week before last, I thought the BOY was preparing to drop because we lost a centimeter on my measurements. But then we gained two centimeters last week. So it doesn't look like the BOY is in any hurry to go anywhere. Which is fine because we're only at 37 weeks and obviously, the more time he gets to "cook", the better. I'm still having Braxton-Hicks contractions, but those are the only contractions I'm having at this point.

There is a possible problem with the umbilical cord, which is low because of the low-lying placenta. Of course, last week was the first time I heard anything about it. So if the BOY begins his descent and the cord starts to descend with him, it will get pinched and cut off his oxygen. Which will necessitate an emergency c-section. And the new doctor just wanted to warn me about that. So I've been warned...but we'll see what this week's ultrasound indicates.

As far as the family drama/politics is concerned, there is now a great deal of uncertainty on my part as to whether I will be delivering the BOY alone or not. I have no choice but to plan to be alone during the delivery and then I'm pleasantly surprised if it doesn't work out that way. There are also good people who have volunteered to step in...but that's a lot to ask of somebody this late in the game. Ultimately, I chose to do this alone and alone it shall be, if necessary. I'm not going to indulge in self-pity...this was my choice. It's just a shame how you can feel secure in some things and then realize it's all an illusion. But I'm happy the BOY seems to be healthy...I'm trying not to stress him out too much by stressing myself about all the drama going on around us. I need to keep our distance from that crap...for his sake and mine.

As I type, there's a lot of activity going on in there. It's possible that somebody might be hungry. When certain people around here get hungry, they move around a lot and play with other people's bladders. This can be quite uncomfortable, particularly if the bladder in question is full (which doesn't take much, at this point). So it appears that my immediate mission is to a) empty said bladder; and b) feed hungry people. And that's not a problem at all...( :

By Popular Demand...

Apparently for some folks, it's a bit beyond the realm of believability that I would ever be pregnant. Accordingly, there have been a number of requests for photographic evidence of my pregnancy beyond the ultrasounds. I can understand and appreciate the skepticism...getting pregnant was not exactly something I was planning on doing at this time last year. And if anybody had asked me, "Do you think you'll be pregnant this time next year", I would have laughed.

After a long period of procrastination (due primarily to vanity, I'm afraid), I am now going to provide the requested photographic documentation. Due also to vanity, these photographs are only of me from the neck down...I am NOT the stereotypical "glowing" pregnant lady. I am the stereotypical "extremely zitty" pregnant lady. And most of you are aware that I am not photogenic, in general. Needless to say, I'm depriving you of my head shots...I promise you're not missing much. If this isn't enough for you skeptics, I apologize...you're just going to have to take what you're given for now. ( :<

I think this extremely orange shirt makes me look bigger than I really am. Or maybe it just makes me look like a pumpkin. I don't know. But here is the front view:

Right-side view:


And left-side view:

I've only gained about 25 pounds, so most of what you're seeing is all-BOY. And he is going to be a big BOY, too...he should be at about six pounds this week and we're only at 35 weeks. Scary. Am I sure I want to try to do this without pain medication? Not so much...but I'm going to, anyway.

I went to a class on childbirthing today...we watched a video that was interesting but not particularly surprising. I came out of it with the following impressions:

• That some women are drama queens and it's annoying to watch. Screaming, crying, carrying on...I just don't think that type of behavior is necessary. I may be singing a different tune once I'm there. But I really don't see myself that way...I see myself cussing a little (or a lot) under my breath, I see myself moaning and groaning a little bit, I see myself asking the BOY to please hurry it up, I see myself asking my parents to please hurry it up, but mostly, I see myself laughing at myself and my pathetic state. I'm also going to be thinking about the birth part of "Bill Cosby: Himself" and resisting the urge to say, "I WANT...MORPHINE!" ( :<
  

• I'm going to be doing a lot of walking and squatting and sitting throughout labor...I'm going to try to stay as vertical as possible. Because gravity apparently makes things easier for the BOY and ultimately, for me. And that just makes sense.
  

• There is going to be a LOT of ice consumption. I am going to be an ice-munching monster throughout labor. It's going to be kind of scary.

