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April 11th, 2006
01:55 pm - Extremely late birth report
I had a boy! On Feb 22, after about 9 hours of labor. Here's the story:
(reposted from a Usenet post. Definitions: DS=dear son, MIL=mother-in-law, SIL=sister-in-law, DH=dear husband)
This kid must have a great destiny, I tell ya, cuz life sure threw up plenty of obstacles.
I do usenet a lot, and did multiple posts about how miserable a "close enough" diagnosis of gestational diabetes was making me. I spent the last month or so of the pregnancy with NO energy: literally, walking a couple blocks was a triumph. Additionally, I hadn't been getting more than 2 hours of sleep at a stretch, with usually a total of 5 hours per 36 hour period. Well, no matter how emphatically I told him to get out, it seemed like the demon fetus wasn't moving. So, out of exhaustion, I agreed to be induced on last Wednesday, when I would be 40 weeks, 3 days. One doctor out of three (the one I saw most often) was concerned that he was going to be a very big baby - the other two were unimpressed. The luck of the draw meant I would be induced under the care of the worried doc.
Leading up to the induction date, I was hoping he'd move on his own, but skeptical. In the meantime, my other son had developed a cough, which we thought was just allergy-related since he didn't really have any other symptoms. Then on Saturday, I started coughing, too. Great, I thought, I get to be even more run down.
On the Monday before the induction, we decided to visit Grandma in Berkeley. Due to a snafu with paperwork, our car, while registered, did not have the stickers. So we came out of our visit to find it in the process of being towed. By the UC police, of all things. They let us get everything, and we borrowed Gramma's car to get home. Monday evening, DS1 complained of a terrible earache, and I suspected an ear infection (his first!). On Tuesday, while DS1 was at school, we went to Berkeley and spent the day and a substantial amount of cash getting the car back. After school, DS1 had his urgent care appointment, where the Dr. said not only did he have an ear infection, he had walking pneumonia! So after all our weeks of planning things for him to do while waiting, he wouldn't be allowed anywhere near the hospital. Fooey.
Some scrambling resulted in a plan for Grandma and Auntie (MIL & SIL) to sit for the sick boy at home, while Mom & Dad were at the hospital. Wednesday morning, according to plan, with Auntie fixing breakfast for DS1, we set out.
We got to the hospital at 8 AM, and I was immediately shown my room, asked to strip (hospital gowns suck), and met my nurse. I gave my instructions: No epidural, because I'm scared of needles anywhere near my spinal column, and no artificial nipples. She was wonderful, but failed twice trying to get the IV in. Oh well. It was accomplished with some help. We jumped right in with the pitocin. Due to being positive for Strep B with DS1, I also got antibiotics. Not, unfortunately, a kind that helped my lungs. Oh well, again.
Next was a fairly uneventful, downright boring stretch. Contractions progressed, but fairly unnoticed by me, and every time they checked for dilation, he was high enough that I now know for sure that I don't like fisting (very uncomfortable!) Deciding that it was gonna be boring for a while, yet, I sent DH home for a bit in the late AM, to check on DS1, and see how he was getting along with Auntie. He got back a bit after lunch, and the contractions were starting to get bad. Shortly after, I asked for some IV pain medicine. BAD IDEA. They gave me Stadol and some anti-nausea stuff, and I dunno if it was one, the other, or the combo, but it was the most unpleasant experience. It was like very high-speed dreaming, with an ongoing awareness of where I was, and a background sense of the developing contractions. Never again.
By the time it wore off, the contractions were really going, I was whining pathetically, and fighting to get up off the bed. They couldn't get all the monitors, etc., unplugged fast enough for me at one point, and that's when I turned the corner to being really irritated with all of 'em. I spent a while standing up, leaning on the bed, with DH applying cooling cloths.
When I couldn't take it any more, I announced that it was time to push. They wanted to check me again, which I countermanded - nope, we're going now. I couldn't bear the thought of anything going inwards right then. Then comes a long blurry stretch of people saying irritating platitudes. DH was wonderful, though - he kept up with the cool cloths, and, for some reason, holding his hand on my forehead so I could push against it.
After FOREVER of people chanting "One more, almost there," and DS2 playing peekaboo, I knew I really didn't have much more reserves of strength. I asked for an episiotomy. The Doc seemed surprised, but complied. DS2 came out shortly after that, to exclamations of "Oh, that's a big baby!" DH says that he had thought when I asked that the snip was unnecessary, but immediately changed his mind when he saw the little man. Labor wrapped up pretty quickly after that.
He pee'd on the nurse during his first check, setting a precedent he has kept to. We got out of the hospital on the evening of the next day, and DS1 was delighted to finally meet him. DS1 has been an excellent big brother, so far.
