Can you guess what this unidentified object is?
It makes you bleed like a mofo.
It is the size of a grapefruit.
It is unsightly and will disfigure various parts of your body.
It is painful. (back, pelvis, intestines, bladder, etc....)
It is almost impossible to get rid of.
Anyone?
Anyone?
-
-
-
-
-
-
IT'S FREDDIE!!!!!
He's baaaacckkkkkkk.
Fred the Fibroid, doncha know? And his bromance Voldemort!
Both subserosal, one possibly intramural/subserosal, both painful as hell when poked with a transvaginal ultrasound.
Especially when the ultrasound tech is so obsessed with seeing Obama's inauguration live that she keeps leaving the room go to the "other room", (really, the staff lounge) to "check something". Meanwhile, I am on the exam table, half naked, with a probe up my cooter wondering where the feck she has gone?!?
She was much more attentive after his speech was finished. I know you were all entranced by it, but long speeches are difficult to tolerate when you are on a cold table with your feet in the stirrups and your ladyparts are swinging in the wind.
I felt every moment of those 18 minutes. Truly.
Anyway, Dr.J. will hopefully have some solutions. But I am kind of scared of those solutions, because really, surgery just never turns out well for me. It's that whole death thing....I'm just not sure how many more lives I have to risk.
It's kind of, well, a nightmare.
Showing posts with label Humour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Humour. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Heroes with clay feet
So some of you may not have ever really read anything by my heroes. You know how much I admire Dr.Suess, aka Theodore Geisel. Well, he is lovely, but he isn't the subject today.
Today we're going to talk about the funny ladies of the world. Specifically the moms. Erma Bombeck is a woman I have always deeply admired. She and her compatriots in comedy, made it okay to laugh about being a mom and a wife, and not just a stepford clone. We could tell the world about yelling at our kids and chill about it, and no one minded. Hell, most of them got journalism awards and Emmies. I am pretty damn sure that when Erma wrote,"Being a child at home alone in the summer is a high-risk occupation. If you call your mother at work thirteen times an hour, she can hurt you," that no one called the police. In fact, I'll bet that was published in her weekly column and repeated on network television on Good Morning America, and guess what? No one even freaked on her and called Children's Aid. Like twenty years before blogs were invented, and everything!
What's that you say? Oh, that she wasn't infertile, she didn't realize how preshuuss her kids were and that's why she made fun of them?! Yeah, except that she was infertile, and her first child, a daughter, was adopted after they got the news, and her next two boys came as a surprise to her fertility doctor. And her I'm betting.
And she still wrote, "Children should be judged on what they are - a punishment for an early marriage."
But she was sane, right? She didn't have ADD like me, or bipolar illness like certain other moms, or post-partum depression. Weeeellll, except that actually she did have post-partum depression, and way back in the seventies, when nobody on earth was talking about it, she wrote a book on it. Here are some more bits of her writing I like. You should definitely read page 18. Honestly, it's like a manual for mommyblogging. Frankly, that exact column, "Motherhood - Love and Laughter" is the reason I blog. Because if I wasn't making fun of them, I would lose my fucking mind as I flush yet another toilet full of shit, that some mysterious almost teenage boy forgot to dispose of on his own. (You know how you think that when they are toilet trained, you are done dealing with their poop? Nope... every.damn.day.)
(Did I mention that I like to swear?)
(Fuckin A alright baby!)
It really does make me sad that we just don't seem to have that kind of humour nowadays. Everyone seems just so determined to be the perfect professional parent that no one is allowed to make a joke unless it involves puppies or kittens, or muffin recipes. I tried to talk about how I gave ground up adult food to the baby and was just being a whatever mom about feeding the kid, and I discover that you overanxious new mommies have given it a bloody name? And there are books, to take all the slacker fun out of it? Helllooo? What's next? I'm afraid to even guess.... Someday Sarah Silverman will have babies, and please God I pray that she makes fun of her kids and makes videos ridiculing them! Please? Please God?
I love Carol Burnett, and Lucille Ball, and Lily Tomlin, Bette Midler, Roseanne Barr, Gilda Radner, Brett Butler, Jennifer Saunders, and Dawn French. And lots of them made jokes about wanting to strangle their children and yell at them, and guess what? Not only did they rarely get scolded, and certainly no one on the planet ever accused them of abuse, but surprise, they got PAID for it.
Just like a lot of mommybloggers do.
Gee whiz.
In all seriousness, if there is anyone in the blogosphere who does not know what I am referring to, just go here and here. I agree with Tertia and Cecily on this one as you might have guessed. I am not linking to the original woman involved, because she wants the linking to end, but I do support her and hope she is okay. And I wrote this, because I wanted her to know that she didn't need to apologize to me or anyone else, IMHO. Erma never did, so fuck em all.
As a former abuse victim, I get why some people think they need to act, but guess what asshole, you need to act when you see a child actually being abused, not when you see a random writer on the net making a joke.
But I know what you are thinking, better safe than sorry, cause hey, what about the children?
Actually they do better if they stay with their parents, even abusive ones. Concern trolling is not helpful.
Yes, yes, you are not convinced, well, let's link to The Goudge Inquiry Report. There was yet another case filed today for yet another wrongful conviction of an innocent man who disgraced pathologist Charles Smith sent to jail. The man was grieving, in total agony, and he was arrested and told that he must have killed the baby, since well, you know, babies hardly ever die on their own. Dr. Charles Smith was kind of a concern troll in a way. He assumed that if a baby died, someone must be to blame, and he was going to punish them. Any and all off-handed remarks were evidence of a killer's heart. He made up the rest from there. No, that isn't a misprint. He made up all the forensic evidence, and hid anything that would exonerate the parents.
(Did I ever mention that he tesitified all over the US? And that he admitted to making up that stuff as well? And that all over the US there are likely innocent people in jail? Maybe some of the lawyers/prosecutors reading my post might want to do a search on their records. Just in case.)
In too many cases to count, on little more than the say so of gossip, with very little forensic evidence, the grieving innocent parents were sent to jail, and their remaining children adopted out, and never ever told that their parents were forced to give them up. When the parents got out of jail, their fertility was monitored, and if they got pregnant, they were forced to either have an abortion or give the new baby up at birth.
These children's lives have been destroyed, and their parents lives were destroyed, because no one cared about actual evidence of abuse. Instead, they felt like being, you know, "better safe than sorry."
Seriously, to the grieving moms out there, if, after your baby was stillborn, or died of SIDS, or pneumonia, or heart failure, you were arrested, and called a murderer, and sent to jail, and your older kids were taken away and adopted out to possibly abusive foster parents, and you were never allowed to have another living child again; what would you do?
And if it was because of a nosy neighbour, or a tweet, or bit of gossip, or a blog, would that make it okay, cause it was better to be judgemental and safe than sorry?
I don't think so.
I'm letting Erma have the last word.
There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt.
Today we're going to talk about the funny ladies of the world. Specifically the moms. Erma Bombeck is a woman I have always deeply admired. She and her compatriots in comedy, made it okay to laugh about being a mom and a wife, and not just a stepford clone. We could tell the world about yelling at our kids and chill about it, and no one minded. Hell, most of them got journalism awards and Emmies. I am pretty damn sure that when Erma wrote,"Being a child at home alone in the summer is a high-risk occupation. If you call your mother at work thirteen times an hour, she can hurt you," that no one called the police. In fact, I'll bet that was published in her weekly column and repeated on network television on Good Morning America, and guess what? No one even freaked on her and called Children's Aid. Like twenty years before blogs were invented, and everything!
What's that you say? Oh, that she wasn't infertile, she didn't realize how preshuuss her kids were and that's why she made fun of them?! Yeah, except that she was infertile, and her first child, a daughter, was adopted after they got the news, and her next two boys came as a surprise to her fertility doctor. And her I'm betting.
And she still wrote, "Children should be judged on what they are - a punishment for an early marriage."
But she was sane, right? She didn't have ADD like me, or bipolar illness like certain other moms, or post-partum depression. Weeeellll, except that actually she did have post-partum depression, and way back in the seventies, when nobody on earth was talking about it, she wrote a book on it. Here are some more bits of her writing I like. You should definitely read page 18. Honestly, it's like a manual for mommyblogging. Frankly, that exact column, "Motherhood - Love and Laughter" is the reason I blog. Because if I wasn't making fun of them, I would lose my fucking mind as I flush yet another toilet full of shit, that some mysterious almost teenage boy forgot to dispose of on his own. (You know how you think that when they are toilet trained, you are done dealing with their poop? Nope... every.damn.day.)
(Did I mention that I like to swear?)
(Fuckin A alright baby!)
It really does make me sad that we just don't seem to have that kind of humour nowadays. Everyone seems just so determined to be the perfect professional parent that no one is allowed to make a joke unless it involves puppies or kittens, or muffin recipes. I tried to talk about how I gave ground up adult food to the baby and was just being a whatever mom about feeding the kid, and I discover that you overanxious new mommies have given it a bloody name? And there are books, to take all the slacker fun out of it? Helllooo? What's next? I'm afraid to even guess.... Someday Sarah Silverman will have babies, and please God I pray that she makes fun of her kids and makes videos ridiculing them! Please? Please God?
I love Carol Burnett, and Lucille Ball, and Lily Tomlin, Bette Midler, Roseanne Barr, Gilda Radner, Brett Butler, Jennifer Saunders, and Dawn French. And lots of them made jokes about wanting to strangle their children and yell at them, and guess what? Not only did they rarely get scolded, and certainly no one on the planet ever accused them of abuse, but surprise, they got PAID for it.
Just like a lot of mommybloggers do.
Gee whiz.
In all seriousness, if there is anyone in the blogosphere who does not know what I am referring to, just go here and here. I agree with Tertia and Cecily on this one as you might have guessed. I am not linking to the original woman involved, because she wants the linking to end, but I do support her and hope she is okay. And I wrote this, because I wanted her to know that she didn't need to apologize to me or anyone else, IMHO. Erma never did, so fuck em all.
As a former abuse victim, I get why some people think they need to act, but guess what asshole, you need to act when you see a child actually being abused, not when you see a random writer on the net making a joke.
