No antibodies - sigh
My blood test from last week finally came back - and at that time I had no antibodies. This means that so far, I didn’t get Fifth from Noah. But it also means I could have (none of those nice lifelong antibodies), and I will be retested tomorrow, and if the short-term antibodies do not appear, I’ll be tested again. They are most likely to appear in this next test if I did get it.
This does not make me happy. If the short-term antibodies appear (followed by the long-term ones) we will be on a sort of death/damage watch for the rest of the pregnancy.
Emotionally I’ve just stepped back from the baby idea. I’ll take my prenatals, avoid all the stuff you have to avoid, and just wait to see what the next few tests show.
Labour
This started as an answer to J’s (love you J!) comment but it got long. I imagine there will be a labour channel on for the next 7 months. In fact I’ll add a tag.
I went into the OB when pregnant with Noah dead. set. on a c-section, for obvious reasons. My OB was a crusty old white guy who also happens to be a top teaching OB (I didn’t know this for a while, until a friend-of-a-friend who is Harvard educated clued me in). He listened to me and assured me that a scheduled c-section would be entirely possible. But he also asked me to consider what it would take to make me comfortable with a vaginal delivery.
Since I had spent Emily’s pregnancy hearing about the Evil OBs Who Make You Have C-Sections I was a bit surprised at this deviation from the script. But we agreed to set an appointment around the 26-week mark to think about it, and I got him the chart from Emily’s labour so he could see what I meant.
(Aside: No one at Mt. Sinai ever believed me about Emily’s labour the first time. My nurse apologized after reading the chart. But at Mt. Sinai they assumed I had misunderstood something because it was simply impossible for so many points of failure to occur.)
Anyways, by 26 weeks I had developed relationships with him and with the nurse. And I had come to understand a few things - one, that this OB is pretty into vaginal deliveries (I once waited for him while he finished up a discussion on turning breech babies). But second, that he had reasons for whatever he asked me to do. So I listened. And he very slowly and calmly, giving me his time and attention, went over research and his experience.
He did not sugar coat things. He said that while cord accidents are rare, they are badly understood. And no one knows why, but women who have had them do have a slightly higher risk of having them again. And that monitoring is generally pretty good despite the failure of it at Emily’s labour and what they would do about that for me (belly monitor, scalp monitor as soon as possible, manual checks with a stethoscope). He explained the difference between “okay” decels and “bad” decels.
Then he went over risks of vaginal delivery and risks of c-sections. He was really really clear. A c-section is major abdominal surgery and has risks - in the same statistical realm as cord deaths, some of them. He was perfectly happy to order and perform one, but only if I understood the list of risks.
And then we discussed comfort. He agreed that he would write orders that if Noah had two - two - decels of any kind that we would proceed to a c-section. Or if I asked. He also set it up so that I would have an appointment with every OB in the practice so that I would have met everyone (except one - the one I got - but that was a fluke). And then he encouraged me to try it. It took me a few weeks to come around to it but I did.
When we got into L&D triage the night Noah was born (early) for my miniscule ‘regular Braxton-Hicks’ contractions that had managed to get me pretty dilated (oy - I didn’t even really think I was in labour) everyone looked cross-eyed at his orders. The nurse said I’d better get an epidural so I could be awake for the c-section that was surely coming.
It was during the epidural placement that I had my one and only ‘real’ contraction with Noah, which made me throw up. And Noah’s heart deceled, because he was coming down the canal and also (I’m convinced) because I was sort of sitting on him. The labour team was in grand annoyance, because labour was going so well and yet they were bound to move to a c-section at the next decel.
So the one OB I hadn’t met asked me why I was freaking out (I was freaking out) and I stammered out something like that I was afraid the baby would get stuck and die. And she of the hadn’t-seen-Emily’s-chart looked at me with complete confusion and said “well that won’t happen!” (I think she was a little offended that I had so little faith in her powers.) And then who knows how many decels Noah had because as soon as they let me back onto my back he was born - two pushes. No time for a scalp monitor either. The epidural never got turned on. Carl says he thinks he had three, but the third was just as his head was coming out. We don’t really remember though, but I suspect the orders were abandoned - for good reason.