His name is Harry Daniel, he was 9 lbs. 5 oz., 21 inches when born, and was back to his birth weight by Monday.
He gave us a bit of a scare over the weekend: a bad latch and a Mommy too tired to deal with owie nursing had gotten him a little dehydrated, with an almost 101 deg fever. We went ahead and got supplies to supplement with formula for a while, and his fever came down, weight came up. Now that my milk is in, he's nursing well (still owie, though, tho' I know that's normal).
He's beautiful. He looks almost exactly like his brother at that age, though he does have some crazy big earlobes. As for me, I feel so much better now that he's out, I can almost forget about stitches, fluid on the lungs, and not being able to put him down long enough to eat [grin]. DH put pictures up on his blog, here:
http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=12923926&blogID=90914545&MyToken=6fbd8d44-9262-470a-89ff-25e823ad656a
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January 29th, 2006
01:13 am - More pregnancy notes
So, in the litany of woes I forgot the fact that with pregnancy, when I sit down to pee, it's like someone has their thumb over the end of the hose - it goes everywhere. Sick of it.
I've been posting on a pregnancy usenet group, and mostly reading, and I have to get this off my chest.
While freely admitting to being a total hippie about childrearing - breastfeeding in public, cloth diapers, co-sleeping, etc., in regards to the actual getting the kid out and here (ie: labor and delivery) I am SO NOT in ANY WAY a natural mother.
Childbirth without drugs is to be considered only if you can't get to the hospital in time. Home birth seems gross and germy. I have no desire to see the baby coming out of me so you can get rid of that fuckin mirror, and really I don't much want to touch it until it's been wiped off. I don't need a huge support cadre of family and friends there, and in fact will probably ask them to bugger off if they show up. If I see a video camera I WILL snatch it and smash it on the floor. I'll pass on the epidural, but that's only cuz I like my spinal column the way it is, thank you.
Episiotimy and Induction both suck, I don't want to do either of those again.
Oh, ok, here's one way I'm an earth mother. I fully plan on not lying down for as long as possible. Flat on the back seems counter-intutive, y'know, since the kid is definitely going only one way, why don't we try to facilitate that as much as possible, instead of making him go uphill?
I don't think of childbirth as beautiful, spiritual, emotional, or any of that sparkly-lights crap.
Here's what I equate the delivery process to: barfing for four hours after you've drunk too much. It's messy, it's miserable, it's incredibly intimate and personal, your body is doing something that is beyond your control to stop, and you basically just have to get through it. I don't need spectators, or a record of the experience to go over later. I just want someone there who loves me, to hold my hair.
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January 6th, 2006
07:25 pm - Pregnant - forgot to tell ya.
Some background: Due to give birth to a boy on Feb. 19, 2006. Course that's just a made-up number, we all know that. Failed my 3 hr glucose test about a month and a half ago, was diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes, and immediately started taking more care with my diet, especially cut out refined sugar (meaning 2-3 sodas a day and the equivalent of four Reese's cups a day), still get very little exercise, tho', too tired. Husband works far away with a long commute so he leaves an hour and a half before me and first boy wake, and gets home at 6 or later, sometimes just in time to put the boy to bed. Thank goodness the boy is in school, and I can nap all day, cuz that's what I usually do...
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My litany of woe
Ants all over the bedroom, including the bed.
When I can lie down, I can't sleep - I get instant heartburn, no position is remotely comfortable, and the demon fetus starts dancing as soon as I'm horizontal.
Can't sit comfortably anywhere, except sprawled like a fat bastard on the couch.
Got NO clothes that fit - I'm tired of my pants' crotches rubbing between my thighs.
Aside from the exhaustion from not sleeping, I am completely exhausted from the GD to the degree that lifting my arms is a challenge. Plus, no comfort food.
So, my filthy sty of a house is not getting cleaned, no preparation is being made for the baby, and the room where I am planning to have my newest, most vulnerable member of my family sleep is full of ants!
And I'm scaring my other boy by alternately screaming at him and crying.
Don't know how to drive, so I can't even get myself to the store to buy some damn milk.
Feeling guilty that husband has started sleeping on the couch, cuz I finally told him that the snoring keeps me awake.
Can't get anything done about shopping for the baby - no carseat, no strollers, no decision on cosleeper or crib, haven't gone through leftover clothes to see what we need and don't...haven't gotten any commitment from the man on diaper service or home washing so will probably end up bringing home a newborn in disposables....No moving/rearranging furniture to get baby supplies organized. Haven't dug old play yard/carriers/high chair out of garage and chased out the black widows....
Laundry piled everywhere, dishes barely at the maintenance level, and been so long since we vacuumed upstairs I literally don't remember when it was. Maybe never since we moved in, for all I know. The boy spilled milk all over the kitchen a couple weeks ago, must have done a good clean-up job because hubby still hasn't mopped and I don't see a big spot.
