The Fish Pond

AAUUUUGGGHHH!

It has started.

My MIL called to see "how I was doing, if I am okay."

If she calls me every day between now and when I have this baby, I will be sorely tempted to take out her kneecaps.

She has Parkinson's.  I know, I am evil.

Plus, does anyone want to place any bets as to how many more pairs of ballet shoes Trout will lose before the end of the year?  Anyone?

In the Beginning...A Surprise

Since my oldest turns 7 on Saturday, I thought I would tell you about how we found out we were expecting both of our girls, because both of them were surprises, but Trout in particular was a shock.

In order to do this right, I have to give you some background.  In 1995, I had some precancerous cells removed from my cervix with cryosurgery.  They told us at the time that it shouldn't have any impact on future child bearing, but I was never wholly convinced about that.  I had always, always had irregular cycles, and I had been on birth control pills for a LONG time to fix that particular problem.  In 1997, I began to have problems with my heart, and I stopped taking birth control pills due to the cardiac risks associated with them.  We went along using a "birth control method" that really isn't supposed to work, but for us always did.  Over the course of 1997 and 1998, I went nine months straight without having a period and without being pregnant.  I had an HMO then, and my PCP wouldn't give me a referral to the OBGYN - she said it was just stress.  I decided I'd had enough with a bunch of idiot doctors who wouldn't listen to me and misdiagnosed me to the current popular conditions, so I switched to a PPO during my open enrollment, fired all of my doctors except the cardiologist and OBGYN, and within a month I was diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS).  (As a side note, my OBGYN had asked me why I hadn't come to see her sooner - I told her what the PCP had said about stress and that she wouldn't refer me.  The OBGYN's response was "If you're in your forties, maybe, but not at your age!  You miss two periods without being pregnant and we want to know why."  She sent a nasty letter to my former PCP.  This is part of the reason she wasn't fired when I switched insurance).  My doctors told me that I wouldn't be able to get pregnant without medical intervention.  We weren't ready to tackle that at the time, so I went back on the birth control pills for a while.  Around November of 1998, I got some type of infection and had to go on antibiotics - I decided at the time to give my body a rest from the birth control pills, since the antibiotics messed them up anyway, so I stopped taking them.

I started graduate school and working out, trying to get my life in order, since I had been having some depression issues along with the heart issues and PCOS.  I was working full time during the day, and I commuted downtown to GWU two nights a week for school.  It was a busy time.

Sometime in March, I really began to feel run down and exhausted.  One of my classmates kept teasing me about being pregnant.  I told her no, you don't understand, I can't get pregnant.  She pointed out that I was tired and was running to the bathroom at break time every night, and I just passed it off as trying to do too much and drinking a lot of water, which I had never really done before I started having trouble with my heart.  She asked me about how long it had been since I had my period, and it had been about 3 months, but I explained about the PCOS.  She just looked skeptical.

One evening in early March BigDaddyFish called to say that his sister wanted to go out drinking that night, since she had recently weaned her daughter.  I said okay, and then thought for a while...then told him that if I was going to go out and shitfaced, I'd better go take a pregnancy test to make sure my classmate wasn't right about things.  So my girlfriend and I went over to the grocery store and bought a pregnancy test.  Back at the office, she stood outside the stall since she had a watch (I'd never taken a test before so I didn't know how important, or not, exact timing was) and I went in to pee on the stick.  It changed immediately.  My friend asked me "How long am I supposed to do this again?  One minute or two?"  I told her it didn't matter because I already had an answer, and she said "Oh, it's negative already?"  My hand started to shake and I dropped the stick on the floor; it bounced into the next stall.

I retrieved the stick, and handed it to my friend, saying "Does that say what I think it says?"  She says, "I dunno, I've never taken one of these - gimme the box."  Ever the engineer, she stood there studying the box and looking back and forth between it and the stick, and I shakily washed my hands, in a state of shock.  Another co-worker walked in, leaned over my friend's shoulder, and said "Hey!  You're pregnant!" as she went into the stall.  It started to sink in - I was pregnant.

