Digital Epidural, Volume 12

Last week Stephen and I went to the doctor to get our second sonogram.

It was a special experience seeing the baby so developed. Those fuzzy black and white screens make our child much more real and tangible. However, perhaps merely to provide me with blogging material, the staff at the office did two things that seriously irked me during our visit.

First, Stephen and I have decided to not find out the sex of the baby. I know there are many people that don't comprehend the desire to be surprised, but the unknown-factor is something we are extremely excited about. I was under the impression this was a personal decision that had no relevant impact on other people's lives, let alone a stranger. Far too often, this impression has proven to be false.

Before I begin my rant, though, my compliments to the lady who performed our sonogram. She was more than happy to peacefully and non-argumentatively acquiesce to our request. I don't know whether or not she determined the gender in the process, but either way, she didn't make note of it in her documentation. I appreciate that -- that way no one else can accidentally let it slip. Personally, all I gathered from the visuals is that there's a 50% chance it's a boy and a 50% chance it's a girl. Stephen thinks there is a 1% chance it's a kitten, but that theory was quickly vanquished by our doctor.

After we were done with the sonogram, they took me back to an exam room to do all the other fun things that are part of a routine visit. This is where our gender-mystery decision became a matter of public debate. When the nurse came in to take my blood pressure, before anything else, she made it clear that she thought we had lost all sense of rational thought. No "hello" or "how are you feeling?' or "my, what a lovely pair of shoes" -- just, "I hear you aren't finding out the sex. Why not?"

Lovely.

After a series of comments about the purposeful absence of any shred of mystery in her life, she hit us with the second most popular question we get asked, "But how will you know what to buy at the store?" (the most popular being, "How will you know what to do with your nursery?")

Ok . . . at the risk of over reacting I will simply speak my mind.

Are you kidding me? Every time I am asked this question, I become more and more unreasonably agitated. Mother Nature has kindly provided us a smorgasbord of colors to choose from outside of manly blue and girly pink. I was so wound up -- I'm surprised I didn't burst the blood pressure cuff.

Don't get me wrong, I don't mind if someone is just curious about the sex -- that's the whole point. I suppose I have simply tired of the interrogation into the reasons why we would recklessly subject ourselves to the unknown like this. Likewise, I don't give the third degree to folks to choose to share in that special moment of discovery prior to the birthday.

So just to put a nice little bow on the issue, I will quote my articulate husband and his philosophy on the matter. He really only says this to me, but I think it's worth sharing here.

"When I compare the excitement I get from anticipating that moment of discovery with the ability to gender-specifically decorate and personalize a nursery -- I choose the one that I will treasure forever."

Not everyone treasures the same things, but that's why we have made the decision to keep it a mystery.

So back to my trip to the doctor.

The second offense (which was really a bunch of offenses rolled into one person) came in the form of my doctor's PA. She started off by being the second person to point out the foolishness of our not-finding-out-the-sex ways. She continued her encouraging talk by informing me that my placenta was "a little low". When I asked about it -- she wasn't worried because in 99% of cases it moves up, so no need for concern.

OK, but I wanted to know what happens if it doesn't move up.

Her response came in two parts.

Part one: a short in-take of oxygen, coupled with a painful grimace. Not just a standard in-take of air. One of those one-second bursts where you use your saliva and your mouth to make that atrocious sound that comes out when you are imagining someone scratching their nails on a chalkboard.

Part two: "Oh, don't worry, it will."

Ignoring the apparent contradictions in this two part response, there was the bigger issue of my question. The last time I checked, I was at a doctor's office, not a psychic reading.

It was like pulling teeth to get her to tell me what happens if it doesn't move. And would you like me to share with you the horrendous consequences of it not moving? The mysterious consequence would be a C-Section: a procedure that has been done successfully millions of times before.

Again, maybe this is just another of my unreasonable tirades against the innocent, but don't you think it would be better "bedside manner" to have just answered the question instead of hemming and hawing about how there was no cause for concern since the issue would resolve itself? Just my thoughts on that.