But I know what you are thinking, better safe than sorry, cause hey, what about the children?
Actually they do better if they stay with their parents, even abusive ones. Concern trolling is not helpful.
Yes, yes, you are not convinced, well, let's link to The Goudge Inquiry Report. There was yet another case filed today for yet another wrongful conviction of an innocent man who disgraced pathologist Charles Smith sent to jail. The man was grieving, in total agony, and he was arrested and told that he must have killed the baby, since well, you know, babies hardly ever die on their own. Dr. Charles Smith was kind of a concern troll in a way. He assumed that if a baby died, someone must be to blame, and he was going to punish them. Any and all off-handed remarks were evidence of a killer's heart. He made up the rest from there. No, that isn't a misprint. He made up all the forensic evidence, and hid anything that would exonerate the parents.
(Did I ever mention that he tesitified all over the US? And that he admitted to making up that stuff as well? And that all over the US there are likely innocent people in jail? Maybe some of the lawyers/prosecutors reading my post might want to do a search on their records. Just in case.)
In too many cases to count, on little more than the say so of gossip, with very little forensic evidence, the grieving innocent parents were sent to jail, and their remaining children adopted out, and never ever told that their parents were forced to give them up. When the parents got out of jail, their fertility was monitored, and if they got pregnant, they were forced to either have an abortion or give the new baby up at birth.
These children's lives have been destroyed, and their parents lives were destroyed, because no one cared about actual evidence of abuse. Instead, they felt like being, you know, "better safe than sorry."
Seriously, to the grieving moms out there, if, after your baby was stillborn, or died of SIDS, or pneumonia, or heart failure, you were arrested, and called a murderer, and sent to jail, and your older kids were taken away and adopted out to possibly abusive foster parents, and you were never allowed to have another living child again; what would you do?
And if it was because of a nosy neighbour, or a tweet, or bit of gossip, or a blog, would that make it okay, cause it was better to be judgemental and safe than sorry?
I don't think so.
I'm letting Erma have the last word.
There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
huh?
Someone actually found this blog using the Google search term "small octopus inside vagina".
Ummm, errr, ummm,
No, just no.
speechless here
Ummm, errr, ummm,
No, just no.
speechless here
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Shrinky-dinks
Why I'll never get elected to public office:
Scene: I'm at the psychologists office waiting for the kids to finish their psychoeducational testing. They are busy sitting in front of computer screens and writing and drawing.
From: Aurelia
Sent Using: Peer-to-Peer
Message status:delivered
To: Mr.Cotta
This questionnaire is so long there is no way I can do it all here. I'll have to fill it all out tonight so you will be able to see it as well.
Remind me again, which one sets fires? And is it the other kid who tortures small animals or is that the same one?
From: Mr.Cotta
Sent Using: Peer-to-Peer
Message status:delivered
To: Aurelia
(grin) I'm sure you are having fun!
From: Aurelia
Sent Using: Peer-to-Peer
Message status:delivered
To: Mr.Cotta
Of course you know raising wounded geniuses are my ultimate life goal. This place makes me wet baby.
Now tell me honestly. What's wrong with a little dark humour to relieve the tension when you are quaking in fear that your child will turn out to be damaged in some way?
Scene: I'm at the psychologists office waiting for the kids to finish their psychoeducational testing. They are busy sitting in front of computer screens and writing and drawing.
From: Aurelia
Sent Using: Peer-to-Peer
Message status:delivered
To: Mr.Cotta
This questionnaire is so long there is no way I can do it all here. I'll have to fill it all out tonight so you will be able to see it as well.
Remind me again, which one sets fires? And is it the other kid who tortures small animals or is that the same one?
From: Mr.Cotta
Sent Using: Peer-to-Peer
Message status:delivered
To: Aurelia
(grin) I'm sure you are having fun!
From: Aurelia
Sent Using: Peer-to-Peer
Message status:delivered
To: Mr.Cotta
Of course you know raising wounded geniuses are my ultimate life goal. This place makes me wet baby.
Now tell me honestly. What's wrong with a little dark humour to relieve the tension when you are quaking in fear that your child will turn out to be damaged in some way?
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
So far behind...
I am so far behind I will never catch up. And now I will have to make ice cream for all of you!?!?!
No dammit, I refuse. I have my limits. Luckily I can afford to say no, but what about poor women?
I can see it now---the new workfare.
No dammit, I refuse. I have my limits. Luckily I can afford to say no, but what about poor women?
I can see it now---the new workfare.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
yep, we're alive
I've had a very very long week, mostly punctuated by the pain of a UTI, and a fundraiser I worked on, essentially my last hurrah.
Since Monday night, I've been trying to catch up on my sleep, tossing and turning all night and napping during the day, complete with drooling on my couch pillows (soooo classy) and feeling like a fog has descended upon my head.
Good thing: we raised a lot of money and everyone praised my hard work to the skies.
Bad thing: some stranger was a stinker and stole an entire bag of tools (hammers, screwdriver set, etc....) that I had brought from home, along with all of our supplies for next year's fundraiser. Not expensive to replace, maybe a couple of hundred bucks, but still, I'm feeling grumpy about it. I don't feel like shopping to replace it all right now, and I'm also the kind of person who hates it if someone steals even a stick of gum from me. Petty, I know I need to let this go. I would gladly give someone whatever they need, they just need to ask....but fuck I hate thieves.
Anyway, feeling grumpy now, so here we are 35 weeks + and according to various friends who have been pregnant and would know---the baby has dropped, and I look very different. It's supposed to be a relief, and make it easy to breathe, but it doesn't feel like it. I am panting loudly at dinner and sound ridiculous, plus I snore at night insanely. ( I think I look like a golden retriever at dinner every night...am so elegant.) The pressure on my bladder is getting worse, what with the giant baby head pushing on it and the UTI and the crazy pants they have for pregnant women these days. (What insane person thought that a tight elastic band running directly across the pregnant bladder or a tight band of fabric in the same place then attached to a giant elastic tummy covering was so fucking brilliant?) Has no one ever heard of loose and roomy? Sigh....meanwhile I look oddly flatter and lower and keep waking up in terror that the baby has shrunk. I know it hasn't but still--so odd.
At this weeks OB appointment, my urine was normal, but my hands and feet are swollen, and my BP was 120/62, not great on the upper part, I'm hoping that treating the UTI and getting some more naps will help.
One of my many male in-laws is trying to be supportive but feels very awkward about my pregnancy and keeps telling me stories about his pregnant mare and comparing me to yes, you guessed it, a horse. He is normally very erudite, very intelligent, very articulate, and very kind. He is Mr.Cotta's closest relative. He is also driving me insane. Why are men so awkward about pregnancy?
I've had so many odd comments from guys, and a couple of male friends who just act funny....like the guy who pointed and asked if my stomach size was an aberration, or the guy who said that this fundraiser must be a great way to distract myself from sitting around and staring at pictures of little footprints. *eyeroll*
I give up on this shit, I really do. Grieving mothers don't just sit around mooning all day at mementoes of our babies. Sometimes I look at them, but pretty rarely. Mostly on special anniversaries, otherwise it all stays put away. But, I guess to him, we must be the freaks of the world. Personally, I think he's the freak, for saying something so idiotic in a casual conversation, but maybe I'm just being too sensitive?
The women have been nice, especially a couple who kept telling me that I don't even look pregnant from behind, and that I only look pregnant in the front. Several gushed, very good for my ego. I knew it was crap, because I can look in a mirror and I know what back fat is....but who cares, I'm happy to accept the compliments, right?
I just find it bizarre that the only men who have said nice things to me in months, have been a security guard who told me I look lovely, and several gay men who told me I was glowing with joy, and like a walking ad for pregnancy. Made me blush! Eh, I should add Mac to this list as well, because he has been so cute and so nice to me. He keeps telling me I look beautiful and hugging and kissing my stomach. His older brother---ahem, could use some lessons in this area.
Anyway, next task is to finish buying/ordering stuff for the baby's room. At this point almost nothing will arrive before the baby is born, but I should at least order it all, and get the carseat and a few other things. I really do have to get myself in gear on this, never mind all the items needing repair all around the house. Of course, it's hard to repair all of that when I have no tools....
Since Monday night, I've been trying to catch up on my sleep, tossing and turning all night and napping during the day, complete with drooling on my couch pillows (soooo classy) and feeling like a fog has descended upon my head.
Good thing: we raised a lot of money and everyone praised my hard work to the skies.
Bad thing: some stranger was a stinker and stole an entire bag of tools (hammers, screwdriver set, etc....) that I had brought from home, along with all of our supplies for next year's fundraiser. Not expensive to replace, maybe a couple of hundred bucks, but still, I'm feeling grumpy about it. I don't feel like shopping to replace it all right now, and I'm also the kind of person who hates it if someone steals even a stick of gum from me. Petty, I know I need to let this go. I would gladly give someone whatever they need, they just need to ask....but fuck I hate thieves.
Anyway, feeling grumpy now, so here we are 35 weeks + and according to various friends who have been pregnant and would know---the baby has dropped, and I look very different. It's supposed to be a relief, and make it easy to breathe, but it doesn't feel like it. I am panting loudly at dinner and sound ridiculous, plus I snore at night insanely. ( I think I look like a golden retriever at dinner every night...am so elegant.) The pressure on my bladder is getting worse, what with the giant baby head pushing on it and the UTI and the crazy pants they have for pregnant women these days. (What insane person thought that a tight elastic band running directly across the pregnant bladder or a tight band of fabric in the same place then attached to a giant elastic tummy covering was so fucking brilliant?) Has no one ever heard of loose and roomy? Sigh....meanwhile I look oddly flatter and lower and keep waking up in terror that the baby has shrunk. I know it hasn't but still--so odd.
At this weeks OB appointment, my urine was normal, but my hands and feet are swollen, and my BP was 120/62, not great on the upper part, I'm hoping that treating the UTI and getting some more naps will help.