I went back to my office and called BDF, who was at his parent's house with my SIL at the time.  His company had relocated and we didn't want to move to Florida, so at the time he was out of work, biding his time on his generous severance until he found the right job.  He had me on the speaker phone, so my SIL heard at the same time he did.  I think I said, well, it's positive, or C. was right, or something like that.  He immediately said "Fuck."  Nothing else, just "fuck."  SIL whooped and hollered and cheered.  For the next couple of months, I would be sitting on the couch, or in the bed, and he would walk by, and just mutter "Fuck." under his breath.  It wasn't that he wasn't happy - just shocked, and not ready to have to get a job and deal with the changes that were about to happen in our lives.  I had been ready to have children at about 25 or 26 years old; he wanted to wait until we were about 30.  I turned 29 during the middle of my pregnancy with Trout.

Over the course of the next year, he got a new job; went to San Francisco for three weeks for training (which they no longer do, of course, but at the time we had never been separated that long since we had begun dating) in May; we bought a house, which to him was sight unseen since he was in SF and we had already lost out on one house we wanted - the market dictated we had to move fast; and we had our first baby.  I will post Trout's birth story on Saturday.

When I went to the OB for my first prenatal visit, they were as shocked as we were that we were sitting there, pregnant.  But it was an easy pregnancy, and we found out in the summer that we were having a girl.  I had been sure I was having a boy and we had wanted a boy, so this took a bit of adjusting, but by the time she was born, we fully embraced the girl who was coming.

The rest of Trout's story will have to wait.  Since we had been told we couldn't conceive and weren't real sure when we had, we decided to try for Little Man a bit earlier than we would have if we'd had a clue what we were doing; of course, we got pregnant on the first try.  With both of our boys, now, we planned them, so finding out about them wasn't really dramatic, because we were looking for them, we took tests, the end.

But Sunny....well, she's a bit like her sister in this regard.  I had nursed Little Man 14 months, and I am one of those women who don't get a period at all when nursing.  Once he weaned, I was reluctant to go back on birth control pills because I was getting older and my heart was acting up again (mind you, this is a little silly, because my heart problem is electrical, so it's like telling someone to keep their plumbing clean to make sure their lights work, but still, I DO have high cholesterol), but a strange thing happened after I had Little Man - I had regular cycles.  Had never happened in my life, but they did then, so we started using Natural Family Planning.  This worked great for 6 months, at which time I apparently had the. only. 28. day. cycle. I've. ever. had.

Sometime at the end of June of 2003, I was at work and someone made a pop tart in the toaster oven at work.  It smelled different.....very strong.  Not bad, just strong.  I asked the person making the pop tart what kind it was, because my pop tarts NEVER smelled like that, and she said, "Um, brown sugar and cinnamon?" and looked at me like I was nuts.  I apparently was.

Later, at lunch, it dawned on me that I had gone to the bathroom one extra time that morning than usual.  Again, nothing dramatic, just something that made me go "hmmm.  That's weird."  I had gone out with a friend for lunch, and I ended up burping in the middle of lunch!  Something I definitely don't usually do, unless it's on purpose, which it wasn't.  I began to wonder.....

So that afternoon, when I got home from work, I took a pregnancy test I had left over from having Little Man, fully expecting it to be negative (you'd think I'd learned by then, wouldn't you?), but of course, it wasn't.  It was faint, but positive.  I immediately paniced, since I knew BDF didn't want to have more than two kids.  I called him in hysterics, just wailing "I'm Pregnant - What are we going to do????"  He answered quite calmly, "Um, hon, we're gonna have another baby."  I reminded him that he didn't want more than 2 kids, and he said it was okay, to calm down, it would be fine.  He took it well - I didn't, and I had been the one who wanted to have another child; we had just begun to discuss this when it was a done deal.  Just goes to show what happens when you think you are in control of your life; you're not.