But the fun wasn't over. It wasn't just my misplaced placenta that she didn't want me to worry about -- I also needed to not panic about how I was tipping the scales. She noted, "I see your weight has gone up a bit, but since you've been playing catch up I'm not too worried, just keep the recent increase in mind." (Oh I'll keep it in mind... in fact I'll blog about it next week! . . . I didn't say that . . . but anyway . . . )

Would you like me to share with you the insane amount of weight I have gained in 22 weeks of pregnancy? You should be sure you're sitting down because the grotesqueness of this will knock your socks off. Are you ready?

Seriously, you're sitting down right?

I have gained a mind-boggling 2 pounds in 22 weeks. 2 pounds!

I know, I know, I'm a serious fatty and need to seek intervention. I'm already consulting a gastric bypass surgeon -- so rest easy: our genderless baby won't have to deal with a mother that resembles a Dallas Cowboy lineman. They'll have enough emotional damage to deal with anyway -- with their non gender-specific nursery and all. : )

I wanted to smack her over the head with the computer screen sitting behind her. But I thought better of it and just smiled politely instead. I knew I had a digital epidural on the way.

Digital Epidural, Volume 11

Since it's been awhile since I wrote my last post (not as long as it would appear due to my husband's refusal to post them in a timely manner : ) -- but still awhile), I had a lot of random stories/thoughts to share that I thought I would combine into one.

1. Stephen and I recently went to Spain and Portugal for two weeks. These two countries are the most amazing, beautiful, breathtaking place I've ever seen. Seriously, I didn't know places like that existed in real life. At one point I told Stephen I thought Spain is what heaven looks like. Traveling while pregnant was not bad. My ankles swelled up quite a bit on the way there due to my bad shoe choice so I had cankles for a couple days while walking the strees of Europe, but I've heard they're a new fashion statement.

Having only sips of wine was pretty heartbreaking. Stephen would let me drink about 3 sips of a glass before he would move the wine glass out of my reach and then tell me that if our child was born with extra body parts he would know why. If my child ever complains about us not taking it anywhere cool, I now have pictures to prove I have taken him (or her) to some totally awesome places.

2. I have been able to feel the baby move for awhile now. At first I wasn't sure if it was gas or the baby. There are still a few moments where I'm unsure which one it is, but if a fart doesn't come out within a few minutes of the movement, I assume it's the baby. : ) Stephen was able to feel it move a little before we left for Spain. Seeing his face when he felt it was priceless.

3. I still don't love Mexican food the way I used to. Being away from it for two weeks helped a little bit. We had it the night that we came home from Spain and it was actually pretty good.

4. I'm starting to show. I haven't outgrown my jeans yet as they're low enough I can still get them buttoned, but I discovered this morning that my work pants that fit before I left for Europe no longer fit. Related to this, I have discovered that shopping is no longer as much fun as it used to be which of course causes me great sadness. I have a vision in my head of what I should look like in an outfit and my head keeps leaving out my newly acquired protruding belly.

5. Children in pools make me nervous. We spent Sunday at Stephen's aunt and uncle's house with his cousins and their kids. I think because so many of my childhood injuries were associated with pools (if I still had a pool, I'd still be injuring myself in pools on a regular basis), I assume small children are as unable to not fall down and break teeth, scrape legs, etc. as I was.

6. I regularly refer to the baby as a him. Stephen says he thinks this means I will not love the baby if it's a girl.

7. We have purchased Coldplay tickets. Assuming I am not actually in labor at the time the show is taking place, I will be there.

8. After talking to numerous moms that slept on their backs while pregnant and did not meet with a horrible fate because of their back-sleeping ways, I am again a proud back-sleeper who is actually able to sleep at night.

Digital Epidural, Volume 10

Not everyone I work with knows that I'm pregnant yet. I have told my boss and a select few others have been carefully selected and been granted access to this not-so-secret secret. However, it is not a generally known fact.

It's a little weird for me to share the news with some of the people I work with. It always feels a little forced and unnatural to bring up. When I do tell people, it's always greeted quite positively. It's just getting to that moment that feels a little awkward sometimes.

The other night I was at a business dinner with some of the people in my group. We were at the less-than-impressive Tex-Mex restaurant known as Uncle Julio's in Grapevine. Everyone was enjoying some tasty margaritas and ice cold cervesas. Everyone, that is, except me.

