17 Weeks - Holy Crap!

It's late and the rain is pounding on the roof. I was going to continue my previous post with the second part, which is way more exciting and filled with danger and intrigue. And then I just kind of lost interest. Basically, Beau and I drove through some terrifyingly deep flooding and snuck around road blocks and dodged some cascading rocks to make it back home. It seems kind of dumb now, but when it's late at night, you're only an hour from home (with a trunk full of groceries), the government is threatening to cut you off from the one road leading to your house for days and days, and money for a hotel is an issue as well, you do these things. It felt AMAZING to be home. Our dog, who while chained to her doghouse nearly always manages to get herself hopelessly tangled (and did so this time), was pretty thrilled we were back as well. Anyway...

We're in week 17 of the pregnancy right now. I'm feeling better, more myself. Well, about 80% my former self, which is nice. It's a lot better than being sick and miserable. My energy is returning and my sense of smell has thankfully diminished. Hopefully soon, I'll be feeling optimistic enough where I can start writing a journal for the baby. So far, all I would have put is:

Dear Baby, This blows. Please make February come faster. Your mom.

And then just copy and paste that every day.

Continuing on the optimistic theme, yesterday I was completely thrilled when my fetal heart monitor came in the mail. I got it off of ebay after some research and have been checking for it eagerly every day for the past two weeks. I was surprised at what a shitty piece of plastic it appeared to be, and how it only took a generic-looking 9-volt battery. It came with a pair of headphones that you get with the $15 walkman you'd buy at Walgreen's. Isn't Doppler supposed to be somewhat sophisticated? Well, who am I kidding...I only paid $35 for the thing.

But it works! You have to be persistent, but then suddenly there it is -- the thrush-thrush-thrush sound that has come to sound like pure beautiful (reassuring) music to me. I could just lay there and listen to it like it's an iPod filled with 1500 songs. I'm still terrified that something will happen to the baby, and this helps a lot. My midwife was pretty nice though. At my last checkup about a week ago, she said, "Anytime you're in town, just text me and we can meet real quick and I can let you hear the baby through the monitor." But now I've got my own. Coolness.

I think I'll also feel better when I get that bump. At that same checkup, my midwife noted that I have just now reached my pre-pregnancy weight, so I'm basically where I started. Only fatter from here on out! And since my appetite is quickly returning, I don't think it'll be a problem. I can't tell if at those times when I stuff my face it's because it's the pregnancy or it's just me going "Woo hoo, I'm pregnant, I can stuff my pie hole!" I'm a bit nervous of the latter, since it wouldn't be too tough for me to become a fat cow through this. I'm trying to listen to my body and be honest with myself. I eat when I'm hungry.

Saw the midwife again today. She called me a few days after that last appointment and was worried about some complications I've been having. So I drove in, she did an exam, and said she was referring me to the obstetrician to be seen next week. Great. We think we know what it is now, which is much better than what it COULD have been. It has to do with the fact that I'm Rh-, which for those of you who have happily forgot your high school Biology, means that if my baby has a + blood type, and our blood mixes, I will develop antibodies against it and basically try to kill it. I've already had that shot for it, but it's a bit more complicated than that. (I'm trying to be informative here without being too graphic...).

Good thing I drove in too. When in town, I was told, "Did you know they're closing the road up the coast at 6:30pm until 6:30am tomorrow?"

WHAT? So, again I quickly bought some groceries and drove back, where on the way, I was stopped at one of the many construction sites where they're trying to repair collapsed parts of the road.

"Did you know we're closing the road at 6:30pm?" (It was now about 3:30pm).
-- Yes. Glad I bought groceries! *big smile*
"Well, it's closed all day tomorrow too...at least."
-- Oh.

When I got home, Beau was already back from work. He added to this great news.

"They said once they closed the road for 3 weeks before."

!!!!!!

We'd have to get pretty creative with our food. Should have bought some potatoes.

Let's hope for a speedy construction recovery. And that this rain pounding on the roof right now, stops...soon.

Act of God, Part I

Winter here in the Bay of Plenty means no snow, but it does mean rain. A LOT of rain. More rain than I have ever experienced, anywhere, including the flooding monsoon rains of Thailand which could soak you through in seconds or the day-after-day grey drizzle of Strasbourg, France.

The upside is that our entire water supply comes from rain, so rain = good. But as the saying goes, there is such a thing as too much of a good thing. Rain is romantic as it beats on the roof through the night. But when it's still beating down when you wake up...throughout the whole day...into the next night...it's a bit much. And if it goes on for days...flooding begins.