When I was a few months pregnant with Sunny, BDF started lobbying for a fourth! child.  For a very, very long time I told him to bite his tongue, go to hell, move out of the house, etc.  But I wanted to be open minded (I just wasn't very good at it), so I didn't have my tubes tied after Sunny.  I still felt like I was done, but was willing to consider the matter very carefully, out of respect and love for my husband.  So I considered.  And Sunny nursed.  And nursed.  And nursed.  And never took a bottle.  And never drank milk - still doesn't.  And was late taking a cup.  I was nuts with being attached to her all the time.  I was ready to wean at about 16 months, but she nursed until just shy of her 2nd birthday.  I kept telling BDF no to a fourth kid - I couldn't do it.

Then a bunch of things happened. 

1. I finally started to find my groove after quitting my job the previous year.  Yes, it took that long - I had always worked, since I was 16 years old, and I was going a bit nutsy with no company but the kids all day.  I still go a bit nutsy, but I've learned some coping strategies and how to impose structure on my days, which I never really did before.
2. My grandmother passed away from metastatic breast cancer, after a particularly painful week of the whole family at her bedside in the hospital, waiting.  She had a DNR order in effect, and we respected her wishes.  I got to see my entire family from that side, including two cousins who I hadn't seen in over 15 years, and one of them has a wife and 3 kids now.  He is the one member of the family I have the most in common with, and I am terrible about keeping in touch, and I never ever realized how much I was missing him, and they live in Colorado.  His wife and kids are wonderful; the kids are about the same age as mine, and they played together and it was as if they see each other every week, when they'd never met before.  Horrible circumstances in which to have that blessing, that's for sure.
3. BDF, sensing the stress I'd been under, decided to take me to New York City for a weekend.  Without.  the.  kids.  It was the first time we'd been away for more than just a quick date since we'd had Trout, and I had never been to NY.  It was wonderful.  We saw two broadway shows, we stayed in times square, we just tried to experience as much of the city as we could.  I loved it.  And we got to sleep in as late as we wanted and no little people woke us up.
4. We got Sunny moved to her own bed in the room she shares with Trout, after months of trying.

It's amazing what the combination of a few good nights' sleep and the reminder of your blessings can do.  Within just a few weeks, I came around to BDF's way of thinking.

So here we are, due in a couple of weeks.  Or any day now, whichever.

Junk Mail

I was going to write about how I found out I was pregnant with Trout, as her birthday is coming up this weekend and she was quite the surprise, but that will have to wait.  I received my first junk mail for this baby today.

Similac cans.

Now, as I've said before, I don't care how you choose to feed your baby; the important thing is that the baby gets fed.  Period.  However, I am a breastfeeding advocate; I do feel that it is better for both mother and baby than formula feeding, and I also feel like society does not provide enough support to new mothers for them to be successful breastfeeders.  I do not, however, believe formula is "poison" or is going to hurt your baby - I just believe the way nature intended things to work is the superior way of doing them.

But this junk mail is a blatant example of a society that doesn't do its best to support women to breastfeed - support, not frighten or berate.  I have no problem with formula companies providing formula cans free of charge ONCE THEY HAVE BEEN REQUESTED.  But I didn't request these things; I don't want them around my house.  I will be donating them to the local food bank, who requests these things (I would rather help a poor woman breastfeed if she wants to, but I don't want to get involved with LLL and the food bank doesn't have the infrastructure set up to support this).  I don't want the temptation of a can of formula sitting on my shelf for when my in-laws come to "help" and think they should be feeding the baby for me so I can do something else ('nother rant altogether, but still).  It bothers me that things like this make my sister say "Why should I try to breastfeed, when they are going to send me this stuff anyway?  Look how easy it is!"  It bothers me that sending out these cans to women who don't request them wastes all kinds of resources that could be better spent educating women on the benefits of breastfeeding, on the mechanics of how to do it, on a bit of "cheer-leading" for those who give it a go (a very necessary part of it, in my opinion).  And this doesn't even consider what the presence of those cans of formula can do to the poor woman who loses her baby at birth, especially when it is so damn hard to get your name off that mailing list.

