Early Arrival

On Aug. 14, I had my regular weekly check up. My ob thought I looked "puffy" and she was concerned about my blood pressure. So she sent me to the hospital (labor and delivery) to be monitored. "More than likely," she told me, "you'll be home in a couple hours. But if you have to have the baby, you're at 37 weeks, which is term, so everything will be fine."

All I could think about was all the crap I had left to do at work. I wasn't nervous or upset about the possibility of actually having Baby Starr because I didn't think that was even in the realm of possibility. And sure enough it wasn't. That day.

The nurses at the hospital scoffed at my ob/nurse practicioner (spell?) who had sent me to the hospital. I was fine, she was nuts, etc. So off Omar and I went to home. We went out to dinner with my parents that night, watched the Red Sox game and just had a typical Friday night.

Saturday morning, I woke up at quarter of six. I had had a tough time sleeping that night. My back had been bothering me and my hips were sore. I had probably gotten up seven or eight times to pee since I'd gone to be at ten or ten thirty.

When I woke up, Omar woke up with me. I told him I didn't feel right. "I don't feel right. My back, my hips. Something's not right."

"What's wrong?" he says.

"I don't know. I have to pee again. Then I'm going to try to get some more sleep."

The words were not even out of my mouth, I didn't even have a leg out of the bed. My water broke.

It scared the fuck out of me. There is no other delicate was to put it. It scared me to death. Baby Starr was not due for another three weeks. Baby Starr was also breech and I had a C section scheduled for Aug 28 just in case Baby Starr did not turn around by my next appointment.

I didn't have a bag packed for the hospital. My desk at work was a mess. My house was a mess. We didn't even a mattress for the crib yet, for God's sake. We were about to start a heat wave and the weather people had been freaking out for days about it. In short, I was not ready for Baby Starr to be born.

When I got out of bed and staggered to the bathroom, I felt my first contraction. I told Omar, "I think I'm having a contraction."

During this whole thing, he had started to strip the sodden, amniotic soaked sheets off the bed and he was frantically trying to find my cell phone so he could call my ob. I told him I was taking a shower.

"You're what?"

"I'm taking a shower. I'm covered in amniotic fluid. I can't go to the hospital like this. I'm. Taking. A. Shower."

The truth was, I felt sticky from the amniotic fluid, but I also desperately did not want to go to the hospital and have my picture continuously taken with serious bed head.

My contractions at that point (before the shower) were five minutes apart. By the time I got out of the shower, dressed, threw some things in a bag, and got out to the car, maybe twenty minutes had passed since my water broke. My ob was not on call that weekend and Omar had been given the number for the ob who was. My contractions, by the time we got in the car, were four minutes apart and getting more painful. I was starting to panic, especially when the on call ob's answering service put us on hold.

It was a ten minute drive to the hospital. Contractions were getting stronger. I was still on hold with the answering service. Omar pulled into the emergency room parking lot and we waddled our way into the ER. Where there was no one around. I had to ring the bell twice to get someone to come get us. The whole time, I'm still leaking amniotic fluid. And had been since I got out of the shower, so the shower had pretty much been pointless.

We get up stairs around twenty to seven. Right before shift change. I can't tell you how much fun that was. My contractions are getting more painful, I'm in tears, and the nurses are looking at me like I'm crazy when I ask them things like the following:

"Why do my thighs hurt?"
"That's labor. There's probably pressure on your sciatic nerve."

"Why does my back hurt?"
"That's just part of labor."

And when I tell them, "It wasn't supposed to be this way. The baby's not due for another three weeks. The baby's breech. We don't even have a crib mattress yet! I'm scared," they ignore me and tell me to breathe through the pain.

Breathe through the pain, MY ASS. That was probably the most painful experience I've ever had.

The nurse did an ultrasound to confirm the breech, but then tells me they're going to have to wait for the doctor to confirm the breech status before they can make any decisions. I tell the nurse to get this kid out of me NOW. Omar is holding my hand, I'm crying. They start an IV and I can't have any pain meds because if the baby is breech, that's an automatic C section and they'll give me a spinal then.