One of my many male in-laws is trying to be supportive but feels very awkward about my pregnancy and keeps telling me stories about his pregnant mare and comparing me to yes, you guessed it, a horse. He is normally very erudite, very intelligent, very articulate, and very kind. He is Mr.Cotta's closest relative. He is also driving me insane. Why are men so awkward about pregnancy?
I've had so many odd comments from guys, and a couple of male friends who just act funny....like the guy who pointed and asked if my stomach size was an aberration, or the guy who said that this fundraiser must be a great way to distract myself from sitting around and staring at pictures of little footprints. *eyeroll*
I give up on this shit, I really do. Grieving mothers don't just sit around mooning all day at mementoes of our babies. Sometimes I look at them, but pretty rarely. Mostly on special anniversaries, otherwise it all stays put away. But, I guess to him, we must be the freaks of the world. Personally, I think he's the freak, for saying something so idiotic in a casual conversation, but maybe I'm just being too sensitive?
The women have been nice, especially a couple who kept telling me that I don't even look pregnant from behind, and that I only look pregnant in the front. Several gushed, very good for my ego. I knew it was crap, because I can look in a mirror and I know what back fat is....but who cares, I'm happy to accept the compliments, right?
I just find it bizarre that the only men who have said nice things to me in months, have been a security guard who told me I look lovely, and several gay men who told me I was glowing with joy, and like a walking ad for pregnancy. Made me blush! Eh, I should add Mac to this list as well, because he has been so cute and so nice to me. He keeps telling me I look beautiful and hugging and kissing my stomach. His older brother---ahem, could use some lessons in this area.
Anyway, next task is to finish buying/ordering stuff for the baby's room. At this point almost nothing will arrive before the baby is born, but I should at least order it all, and get the carseat and a few other things. I really do have to get myself in gear on this, never mind all the items needing repair all around the house. Of course, it's hard to repair all of that when I have no tools....
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Random bits
Mac had his birthday party today and it was a blast. We had it at a children's party centre in town that resembled a disco and invited his entire class and they entertained the kids and served pizza and pop and ice cream cake, and lordy I had nothing to do and it was great for that reason alone. I've done parties at my house before, but this year, I couldn't face it. Requires too much energy. So I outsourced it.
I am surrounded by wrapping paper. It looks like a toy store threw up in my living room.
I almost cancelled the party by the way. Turns out Mac lost his temper today at school and punched another kid square in the face after being teased. He got sent to the principal's office. We decided that he got punished enough at school, and we're just going to practice some more on how to control our anger. Sigh...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh, on the last post, what I meant by live blogging labour was that I could update with my blackberry by using the mail to blogger address function. (Under settings for those of you who use Blogger.) It works from cellphones as well, but I've never been able to use the tiny keypads very well, so I thank God I've got the qwerty keyboard.
Why? Mostly because I tend to get easily distracted and am unable to focus on contractions or my loving husband's face or whatever all the granola people say you should do. I can't take ADD meds during labour due to the interactions with various meds they might have to put me on, and possibly my blood pressure going up, so basically I need something to do while I'm lying there painfree from the epidural and yet---so bored. (Note: I can't focus much before the epidural either. I just get panicked from the adrenaline.)
Yoga is out. So is sex, and getting drunk. All the staff and my husband all seem endlessly quiet and shushing or they want me to try to do things I am neurologically incapable of, like focus on my body or the stupid monitor. Meanwhile, every passing noise, every passing visual has me thinking up new ideas I want to talk about, but no one to talk to. So maybe it will work, maybe it won't. Who the hell knows? I just want to try to talk with people who get it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have found some stuff on various blogs/websites that I thought I'd mention.
True Mom Confessions - hilarious. Me written a hundred times over.
NYTimes article on preemie survival rates - very nicely explained.
Dr.Joanne Cacciatore's personal blog - founder of the MISS foundation - amazing what she has accomplished. I admire her so much.
Yes, you are - a great post about how simple it is to be a feminist, even for imperfect, leg-shaving, makeup wearing SAHM breeders like me. I count to, yes I do. And to anyone who says I don't--well fuck you and the halo you rode in on.
A great list of stuff you need after you have a live baby - Alexa asked and the blogosphere answered, 200+ comments later, probably the most comprehensive list ever. I thought my comment to her might interest you, so I'm reprinting it here on my blog, and yeah it's bizarre, but so am I, so I figure it fits, and thought you might want to read it and get a laugh.
"Hmm, everyone has mentioned some great things, and I haven’t read every comment, but things I needed the most were not baby stuff.
I needed many many frozen meals in my freezer, snacks, bottles of water and juice boxes, and protein bars. Remote controls on everything, a DVR or Tivo, a wireless headset for the tv/stereo so I could watch something at 3 am while nursing but not disturb the baby, and a wireless headset/earpiece for the phone plus a beltclip for it.
Batteries-rechargeable, a zillion of every size and shape.
Extremely comfortable shoes and clothes that layer so you don’t have to change constantly when you have no time to.
Extra underwear when you have no time to wash clean stuff.
A nice leg wax and mani/pedi before she leaves the NICU and comes home so that you can feel okay wearing shorts in the summer when you go for walks. (I'm getting a mani-pedi and wax before labour provided I don't get an early surprise. I know that I'll never ever get to shave my legs after Dinkypie is here.)
Secret Platinum Soft solid antiperspirant white, not clear, so that you can skip showers for a few days and never ever smell. (I swear to God, I’ve gone three days in the woods with no BO when there were no showers available.)
Sign up for online banking, and get all your bills delivered electronically. Sign up for as many online services as possible so that if you can’t go out on a certain day, you don’t have to. Start stocking up on basics like paper towels, toilet paper, and toothpaste.
Earplugs, only to be used when you can see the baby, to prevent insanity.
Yes, unconventional, but what I needed.
Final assvice: Remember, when the plane is going down, the pilot puts their own oxygen mask on first, then helps everyone else. If the pilot doesn’t take care of themselves, the plane crashes."
I forgot to mention actually that all new parents should stock up on vodka, wine, and scotch, plus cleaning ladies and/or nannies, plus a carload of valium. Take the nannies liberally and the chemicals sparsely, whether you are breastfeeding or not, because baby needs a relaxed mom, but not a drunk one. A little bit of Mother's little helper never hurt. Use in moderation.
Assume that your husband has died or moved to Taiwan. That way, if he helps as much as you want you will be grateful to God for the miracle of true participatory fatherhood, and if he (more likely) hides at work all day and night and never helps at all, you will not be hurt, surprised, or full of resentment, because after all, he is either dead or has moved to Taiwan.
Toss all your pride overboard, learn to ask for help, and accept that you will fuck-up in ways you never ever imagined possible. You will drop the kid on their head, they will get horrendous diaper rash, you will forget doses of medicine, and you will forget to strap in the carseat properly one day. The lower your expectations are from the start, the better you will feel when you don't actually kill your own baby. If you start out trying to be The Perfect Mother, then you are only giving yourself a higher height to fall from and you will break your legs along the way.
Only God is perfect, moms are human.
That said, I will forget all this soon, and need generous reminders as I tear myself to pieces for all my fuck-ups-to-be. In a few months, when I start to beat myself up, do remind me.....
I am surrounded by wrapping paper. It looks like a toy store threw up in my living room.
I almost cancelled the party by the way. Turns out Mac lost his temper today at school and punched another kid square in the face after being teased. He got sent to the principal's office. We decided that he got punished enough at school, and we're just going to practice some more on how to control our anger. Sigh...
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Oh, on the last post, what I meant by live blogging labour was that I could update with my blackberry by using the mail to blogger address function. (Under settings for those of you who use Blogger.) It works from cellphones as well, but I've never been able to use the tiny keypads very well, so I thank God I've got the qwerty keyboard.
Why? Mostly because I tend to get easily distracted and am unable to focus on contractions or my loving husband's face or whatever all the granola people say you should do. I can't take ADD meds during labour due to the interactions with various meds they might have to put me on, and possibly my blood pressure going up, so basically I need something to do while I'm lying there painfree from the epidural and yet---so bored. (Note: I can't focus much before the epidural either. I just get panicked from the adrenaline.)
Yoga is out. So is sex, and getting drunk. All the staff and my husband all seem endlessly quiet and shushing or they want me to try to do things I am neurologically incapable of, like focus on my body or the stupid monitor. Meanwhile, every passing noise, every passing visual has me thinking up new ideas I want to talk about, but no one to talk to. So maybe it will work, maybe it won't. Who the hell knows? I just want to try to talk with people who get it.
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I have found some stuff on various blogs/websites that I thought I'd mention.
True Mom Confessions - hilarious. Me written a hundred times over.
NYTimes article on preemie survival rates - very nicely explained.
Dr.Joanne Cacciatore's personal blog - founder of the MISS foundation - amazing what she has accomplished. I admire her so much.
Yes, you are - a great post about how simple it is to be a feminist, even for imperfect, leg-shaving, makeup wearing SAHM breeders like me. I count to, yes I do. And to anyone who says I don't--well fuck you and the halo you rode in on.
A great list of stuff you need after you have a live baby - Alexa asked and the blogosphere answered, 200+ comments later, probably the most comprehensive list ever. I thought my comment to her might interest you, so I'm reprinting it here on my blog, and yeah it's bizarre, but so am I, so I figure it fits, and thought you might want to read it and get a laugh.
"Hmm, everyone has mentioned some great things, and I haven’t read every comment, but things I needed the most were not baby stuff.
I needed many many frozen meals in my freezer, snacks, bottles of water and juice boxes, and protein bars. Remote controls on everything, a DVR or Tivo, a wireless headset for the tv/stereo so I could watch something at 3 am while nursing but not disturb the baby, and a wireless headset/earpiece for the phone plus a beltclip for it.
Batteries-rechargeable, a zillion of every size and shape.
Extremely comfortable shoes and clothes that layer so you don’t have to change constantly when you have no time to.
Extra underwear when you have no time to wash clean stuff.
A nice leg wax and mani/pedi before she leaves the NICU and comes home so that you can feel okay wearing shorts in the summer when you go for walks. (I'm getting a mani-pedi and wax before labour provided I don't get an early surprise. I know that I'll never ever get to shave my legs after Dinkypie is here.)