• I am going to LOVE the jacuzzi that's in the birthing room. It's going to be fabulous (under the circumstances)!

• I'm not going to the hospital until contractions get to be about five minutes apart. I didn't realize that some women go to the hospital on their first contraction. That's not going to be me, however...barring unforeseen circumstances. I don't think I'm going to want to be at the hospital any longer than I have to be.

That's about it. It's weird that I've gone from "c-section" girl to "vaginal delivery" girl in the space of a week. I realize, of course, that I may still need to have a c-section if the shit hits the fan. But I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

The BOY should be dropping anytime now...I guess that's kind of an interesting sensation. I think it's going to be happening sooner than later. I've been having some new, weird, cramping pains around my pelvis, and I guess that's an early indicator that the baby is going to drop. But I have a doctor appointment later this morning, so we'll have to see about that.

I may have more to say after the doctor appointment, so stay tuned! ( :

Never Mind...

So this pregnancy has taken a turn for the better...although things are getting weirder and weirder. However, I need to make it clear from the get-go that I am NOT complaining about anything. Because if people must complain, they should only complain about bad things that happen. Not good things. This is just my opinion.

So there's kind of a lengthy backstory here and I'll try to get through it as briefly as possible. Last week I go in for my weekly appointment, the doctor tells me that he wants to start monitoring the baby to make sure he's getting enough bloodflow with the previa. Not one to play a role in the deprivation of the BOY's bloodflow, I agreed and went to the OB section to be monitored. They hooked me up to this quasi-ECG machine and slapped some paddles on my belly where the BOY is. So the thing starts monitoring the BOY's heartrate and I start having Braxton-Hicks contractions every 3-5 minutes (very unusual for me) and the BOY starts flopping around, seemingly irritated by the disturbance. The nurse gets concerned about the B-H contractions, I tell her that I think it's the paddles that are inspiring them, she disagrees with me and calls the OB doctor, who tells her to give me some anti-contraction medication.

Now, I've been really, really lucky during this pregnancy (all things considered) to not have had any occasion to take any kind of medication. Any pain I've experienced was not really enough to justify taking painkillers, I haven't had any colds or viruses (knock wood)...I've been fortunate to have been able to keep this pregnancy as laissez-faire as possible and I want to keep it that way. So when the OB doctor wants me to take two doses of anti-contraction medication, I resist. I explain that I haven't had B-H contractions that frequently and that I think it's my body's tactile reaction to the paddles on my belly. Of course, the OB doctor disagrees and tells me that the medication is not long-lasting, will have no effect on the BOY and that it's just to interrupt the contraction cycle. So they finally talk me into it and I take the medication. Of course, it has no effect on the B-H contractions and I'm talking to the OB doctor about how they're not going to have an easy time pumping me full of drugs if I don't feel it's necessary. The OB doctor asks me if I've had any bleeding and I say no. The OB doctor thinks it's strange that I haven't had any bleeding at all because women with a complete previa apparently bleed to some extent. The OB doctor asks me when my last "wand" ultrasound was and I told him it was in September and that I haven't had one since because of the complete previa diagnosis. The OB doctor doesn't like that and asks me if he can do a "wand" ultrasound to see if I really have a previa or if there has been some kind of misinterpretation. Encouraged by the OB doctor's skepticism, I agree.

So we do the "wand" ultrasound and sure enough, the OB doctor finds that if you turn the wand in one direction, it looks like I have a complete previa. If you turn the wand in the opposite direction, it looks like what is called a "marginal" previa (less than 2 cm. from the oss but not covering it) and may even be a "low-lying placenta" (2 cm. or more from the oss). The OB doctor orders a full ultrasound in Radiology to confirm, but thinks that there is a possibility that I may not have a previa at all. So that's hopeful, right? Right. And I'm wondering why my regular "high-risk pregnancy" doctor didn't pick that up.