So contractions. No pain meds. No freaking doctor as of yet.

Finally, sometime after seven but before seven thirty, the doctor shows up and does an ultra sound. She tells me, "Oh, your baby is breech."

Then everything starts to move quickly. Someone hands Omar scrubs. They tuck my hair into a paper hat. Then they wheel me down the hall to the operating room. Omar can't come in yet until they give me the spinal. I start to have a contraction and they have to wait on the spinal till it passes.

Once they give you the spinal, you immediately go numb from the waist down. You can't feel pain, but you can feel them digging around in there. They let Omar in before they make the incision and he sits with me while they open me up. I feel tugging and stretching and pressure and all sorts of nastiness.

Then I hear, "It's a boy!"

And my son is born.

Fox Sux

I didn't realize that it had been almost two months since I updated this. In those two months, the Red Sox have crushed the Yankees every time they've played them, moved into first place, and benched Lugo. All good things. In those two months, Baby Starr has gotten much bigger, Omar has been the awesomest person alive, and my mother has driven me around the bend and back again.

The Sox appear to be in the Halladay hunt, sort of, but I don't know that they necessarily need him. He's a good pitcher, yes, but what they would have to give up for him seems a bit excessive. Toronto will not let him go cheaply and the Sox are a team that is very protective of its farm system and prospects. Which is why they don't need assholes like Texeira because they're home growing the guys they need. With Dice K on the DL, I've been able to watch all the starters without going red with rage by the third inning. Lord even knows what they'll do with him when he gets back.

Wakefield has been the best part of the season for me so far. Inconsistent, sometimes, yes. But he is by far the best story. Eleven wins, most in the league, and his first All Star game in 17 years in the majors. I always liked Tim Wakefield. He's never bitched about his role, never demanded ridiculous money, never complained about "respect" or whatever it is the rest of the whiny bitches complain about. He has always played his role with dignity and volunteered in the community quietly, never making a big deal about all the work he does for the team and for charity. He deserves this so much more than anyone else in the organization.

It's the usual shit show for Fox, though, starting the All Star Game late and the inanity of Buck and McCarver. Honestly, could they find a more annoying network to show this game on? I suppose ESPN is more annoying, but that's cable and they won't put this on cable. God, I hate Fox.

As for Baby Starr, I can only say this pregnancy thing is both wonderful and draining. I am, thankfully, mostly all belly. I am also carrying very high right now because Baby Starr is frank breech. Which means butt first. The head is near my right rib cage and the feet near my left. It's like the baby is in a V shape. The doctor has assured me that the baby is comfortable like this. They have also told me if the baby doesn't turn in another month, I will be scheduled for a C section, which was not my first choice for delivery. Part of me wonders if I will feel like my pregnancy experience was complete without going through labor, but another part of me is grateful to be spared what I have been told is pretty agonizing pain. My doctor will turn the baby if I ask, but she told me straight up that it doesn't usually work and she doesn't like doing them. That's fine with me; Baby Sis was footling breech, they turned her twice and it didn't work, so Mom had the C section anyway.

The baby is 4 lbs, 2 oz now, so we are looking at a birth weight of between 7 1/2 or 8 lbs. Bigger than Omar and I had anticipated. But all we care about is the health of our Baby Starr. It's the most amazing thing we have every experienced. Even with the disgusting heartburn and the nasty swollen feet and the irritating acne, I would not change this for anything. At the end of it all, I will have my Baby Starr and I could not love that idea more.

My shower was this past weekend and I was astonished and touched by the generosity of my friends and family. After weeks of driving me INSANE, my mother threw an amazing party for her grandbaby. The daily phone calls have not ceased, but they are slightly less annoying than they were. We got a lot of wonderful gifts, including some beautiful handmade sweaters, blankets, quilts, booties, and bonnets from friends, Baby Sis, and my mother. They are absolutely stunning and it took a lot to keep me from crying. The workmanship on those handmade items was just stunning and I could see the care that people had put into them. Especially my sister's. It just touched me so much to know how many people are excited about the birth of my baby and it makes me so thankful for my friends and family and extended family. Baby Starr will be born into so much love and I am beyond grateful for that.