Way back when, there was more of a community of mothers, who supported each other in day-to-day life and helped with the educational portion of breastfeeding.  Then formula came along, and women in my grandmother's generation were taught "Only common (poor) women breastfeed their babies, because they can't afford to do what's best" and other such nonsense.  My grandmother WAS told this, and she was raised in the upper middle class - she happened to disagree and wanted to breastfeed, but wasn't given the support she needed to learn how and succeed.  That left a void for when my mother and aunt wanted to breastfeed their children in the seventies and eighties.  My mother and aunt both turned to La Leche League, but they were so militant the other way, and still provided a lot of misinformation, that both my mother and my aunt were turned off to breastfeeding.  LLL ended up shooting themselves in the foot, which is why a lot of mainstream breastfeeding supporters like myself get looked down upon as being "crazy lactivists," which only breeds resentment and doesn't help when we are trying to encourage new mothers to breastfeed.  My mother died and my aunt lives several states away, so I was on my own to learn how to breastfeed, and it didn't come naturally a lot of the time.  Fortunately, I'm stubborn as hell, so over the course of three babies I learned to do it so well the last one didn't want to stop (again, another rant for another day), but there are so many times over the years that without a good support mechanism, I would have given up.

The best thing I did for myself is both my husband and me took a breastfeeding class at the hospital before Trout was born.  We both learned mechanics of breastfeeding, and the most basic of emotional support, that of my husband, was established right there.  I encourage those around me to breastfeed and offer both my emotional support and any advice or help they may need, but it is frustrating when my efforts are thwarted by formula companies and governmental and media zealots alike from opposite sides of the fence.

Whatever happened to the middle ground?  Am I REALLY that unusual?

I don't think so.  Feel free to give a shout-out if you're here in the middle, too.

Waiting Game

He's a chunker!  At least, that's what the sono tech called my son today.  At 36+ weeks, he is measuring 6lbs., 13oz.  Last night, probably due to stress, I had contractions about 9 minutes apart for several hours.  I've told the baby, if his lungs are ready, come on out, because I am ready, that's for sure.  Unfortunately, I'll probably be saying that until he's scheduled to come out around the middle of next month.

Plus I got a flu shot.  Now I need a nap.

This morning went much better - I had talked to Trout and Little Man last night about my expectations, and they actually did what they were supposed to do with minimal reminders from me.  I'd better check planetary alignment, or something, because that is unusual.  Maybe they felt bad about making me cry yesterday.  I know I did.

Evil Mom

This morning was, unfortunately, a typical morning for us - BigDaddyFish has that problem with getting awake in the morning, so as per usual, it is up to me to get the big kids up and either out the door to the bus stop or school, in the case of Trout, or ready to go or drive him to school, in the case of Little Man.  Some days BDF drives Little Man to school on the way to work, but since he can't get up very well, they are invariably late, and Little Man prefers when I take him to school because we are usually on time.  We live a suburb away from Little Man's school, though, so it takes 20 minutes or so to get him there - if there are no traffic problems.  But this is DC - that's a HUGE IF.  Rain or snow?  Fuggedaboutit.

There are at least three problems we have every school day that both big kids go to school (Little Man only goes 3 days/week).

1. I am hugely pregnant and have trouble waking up myself, let alone anyone else, and Trout has been turning off her alarm and going back to sleep.
2. Trout and Little Man are both unbelievably distractable, mostly Trout, and have major issues focusing on getting dressed and getting out the door.
3. BDF insists on conditions being "exactly right" before he will get out of the bed.