One of my co-workers, seeing the glass of water in front of me, asked me why I wasn't doing one of my world-famous, girls-gone-wild keg-stands. Actually, he simply asked why I wasn't partaking in the drinking portion of the evening. So, I just told him about the bun in the oven -- seemed much more natural than just plopping it on someone as you pass in the hallway. He was very excited and it sparked much discussion as to how far along I was, who knew/didn't know, whether we were going to find out the sex (we're not), who the father is (just kidding), etc.

In order to fully understand this story, you need a little background information. My boss and I head down to the little coffee place in our building every morning. She gets a latte and I get hot tea. I have not put caffeine on the altar of pregnancy sacrifice. I have given up drinking, playing soccer, doing abdominal exercises, and (to a certain extent) sleeping on my back. I can no longer eat Mexican food and enjoy it because my stomach has waged a full-scale revolution against it. Chicken, one of my former favorite foods, now repulses me (unless, of course, it is contained in a Baker Brother's sandwich smothered in cheddar cheese and spicy mayo). In order to remain a person that anyone can tolerate being around, I am still consuming caffeine -- not obscene or unsafe amounts -- but daily doses of caffeine nonetheless. Now you know.

So, back to my story. . . after discussing a myriad of other things about my pregnancy, my co-worker (Ron) and I had the following conversation:

Ron:
"Well I guess your morning lattes will have to stop."

Me:
"Oh, I don't drink coffee. I always get hot tea which has much less caffeine."

Ron:
"But you shouldn't drink any caffeine while pregnant."

Me:
"Actually you can still have caffeine. You just have to make sure you don't have too much."

Ron:
"Oh no! You should stop drinking caffeine all together. Better safe than sorry! Dr. Ron is telling you no more morning coffee runs."

Seriously? "Dr. Ron" says so? Why do people think they can tell you how to run your life just because you're pregnant? Honestly, I'm not too shy to ask for advice from trusted loved ones. But outside of that, I really don't want your unsolicited advice on how to better care for my unborn child. I think I'm doing just fine thank you and if I wanted to know how you felt, I would ask you.

This is in no way means that I resent encouragement that people (especially people who read this blog) have given me. But, I don't understand why people feel the need to micro-manage other people's lives. Don't they have enough going on in their own lives to deal with?

Newsflash to all the Ron's of the world. You're not a doctor, let alone my doctor.

Digital Epidural, Volume 9

Lately, it takes me longer to get ready in the morning.

I used to be able to get up, jump in the shower, get ready and go. Now, I need a few minutes of sitting around in my bathroom coming up with various things to do that have nothing to do with getting ready. For example: counting the number of pairs of shoes I have . . . or trying to remember where each article of clothes in my closet was purchased . . . or playing another heart-wrenchingly frustrating round of brick breaker on my phone.

I'm not sure if this is related to being pregnant or not, but getting ready just takes longer. Mind you, I'm not getting up earlier, just getting to work later.

So, the other morning, during my "I don't feel like taking a shower yet, what should I do now" phase, I decided it would be a good idea to read my pregnancy book. (Aside: I have one book -- What to Expect When You're Expecting -- it's the only book I will be reading as I think our society has become set on freaking you out as much as possible while pregnant. But I digress, that's a rant for a different time.) I've read most (of what I'm interested in reading) up to the point that I'm at now, so I started skimming through it looking for something interesting. I ended up in the postpartum section.

Here's my advice if you're pregnant and haven't had a baby yet -- don't read this section. . . ever.

My face grew more and more horrified as the questions got more and more disgusting. To spare those weak in the stomach, I won't fill you in on what they were, but let's just say I was seriously considering whether I had to give birth or if I could just opt to keep the baby in my uterus permanently.

From now on, I'm going to stick to reading the pregnancy portion of the book. I don't even want to know what the delivery section entails.

Update Forthcoming

Hey everybody -- sorry we've been out of the loop for the past few weeks. We've been suffering on vacation in Spain and Portugal. As you can imagine, it was rough.

Of course, by rough I mean incredible and breathtaking.

Shelley's got three new incredible volumes for Digital Epidural done. I'll be posting those over the next three days. So look forward to those. : )