Right now, Baby Starr is pushing against my ribs in such a way that it almost hurts to take a breath. Sleeping is most uncomfortable and I have to pee at work about every hour and every two to three when I go to bed. I'm tired all the time and I'm sort of out of breath a lot since the baby presses on my lungs slightly. But this is all normal. And Baby Starr is worth every discomfort.

Long Couple Months

Baby Starr is about the most exciting thing we have going here these days. It's difficult to explain how terrified, excited, apprehensive, and joyous we are about this baby. Every day revolved around Baby Starr. How much he or she moved, how much sleep I did or did not get, whether or not I am adequately hydrating, etc. It is exhausting to be me and also to be a mom-to-be. I sometimes feel that me has gotten lost in Baby Z and I worry that I will become one of those boring women who have nothing else to talk about besides my kid. I remember when I was interesting, knew about politics, current events, and pop culture. Now I'm more up on what kind of cribs Babies R Us sells.

This is not say that I don't keep up with things, because I do. I am well versed on Sonia Sotomayor and Susan Boyle and American Idol, etc. But when you tend to fall asleep by 9:30 every night, you miss a lot.

Things have not been easy here lately. Omar's mother had major surgery to remove her spleen, part of her stomach, and part of her pancreas. The resulting tests revealed non Hodgkins lymphoma. She has just started chemo. It has been very, very hard on Omar, especially since his dad's lung cancer diagnosis last fall. His dad has been given a clean bill of health, especially since the removal of part of his lung, but everyone is very emotional about this. It has been especially hard on Omar. He has a lot of responsibilities pulling at him right now, not the least of which is his desire to be a good husband and a good son. I suppose I don't make it easy on him because I need a lot of his time right now to help me make decisions about things for the baby. And he feels like his parents need him too. It has not been an easy balance and at times I feel a little resentful that his attention needs to be elsewhere, especially when he starts talking about how much his mom and dad will need him once his brother the doctor starts his residency full time. The problem is, I will need him too and it's going to be a difficult balance for us both.

We have a lot to do still. The baby comsumes every waking thought, concern, etc. It doesn't help I'm still not hungry most of the time (although I have mostly gotten over the food aversions) and I eat more because it's necessary than I want to. The heartburn is fierce and gross and I hate it. The acne on my chest, face, and back gets progressively grosser, and I can't even talk about how disgusting my feet look these days because they swell disgustingly so. I cry a lot because I look so different. Everyone keeps telling me how great I look, but I don't feel great most days. Omar has been amazing and he puts up with the crying and the insecurities better than most would. It's still somewhat overwhelming to us that pretty soon there's going to be a baby in this house.

Baby Starr and the Alien Face

Our eighteen week ultrasound showed us the baby's face. It looks sort of creepy, if you want honesty. Baby Starr will, naturally, be the most adorable baby in the history of babies, but his or her first portrait was a little startling.

Still, the baby is actually starting to look like a baby in there and not some sort of blob that's just hanging out in space. We got to see the baby's spine, organs, and hands and feet. It's always sort of a thrill to hear the baby's heartbeat. There's this whole little person in there, with thoughts, who's dreaming and breathing and squirming around in there and it's just weird. Omar is way more fascinated about this process than I am, probably because he's not the one on the verge of falling asleep, puking, or peeing every five minutes.

I've been suffering from rotten heartburn the last couple weeks, which is so not fun. Plus, everyone keeps telling me I'm going to get an appetite again, but I'm never *hungry.* I eat because I know I should. The food aversions still exist, so I'm not enthusiastic about eating. Omar is still a saint about the cooking. I can't take it anymore and he's been so good.

Motown Night

I think I love this Matt kid. I love Motown music, which may sound weird when you consider the rest of my musical tastes, but I love that genre. It's so cool. And this kid singing Marvin Gaye was awesome.