The kids' drawers are extremely well organized, so picking clothes is an easy thing.  I get up and let them know if it is cold or warm weather, and I expect them to dress accordingly.  This is usually not a problem, but occasionally Trout will get nutso about the clothes she has available.  Our rule is as long as it's appropriate for the weather and conditions (like no fancy dresses on Art day when they will be painting, sneakers and pants on PE days) it's okay, but we WILL point out things like clothes not matching.  If they don't care, fine, but they won't learn how to match if we don't tell them when they don't.  The problem is that they don't stay on task unless someone is standing over them.  Trout invariably starts to play with Sunny, or hug her or pester her, or try to dress her, instead of focusing on herself.  This usually pisses Sunny off, and then the fighting and crying ensues.  Or she'll go in and pester Little Man, who gets pissed, yells, and frequently comes out swinging (we're working on that right now).  We have a rule of no tv/playing with toys before school, so that shouldn't be an issue, but they will always find SOMETHING to play with, even if it's just a pencil.  It takes them 10 minutes just to put on shoes.  This has been driving me crazy all school year, and it has to stop.

It's not that they are incapable of doing what they need to do.  On weekends, they do it all themselves just fine.  If a friend was at the door asking to go play, they'd be dressed and out the door in about 25 seconds.  I KNOW they can do it.  I will have a baby in less than 30 days.  They need to do it themselves.  We've talked about all this, we've tried reward systems - nothing.  Any ideas would be helpful.

Then there is BDF.  I try to be sympathetic about the waking up issue - I know it is not his fault; I've seen it in action in at least two other family members.  Their blood pressure just drops too low when they sleep, and it takes for-fricking-ever for it to come up in the morning.  But I can't handle it anymore.  He likes to have the kids lay on his legs in the morning, which works because it puts pressure on the legs and helps bring up his blood pressure, and also has the added bonus of giving the kids "snuggle time" with him, but it DOES distract them from getting ready for school.  Then he occasionally has some attitudinal peculiarities that I won't get into, but suffice to say that they interfere with getting out the door in the morning.  He is nearly always late to everything, especially if it happens in the morning.  Drives me up the fricking wall.

This morning, things were so bad that I yelled at the big kids to shut up and get dressed at least 4 times each.  They decided it would be funny to mimic me and began repeating everything I said.  BDF would not get out of the bed.  Sunny decided to have a meltdown because she wants my attention and doesn't want me giving attention to the bigger kids, so she cried for at least a half hour straight, despite my efforts to pick her up, hold and hug her, and ask for her help in delivering juice boxes to everyone to help out (she usually likes to be a big girl helper).  BDF had told me he would take Little Man to school, but Little Man has to be there at 9, and at 8:30 BDF was still in bed and hadn't even gotten in the shower yet.  Trout has to be on the bus at 8:20 or so; she missed the bus, but couldn't be dropped off at school until 8:35 due to school rules.

I yelled, I screamed, I cried.  I feel terrible that I was so mean to my kids this morning.  I feel guilty that I'm resentful that I never get to sleep in and get up "when I'm ready to" like BDF every morning - when do I get to get up when I'm ready and only have to take care of myself, and maybe a baby, instead of me needing to do everything for everyone else?  How can I get those who are capable of it to take responsibility for getting themselves dressed and ready to go out the door, so that I can focus on babies and getting breakfast ready?  Of course, since I'm hugely pregnant and my hormones are out of whack, I'm now picturing all the worst case scenarios for the rest of the day/week/pregnancy, and am freaking out that something will happen to my kids or me before I can apologize for this morning and be nice to them again, or that I won't be able to cope at all and will have to pull them out of school and the police will come after us because we can't get our kids to school on time.

Something has to give.  I'm afraid it's my sanity.