Secret Platinum Soft solid antiperspirant white, not clear, so that you can skip showers for a few days and never ever smell. (I swear to God, I’ve gone three days in the woods with no BO when there were no showers available.)
Sign up for online banking, and get all your bills delivered electronically. Sign up for as many online services as possible so that if you can’t go out on a certain day, you don’t have to. Start stocking up on basics like paper towels, toilet paper, and toothpaste.
Earplugs, only to be used when you can see the baby, to prevent insanity.
Yes, unconventional, but what I needed.
Final assvice: Remember, when the plane is going down, the pilot puts their own oxygen mask on first, then helps everyone else. If the pilot doesn’t take care of themselves, the plane crashes."
I forgot to mention actually that all new parents should stock up on vodka, wine, and scotch, plus cleaning ladies and/or nannies, plus a carload of valium. Take the nannies liberally and the chemicals sparsely, whether you are breastfeeding or not, because baby needs a relaxed mom, but not a drunk one. A little bit of Mother's little helper never hurt. Use in moderation.
Assume that your husband has died or moved to Taiwan. That way, if he helps as much as you want you will be grateful to God for the miracle of true participatory fatherhood, and if he (more likely) hides at work all day and night and never helps at all, you will not be hurt, surprised, or full of resentment, because after all, he is either dead or has moved to Taiwan.
Toss all your pride overboard, learn to ask for help, and accept that you will fuck-up in ways you never ever imagined possible. You will drop the kid on their head, they will get horrendous diaper rash, you will forget doses of medicine, and you will forget to strap in the carseat properly one day. The lower your expectations are from the start, the better you will feel when you don't actually kill your own baby. If you start out trying to be The Perfect Mother, then you are only giving yourself a higher height to fall from and you will break your legs along the way.
Only God is perfect, moms are human.
That said, I will forget all this soon, and need generous reminders as I tear myself to pieces for all my fuck-ups-to-be. In a few months, when I start to beat myself up, do remind me.....
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
A case of the blahhs and the rambles
I have lots to do---phone calls, buy paints, pay bills, file stuff, and yet, I don't.
After my rather manic post a few days ago, I relaxed a bit as I read your comments and realized that the whole reason I picked my hospital was because they are very good about respecting women and taking care of them during birth. Okay, they sucked back in 2003-04 when it came to miscarriage care before 20 weeks, but they have transferred all obstetrical care to one area of highly trained people, who are better at this, and really, every single hospital always sucks in this area. I wish someone in the system would figure out that there is no magical line, where women need good care when losing a baby after 20 weeks, but losing a baby is nothing and sort of like an appendectomy before 20 weeks.....there is no magical switch people. Really.
One thing about support groups is that you hear lots of stories about lots of different hospitals and how they act during the worst experience anyone can have. You get the good, the bad, and the ugly. And over time, it's important to remember that some can deteriorate, and some can improve. I know a couple of them did such a horrendous job with some patients that a wholesale change occurred throughout the hospital. People were told, policies were changed, and lots and lots of training occurred.
So there is hope, and maybe, just maybe, I'll get to have an experience like I did with Matthew, literally the perfect birth scenario, (except for the dead baby part).
Ba-dum-bum--bah
(dead baby joke, scuse me)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I know I'll feel better after this painting and shifting furniture gets done, I already feel better about the officewhichisbecomingthebabyroom. My organizer came by and she and I emptied years worth of paper and crap and what-have-you. I'm not really sure I need to have 10 year old copies of Today's Parent or Mothering Magazine, and I know that so much has changed that keeping those is pointless. Plus, a lot of these parenting magazines make me feel kind of shitty, you know? I know what my kid needs, but they all seem premised on guilt. Useless.
But dudes, the funniest part is that I hardly go into that office, and really only Mr.Cotta does. And oh lord, the crap he had kept! Half eaten protein bars, old water bottles, empty boxes with disks and user guides from old phones we no longer own, boot disks for Win95, 98 & 2000, backup disks for ancient computers we don't have anymore, critical documents like ownership papers for the car stuffed into envelopes and stuck under other piles of crap, and cables and wires and plugs and earphones all unlabelled for electronics all over the house.
All I'm gonna say is... calling me disorganized and blaming my ADD for the inability to find stuff in this house is no longer fair game. If we can't find a scrap of paper or someone loses something, I am NOT THE ONLY ONE TO BLAME.
I have a filing system by the way. The organizer helped me set it up. I have a beautiful filing cabinet upstairs with all of our stuff in it, one drawer is this years bills and records, alphabetical, and the other drawer is permanent records, like mortgage papers for the house, and warranty documents for stuff. I also have a filing cabinet on the main floor, which is made of nice dark wood to blend into the rest of the furniture and has some temporary files in one drawer, like bills to pay, and in the other drawer has all my electronic stuff for my camera, my computer, etc. all nicely tucked away so no one has to stare at my junk. And my laptop can go in the drawer, or sit on top.
He thinks filing cabinets are nice, but never looks in there. Ever. He asked a question about the mortgage documents the other day, and I told him to look in the filing cabinet and he didn't for days until I pulled the file. I guess it was too hard to reach to his left, only one foot away, open the drawer, and pull out the file clearly labelled, "Mortgage Cotta house - ## Address".
le sigh....
I adore the man, I do. The way I write about him, I'm sure it sounds like I don't, but I figure, well, loving someone means loving them for their good sides and their faults. All of them, all the bits. Even the bits where there they are quite sure they are perfect and are unable to see that have feet of clay too.
Poor pseudo-ADD man. He thinks it's only me---oh yeah, whatever.
After my rather manic post a few days ago, I relaxed a bit as I read your comments and realized that the whole reason I picked my hospital was because they are very good about respecting women and taking care of them during birth. Okay, they sucked back in 2003-04 when it came to miscarriage care before 20 weeks, but they have transferred all obstetrical care to one area of highly trained people, who are better at this, and really, every single hospital always sucks in this area. I wish someone in the system would figure out that there is no magical line, where women need good care when losing a baby after 20 weeks, but losing a baby is nothing and sort of like an appendectomy before 20 weeks.....there is no magical switch people. Really.
One thing about support groups is that you hear lots of stories about lots of different hospitals and how they act during the worst experience anyone can have. You get the good, the bad, and the ugly. And over time, it's important to remember that some can deteriorate, and some can improve. I know a couple of them did such a horrendous job with some patients that a wholesale change occurred throughout the hospital. People were told, policies were changed, and lots and lots of training occurred.
So there is hope, and maybe, just maybe, I'll get to have an experience like I did with Matthew, literally the perfect birth scenario, (except for the dead baby part).
Ba-dum-bum--bah
(dead baby joke, scuse me)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I know I'll feel better after this painting and shifting furniture gets done, I already feel better about the officewhichisbecomingthebabyroom. My organizer came by and she and I emptied years worth of paper and crap and what-have-you. I'm not really sure I need to have 10 year old copies of Today's Parent or Mothering Magazine, and I know that so much has changed that keeping those is pointless. Plus, a lot of these parenting magazines make me feel kind of shitty, you know? I know what my kid needs, but they all seem premised on guilt. Useless.
But dudes, the funniest part is that I hardly go into that office, and really only Mr.Cotta does. And oh lord, the crap he had kept! Half eaten protein bars, old water bottles, empty boxes with disks and user guides from old phones we no longer own, boot disks for Win95, 98 & 2000, backup disks for ancient computers we don't have anymore, critical documents like ownership papers for the car stuffed into envelopes and stuck under other piles of crap, and cables and wires and plugs and earphones all unlabelled for electronics all over the house.
All I'm gonna say is... calling me disorganized and blaming my ADD for the inability to find stuff in this house is no longer fair game. If we can't find a scrap of paper or someone loses something, I am NOT THE ONLY ONE TO BLAME.
I have a filing system by the way. The organizer helped me set it up. I have a beautiful filing cabinet upstairs with all of our stuff in it, one drawer is this years bills and records, alphabetical, and the other drawer is permanent records, like mortgage papers for the house, and warranty documents for stuff. I also have a filing cabinet on the main floor, which is made of nice dark wood to blend into the rest of the furniture and has some temporary files in one drawer, like bills to pay, and in the other drawer has all my electronic stuff for my camera, my computer, etc. all nicely tucked away so no one has to stare at my junk. And my laptop can go in the drawer, or sit on top.
He thinks filing cabinets are nice, but never looks in there. Ever. He asked a question about the mortgage documents the other day, and I told him to look in the filing cabinet and he didn't for days until I pulled the file. I guess it was too hard to reach to his left, only one foot away, open the drawer, and pull out the file clearly labelled, "Mortgage Cotta house - ## Address".
le sigh....
I adore the man, I do. The way I write about him, I'm sure it sounds like I don't, but I figure, well, loving someone means loving them for their good sides and their faults. All of them, all the bits. Even the bits where there they are quite sure they are perfect and are unable to see that have feet of clay too.
Poor pseudo-ADD man. He thinks it's only me---oh yeah, whatever.
Friday, March 28, 2008
As a Bag of flour
Have you read the blog Stuff White People Like? Found it a while back, peeing myself laughing...funniest part is in the comments when the white supremicists visit, and don't get the satire. AT ALL.
Plus now I'm convinced that never mind that I am as white as a bag of flour, white like snow, hell white like boxed mashed potatoes, I may be faking it after all because I don't like the outdoors, summer camp, Juno, or Arts degrees. I do like renovations though...hmmm.
So I thought I'd do a tribute post, cause after all, one white guy can't do it all, can he? I think some of us need to pitch in and help. White People like tributes & memes don't they?
My Stuff that White People like is Earth Hour, where we turn out our lights for one hour on Saturday from 8-9 pm. It has completely jumped the shark at this point, and has a devoted following of white people by now. I mean, think about it, what guy in a poor neighbourhood or the ghetto is going to turn out the lights? It's an invitation to getting robbed.
The other thing white people like? Symbolic gestures, especially meaningless ones. Turning off your light bulbs for an hour isn't going to do shit for the environment. But it will make the white person feel good. And isn't that what counts?