So the next day, I go to Radiology and have a full-on "wand" ultrasound with apparently the most experienced nice ultrasound lady ANMC can provide. Sure enough, the nice ultrasound lady confirms that the placenta is about 1 cm. from the oss and that the fibroid seems to have gone MIA. I have to wait about a week for my next doctor appointment to see what this means. But I decide that if there is no complete previa, I want to at least try for a vaginal delivery and if there are complications during the birth, then we can discuss a c-section at that time.

So I have the next doctor appointment today and I'm ready for a huge fight about whether or not I need a c-section. But my preparedness was for nothing...the doctor explains that having a vaginal delivery is now an option and that a c-section will only come into play if it becomes necessary during the delivery. He asked if the nice ultrasound lady was able to determine where the fibroid was and I told him that according to her, it went MIA. I did find a hard something that appeared on my left side recently. He checked it and sure enough, the fibroid has migrated to the far left side of my body and is now completely out of the BOY's way. So there is now nothing that stands in the way of my delivering the BOY vaginally. I'm no longer high-risk. I'm no longer a walking, talking hemorrhage waiting to happen. There is no perfect storm within me.

WTF???? Again, I'm not complaining. And paradigm shifts are healthy. But WTF?? The reason why I'm in Anchorage is because of my "perfect storm". Now that there is no "perfect storm" (and apparently never was), what does this mean? That I'm supposed to be in Anchorage right now for some reason? To study for and pass the bar? To enable me to have a lot of time to pump my body full of fresh, cheap, healthy food that I could only get in Anchorage? To enable me to spend quality time with the Family before the birth? To get me out of Bethel so I don't go insane? To get me a lot of time away from my stressful job? All of the above?

Again, I'm a little awed by this chain of events...that eerie feeling that I'm not running this show is back and stronger than ever. If I hadn't started having those atypical B-H contractions, the OB doc wouldn't have wanted me to take those drugs and I wouldn't have resisted and he wouldn't have started asking questions about the "previa". He just would have gone down the road my "high-risk" doc did and not questioned the prior ultrasounds. Things keep coming up roses for me and the BOY...even if it doesn't seem that way at first. It could be luck. It could be karma. It could be coincidence...hell, misdiagnoses happen all the time. It could be my dad/mom/grandparents hanging around and pulling strings for us. Whatever it is though, it's kind of scary. Needless to say, my agnosticism has only been strengthened by this pregnancy...it gets to the point where there are too many coincidences to explain away. So I'm just not going to bother. I'm just going to assume that whatever happens happens for a reason and that I just need to roll with it and not try to figure it out.

If my dad were reading this, he would say, "Aw, horseshit" and tell me to stop making something out of nothing. And that also sounds like good advice to me. (:<

The BOY is doing great...he's gone head-down and seems to respond to music and my voice. He's very gentle with my internal organs (knock wood)...only very occasionally does he do something to tweak my bladder. He can kick HARD when he feels like it, however...but he never kicks me where it hurts. It might ALMOST hurt...but it doesn't actually hurt. And for this, I'm grateful.

The nice ultrasound lady was able to get a really, really good look at the BOY's face. He's got his dad's eyes (Yup'ik epicanthic fold) and really, really chubby Yup'ik cheeks. So he's going to take after his dad in appearance, after all. And that's just fine with me. The nice ultrasound lady tried to get a picture of the BOY's face. However, after a couple of seconds, the BOY realized what we were up to and literally pushed himself back away from the "camera" so we could only see his mouth and nose. So I have a pic of the BOY's mouth and nose. And that's about it. I'll scan it in as soon as I get access to a scanner.

Last week, the BOY was measuring out at about 5 pounds, 9 ounces. By now (34 weeks), he should be up to about 6 pounds. My belly is measuring 37 cm., which I guess is pretty big for a 34-week pregnancy. It looks like I'm going to be having a big baby. And that's just a little intimidating.