Ending Days

I am now less than a month away from the delivery of this baby.  As I have mentioned before, this will be our last baby, and only now am I getting a little wistful about this.  Now, now as I have a constant lower back ache, am completely unable to sleep because of a complete inability to get comfortable, feel like a bowling ball is going to emerge from between my legs at any moment.  Now, as my breasts grow heavy and have begun leaking colostrum, baby's first nutrients.  Now, as I have achieved the girth of a pygmy hippo, as my baby rests just an inch or so from the steering wheel as I drive.  Now that I have no choice but to walk like a penguin.  Now, as my body prepares for the end by practicing its contracting ability, which is particularly frustrating as it is pointless - this will be my fourth c-section, since my body has never figured out how to get a kid out of me before.

Why now?  I think for any woman out there, no matter what it took to get you there, the last days of pregnancy are horrid.  For me, this is the worst it's ever been - with Trout I had more energy, with Little Man I felt fine, with Sunny I worked until two days past my due date, despite a minor backache and dislocation of my pubic symphysis joint.  Never has it been this bad.  I feel terrible, I have no energy, I am grumpy, I am anxious.

But never again will I feel this way for this reason (if I do Dr. G will have some explaining to do).  Never again will I feel a tiny (or not so, as the case may be) life rolling and turning inside me.  Never again will I have this precious privilege of creating a whole new being.  And a big part of me is sad about that.  I will miss the wonderful parts of being pregnant, the adventure that this experience is.

But part of me isn't.  The part that is incredibly nervous about facing my fourth surgery, especially considering my blood pressure tanked after Trout, and Little Man needed the NICU after his (not due to the surgery, but still scary as hell).  I'm more nervous about this one; I can only guess because I know more about what can go wrong than each time before.  The part of me that is getting older, and knows that I really can't handle this anymore, physically or emotionally.  The part of me getting ready for the next phase in my life.

So for now, I try to live in this moment.  To embrace the life still inside, revel in each little kick and roll and rub.  If I can't embrace the back ache (honestly, how many of you who have been effectively 9 months pregnant can embrace yours?), then at least embrace the reason for the back ache.  To love my body for its strength in doing this yet again.  To wallow in the sweetness of folding the tiny little t-shirts and sleepers and blankets, preparing my nest for my new son.

To thank God every second that I got to do this again, and hope and pray that I'll be a good mother to four precious kids.

About Last Night...

Sorry, the skeevy guy will have to wait, because my physiology needs an ass-kicking.

I know I've scrawled a bit here before about a heart condition I have.  It is fairly benign as far as heart conditions go, more of an annoyance than a threat most of the time.  It is called paroxysmal supraventricular tachycardia, or PSVT for short.  As you can see from the link, it's basically a rapid heartbeat for no apparent reason that comes on randomly, although it can be associated with stress or fatigue.  Along with it I tend to have a fast normal sinus rhythm, around 115 or so, so I take medication to keep it down to a dull roar, around 85 bpm or so.  I also avoid caffeine (don't have any except chocolate), cold medicines, and anything else that is a nervous system stimulant.  Most of the time, when I have what I call an episode, it lasts for at most a few minutes, maybe a few seconds.  It is fairly exhausting when they happen, but really not a big deal anymore (they were a big deal when they first happened as they scared the piss out of me and I was misdiagnosed as having panic attacks for a long time - it took years to get a proper diagnosis).

Which brings us to last night.  BigDaddyFish didn't get home from work 2 nights ago til midnight, and I went to bed last night around 11 ish or so, about normal for me.  I was TIRED.  I woke up around 1 am, in a full PSVT episode - heart racing and pounding, dizzy and lightheaded.  I quickly tried to bear down and push like a bowel movement (or pushing a baby out, for that matter) to get it to stop, but it didn't work.  I asked BDF to bring me a glass of ice water; most of the time chugging a glass of ice water is enough to make it stop.  (What that actually does is make your heart skip a beat, which then lets the heart reset itself and resume a normal rhythm.  It is the same effect that the medicines they give you in the hospital do - but in the hospital, it stops your heart for about a second.  Which.  Feels.  Like.  A.  Lifetime.  if you ever need it done - you're conscious when it happens.)  That didn't work.  I started to get a litle panicky, because although for me I could sit there all night like that (unpleasant, but doable), I had no idea what effect it would have on the baby.  And the baby wasn't moving.  Part of the dizziness is caused by the heart beating too fast to allow the chambers to fill up properly, so a slight amount of decreased oxygen is normal, and I didn't know if the baby was getting enough.  Me getting panicky caused BDF to get mad at me (like that helps), and I will spare the details but it caused a huge fight, all the while my heart is trying to leave my chest.  Fun!

