Friday, May 23, 2008


I'm trying to learn some compromise today. Like my contractions for instance---they come, they go, they peter out, they ramp up, they really never do a damn thing except annoy me. They strike me as compromise baby labour.

I have begun to snore excessively in the last month, so badly that I could wake the dead. My darling husband had tried to suffer through and get some sleep, sleep he badly needs, but he finally broke down and told me that I sound like a ripsaw working through cement. so we are sharing the bed a bit. He goes to bed early, gets a few hours of shut eye while I watch my fave late night tv, then I come up and disturb him for a while with my buzz saw nose, until he comes down and sleeps on the couch or surfs, or whatever.

Normally, I don't snore. Mr.Cotta, on the other hand has severe sleep apnea and for years snored badly then occasionally stopped breathing altogether for minutes at a time. I tried to get used to it, but couldn't, so I sent him off to a sleep clinic and he came back with a lovely CPAP machine that pretty much saved our marriage and definitely made his blood pressure go down, and his quality of life go up. I wish I had one now---but they don't give them to pregnant women, even temporarily for the last trimester. Silly thing, considering how much extra oxygen we'd get. Oh well....

More compromise; I went for a manicure and pedicure today after my shrink appointment where we discussed my birth plan. The mani/pedi was necessary in light of the fact that I cannot reach my own feet. And they look bad. I thought it would be nice for the nurses and docs who will be near my feet this weekend if said feet weren't too ugly looking. As of this afternoon, I have lovely pink polish on my rather ungainly feet. They may be larger than normal, but they are pretty.

I spoke to a service about hiring a nanny and we are interviewing someone tomorrow. Cue liberal white middle class guilt. Cue me not sure what to ask when we interview her....this is a good idea, but damn I'm inexperienced.

Mr.Cotta and I may have finally agreed on a name, it only took nine months. And more compromise than the Palestine-Israeli peace talks, and no I'm actually not kidding. He wants to name the baby after his Dad, and I'm like, meh.....for a dozen different reasons. He is the only one who likes the name. His family will go apeshit. It's old-fashioned. I think he has difficult associations with the name because of his complicated relationship with his Dad. Anyway, in the end, he has worn me down. I had a name I was set on for a girl, but I had no names set aside for boys---that will teach me, I assumed infertility would win, and I never planned a name, cause after all, there was never going to be a baby, right? (Hint to all of you: plan this out ahead of time....just in case the stick turns pink.)

And the shrink appointment? You'd be so proud of me---I wrote up my birth plan sans snark and we reviewed it and when she and her little assistant said insulting things, I didn't even roll my eyes or tell her to stuff it, nothing. I found a polite way to compromise; I told her she was wrong, politely and proved it. And she backed down. I reeeaaaallly wanted to walk out, especially after the time she implied that when I choked on my own vomit that I hadn't choked on real vomit, but instead had a panic attack and perhaps we could use some psychological technique to make sure I could breathe. I and silently vowed that I was going to find a new therapist, then calmly explained that the ambulance attendants had detected liquid in my bronchial tubes and lungs and had cleared maybe we could move on. She kept trying to insist that there must be some way that I could calmly relax and breathe, and I kept explaining that it was mechanical, a function of a large baby and a short mother; that humans can't breathe liquid....which is when she backed down.

I swear I have so many bad doctor stories, I could fill an entire blog....oh yeah, I already DID. hahahahahahahhahahahahahha


Today is happy compromise day. Friday and Saturday are get more stuff done day, on my big long list. I'll keep you posted.


  1. I am on the edge of my seat, ready to cheer you on.

    I can't imagine.

  2. It was very restrained of you to not smack anyone at your appointment. VERY.

    I'm sure your feet are absolutely lovely!

  3. I actually have your induction marked on my calendar!! Looking forward to hearing what the name is!

    One of dh's cousins swears by those Breathe-Right nose strips. They look ridiculous, but might be worth a try.

  4. At the risk of irritating a very pregnant woman, can I ask why you talk to someone who's opinion you don't value? Please ignore me if you don't want to answer.

  5. It's kind of a long story, but I used to have a decent therapist, and then my program time ran out and I was not allowed to see her anymore.

    So I started seeing this doctor, and she does irritate me, but she also writes prescriptions for things that I need, and doesn't give me all that crap about pregnant women should not ever take a drug...

    It is very very hard to find to good therapist in Toronto who can do talk therapy and prescribe.

    It is also literally impossible to find a Doctor who is trained in treating bereaved moms....a few years back I was lobbying for a bereaved parents group and met some people from CAMH. I asked them if they had any experts who could back our cause, which is helpful when lobbying. Turned out that there is literally not one doctor they know of who specializes in perinatal grief issues and the aftermath of subsequent pregnancies.

    Add in the ADD and I'm shocked I found a good therapist ever.

    In the end, I get a hell of a lot more out of blogging than any therapist I've ever met.

  6. And don't worry, I don't get irritated by any of you guys...truly. It is a good question.

  7. sometimes the complete - or at least apparent - dearth of decent therapists, especially those dealing with grief, makes me wonder if some of us shouldn't consider a bloody career change and do it ourselves. but then i looked into counselling courses at the local university - heck i was willing to go back to undergrad for a few classes - and nope, there are none. sigh.

    thinking of you these days.

  8. I'm getting excited for you!!!