I think what I learned from that is that fear can be addressed in a lot of ways. I really did feel throughout my pregnancy that my OB and my nurse were completely committed to me as a patient. But they also were not really into unnecessary interventions if there was a more — dare I say it — holistic way of supporting me.
I found that really mind bending, because this was the high-tech group and all the natural childbirth literature would have you believe hospitals and OBs are all pushing c-sections on you like mad. And here I hadn’t had one when I needed one, and I’d been talked out of one when I didn’t.
Whatever it is, I was glad for being able to go vaginal with Noah. The first 6 weeks were hard enough without having to recover from surgery. Plus, it was healing for my relationship with my body.
But his labour was really unusually pain and fuss-free; he was also a small baby (although not for being so early). It would be nice if there were a guarantee that this one would be the same (much faster and it would probably be a roadside delivery).
And it’s not like the good labour overwrites the bad labour; 2 minutes of pushing vs. 4 hours does not train one’s body out of the bad body-memories. It’s more fraught than I thought in a way; in theory, I assumed that I would feel better if I got to this point, having had Noah just fine. But I am discovering that no, it’s Emily’s labour that comes to mind over and over. It makes sense; I’d just not given myself that much room.
So I will discuss a c-section, especially if the pregnancy goes to term. (None of mine have, yet.) I think I would like to go for vaginal as a first wish. But I know it will all be difficult. The nice thing is that this will almost certainly be the last one.
And yes, I’m trying to get back in with the same OB but he’s pretty booked. Plus I’m waiting for this blood test to see if I’m getting transferred to an OB who specializes in blood disorders anyway (sigh).
My brain on hormones
Weird things about this pregnancy so far:
1. I hate food. Anyone who knows me will know how far off normal this is. But I hate all food. It’s not that it makes me directly ill. My stomach can handle it at most hours of the day. And my brain says “feed the embryo!” But in between there is a short circuit in my head that looks at just about any foodstuff and kind of goes “you want me to put WHAT in my MOUTH?” Also, “what a waste of money this is” at the grocery store and “geez these people are demanding” when it comes time to like, cook something.
I believe at this stage with Noah I was chowing down on spinach and tofu samosas and lentil pies. But with this babe it’s all I can do to choke down some toast. Toast is the least offensive food I can find, and this list includes chocolate, chips, and other non-nutritious foodstuffs.
2. Morning sickness peaks at about midnight. If I can sleep though it, it’s good. If I wake up, I end up wishing I were dead for about 2 hours.
3. I can’t quite get my head around a girl. After Emily died and I found out Noah was a boy I spent quite some time mourning that my boy would be the opposite sex from me. Now I’m like “how weird would THAT be?” On baby name picks we are definitely leaning towards the masculine, although this is probably helped by the fact that we have last pregnancy’s girl-name in our mutually agreed upon back pocket.
4. I’ve had no baby dreams. This makes me wonder a bit about the health of the baby, despite that being rather…new age of me.
5. Oh my god I realized this week this means I have to go through LABOUR again. Shit. Being me, I looked up the latest research on cord accidents and there’s interesting stuff out there - the worst, however, of which is that if you’ve had one, you are 5 times more likely to have another (and No One Knows Why). Other interesting things: Hiccups (which both my babies had) can be a bad sign. Babies also almost always tend to get nuchal cords in the same direction, suggesting that fetal movement is somehow pre-programmed to roll a particular way. None of this was especially reassuring.
6. Still pretty darn happy. However I do kind of feel like this is the last kick at the can. If this baby does not make it for whatever reason, I think I’m out, done, finito. Obviously it is not entirely my say but - I kind of really think so regardless.