I don't understand the hype around Adam Lambert. I think he's freaky to be honest with you. His voice just sounds screechy to me.

I got my Twilight DVD the other day and have since watched it twice. I've decided it's better than the books and also that I would seriously like to be Kristen Stewart during that bedroom scene. Holy shit, I forgot how hot that kissing scene was. The kissing in the book is so anticlimatic and the movie just is more.

Omar's on a business trip to Milwaukee, which sucks, because both of us have this miserable cold. The doctor said I could take Sudafed for it, but the kind you have to get from behind the registers at the pharmacy. They scan your driver's license and make you sign a statement when you buy it. I find it interesting that the Sudafed you can buy off the shelves is not considered safe for Baby Starr, but that the Sudafed they use to make crystal meth is.

Colds Suck

Especially when you're four months pregnant. Especially when you have a horrific sinus headache. Especially when you have a cough that makes your temples hurt every time you cough. Especially when you feel like shit, can't sleep, and can't take much of anything that will put a dent in this misery.

The WBC sucks, too, especially when two players come home with injuries.

Twilight comes out on DVD this weekend and I pre-ordered my copy from Amazon because I am pathetic.

Peanut

My little peanut is getting bigger. I have to pee all the time (that is not an exaggeration; I literally went to the ladies' room eight times today at work. Once an hour). I still have horrible food aversions (like right now I am procrastinating going upstairs to put the chicken in the oven because raw chicken makes me sick). None of my clothes fit, so I had to buy maternity clothes (maternity pantyhose are quite possibly the worse things I have ever owned in my entire life). I bought four dressed, 3 pairs of pants, three blouses and five t-shirts. I don't have enough shirts. It's upsetting. I don't want a lot more tops, just three or four more that I can wear to work.

My mother is so ridiculously excited it's not even funny. Even Baby Sis, who is famous for her blase-ness, seems to be looking forward to auntihood. I personally cannot wait to meet my little peanut. We are not going to find out what the peanut is because we truly don't care. Boy or girl, this baby is perfect as is and we don't feel a need to know or have a preference.

On a completely non-peanut related note, Lester signed a long-term contract, Lugo is hurt (shock, I know), Manny is gone, and Pedroia and Youk are also locked up for long-term deals. My boys are getting ready for the season and I am so excited about that. Not to mention that A-Fraud's out with a hip injury and may never see the hall because he's a lying cheater who should burn in hell.

Second Time Around

So, I've had a little secret for a little over month now. I've just started to tell people and now that I've told my parents, I feel like it's okay to share.

I'm having a baby.

For the first time in my life, I am completely overwhelmed in the best way possible. I took the test, thinking for sure it would be negative, and was stunned when it was positive. I cried all night and could barely get the words out when I called Omar to tell him. He was pretty speechless too.

We've just started to tell friends and extended family and everyone's joy for us has been so touching.

I alternate between feeling completely shitty and just merely shitty. Pregnancy is exhausting. I am tired all the time. I have weird food cravings and even weirder aversions (such as a desperate need for tater tots and cheetos, which I have not eaten since college, and a firm aversion to spinach and salmon, which I eat on a regular basis). I also find myself repulsed by water at times, so it's weird. I pee all the time, sleep when I am not peeing, and try desperately not to lose my cookies on the train and all over my desk. I've been lucky in the sense that I've only actually thrown up once, but running in three inch heels to the can at work in order to do so has not actually been as discreet as I was trying to be.

Omar has been a saint. I cannot emphasize that enough. I was pretty miserable the first couple weeks and am just starting to feel better now, but I can't even tell you how much of a difference he has made for me. He's also adorable, the way he talks to Baby Starr all the time.

We had our first ultrasound to make sure it wasn't twins (it wasn't, thank the Lord) and got to hear the heartbeat for the first time. The doctor says the baby's doing really well and that I am too. Still, I can't wait for September 4 to come so I can meet this tiny little person inside me. It makes me teary even to think about it, but I love this little thing so much and it's not even here yet. It scares me how much I will love him or her when s/he finally arrives.