Not driving a car for a half a day---now that will do something. But white people won't do that. That will take effort. Symbolic gestures give the white person a feeling of community, a feeling of being part of the crowd. And helping the environment with a symbolic gesture is even more meaningful, since actually helping the environment, would cause them to have to do something that might really effect their lifestyle.
It's like using those reusable cloth bags? The ones that we are all supposed to use to help the environment instead of plastic bags? More Stuff White People Like. Yeah, the big guilt trip that does absolutely nothing to help the environment since all the plastic bags used by an average family in a year will save approximately one ounce of crude oil, and all the plastic bags ever made take up less than 1% of the space in landfill. Again, actually not using their car for half a day would save gallons of gas.
But white people don't want to actually do anything, they like symbolic gestures better. Especially meaningless ones, no matter how small.....
I feel so pasty now, chuckle.
Plus now I'm convinced that never mind that I am as white as a bag of flour, white like snow, hell white like boxed mashed potatoes, I may be faking it after all because I don't like the outdoors, summer camp, Juno, or Arts degrees. I do like renovations though...hmmm.
So I thought I'd do a tribute post, cause after all, one white guy can't do it all, can he? I think some of us need to pitch in and help. White People like tributes & memes don't they?
My Stuff that White People like is Earth Hour, where we turn out our lights for one hour on Saturday from 8-9 pm. It has completely jumped the shark at this point, and has a devoted following of white people by now. I mean, think about it, what guy in a poor neighbourhood or the ghetto is going to turn out the lights? It's an invitation to getting robbed.
The other thing white people like? Symbolic gestures, especially meaningless ones. Turning off your light bulbs for an hour isn't going to do shit for the environment. But it will make the white person feel good. And isn't that what counts?
Not driving a car for a half a day---now that will do something. But white people won't do that. That will take effort. Symbolic gestures give the white person a feeling of community, a feeling of being part of the crowd. And helping the environment with a symbolic gesture is even more meaningful, since actually helping the environment, would cause them to have to do something that might really effect their lifestyle.
It's like using those reusable cloth bags? The ones that we are all supposed to use to help the environment instead of plastic bags? More Stuff White People Like. Yeah, the big guilt trip that does absolutely nothing to help the environment since all the plastic bags used by an average family in a year will save approximately one ounce of crude oil, and all the plastic bags ever made take up less than 1% of the space in landfill. Again, actually not using their car for half a day would save gallons of gas.
But white people don't want to actually do anything, they like symbolic gestures better. Especially meaningless ones, no matter how small.....
I feel so pasty now, chuckle.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Hot momma is back!
Okay, foolish me just posted that title without a post. Duhhh, too relaxed after all that vacationing. Here's the real post.
The mini-vacation actually turned out to be a little different than I thought. Great Wolf Lodge is definitely a 100% families with kids phenomenon. Other theme parks get couples, or singles, or teenagers with friends and no adults. But not this place, it was all family, all the time. (Because you have to pay for a room overnight to get entry to the waterpark...) They have these great wristbands that everyone gets which function as room keys and a way to charge food and lockers and spas to your credit card. Which means your kids can run back and forth to the room, very safely, and they aren't chained to mommy. And there are loads of bathrooms, and change tables, and a kid-sized buffet table, and activities that are fun for kids, all G-rated. Every need a family could have, even wireless Wifi throughout the resort for parents to check on email, and fridges without minibars so you don't get ripped off but can store babyfood and kid snacks. Yes, a bit noisy and it all smelled like chlorine, but minor annoyances truly. I swear, GWL turned out to be family friendly heaven. At first I thought I was the only pregnant woman there, but it turns out that I wasn't. I was surrounded by women who if not pregnant were just postpartum, and dozens of babies so cute, just looking at them made me SQUEE!
Seriously, I haven't had this kind of babylust, as opposed to terror, since before I got pregnant this time. I used to stare at babies with the most incredible hunger, desperation even. I wasn't repelled by babies like some of you are, I was thisclose to committing an act of kidnapping! Until I got pregnant this time, and all I could think of was how scared I was of losing this baby, and my focus became my uterus and my uterus only. I turned inward, and stopped noticing others, and I know it wasn't a good way to govern my emotions.
Anyway, this weekend, I began to feel a lot more normal. People looked at me gigantically pregnant and they smiled, and they said congratulations, and I smiled back and said thanks. No qualifiers, no discounts, no "well, I'm high risk and so far so good, but we're not counting on it yet."
I just acted like a regular pregnant woman and I started to feel like it was okay to sit in that skin. That persona. Kinda nice.
Best part? I was so worried about bathing suits, but with all the moms around, no need. All of them had these tankinis, like 2 piece that covers the stomach to the edge of the bottom piece, and no one looked like a supermodel. Just nice and average, some large, some small, but all very reassuringly unself-conscious. I had bought a black maternity 2 piece like theirs with a coverup that came with it. The top went over my stomach and just showed a tiny strip of skin, although sometimes I rode up unless I was careful to keep it pulled down. I figured that was pretty daring, no?
Weeeelll, slightly more daring than I thought. After a couple of poolboys stared, tongues hanging out, at me lying on a lounge chair, and one of the chefs in the restaurant offered to personally teach me a new Lamaze method, I clued in.
To the casual observer, I looked like I was wearing a black bra, black panties, and a see through lacy black negligee.
While over 7 months pregnant. In public.
Yah----
So, the bellyshot is coming, but not in that outfit, not on the internet. Good lord.....
Monday, March 03, 2008
got my wish
Got my wish from the previous post....you know how I mentioned that my heartburn was bad. Well, it's accelerated. A lot.
I've been having trouble lying down flat recently since it means that I will get heartburn/acid reflux/burning screaming pain, yadda yadda....I had it with Kaz, and Mac near the end of my pregnancy, maybe in the 8th-9th month. Mostly because I'm tiny and I have big babies who like to kick the tar out of their mom's stomach.
Kicking is good for Dinkypie, kicking me so forcefully that last night I vomited in my sleep with gale force action---not so good. Overkill one might say. I know you are still in utero little guy, but do you think you could learn some subtlety? Gentle grace towards your mother? Sigh....
I barely made it to the bathroom in time, okay technically it was a wastebasket, but still. No carpets were damaged in the bizarre portrayal of a naked pregnant woman suddenly bolting upright out of her sleep and running for her life.
And yeah, I'm six and half months pregnant now, a fact I have to remind everyone of when they ask, "So when IS that baby due?" and the other great one, "Are you sure there's only one in there?" or the best...."Wow, you're going to be as wide as you are tall!"
Yah...the next time that gets said, I swear I'm going to cut his nuts off in his sleep. Not that any of you can guess WHO keeps saying that....
So far, it seems to be all boobs and stomach, and just a little padding everywhere else, but that will change. And just like before, I'll be skinny again afterwards, give it 6 months to a year of breastfeeding aka liposuction and I'll lose it.
I know I'm going to be larger than I was with the last baby I went full term on, and I know it's inevitable that this would happen. Hell, I know that right now, in a crowd, I look like the prow of a cruise ship cutting through the waves. At this point, my uterus enters the room a full five minutes before I do. My OB sent me for my gestational diabetes test weeks earlier than normal because he was so shocked at my size. Tomorrow my GP who is discreet and kind beyond measure will see me to give me a steroid shot and she will be unable to hide the look on her face. I'm twice as large as my kid's piano teacher, who is 3 weeks from her due date, a fact that she keeps pointing out.
I GET IT. I'M REALLY LARGE, OKAY?
I'M NOT SURE I NEED ANYONE TO POINT THAT OUT TO ME AGAIN.
Oh and for those of you who think that I'm complaining about the size I have become, I'm not. I'm complaining about the people who say things about my size. Getting a ginormous tummy in pregnancy is normal and hopefully means I'm growing a nice healthy full-size baby. I'm calling the Doc and getting some Zantac or Prilosec or whatever, and if I have to sleep bolt upright for the next three months, then I guess I will. Not fun, but less painful than lying down. I've tried Tums and Gaviscon and low acid food and none of it did much, so it's time to haul out the big guns and get a proton pump inhibitor.
And maybe some duct tape for a few smart alecks in the crowd?
I've been having trouble lying down flat recently since it means that I will get heartburn/acid reflux/burning screaming pain, yadda yadda....I had it with Kaz, and Mac near the end of my pregnancy, maybe in the 8th-9th month. Mostly because I'm tiny and I have big babies who like to kick the tar out of their mom's stomach.
Kicking is good for Dinkypie, kicking me so forcefully that last night I vomited in my sleep with gale force action---not so good. Overkill one might say. I know you are still in utero little guy, but do you think you could learn some subtlety? Gentle grace towards your mother? Sigh....
I barely made it to the bathroom in time, okay technically it was a wastebasket, but still. No carpets were damaged in the bizarre portrayal of a naked pregnant woman suddenly bolting upright out of her sleep and running for her life.
And yeah, I'm six and half months pregnant now, a fact I have to remind everyone of when they ask, "So when IS that baby due?" and the other great one, "Are you sure there's only one in there?" or the best...."Wow, you're going to be as wide as you are tall!"
Yah...the next time that gets said, I swear I'm going to cut his nuts off in his sleep. Not that any of you can guess WHO keeps saying that....
So far, it seems to be all boobs and stomach, and just a little padding everywhere else, but that will change. And just like before, I'll be skinny again afterwards, give it 6 months to a year of breastfeeding aka liposuction and I'll lose it.
I know I'm going to be larger than I was with the last baby I went full term on, and I know it's inevitable that this would happen. Hell, I know that right now, in a crowd, I look like the prow of a cruise ship cutting through the waves. At this point, my uterus enters the room a full five minutes before I do. My OB sent me for my gestational diabetes test weeks earlier than normal because he was so shocked at my size. Tomorrow my GP who is discreet and kind beyond measure will see me to give me a steroid shot and she will be unable to hide the look on her face. I'm twice as large as my kid's piano teacher, who is 3 weeks from her due date, a fact that she keeps pointing out.
I GET IT. I'M REALLY LARGE, OKAY?