Yup, Fifth - sigh
So my doctor’s confirmed that’s what Noah has. I get blood tested on Mon and then the following Mon. We’ll see. It just gives my general anxiety focus really. We did inform the school. The contageous period is over once the rash comes out - you really have to love this disease!
Luck of the - what’s the opposite of Irish?
Yesterday morning we were having a bowl of strawberries when Noah came up in a bright rash on both cheeks (more on one than the other). Being parents of the 21st century we administered Benadryl, sweated it out for a few minutes, and when the rash did not progress further and even faded a bit we made a note to get a good allergist, dropped him off for Bouncy! Castle! Day!, called 3 times to check on him (me) and cleared the house of strawberries. He was perfectly healthy otherwise and came home blissed out. Not too blissed out for a family game of T-ball.
This morning though the red-cheeked “strawberry rash” had spread to a lacy rash down the arms. I am waiting to call the doctor’s office but given that he had a mild ‘cold’ last week I am Dr. Google-diagnosing him with Fifth Disease. Which is a perfectly harmless childhood illness that starts with a mild fever (or not) and cold-like symptoms, when it is contagious, and then progresses to a slapped-cheek rash that spreads into a lacy rash down the arms.
Perfectly harmless, that is, with one exception? Any bets on what that is?
Pregnant women. Pregnant women should not get this thing because it can (not to put too fine a line on it) kill their unborn child. Before 20 weeks. Alternatively, the baby can be severely anemic and require blood transfusions (when is not clear to me).
Sigh. Now this only happens if the mother has not had it way before, and catches it. My mother thinks maybe I did. She remembers I had something anyway. The problem is in a lot of adults it’s asymptomatic. So I wouldn’t know if I got it now.
Anyways, the doctor’s office opens at 9 am, and what’s done is done. But you know that I am going to be wondering for (with grace) the next 34 weeks.
I have to admit though that I am kind of glad it’s unlikely to be a strawberry allergy. They are awfully yummy.
Still pregnant // Concert
Noah’s school concert was on Friday. He got pretty freaked out just before and no one could figure out why, but his headmistress came and got me. “He’s upset,” she whispered. “It’s fine…of course he doesn’t have to go on…but he has all the important lines.”
I held Noah next to the stage for the national anthem and for the martial arts demo he should have been in (orange belt!) It’s a hard balance. Part of me wanted to try to talk him into going on for his skits. And part of me wanted to take him home and rock him. Instead, I told him it was his decision and that I was fine with whatever he wanted to do. And that I would stand at the side of the stage and he could come to me any time. (His school, being for wee ones, is very very good about this and tears and all the rest of it. Despite the important lines bit.) His teacher told him the same, and he got a hug from her and she got his skit-mates to do a sort of group hug thing.
He went onstage, couldn’t get his first line out, and then came alive and did all the rest of his parts just fine, finishing up with a whole bunch of joyful joyful singing. Being almost-5 he then refused to come off the stage for the rest of the evening, unless running after a friend or trying to go play in the bathroom.
Being the pedantic parent, I did give him a little aphoristic “courage is being scared and doing it anyway” statement later, but I think he was too busy eying cake to learn the Life Lesson.
As it turned out, one of his best friends had spent the day at Sick Kids with a serious but not life threatening issue, and I think this took the safe feeling right out of him. Compounded, as he continued to gradually share with us, by the fact that nerves were labelled “butterflies in your tummy” by a well-meaning staff member…and which Noah interpreted as being along the lines of appendicitis.
But of course in the thick of it he couldn’t express any of that.
I’m glad I left it up to him and didn’t try to solve it for him. This, I must admit, is a rare bit of zen. But it came when it was needed. I think that’s grace.
In case anyone is interested, yes it was a little embarrassing even though it really shouldn’t be - but it was. But this is the advantage to being me at 39: I’ve embarrassed myself in so many ways that I’m kind of used to it.