It's enough to make up for all the absolutely awful parts of pregnancy to know that at the end of this, my baby will be here and I'll finally get to meet this little person who's part of me and part of Omar.

Proof God Is Not A Woman

Ugh, got my period yesterday. Omar went and got the Clomid refilled, which means yet another funfilled month of being an absolute raging bitch to people while those lovely hormones work their way through my reproductive system. I loathe getting my period. The bloating alone makes me feel like I gained twenty pounds for three days.

How the hell did this journal become all about my cycle anyway?

Anyway, the same day I took the pregnancy test, I also discovered from the scale that I've lost twenty pounds. That's pretty amazing. I can't tell the difference, but Omar says he definitely sees it and Lori told me when I saw her a couple weeks ago that she could tell I've lost weight. So I guess there's an upside to everything.

I signed up for this program called NaNoWriMo online and basically I have to write a new book in thirty days. I put all my other stuff on hold and I've written something (so, so close to done) that's new, but I don't know how good it is. It's just a rough draft (a VERY rough draft) but it's pretty okay so far. I've got about a thousand words left to go and the deadline's tomorrow. Hopefully, I'll finish tonight when Baby Sis and I get back from the movies. We're going to see Twilight tonight because we're completely lame.

Thanksgiving was a success. Uncle CT came with the fam and my parents were here too. Daddy helped Omar put a couple outlets in today so that was interesting. And Mom unpacked the last twelve boxes that needed to be unpacked so that was good too. And knowing the test had been negative freed me up for booze. I will probably, once I'm done feeling like a bloated whale this week due to the water retention, get roaring drunk since I promised myself that if I wasn't pregnant on the first round of drugs, I'd get trashed.

Not that it will make me feel any better about it, but at least I won't be wallowing in self pity while I'm drinking because I'm in general a pretty happy drunk. Which is ironic because alcohol is a depressant.

Too many deep thoughts. Going to eat leftover turkey and stuffing and share a beer with Rock Starr before going to movies. Then I will come home and try to pound out the denouement.

I love Advil.

I Never Did Test Well

Today was day 27. The box says you can tell at least 1 day before your scheduled period. The test was negative.

Omar said to give it another week. I don't have a regular cycle usually. If I don't get a period between now and then and the next test is negative, he said we'll call the doctor and figure out where to go from there.

Today was day 27. The box says you can tell at least 1 day before your scheduled period. The test was negative.

And that says it all right there.

Womb Watch - The Beginning

I'd love to know how my vagina become the center of attention in my house. Everyone, it appears, is completely obsessed with it.

I've never made a secret of the fact that I want children and that my period sucks. But in order to have children I need to get a period, which I haven't had since February. At first I was concerned the progesterone wasn't working. Oh, it's working. I have been having a full out screaming it sucks awful bad period with a nasty set of cramps to match. So far I'm on day three of it and I want someone to pay for this.

Sunday I start the Clomid.

This has been a somewhat humiliating process because I made the mistake of discussing this with my mother and she's obsessed with it. Not to mention that every day after I started the progesterone someone would inevitably ask me if I had gotten my period yet. Everyone has been eagerly anticipating and excited for me to bleed. It is beyond creepy that this many people are that interested in my menstrual cycle.

So in another month and a half or so I'll know. I'll either be knocked up or drunk. I'd prefer to be pregnant so I don't have to keep doing this every month (hormones blow!). And I know if I get my period in a month I will drown myself in alcohol. There won't be any other option.

Other goings on that have made this stressful? No heat and no hot water for the last 24-48 hours because a motor kicked on our furnace. Yesterday Omar called the oil company because we had no hot water. We got home from dinner out last night and discovered that no only did we still not have hot water, we didn't have heat. And the oil company didn't pick up the emergency line and it was actually below freezing last night. Ever shower in an ice cold house with ice cold water? Sucks.

Sucks almost as much as everyone waiting for you to bleed.