I'M NOT SURE I NEED ANYONE TO POINT THAT OUT TO ME AGAIN.
Oh and for those of you who think that I'm complaining about the size I have become, I'm not. I'm complaining about the people who say things about my size. Getting a ginormous tummy in pregnancy is normal and hopefully means I'm growing a nice healthy full-size baby. I'm calling the Doc and getting some Zantac or Prilosec or whatever, and if I have to sleep bolt upright for the next three months, then I guess I will. Not fun, but less painful than lying down. I've tried Tums and Gaviscon and low acid food and none of it did much, so it's time to haul out the big guns and get a proton pump inhibitor.
And maybe some duct tape for a few smart alecks in the crowd?
Saturday, January 12, 2008
A refugee in a house full of boys
I'm sitting here on the couch beside all the men, as they watch football. So far every time I make on observation I get ignored, so I figured I'd share my insights with you.
There is a funny man in black stripes who talks very loudly whenever he touches his belt. He seems to enforce rules? Very bossy. Men who talk with their belts creep me out.
Why is it when men burp during a game it's manly and appropriate, but when I do it after a particularly satisfying meal sitting with the very same men, it's rude?
The Patriots all seem to have broad shoulders and nice tight butts and legs, and the Jacksonville team has wide rear ends and large beefy legs. The Patriots are wearing white pants, and the Jacksonville team is wearing black pants. Black is supposed to be slimming, but this does not seem to be working in their case. Do you think that sexier cuter football guys win more games?
No one in this house understands me.
Casey had a good idea, btw, and I've started taking extra zinc every morning, as well as my extra calcium and D at night. I used to and it was great, but I ran out and forgot. So, here I am going back to the start! Men just don't want to hear about this btw, so I'm very very grateful for you, my lovely readers. I know that someday soon I will be completely surrounded by men, and unable to escape the testosterone. Hopefully the baby will be kind of gender neutral for awhile, but I'm not holding out much hope.
Funny little oddity at my OB appointment btw, my OB refused to let me make more than one appointment ahead of time. He explained that depending on how the ultrasounds and exams turn out, he might need to schedule me for coinciding US appointments with the high-tech machine down the hall. Considering that he has his own machine in the office and at any time he can get access to the heavy duty machine, it sounded odd. He is very very positive at every single appointment. So positive that Mr.Cotta keeps wondering why we're still going every single week, and why we even need to get any more checks. I think he is listening to the words, but not to the subtext of the conversations with the doctor. Because when I listen to the OB, I hear that he is still concerned enough to want to keep his options open and schedule me in week by week.
Kind of scary, but reassuring in an odd sort of way. We got the results of the full amnio report, and all the chromosomes are perfect. Just like the FSH test! Awesome....but until I see the full anatomy scan, I won't feel okay.
You see I know a number of women who have had perfect amnio results and good nuchal tests, and still had a child with birth defects. Some minor and treatable, and some fatal. That's one reason why I scheduled this test for 19 weeks. (or 18 weeks 6 days depending on your math). I wanted to be firmly in the window for measurements. Too early or too late and they can't compare you properly to the several zillion other people who have had this test in their giant database.
If all goes well, I'm going to celebrate by buying some maternity clothes, including a coat. I'm officially bursting out of all of the coats I own already. Of course, no one will be coming shopping with me for the clothes, which is kind of disappointing. And I can't even shop for long since I have to go see that shrink again who suggested the mantra. Mostly I'm just going so I can clarify that I need to see a different person than her. A person with some sort of skill-set that involves perception and hearing.
I really am surrounded by male type communicators during this pregnancy. But at least my OB listens and even talks a bit like a woman. Which helps. Along with all of my wonderful bloggy friends. I don't know how I'd make it through without you.
Seriously, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. For every click, for every comment, thank you. You will never know how much you have saved my sanity.
There is a funny man in black stripes who talks very loudly whenever he touches his belt. He seems to enforce rules? Very bossy. Men who talk with their belts creep me out.
Why is it when men burp during a game it's manly and appropriate, but when I do it after a particularly satisfying meal sitting with the very same men, it's rude?
The Patriots all seem to have broad shoulders and nice tight butts and legs, and the Jacksonville team has wide rear ends and large beefy legs. The Patriots are wearing white pants, and the Jacksonville team is wearing black pants. Black is supposed to be slimming, but this does not seem to be working in their case. Do you think that sexier cuter football guys win more games?
No one in this house understands me.
Casey had a good idea, btw, and I've started taking extra zinc every morning, as well as my extra calcium and D at night. I used to and it was great, but I ran out and forgot. So, here I am going back to the start! Men just don't want to hear about this btw, so I'm very very grateful for you, my lovely readers. I know that someday soon I will be completely surrounded by men, and unable to escape the testosterone. Hopefully the baby will be kind of gender neutral for awhile, but I'm not holding out much hope.
Funny little oddity at my OB appointment btw, my OB refused to let me make more than one appointment ahead of time. He explained that depending on how the ultrasounds and exams turn out, he might need to schedule me for coinciding US appointments with the high-tech machine down the hall. Considering that he has his own machine in the office and at any time he can get access to the heavy duty machine, it sounded odd. He is very very positive at every single appointment. So positive that Mr.Cotta keeps wondering why we're still going every single week, and why we even need to get any more checks. I think he is listening to the words, but not to the subtext of the conversations with the doctor. Because when I listen to the OB, I hear that he is still concerned enough to want to keep his options open and schedule me in week by week.
Kind of scary, but reassuring in an odd sort of way. We got the results of the full amnio report, and all the chromosomes are perfect. Just like the FSH test! Awesome....but until I see the full anatomy scan, I won't feel okay.
You see I know a number of women who have had perfect amnio results and good nuchal tests, and still had a child with birth defects. Some minor and treatable, and some fatal. That's one reason why I scheduled this test for 19 weeks. (or 18 weeks 6 days depending on your math). I wanted to be firmly in the window for measurements. Too early or too late and they can't compare you properly to the several zillion other people who have had this test in their giant database.
If all goes well, I'm going to celebrate by buying some maternity clothes, including a coat. I'm officially bursting out of all of the coats I own already. Of course, no one will be coming shopping with me for the clothes, which is kind of disappointing. And I can't even shop for long since I have to go see that shrink again who suggested the mantra. Mostly I'm just going so I can clarify that I need to see a different person than her. A person with some sort of skill-set that involves perception and hearing.
I really am surrounded by male type communicators during this pregnancy. But at least my OB listens and even talks a bit like a woman. Which helps. Along with all of my wonderful bloggy friends. I don't know how I'd make it through without you.
Seriously, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. For every click, for every comment, thank you. You will never know how much you have saved my sanity.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
9 days is too long
My Doctor switched me to Thursdays for my ultrasound for the next two weeks, and then I'll have an appointment with him afterwards. Actually, my appointment is with another doctor for this week, because the original one is on vacation.
Again more change....not my strong suit. Cack....
So, I haven't had an ultrasound for 8 days and 8 hours now, not that I'm counting the time or anything. It's supposed to be 7 days in a week people. I have to wait 7 whole days, and I've managed to wait that long by saying, "Hey, one day at a time, right, it's only 7 days, then 6 days, then 5 days....and then I have to restart my anxiety clock!!!! WTF!" And last night I was completely convinced I was no longer pregnant, even though I was kind of uncertain about my stomach, so uncertain that this morning I felt sick.
And this afternoon, even sicker, so sick I had to stop google chatting. Guess the little bean is still in there.
This post was going to be longer, but I just moved most of it to a word document because I'm a little nervous about it, and I need to rewrite it about seventy or eighty times. Yes, I am a tiny bit stressed over here. How about a joke to lighten the mood?
Last night, I heard that Nancy Grace has given birth to twins at the age of 48. And I don't like her courtroom reporting/antics to begin with, so I turn to Mr.Cotta and raved and ranted "Yet another famous woman telling the public it was her own eggs, all natural, etc. etc. when no infertile gets pregnant over the age 44 without donor egg"!
"It's impossible! Medically impossible!"
His deadpan reply, "I know a woman with diagnosed premature ovarian failure, no eggs left, who got pregnant with her own eggs after everyone said it couldn't happen."
Shutting up now.
Again more change....not my strong suit. Cack....
So, I haven't had an ultrasound for 8 days and 8 hours now, not that I'm counting the time or anything. It's supposed to be 7 days in a week people. I have to wait 7 whole days, and I've managed to wait that long by saying, "Hey, one day at a time, right, it's only 7 days, then 6 days, then 5 days....and then I have to restart my anxiety clock!!!! WTF!" And last night I was completely convinced I was no longer pregnant, even though I was kind of uncertain about my stomach, so uncertain that this morning I felt sick.
And this afternoon, even sicker, so sick I had to stop google chatting. Guess the little bean is still in there.
This post was going to be longer, but I just moved most of it to a word document because I'm a little nervous about it, and I need to rewrite it about seventy or eighty times. Yes, I am a tiny bit stressed over here. How about a joke to lighten the mood?
Last night, I heard that Nancy Grace has given birth to twins at the age of 48. And I don't like her courtroom reporting/antics to begin with, so I turn to Mr.Cotta and raved and ranted "Yet another famous woman telling the public it was her own eggs, all natural, etc. etc. when no infertile gets pregnant over the age 44 without donor egg"!
"It's impossible! Medically impossible!"
His deadpan reply, "I know a woman with diagnosed premature ovarian failure, no eggs left, who got pregnant with her own eggs after everyone said it couldn't happen."
Shutting up now.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Slapping my forehead, really hard
I had a lovely day yesterday with my husband, just the two of us, all alone, and thought I might have another lovely one today, but I really felt odd. Very very tired.
I've been exhausted recently, but not everyday. And some nights I have terrible insomnia, then feel great the next day. I started to wonder if I was going crazy, maybe depressed? Maybe sick? More thyroid problems? I wondered if it could be the DHEA?
I'd been taking extra Vitamin D, could that be it? Doesn't usually make people tired, does it? Nahhhh, but just in case I checked my pill bottles and warning labels, and then the container I carry my medication around in my purse.