BDF also got mad because he "couldn't figure out how I was snoring and making those damn noises at the same time."  Apparently I was trying to bear down to convert the episode while I was still asleep.  Good to know that my body was trying to take care of me even as it was malfunctioning.  BDF thought I was faking being asleep, though.  He kept asking questions, and I kept telling him "I DON'T KNOW - I WAS ASLEEP!!"  I guess I finally convinced him after I repeated myself 80 thousand times.

Finally, around 2 am as I was preparing to go to the ER, I gave the old ice water one more chance, and because I threatened my goofy heart with the ER, it worked.  I then drank some juice, and within 10 minutes Guppy was moving around like his normal active self.  So I went back to bed, since I already knew I had an appointment with the OB this morning.

BigDaddyFish apologized.

I had my old-fart test today, and the baby and I are just fine.  The OB said if I have another PSVT episode that lasts for around 3 hours, call the cardiologist.  He'll just say talk to the OB.  If it happens again, I'll make them call each other and fight it out, while I figure out how to make the baby come out.

My section is going to be scheduled the week of November 13, due to Little Man's issues at birth.  While the particular OB I saw today wasn't thrilled (and actually thinks I'm crazy) because he is worried about me going into labor and he doesn't want me to, he agreed to do the section on my terms.  Which is good, cause I'm pushy that way. 

So now we just wait.

And as a total non-sequitur, McDonald's just gave me a spoon --- to eat my salad.  With grilled chicken.  BigDaddyFish says I should cut slits in it to make a spork.

We Really DO Live in a Safe Neighborhood

Wednesday about 4 pm, Trout, Little Man and I left the house to take Trout to ballet, and for both of them to attend the sibling class at the hospital after ballet.  Trout had taken the sib class before Sunny was born, but Little Man wasn't old enough then.  With the issues he's been having about being worried that we won't love him anymore after the baby comes (which we are addressing), I figured the class might help him some, and Trout went along so he wouldn't feel too uncomfortable (he can get shy in new situations).

So, we're driving down our street, and we get maybe 1/2 mile, maybe, down the street when we are stopped in our tracks by the presence of about 5 police cars, all on our side of the road, parked in a semi circle with the yellow tape run between them.  There were about 10 officers walking around carefully, some talking on cell phones, some just looking around.  They were surrounding two cars parked on the side of the road that have been there for ages - months.  The cars weren't crashed, there were no new cars there, just those two, and the police skulking around looking....odd.  Unfortunately nobody was directing traffic, so it took us a good 10 minutes to get around the incident, as the middle school a block away had just let out for their post-school activities and there was a lot of traffic.  A little further down I saw a bunch of landscaping equipment, including one of those big, expensive mowers, scattered about AND COMPLETELY UNATTENDED.  Totally.  Super weird, which I know because BDF used to be a landscaper in his former life before kids.

We went on our way, went to ballet, went to the sib class (which the kids loved and during which I learned that Trout can swaddle a baby - I didn't know she knew how to do that, and she's gooooood at it - and that the hospital is building a new mother/baby unit that won't be ready til next summer - and that Little Man knows how to hold a baby properly and is really quite excited to be getting a little brother), and came home, about 7:30 pm.  The police cars were still there, though there weren't nearly so many cops lurking around.  They had moved the cars over a bit so traffic could get by.  I figured they had found a body.