That's about it for recent developments. As it stands now, I'm just going to go into labor as if this were a normal pregnancy (which it apparently is!) and if I start bleeding profusely, we'll have to start talking about a c-section at that point. But I'm very, very glad that a vaginal birth is now an option for us. I'm just hoping that it stays an option. In the meantime, I can now lift things again. I can exercise. I can stop treating myself like a walking, talking hemorrhage waiting to happen. Yay! (:

Loving Home

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder and right now, I have to agree...words cannot adequately describe how happy I am to be back in Anchorage with the Family. Getting here was quite an ordeal...the day before I was scheduled to fly out of Bethel, the whole of Alaska got hit with unseasonably warm temperatures. In Bethel and Anchorage, travel was so treacherous that the schools closed and flights got canceled. I was NOT amused at this turn of events...the prospect of staying in Bethel for any longer than an extra five minutes was not part of the plan and I was in no mood to be flexible about it. Fortunately, I only had to be a little flexible...my morning flight was canceled, but I was able to get out of Bethel on the afternoon flight that same day. It was even worth the white-knuckle landing in Anchorage...I had expected it (they warned us about it repeatedly after we had passed the point of no return), but my newly-acquired sense of pregnancy-induced mortality caused me a lot more apprehension than I would have had pre-pregnancy. It's funny how just the prospect of parenthood can change your attitudes about death...I never had any problems taking risks and have even done some pretty stupid, risky things in my younger, more reckless days. But I'm thinking those days are over...I have to try to stick around to make sure the BOY gets off to a good start in his little life.

So yes, I am unreasonably gleeful about being back in Anchorage. I've had more fish in the past two days than I've had in the past two months. I can have my pick of organic anything for about a third of the cost of what it would be in Bethel (assuming its availability there, which is a big assumption). I've been to yuraq twice since I've been back...it's difficult to describe the role yuraq plays in my spirituality. The best I can say is that I was starving for it and now I'm not...even despite my inability to yuraq every song due to my rather huge gut and round ligament soreness. Needless to say, I'm glad to be home and even more glad that it's not for just the weekend. ( :

The BOY has been VERY active since our arrival to Anchorage...it could be the influx of new and different foods that I'm consuming with great enthusiasm. It could be his response to my response to being home and with the Family. It could be his own response to the Family. Or perhaps it's a combination of everything. At any rate, we've been playing the "pat the BOY's butt" game quite a bit lately.

I had my in-processing appointment with the OB docs on Friday. They again severely warned me that I could go into hemorrhage at any point between now and March and that I need to be ready for an emergency c-section. They warned me of the possibility of needing to do a hysterectomy because of the fibroid. They wanted me to get a couple of steroid shots to make sure the BOY's lungs are going to be developed enough to work independently should I need an emergency c-section sooner than later. They indicated that there would be a number of OB docs in the OR during the c-section, basically to check out the ginormous fibroid anchoring down the life-threatening previa. They want me to pre-admit myself to the hospital so that they don't need to worry about paperwork if the shit hits the fan.

I told the OB docs that I know I could go into hemorrhage at any time, but that I feel fine for now and so long as I feel fine, I'm going to stick with the original (however overly-optimistic) plan of studying for and taking the bar exam. What else can I do? I also told them that they will not be removing any of my pieces/parts unless my life depends on it...accordingly, I also pointed out that Indian Health Service has a really shitty track record when it comes to forced sterilization and that I wouldn't be a party to it. I did, however, agree to get the steroid shots (which, now that I think about it, might also have something to do with the BOY's increased activity level of late)...even though I hate butt-shots more than I hate hair clogging up the drain. I told them that it's fine with me if there are curious OB docs wanting to see my "perfect storm" up close and personal in the OR, but that they BETTER leave some room for the Family. And finally, I agreed to pre-admit myself...just because there's no good reason not to. I measure 37 centimeters...apparently, each centimeter corresponds to the size of the BOY. So I guess that's pretty big considering they're telling me that we're only 31 weeks along...but they also said that the fibroid is probably pushing the BOY up higher than he would be otherwise. My next appointment is on the 27th for an ultrasound (!). I am now VERY curious to know exactly how big the BOY is getting. To look at me, you'd think I was carrying a two-year old!