~~~
Still pregnant. Very pregnant — the 5 week beta last week was 8859, and this week’s joys include throwing up in the car and that really gross baby-growing TIRED ALL THE TIME feeling. I hope it eases up in the second trimester, as far away as that seems right now. I do not quite have dreams & hopes that involve a *baby* per se yet. But I am starting to mentally rearrange furniture and decide what is required to buy (dresser for new baby, and I refuse, REFUSE to have a newborn without a soft recliner rocker thing and not the dread wooden one I so Calvanistically purchased last time. Give me soft comfort. I am old.)
I also found myself thinking about all the TIME I will have on mat leave to do HOUSE PROJECTS. Hahahahahahahahahahaha, memory is a short thing is it not? I did laugh at myself.
I am worried about my job, but I’m sort of at the “oh well” point with it. We’ll sort it out.
And so it begins again
Positive
Struggling at work
I’m still really struggling at work. I can’t quite figure out where the deeper issue is - whether it’s me or the structure around me. I end up spinning my wheels sometimes because I’m the decision maker and I can’t decide. It’s also just plain hard to be indoors right now.
But I end up feeling a lot like “you suck.” That internal script is strong. Not to get all Oprah-esque about it but sometimes I am my own worst enemy.
~~~
The novel is going slow and the deadline looms. Sometimes I wonder if I really do want to be a writer. Sometimes I think I would do better in a more reactive sort of job - like in medicine, where patients show up and you deal with them, as opposed to where you need to be a self-starter. But at 39, it seems like the wrong time to be asking myself this question.
~~~
And yes I’m so glad David Besmozgis made it to the top 40 authors under 40 list in the New Yorker but I’m also a bit envious. Not that I have written anything like he has. Just sheer silly envy.
~~~
However I was at a gala award thing last night and I have to shallowly admit that these things are a bit more fun (in the short term; this will wear off) while hovering between a size 8-10 as opposed to a solid 14. Mostly because I put a belt on with a skirt and fancy top and the effect was slimming. I wish I’d gotten pics but I was shooting others and forgot to ask anyone to point the camera my way. Next time!
~~~
Today is clean-up day as we are having a visitor from out of town next week of the picky sort, and so there are a few areas to tackle. But I don’t want to.
Deeply happy cyclist
Today was one of those days that you just live for. Until the end.
Rouge-beach
Carl worked yesterday but not today, and we started the day with a 2.5 hour round-trip bike ride. Since getting our bikes not only has Carl biked Noah to school the vast majority of the time, but we’ve been getting out as a family.
And whoa, did we ever pick the right place to live. We go up from our street into a sort of industrial-ish area (deserted on weekends) and then back down to the lake and suddenly we’re on a trail lakeside with amazing views. Take that as far as it goes, go down another quiet street and you end up in a park/conservation area that goes way out east beyond Toronto and into Pickering.
It’s gorgeous. Wind off the lake, nature, beaches, bike paths. Last week we saw a wedge (according to Oxford but I would say a flock) of SWANS. The first ride I saw a hawk.
Today was slated to be hot so we went early and got back about 11:15. Then we all did chores amiably (with a break for lunch) until suppertime and then hit a quasi-local Chinese-Canadian place for dinner so as to not have dinner + dishes barrelling down upon us.
I can’t believe how great it is to bike as a family. It’s exactly what we all needed, I think.
~~~
I may not have mentioned it but I’ve been trying Weight Watchers. I reached my goal weight Thursday - the official one. That means 28 lbs lost since February, and a change from being about a solid size 14 (on a 5′8″ frame) to a 10 most places with the occasional 8. It also puts me under the weight I was at when I got pregnant with Emily.
I’m actually aiming for 5-10 lbs below that point, since it’s been pretty stress-free for the most part and I would like to be in the middle of the BMI healthy range and not closer towards the top.