Once again, I hate it when I'm right.

My neighbor has kids in the middle school, and had driven by the mess the day before, so she called the police and said hey, we parents have a right to know as soon as possible what was going on there yesterday and if we need to be concerned about our kids' safety, as the walking route for kids to come from the middle school to our townhouse development goes right by that area.  They told her the landscapers had found a body in one of the cars and it was under investigation.  She asked about when they would know what the cause of death was, because if it was foul play a lot of parents won't be letting their kids walk through there anymore.  They told her right now it didn't look like foul play, but that they would let her know.

So we wait.  The thing that gets me, though, is that the car they found the body in had been parked there for at least 2 months and never moved.  If a body had been there for 2 months, someone would have smelled it and found it before now.  So how did the body get there?  My neighbor's guess is that someone crawled in there and either died or committed suicide.  There are a handful of homeless people, who apparently want to stay that way despite our neighborhood's efforts to help them, who live down by the railroad tracks, which are about 50 feet or so from where the car was parked.  Maybe one of them crawled in the car to try and get warm or something (it's been on the colder side at night here lately) and then died. 

Stay tuned for further details as they arrive.

The First Time, Ever I Saw Your Face

As mentioned before, I am an Official Old Fart, so that means from here til I deliver I have to go down to the doctor for my Old Fart Test, otherwise known as a biophysical profile, where they check to make sure the baby is moving well, is making breathing movements, and that the cord isn't showing signs of being compressed, and they check my fluid levels.  Since this involves a sonogram, I always invite BigDaddyFish to come with me, but since this is baby #4, there is a certain amount of "Been there, done that" on his part.  Combine that with the fact that they always seem to be running late when he comes with me, and never when he doesn't, and you get the reason he doesn't come with me most of the time.  He didn't today, but he wishes he had.

I saw the baby's face.  Clearly.  Almost as good as a 3D ultrasound.

The U/S tech gave me pictures, but the resolution on them is so bad they look like a bad copy of The Scream that someone would put up as a scary Halloween decoration - just shadows, really.  But the resolution on the monitor there in the office was fantastic, and I got to see my little boy's face.

I'm even more in love than I was before.

I then saw the doctor, and after the initial Hi, How are ya small talk stuff, she says to me "Do you know what you are having this time?" I said oh, yeah, he's all boy.  She said "Well, I was gonna say, when I saw these latest pictures, there is no doubt - look at the size of that scrotum!" 

Yes, the OB was commenting on the size of my unborn son's package. 

BDF thought this as funny as I did.  The doctor and I discussed some other stuff, like the antibiotics I now have to take for my heart murmur, and we talked about the major swelling in my feet - they are so swollen now that they hurt.  She suggested compression stockings.

You'd think I'd come up with that one on my own, wouldn't ya?

So I go back next week, when I'll have the distinct joy of both having them look up my ancestors to do the Group B Strep culture, and getting a flu shot.  Fun!

After the visit I went to mall to get the compression stockings, and ended up getting a belly support belt and some nursing bras, too.  I actually got measured for my bra this time (I think it's been about oh, six years or so since I've been measured for that) and was quite astonished at the results.  I won't say what they are, but it is no wonder that I have back problems.  I bought two bras that are the most comfortable things I've ever tried on.  Now I just have to unpack the stuff we have here around the house, take inventory, and do a bunch of laundry.  Oh, yeah, and find someplace for him to sleep.

But I got to see the face of my unborn son.  Wow.

At Least it Wasn't IN the Store

Today I had to go to the grocery store, and the whole time I could feel the baby pressing/rubbing against the right side of my pelvis, really low.

I had just shut the tail gate after loading the groceries in the van when I sneezed.

1 large baby pressing low in pelvis + 1 strong sneeze = 1 wet FishyGirl

Yup, I peed myself.  Bad.  Didn't even know I had to go that bad.  Can't take myself anywhere.

It's gonna be a long day.