Speaking of ultrasounds, I managed to scan a few of the photos from October and late November for your viewing pleasure. I think this one is hilarious...the nice ultrasound lady and I were just talking about how resistant the BOY is when it comes to getting his little picture taken and that he wouldn't let her get anything more than a shot of the top of his skull. Then suddenly, up pops his middle finger, as if to say, "Yeah, here's the top of my skull and something else for you. Now leave me ALONE." We thought that was pretty hot. ( :

I like this one and I'm not even sure why...you can't really see anything. Maybe it's because it looks like he's actually lying down on his side, looking at the "camera" (for a change). Maybe I'm seeing something I don't realize I'm seeing. I don't know. But I like it.

Here's a profile shot...I love the profile shots because you can see his little button nose. ( :

A closer profile shot:

LITTLE FEET! FEET, FEET FEET!!!! ( :<

Okay, that's enough cuteness for now. There will be more ultrasound pics next week...barring unforeseen circumstances. I'm looking forward to seeing those of you who are in the area. as well as those of you planning a trip to the area! You will be hearing from me separately so that we can make arrangements for lunch or dinner or whatever we decide to do. ( :

No Preterm Labor or Hemorrhages Allowed!

In case there is any ambiguity about this, packing/preparing for a 3.5 month trip sucks. It particularly sucks when you're six months pregnant and high-risk to the extent you can't lift anything heavier than a pencil. But I'm not going to permit myself the luxury of bitching about it...I decided to do this alone. It was my decision. I have only myself to blame. I'm just glad that come Thursday, I will be in Anchorage.

Despite my self-imposed difficulties, I've managed to get quite a bit of work done. I'm pretty much packed...the only things I haven't packed are those I will need between now and Thursday. The FEE is packed (although she is blissfully oblivious to the fact that she will be accompanying me on this trip). Half of my plants are now at work because my apartment is going to be too cold for them while I'm gone. The dishes are done, I made bread for this week's sandwiches, the litterbox is clean, the garbage is taken out, the bathroom is cleaner than it was before (which is all that matters to me at this point). I've copied everything I will need from my desktop to my laptop and even took some time to rip some good studying music. All that remains now is to have the water shut off on Thursday, return the cable modem to GCI, pay off bills, hold my mail, turn down the heat and fridge, unplug all non-essentials, and get me and the FEE to the airport. And pardon me for thinking "out loud". ( :

There is one worrisome thing going on, however. I started spotting yesterday while I was in the midst of working...it was very, very light spotting to the point you could barely tell if it was spotting. This morning, on the other hand, it was fairly obvious. Which is a problem because it is a symptom of a possibly soon-to-rupture placenta. Needless to say, I dropped everything and put myself immediately to bed and stayed there for several hours. While I was there, I had a dream that I gave birth to a huge, three-year old boy at the hospital and my family wasn't there and the nurses couldn't be bothered with me and my birthing issues and I had to do everything myself. That was a little unsetttling. But at least I stopped spotting.

It's clear that things with me are a now a lot more delicate than they were previously. This crap makes me crazy...I don't want to have to drop everything and put myself to bed at the slightest sign that things might not be okay. It's a damned good thing I didn't try to hold out until February 1...I had no idea that I would get so fragile in such a short amount of time. I've been called a lot of things, but "fragile" was never among them. Annoying. ) :<

The BOY, on the other hand, seems completely unaffected by my "delicate condition". He kicks and rolls around and we play our little games. His little butt is now about six inches above my navel and I pat him on the butt and he hip-checks me and I pat him on the butt some more and he hip-checks me some more. I'm curious to know exactly how big he is now...if my appearance counts for anything, he's getting pretty huge. My belly now enters a room about 10 seconds before the rest of me gets there. ( :<

My next doctor appointment is in Anchorage on the 16th...I'm guessing they will be taking ultrasounds because it's technically an "in-processing" appointment. So I will try to get those posted (along with the others that I left in Anchorage) sometime next weekend. I'm also going to break down and get somebody to take some pics of me, even though I'm not photogenic on a good day and am now nowhere close to the stereotypical "glowing" pregnant lady. Apparently, the BOY will want to see me when I was pregnant with him and I'm not going to deprive him that just out of vanity.