Do you know WHY I should always put my contacts in before taking my pills?
Cause if I take them without my contacts, I might mix up the melatonin and the Vitamin D pills. (They look exactly the same.) And maybe take 2 melatonin in the morning and fuck up my entire sleep-wake cycle.
Yes, really.....I am this blind.
Laser eye surgery, anyone?
I've been exhausted recently, but not everyday. And some nights I have terrible insomnia, then feel great the next day. I started to wonder if I was going crazy, maybe depressed? Maybe sick? More thyroid problems? I wondered if it could be the DHEA?
I'd been taking extra Vitamin D, could that be it? Doesn't usually make people tired, does it? Nahhhh, but just in case I checked my pill bottles and warning labels, and then the container I carry my medication around in my purse.
Do you know WHY I should always put my contacts in before taking my pills?
Cause if I take them without my contacts, I might mix up the melatonin and the Vitamin D pills. (They look exactly the same.) And maybe take 2 melatonin in the morning and fuck up my entire sleep-wake cycle.
Yes, really.....I am this blind.
Laser eye surgery, anyone?
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Last Rites
My little booboy is here! (Okay, at 10 almost 11 years old, he's not so little, but to me, Kaz will always be my baby.) Booboy is back from overnight camp with his school. They do a trip every spring and fall for "outdoor education". Or something like that---maybe it's just to suck money out of the parents? Not sure....
So I've been deep into family time today and yesterday, feeling a bit like Charon...
His first morning back we decided to carry out last rites for our two cats, long ago deceased, but of course, my hubby had never picked up their ashes and done anything with them. Some back story, they were his cats, or more specifically, his ex-wife's cats. They were all he got in the divorce settlement. A long first marriage? Kids? Not quite - she left him 4 months after the wedding, but she still took every last dime, every single stick stick of furniture, and his car. He was left with two of the nastiest, most vicious cats on god's earth. Hmmm, I should amend this, instead I should say that they were loving and kind and purrfect to Mr.Cotta until their last dying breath, and nasty and vicious to me and the kids at every opportunity.
I fed them, attempted to pet them, advocated for them to go to the vet, bought them catnip & treats, barely complained while they bit me & hit me and the kids, (they were declawed so the swipes became hits instead of scratches) aggravated our allergies, and vomited and shat everywhere in our home.
For 11 looooonnng years I patiently waited for the damn little loyal devotees of the first wife to notice that I was not an interloper and that our kids were not annoyances that were leaving soon, but it never seemed to happen. So when the cats died, one after the other, I wasn't very sad. Mr.Cotta was, so I tried not to dance a jig or anything. In fact, he was so sad that after taking them to the vet hospital, he never went back to pick up their remains. Instead of just having them sent directly to the local pet cemetary, he had paid for individual specific cremations for each cat, with little containers, but was too choked up to do the final bit.
And years later when I finally had to go get the little urns, I found out that no one would have thrown them into the garbage EVER. Apparently, not only are pet funerals big business but it is considered undignified by veterinarians to allow beloved pet's bodies to go into the waste.
Now don't get me wrong, if people feel a need to have pet funerals, then I'm ALL for it. Whatever gets us through the night and all---I just can't help but contrast this with the months of legal battles I endured to bury my daughters, and the incredible hypocrisy of a funeral industry that is willing to cremate pets without a burial permit for ooooh say the LAST 30 years, but refuses to help women who have miscarried babies under 20 weeks or 500 grams, the legal definition of a stillbirth here in Ontario. Most fish and birds weigh less than that, but pet owners have never ever had a problem getting whatever they want.
And horses? The police bury their service horses with full funeral honours and go into mourning as if a fellow officer died in the line of duty. Barbaro was given a decent funeral, and no one questioned why his owners would mourn.
And yet, for women who have lost their children...yes, I'm feeling a tiny bit bitter here. Can't, just can't go there....
This morning we scattered THE CAT'S ashes in the woods of the Don Valley. Mr.Cotta wanted to go to the zoo and scatter the cats remains in the bushes around the lion's enclosure but I gently explained there were too many small children around who might wonder why the strange man was in the bushes with the white powder. So the Don Valley it was...
The last words go to Mac:
"Mommy, is it true that some cats sleep in your bed?"
"Yes, Mac"
"Well, don't people get hurt that way?"
"No Mac, most cats don't hurt their owners. In fact, some of them snuggle and purr."
"REALLY, Mommy? Wow...."
So I've been deep into family time today and yesterday, feeling a bit like Charon...
His first morning back we decided to carry out last rites for our two cats, long ago deceased, but of course, my hubby had never picked up their ashes and done anything with them. Some back story, they were his cats, or more specifically, his ex-wife's cats. They were all he got in the divorce settlement. A long first marriage? Kids? Not quite - she left him 4 months after the wedding, but she still took every last dime, every single stick stick of furniture, and his car. He was left with two of the nastiest, most vicious cats on god's earth. Hmmm, I should amend this, instead I should say that they were loving and kind and purrfect to Mr.Cotta until their last dying breath, and nasty and vicious to me and the kids at every opportunity.
I fed them, attempted to pet them, advocated for them to go to the vet, bought them catnip & treats, barely complained while they bit me & hit me and the kids, (they were declawed so the swipes became hits instead of scratches) aggravated our allergies, and vomited and shat everywhere in our home.
For 11 looooonnng years I patiently waited for the damn little loyal devotees of the first wife to notice that I was not an interloper and that our kids were not annoyances that were leaving soon, but it never seemed to happen. So when the cats died, one after the other, I wasn't very sad. Mr.Cotta was, so I tried not to dance a jig or anything. In fact, he was so sad that after taking them to the vet hospital, he never went back to pick up their remains. Instead of just having them sent directly to the local pet cemetary, he had paid for individual specific cremations for each cat, with little containers, but was too choked up to do the final bit.
And years later when I finally had to go get the little urns, I found out that no one would have thrown them into the garbage EVER. Apparently, not only are pet funerals big business but it is considered undignified by veterinarians to allow beloved pet's bodies to go into the waste.
Now don't get me wrong, if people feel a need to have pet funerals, then I'm ALL for it. Whatever gets us through the night and all---I just can't help but contrast this with the months of legal battles I endured to bury my daughters, and the incredible hypocrisy of a funeral industry that is willing to cremate pets without a burial permit for ooooh say the LAST 30 years, but refuses to help women who have miscarried babies under 20 weeks or 500 grams, the legal definition of a stillbirth here in Ontario. Most fish and birds weigh less than that, but pet owners have never ever had a problem getting whatever they want.
And horses? The police bury their service horses with full funeral honours and go into mourning as if a fellow officer died in the line of duty. Barbaro was given a decent funeral, and no one questioned why his owners would mourn.
And yet, for women who have lost their children...yes, I'm feeling a tiny bit bitter here. Can't, just can't go there....
This morning we scattered THE CAT'S ashes in the woods of the Don Valley. Mr.Cotta wanted to go to the zoo and scatter the cats remains in the bushes around the lion's enclosure but I gently explained there were too many small children around who might wonder why the strange man was in the bushes with the white powder. So the Don Valley it was...
The last words go to Mac:
"Mommy, is it true that some cats sleep in your bed?"
"Yes, Mac"
"Well, don't people get hurt that way?"
"No Mac, most cats don't hurt their owners. In fact, some of them snuggle and purr."
"REALLY, Mommy? Wow...."
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Laugh or cry?
I've talked about my size before, and people who have met me IRL know that I am small, short and kind of skinny. When I am pregnant, I become as large as a house, in fact, one person joked that I was as wide as I was tall. But since I was having a long-awaited baby I didn't mind. Too much.
And at other times, I have added on 10-20 pounds and not worried about it, unless I couldn't fit into newer clothes I had just bought. But in the last six months, I have added 20-30 pounds solely due to thyroid and illness issues. Which sucks, because I view it as my body jumping up and down yelling, "Nyah, nyah, you're screwed!"
And after 5 extended pregnancies and multiple early miscarriages, I have no stomach muscles, at all. In fact, I have more extra skin....than I care to describe on this blog, sweeties!
Well, the combo has done me in. The only place I've got weight right now is my stomach, not my boobs, not my ass, not all evenly around my body, just my stomach, on my tiny rest-of-me body. I look 5 months gone, I swear. But nobody has said anything IRL, so I figure, maybe it's my imagination? Maybe I'm just projecting my insecurities about female body shape and society?
Nope.
Yesterday, a staffer at my kid's school walked up to me and patted my stomach, and tilted her eyebrow, "So...?"
My shocked reply, "I'm not pregnant, I'm fat, but thanks for pointing that out!" I nervously laughed, and she nervously laughed, and we both uncomfortably walked away. I didn't know what else to do, I was so floored.
What do you guys think? I guess I need to buy some control top underwear or something. Shit....
And at other times, I have added on 10-20 pounds and not worried about it, unless I couldn't fit into newer clothes I had just bought. But in the last six months, I have added 20-30 pounds solely due to thyroid and illness issues. Which sucks, because I view it as my body jumping up and down yelling, "Nyah, nyah, you're screwed!"
And after 5 extended pregnancies and multiple early miscarriages, I have no stomach muscles, at all. In fact, I have more extra skin....than I care to describe on this blog, sweeties!
Well, the combo has done me in. The only place I've got weight right now is my stomach, not my boobs, not my ass, not all evenly around my body, just my stomach, on my tiny rest-of-me body. I look 5 months gone, I swear. But nobody has said anything IRL, so I figure, maybe it's my imagination? Maybe I'm just projecting my insecurities about female body shape and society?
Nope.
Yesterday, a staffer at my kid's school walked up to me and patted my stomach, and tilted her eyebrow, "So...?"
My shocked reply, "I'm not pregnant, I'm fat, but thanks for pointing that out!" I nervously laughed, and she nervously laughed, and we both uncomfortably walked away. I didn't know what else to do, I was so floored.
What do you guys think? I guess I need to buy some control top underwear or something. Shit....
Friday, April 27, 2007
How come no one reads blogs on Friday night?