Feel like shit!
I know I need to eat frequently, and carefully. But my body's so wonky I don't have any clear hunger signals at all. And I'm so exhausted that all I want to do is sleep, much less fix myself 4-6 healthy meals a day while keeping track of carbs, proteins, etc., plus breakfast for the boy in the morning and dinner for the family in the eve. When I really feel like I can barely scrape myself off the floor.
Plus, still stuck in the feeling of utter captivity that has developed in the six years since gainful employment - my brain has atrophied, I am so bored that I wanna just run away, and feel like there's no way I'm ever going to get out of this trap.
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June 29th, 2005
02:07 pm - The thing I fucking hate about bloggers
And especially FUCKING XANGA (die! die! die!)
As it says on my website:
When you link to someone's site, instead of saving a picture to your own space on the web and linking to it there, it's not just RUDE, it:
1) Uses up that person's bandwidth - how much kilobytes of transfer happens in connection with that site - WHICH MANY PEOPLE PAY FOR!!!!
2) Many peole have limits on how much bandwidth per month, and when that limit is exceeded, their site is shut down for the rest of the month!!!
Which makes the perpetrator a dick!!!
AND - Xanga is the freaking worst, since they say, in their FAQ, and I quote:
"How do I get a background image on my site, without having to get Xanga Premium?
First, find the site that has the background that you'd like to use. If the site isn't yours, be sure to ask permission first!
Now get the address of the background image (also known as the URL). It should begin with: http://, and probably end in either jpg or gif.
Now, put the URL of the background image in your Look and Feel editor (in the section called "Background Image"):"
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Hi - can I have permission to cost you money and maybe get your site shut down for a month or more?
NO!
Right now I have a list of about 5 journals/blogs/pages whatever that are going to open up their site, and instead of finding the picture of the lion, or the mandala, or whatever, they're gonna see
"Hi - I'm a clueless fuck who knows nothing about how the internet works, and feels perfectly comfortable in stealing and being a general shit to other people...." And then maybe an explanation of why it happened, or maybe just a link to this rant.
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On a related note - for some reason the Aslan picture's very popular right now......
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Follow-up note: one of the chicks currently ripping me off, on Myspace, I am seriously debating mentioning in my initial "please cut it out" email my observation that every time I open her page, her banner ad is about Herpes or some other STD. I'm wondering if they target the advertising, based on keywords in entries, and if so, how often she might use those keywords... Oh, I know, petty.....
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June 10th, 2005
11:55 am - I am fucking pissed off
I fucking hate everyone. Except my kid.
Target the first: Husband - I went to bed at about 7:30 last night. He apparently got the kid to bed at 9-ish. So he spent from 9 to 1:30 screwing around, because when I got up this morning, no chores were done, at all. I'd really love to have a guy who would be willing to spend a half-hour taking out trash or washing dishes, sometime during the week, without being nagged. Cuz even when I DO nag, it still usually takes a week. I'm unplugging his computer.
All the other bastards:
The kids and employees at my kid's school - what a huge bunch of stinky, pus-dripping dicks!
Lunch room lady - a surlier cunt you couldn't hope to find, god forbid you should ask a question.
Principal - we passed him going into the cafeteria today - he said "Hey, I haven't seen you in a while, have you been here?" I know he probably meant that we haven't passed in the halls or hollered good morning at him, but the subtext, whether he knows it or not, is, "Hey, I haven't heard about you screwing up, and I didn't think that was possible! You must have been absent!"
His teacher - finally came out and used the "hyperactive" word. Lady, I don't care how long you've been teaching - it's not possible to make that kind of judgement for a kindergarten kid. Not to mention, the very day she said that, he came home and spent a half-hour trying to figure out how to play my rated T strategy video game, not moving anything but the mouse. YOU JUST BORE HIM TO TEARS, IS THE PROBLEM.
The gang of lil' bastards - The main shithead kid - god I literally want to fucking slap the shit out of him. Today, he got to school late, arriving as I was leaving, and I heard him say, "Well, I don't want to put my backpack over there with the girls and Zachariah." I hope he's got some kind of plague. This little shit just lives for pushing Zach down and jumping on him. And teasing him that "no one will come to your birthday party" and teasing him about anything else he can think of. I really wanna hurt that little shit. I have started a new policy, just for this gang of mini-dicks - I'm bringing Zach a popsicle everyday at the end of school, til school ends. AND NONE FOR THEM!! It's very low-grade, but it's revenge, none the less.
Y'know what else I hate? People who have a plan, that somehow involves me, or that I have some kind of effect on, that don't fucking tell me about it. Fuck you, I'm not psychic, you need something, you need to tell me about it.
Ok, so it's not totally poopy:
Y'know what I love?
I love bacon.
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