At any rate, that's about all I have to say for now. Cross your fingers for us, that we don't get medivacced to Anchorage because I started preterm labor and/or hemorrhaged before Thursday. That would be bad.

Preparations for Anchorage

Happy new year! In the past few weeks, I've discovered that I have mad skillz when it comes to sleeping. I can sleep all night, get up for a few hours, go back to bed, sleep all day, get up for a few hours, and go to bed at night and sleep like a log until it's time to go to work. It's truly amazing...I've never been this good at anything. ( :<

Needless to say, I pretty much slept through xmas and new year's. I got up long enough to do chores, but only to the extent the apartment doesn't self-destruct from the gas excreted by accumulated rotten food, dirty dishes, dirty Dena, and fouled litter. Phoebe thinks this new trend is just great...she loves to sleep too, preferably when and where I'm sleeping.

This whole sleeping trend also serves another purpose. I've been having a lot more round ligament pain as my gut and pelvic bones expand with the weight of the BOY. It's tougher now to work...getting up and down from my desk increases the soreness. Trying to do anything in a hurry increases the soreness. Staying vertical increases the soreness. The only time I'm not sore is when I'm horizontal. So I pretty much go there when I get home from work. And I pretty much stay there until I have to go back to work. I guess this is what you would call "self-imposed bedrest".

The BOY and I went to see the doctor again on December 31 (sorry, no ultrasound this time...the BOY wasn't complaining, although he also hates that doppler thing they use to listen to his heart). I told her that we would be heading for Anchorage on January 15, only nine days after she wanted us there.

It's funny how things just come together for the BOY and me...the aforementioned furnished/stocked condo in Anchorage is only available from January 15 to February 28, the exact time period I needed it. I took that as a sign...be in Anchorage by January 15. So I changed the dates on our plane ticket (and the nice Alaska Airline people didn't charge us a fee for the change OR for my having to bring the FEE along...if they had charged the latter, would that make it a FEE fee? Hee, hee!) and we have a doctor's appointment in Anchorage on January 16. I'm not going to try to work from January 15 to February 1...I'm going to take it easy. It isn't really worth working for two weeks...I would just be getting used to the office structure/operation by the time I quit working. The FEE will stay with me at the condo until the end of February...then I will board her somewhere until we return to Bethel on May 1. She won't like it but she can deal for a couple of months. And I will have all of February to study for the bar exam...I won't have any excuse to not pass this time (barring general stupidity and/or bad luck).

All in all, things have been coming together for us to the extent that I'm just not going to worry about anything...I'm going to (try to) assume that we will get what we need when we need it. And being in Anchorage alone will be therapeutic...family, friends, good food (lots of protein), clean water, medical resources. The first thing I'm going to do when I get to that condo is take a nice, long bath. ( :

Last week, I did research on c-sections and got all freaked out from the horror stories people told..."asthma rates in c-section babies are much higher", "mothers don't bond with c-section babies like they do vaginal-birth babies", "higher risk of complications during recovery", "higher risk that your bladder/kidneys/liver/lungs/intestines will get messed up from the surgery and you'll be hooked up to a machine for the rest of your life", etc., etc. Fortunately, I guess ANMC doctors, most of whom have been there since time immemorial, do thousands of c-sections every year. And I will probably get the most experienced one because apparently, that perfect storm within me is pretty rare and he's going to want to see it for himself out of curiosity. But none of this really matters in the end...having a vaginal birth is absolutely out of the question for me and the BOY. So I'm not going to do any more research on c-sections.

As for the BOY himself, he seems to be doing great. He moves around with great gusto and it's getting to the point where it looks like my gut has a life of its own (which I guess it does...literally). We have a little game...he rubs his leg/butt/back up against my abdomen and I pat it. Then he kicks my hand. Then I pat him some more. He kicks. I pat. That game can go on for as long as five minutes. It trips me out that there is only an inch or so between my hand and him...so close and yet so far (and pardon the cheesy cliche). ( :<

That's pretty much it for now. I really, seriously have to go clean up the kitchen. I've put it off for so long, I'm out of silverware. It's pretty bad. But at least I got to spend all day sleeping. ( :<