But I do feel better. I look better. I hate being shallow about all this but - I’m the exact same person, but with a sense that I can affect my physical destiny. It’s made a world of difference for me; or maybe it’s the way I’ve been feeling that’s made it possible. I don’t know but I think it would be fair to say I’m not depressed any more, if I was.
~~~
Nothing, nothing was good about Noah’s appendicitis and God (for lack of a more agnostic term) does not teach lessons by making small kids suffer. (At least not a God I want to spend eternity with.)
However I do think that there has been some positive taken from the experience in that when they wheeled Noah away from me to do the surgery, I honestly thought he would die. I may or may not have described this but I still have the visceral memory of what happened to my body - aided by lack of food, drink, and sleep for sure - which is that we just came to The End. Could not breathe. Had a headache to outdo all headaches. Could barely walk or speak. Basically the end of the world was nigh and we were quite literally on the floor.
And yet, he lived. He is thriving right now. He’s healthy and getting so strong again. Doctors helped him. We all made it. I think this in itself brought the merest sliver of hope back. Although mainly I must say we try to run lean when it comes to a happy future, still.
But today was great.
~~~
Sadly at the end of the day I had a call from some scammer where they said my alarm system was going off. I unfortunately said “we don’t have one,” and since they had my address…I’m a bit worried that we might be in for a robbery. On the plus side, I guess, we have very little worth stealing; even my computer is well over 5 years old. Although PLEASE DO NOT TAKE MY COMPUTER because augh.
It’s made me wary and it’s hard to sleep. Despite the 2 hrs of bike riding (half hour on the beach :)).
Reluctant beauty editor
I think I’ve concluded that I’m going to talk about my work a little bit even if it Dooces me ultimately. I don’t want it to ’cause I really am learning and largely enjoying my job; it was absolutely the right choice for me. But it’s such a big part of my life right now that being very prudent is not working for me. And I don’t love it that much that I am content to continue to post inane things for the next 5 years. So here goes on the new balance attempt.
I lost my assistant due to a combination of her resigning for a better position and a seizure of the opportunity to attempt to balance the budget. I had been passing a lot of the fashion and beauty (F&B) stuff to her for two reasons:
1. She was really into that stuff and had experience with it and so she loved it and was good at it. She also enjoyed the goodies you have to try out in order to understand them. (Swag, but purposeful swag - a sample of a face mask not so that you will be bribed but so you know how it feels, smells, etc.)
2. I have been a nerdy/geeky type all my life and was raised largely in my parents’ hippy phase. In grade school this meant wearing 5-year-old hand-me-downs (bell bottoms long past when they were out) and the inevitable blue eyeshadow disasters and being picked on daily. In grade 6 the class had a full afternoon meeting without me to discuss why they should not be holding me down in the bathroom and flushing my underwear down the toilet. (Yah. Sigh.)
3. In adolescence I pretty much missed a lot of the “girl knowledge” that you’re supposed to get. Partly this was due to having taken on the “uncool and don’t care” identity (more on this in a later post). Partly this was due to living way more in my head than in my body. And I went to a school where this was okay. I did learn some things at camp (like don’t shave your goosebumps off :)). But generally I would put my makeup & fashion knowledge at about a C-. I could scrape by, and look okay for meetings and things, but no one would mistake me for being on trend or well made up. (My mother did not help. Not sure why.)
4. I also am pretty cheap about these things. The idea of spending money on makeup and even clothing over say books, music, plants for the garden, pillows for the bedroom and travel, is not happy-making.
Oddly enough, though, when we went through that initial round of multiplicity and therapy and coming out to ourselves, ‘my’ (the system’s) work on appearance took a pretty big leap forward. To reconstruct it I think what happened was that in everyone’s drive to self-define on the outside and in our body, we had a kind of energy to go out and learn new stuff.
Like that you can get your eyebrows (and other facial hair, if you have some, like I do) waxed. And while you’re doing that, if you do it at the right place, you can also get to “try the new colours” which is also a makeup application lesson. And in fact you can get free makeup lessons whenever you like if you’re willing to sit through a sales pitch.