Am I the only person who reads blogs and writes posts on Friday? I swear sometimes I feel like the only person on the internet from Friday noon until Saturday midday. Not that the weekends are so busy online either, but geeeez, this is primetime for me people!
Why primetime? Because there is no homework I have to nag anyone about, no dinner to cook on takeout night, and no one to talk to because my darling children and hubby watch Japanese anime TV shows every Friday night! I could watch Yu-Gi-Oh and Naruto with them, but then I would have to stick a fork in my eye while slowly losing my mind.
So I surf the net instead, occasionally demanding someone take me out to Friday dinner once a month or look at me or talk to me. Sniff, sniff....
I'm beginning to think you really do have exciting lives and I'M the only one at home.
What are you all doing right this minute?
Why primetime? Because there is no homework I have to nag anyone about, no dinner to cook on takeout night, and no one to talk to because my darling children and hubby watch Japanese anime TV shows every Friday night! I could watch Yu-Gi-Oh and Naruto with them, but then I would have to stick a fork in my eye while slowly losing my mind.
So I surf the net instead, occasionally demanding someone take me out to Friday dinner once a month or look at me or talk to me. Sniff, sniff....
I'm beginning to think you really do have exciting lives and I'M the only one at home.
What are you all doing right this minute?
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Glowing--but not from what I'd like
Hey, just me here....glowing superhero chickie! No, not glowing with the joy of pregnancy---hahahahahahahahaha -puh-leeze like that would happen in me?
Nope, just glowing from an isotope. I think it makes my eyes glisten & sparkle just so!
Of course, that could also be rage for my friend Reality, who is going through a miscarriage, which could be ectopic, and has been treated horrendously by a medical establishment who couldn't get their heads out of their asses if they tried.
I get outraged by this stuff because I have been through a lot and I have worked my ass off trying to make sure that women get treated well when they are losing a very much wanted pregnancy. But do the damn Doctors listen, oh nooooo, can't do that.
#%^#$%&$#^%&
Sigh----breathe deeply, release outrage....
First part of my test went well today. My 2 hour uptake was 11%, but after they adjust the calculations, it may change. Next part of the uptake & scan, Wednesday afternoon! Weeee, 2 hours in an ugly lead-lined room....more fun! (I'm not asking for luxury, but could they choose a different paint color besides vomit green? Just sayin....) In all seriousness, if you want to know more about thyroid stuff (in all it's variations) my current favourite site is Thyroid Manager. It has some good scientific stuff, but is in a slightly easier to read format than PubMed.
Very tired....going to bed now. I have some stories to tell, but can't do it right now. Tomorrow, a much better post, I promise.
Nope, just glowing from an isotope. I think it makes my eyes glisten & sparkle just so!
Of course, that could also be rage for my friend Reality, who is going through a miscarriage, which could be ectopic, and has been treated horrendously by a medical establishment who couldn't get their heads out of their asses if they tried.
I get outraged by this stuff because I have been through a lot and I have worked my ass off trying to make sure that women get treated well when they are losing a very much wanted pregnancy. But do the damn Doctors listen, oh nooooo, can't do that.
#%^#$%&$#^%&
Sigh----breathe deeply, release outrage....
First part of my test went well today. My 2 hour uptake was 11%, but after they adjust the calculations, it may change. Next part of the uptake & scan, Wednesday afternoon! Weeee, 2 hours in an ugly lead-lined room....more fun! (I'm not asking for luxury, but could they choose a different paint color besides vomit green? Just sayin....) In all seriousness, if you want to know more about thyroid stuff (in all it's variations) my current favourite site is Thyroid Manager. It has some good scientific stuff, but is in a slightly easier to read format than PubMed.
Very tired....going to bed now. I have some stories to tell, but can't do it right now. Tomorrow, a much better post, I promise.
Monday, April 09, 2007
This week's fun activity schedule!
Over the weekend I seem to have attracted a few more people checking out this blog. Hello! /\/\/\/\ (me waving at y'all...)
Some of you may be wondering about other things I've written on some blogs in their comments and not written here, well, when I first got out here in blogland, someone told me they thought I was exaggerating about the things that have happened to me, because a lot of it seemed pretty sad. I have had a pretty difficult life, I admit that, but I was a bit taken aback about their accusation, so I became a little bit reticent about telling it all. And to be honest, I'm used to my life. The bits that are sad, are pretty much just a normal part of my life by now, although I'm sure when others hear the details, it's a lot. It is what it is. It's just dribbling out in pieces I guess...
So to catch up the peanut gallery out there, Tuesday is my RAIU test. This stands for Radioactive Iodine Uptake scan, and it's supposed to check out my thyroid condition. Specifically to figure out why I have hyperthyroid symptoms, but my TSH varies all over the map. It's been low to undetectable, then bouncing back perfectly then all over the place.
I think, based on the research I've done, that my thyroid is gone hyper as evidenced by my previous high uptake six months ago, and that possibly I even have toxic multinodular goiter, all easily treatable, if I can just get a Dr. to pay attention. They are all thrown by the sometimes normal TSH. But various drugs I'm taking including HRT, aspirin, allergy meds, sleep drugs, etc. can all alter the results of TSH, free T3, free T4 tests, so they look fine. Dr.Evil was absolutely no help, because creative discussions about pharmaceutical interactions were simply beyond her. My other endocrinologists have tried to convince me that I'd just feel better if I got pregnant, and if you remember, the last one decided that I must be diabetic, or have PCOS, even though that was impossible.
*Sigh*
I guess if I stop eating twinkies and relax and have sex it will all be better, right?
Anyway, so back to being my own Doc again...I got my GP to order the RAIU, and another MRI, and we're going from there.
Oh yeah, forgot to mention the story of all my neurological symptoms didn't I? See, two years ago, after years of sleep disturbances I went to a sleep clinic. They diagnosed me with a parasomnia, very mild, but possibly neurological (as opposed to psychological) in origin. I got a CT scan, and an MRI. Both came back showing some slight abnormalities, but not conclusive for anything in particular. So I got another one, with contrast, yadda yadda. They said they saw nothing, but it turned out later, they only looked at arteries and veins, not brain structures related to my parasomnia. (The original reason for which they did the effin' MRI, the buttheads....)
Anyway, the thyroid problem is possibly, remotely, but highly unlikely a TSH-oma; a brain tumour that can cause normal TSH yet high 24-hour uptake on a RAIU scan, and hyperthyroid symptoms, and ovarian failure due to pressure on the pituitary, and make ADD worse, and sleep disturbances, and well, it's totally unlikely, but if I write it here on my blog, then it becomes impossible, RIGHT? RIGHT? Work with me people, okay!!!
So I'll be radioactive, the next 72 hours. The good news is that I get the bathroom to myself, since all the stuff goes out through my urine. The bad news is the environment is going to take a slight hit, whoops!
I apologize to all the fish I'm about to kill. With glow in the dark pee.
Bwa-ha-ha-ha
Some of you may be wondering about other things I've written on some blogs in their comments and not written here, well, when I first got out here in blogland, someone told me they thought I was exaggerating about the things that have happened to me, because a lot of it seemed pretty sad. I have had a pretty difficult life, I admit that, but I was a bit taken aback about their accusation, so I became a little bit reticent about telling it all. And to be honest, I'm used to my life. The bits that are sad, are pretty much just a normal part of my life by now, although I'm sure when others hear the details, it's a lot. It is what it is. It's just dribbling out in pieces I guess...
So to catch up the peanut gallery out there, Tuesday is my RAIU test. This stands for Radioactive Iodine Uptake scan, and it's supposed to check out my thyroid condition. Specifically to figure out why I have hyperthyroid symptoms, but my TSH varies all over the map. It's been low to undetectable, then bouncing back perfectly then all over the place.
I think, based on the research I've done, that my thyroid is gone hyper as evidenced by my previous high uptake six months ago, and that possibly I even have toxic multinodular goiter, all easily treatable, if I can just get a Dr. to pay attention. They are all thrown by the sometimes normal TSH. But various drugs I'm taking including HRT, aspirin, allergy meds, sleep drugs, etc. can all alter the results of TSH, free T3, free T4 tests, so they look fine. Dr.Evil was absolutely no help, because creative discussions about pharmaceutical interactions were simply beyond her. My other endocrinologists have tried to convince me that I'd just feel better if I got pregnant, and if you remember, the last one decided that I must be diabetic, or have PCOS, even though that was impossible.
*Sigh*
I guess if I stop eating twinkies and relax and have sex it will all be better, right?
Anyway, so back to being my own Doc again...I got my GP to order the RAIU, and another MRI, and we're going from there.
Oh yeah, forgot to mention the story of all my neurological symptoms didn't I? See, two years ago, after years of sleep disturbances I went to a sleep clinic. They diagnosed me with a parasomnia, very mild, but possibly neurological (as opposed to psychological) in origin. I got a CT scan, and an MRI. Both came back showing some slight abnormalities, but not conclusive for anything in particular. So I got another one, with contrast, yadda yadda. They said they saw nothing, but it turned out later, they only looked at arteries and veins, not brain structures related to my parasomnia. (The original reason for which they did the effin' MRI, the buttheads....)
Anyway, the thyroid problem is possibly, remotely, but highly unlikely a TSH-oma; a brain tumour that can cause normal TSH yet high 24-hour uptake on a RAIU scan, and hyperthyroid symptoms, and ovarian failure due to pressure on the pituitary, and make ADD worse, and sleep disturbances, and well, it's totally unlikely, but if I write it here on my blog, then it becomes impossible, RIGHT? RIGHT? Work with me people, okay!!!
So I'll be radioactive, the next 72 hours. The good news is that I get the bathroom to myself, since all the stuff goes out through my urine. The bad news is the environment is going to take a slight hit, whoops!
I apologize to all the fish I'm about to kill. With glow in the dark pee.
Bwa-ha-ha-ha
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Gotta pay tribute
To the man who taught me to touch my cervix, John Billings, the discoverer of EWCM*.
Rest in peace, Obi-Wan of the Vagina.
*Egg White Cervical Mucus, what else?
Rest in peace, Obi-Wan of the Vagina.
*Egg White Cervical Mucus, what else?
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