And then you can read fashion magazines too. This last was a stretch for me because I had spent so much time defining myself as someone who doesn’t read fashion magazines. But in fact, they are not pure evil. (Another post on this later too.)
Anyways, I learned enough to pass as a lay person, which got me through the interview and into my job and provided a base for managing my site’s F&B area. But my method of managing it has largely been delegation up until now.
And now I have no one to delegate to.
I’m lucky in that I have spent time developing relationships with people around me on my print team and in general so that I have people to consult. And I have been paying attention, so I know way more than I did 2 years ago.
But now I have to do more of this piece that I had outsourced which is going to beauty & fashion events (we could call them “information sourcing sessions” although they are presented as more fun, but they are work). And then, of course, turning those into useful and credible information. Ha ha.
Today I am talking about events and my attempt at Zen.
Events mean sitting in a room with a bunch of really knowledgeable people who all look great and know which products to use for every occasion, flaw, and moment, and trying to learn this stuff.
And lest you think this stuff is simple, it is not.
I will save the debate on whether it is shallow in life meaning. But it is not simple. You need to understand a good slice of biology and chemistry on a pragmatic level to even start to understand what they are talking about and whether it’s marketing-speak or something interesting going on, and whether something’s appropriate for whatever kind of face you are talking about.
On top of that you need to understand the evolution of products and the names of the designers and manufacturers and owners and celebrities and which products are high and low end and and and. And then on top of that you have to understand the trends, which change 3-4 times a year, and how this relates to fashion.
And then there are other considerations like representing everyone fairly.
So there’s just a certain amount of complexity inherent in the process. But on top of that I continually walk into these things and have this intense emotional reaction that…the beauty editors are going to drag me into the bathroom and flush my pants down the toilet. Y’know?
I feel like an imposter.
And that particular role is especially hard for me, Formerly Gifted Child(tm) in that I have relied in the past on my information. Like I might not be the coolest kid on the block, but at least I can tell you how to get to the bus stop. But you can’t read for a few weeks and be up on all this stuff. I am learning, but my lack of native interest and years of lack of interest shines through loud and clear.
No, I don’t remember the year that nail polish shade was impossible to find and does that compare to this year’s Chanel rush. (Let’s be honest: I had no idea there could ever be rushes on colours of nail polish, unless you mean “the last non-garish colour in the 99 cent discount bin at the drugstore.”)
I have at least learned not to fake it. If you don’t know, you don’t know. Better to say so and let someone explain it to you than be standing there pretending that you have a clue only to be caught out eventually. The fact is that my ignorance may even be an editorial advantage for a certain kind of reader who — like me — doesn’t know all this stuff.
But that doesn’t prevent me from feeling this shaft of vulnerability and upset every time I have to deal with this entire world in which I am a stranger.
Anyways, here is the point of this whole post which is that yesterday I was at an event and all in knots about it inside and freaking out about my hair when I suddenly had this moment.
Of zen.
And it was that my attachment to looking good in a meeting - saving face - pride - is what has been causing my personal suffering and dread. It’s all me doing it to myself. Even if the other editors were keeping score - and I think they do a bit because it’s their job to notice, the same way I notice particular things about people - and they may even be cattily judging me (jury’s out on that one) - really that’s about them. It’s not about me.
The fact is, it’s my job to be there and learn, get the info, and curate it, and doing that for me involves a serious learning curve that will take some years to come. It is also my job to behave in a professional way.
But that’s it.
It is not my job to rewrite my past or wear the right shade of toenail polish or fit in with the cool kids (beyond being professional) or be glamourous on the red carpet. It’s truly not. My sense of failure at not doing that is just that - mine. Mine mine mine. And I can choose to let it go. Not that I won’t still feel that way, but I can allow it to be a fleeting feeling.
I feel like I’m maturing a bit. In this one area at least.