The only road from our place in the back country to the nearest town is a 2-lane coastal highway. Coastal highways are beautiful, but hardly practical. They're more for tourists to enjoy stunning glimpses of the ocean through the trees or to pull over and pose at the occasional photographic turn-off. And as gorgeous as this place is, it doesn't get a lot of tourists, except for some campers during the summer months (Christmas time). For the rest of us, it means an endless, windy road that takes twice as long to get to town than a road that aims for a more direct route.

"We told them," said the locals, in regards to when the government first came to build the road years ago. "We told them building here on the coast was a mistake....every time there's a big rain these hills avalanche. The road will be non-stop work."

They weren't just whistling dixie. Road workers have no fear of job loss as they are constantly on the road clearing piles of debris and shoring up the road. And just recently a new development. About 1/2 mile down the road from us, on the way into town, the road is, literally, falling into the sea. Well, okay, to be totally precise, the river. We live up on a hill that overlooks where a river meets the ocean. And as it continues to rain, the river gets higher and wider and has begun to take chunks of the highway with it on its rampant path.

This is very scary for me, for as isolated as I tend to feel up here in my small house in paradise, a trip into town, even the crappy little town that you hit first, is VERY much needed to prevent myself from going into a Jack-from-The-Shining suicidal state. Especially now that I'm not working so much.

The road was wheedled down to one lane, bordered by some cones and barriers precariously perched on its edge, just a foot or two above the muddy, rushing river.

Then there was a small lull in the rain.

The road crew hopped to it and spent over a week in large vehicles with various impressive implements moving dirt and rock, making piles. It appeared they were trying to re-route the river. It looked confusing, endless, and well...fruitless.

"What about when it rains again?"

Sure enough, a few days later the rains came, with just as much gusto as ever. Whatever intricate work they had done on the river bed area was now completely underwater as the swollen river rushed along. Oh well.

And it kept raining.

At the end of this past week, Beau said, "I really want to go into town, I haven't been for awhile." I was not as keen since I had already been that week to take the car in for repairs and since becoming pregnant, road trips can often = nauseated sick trips. But I took one look into our pantry and fridge to agree. We were running out of food and already getting cranky at dinnertime each night as we whined to each other.

"What do you want for dinner?"
*long pause*
"Well?"
- "I don't know...*sigh* What do you want?"
*perusing the pantry* "There's no food...pasta?"
- "No, not again."
"We've got potatoes..."
- "Ugh."

Then we just kind of walk away for an hour until we get even more hungry and more cranky and come back to the kitchen and start all over again until one of us gives in to the other's suggestion.

It didn't use to be THIS hard until I Thai-ed us out. We both love Thai food and I love to cook it, and since I can kind of go on auto pilot when making it, I usually prefer to. But I think we're getting a bit sick of it...especially stir fry which is my specialty, but can get hard to choke down EVERY WEEK.

In addition, since I'm not working so much, we are basically living on Beau's income which means being more frugal with food, which can be tough with a VERY particular, picky pregnant woman who lives off of can of mandarin oranges, jars of artichoke hearts, and piles and piles of fruit, often imported kind like grapes and cherries.

At Beau's work, where I was subbing for the day, they warned us. "Huge floods are coming. The rain's gonna start, and it won't stop the whole weekend."

"Huh?"

"Don't you listen to the radio at home?"

"Erm, no" (never)

We heard different stories from the rain starting that night (Friday) at 9pm all the way to 3pm the next day. The canteen lady plopped the newspaper down in front of me at lunch, and stabbed at finger at an article on the front page.

"Expected floods all throughout the Bay of Plenty this weekend. Civil Defence called out and ready."

Hrm. I don't know why a part of me can't take stuff like this seriously. Like the last two "tsunamis" or occasional earthquakes that make you giggle more than tremble. I'm not an idiot, I guess I just have never lived anywhere where there was any kind of real Act of God threat. Still.

"Let's go Friday after work," I said to Beau. "We can beat the rain."

He grimaced. "Then we have to drive home in the dark...and it may be raining. I hate that, and I'll be tired."

"But it said the rain might not start til 9pm. We'll be home by then."

"It's still the dark. I'd rather drive in daylight with rain than at night."

Hrmph.

So, we wait til tomorrow, Saturday, and take our chances with the rain.

Thrilled to be With Child, Hating Pregnancy

My life has taken a turn for the better..and the worse. The good news is that I'm pregnant again...about 15 weeks as I write this.

But like my last pregnancy, which ended sadly, this one also sucks. But it's finally beginning to ease up...a little bit. Basically, like before, I pretty much knew I was pregnant as soon as that sperm wiggled into the egg. I won't go into even MORE gruesome details, but basically something happens to me physically that's hard to ignore and bordering on painful, which is the clue that lets me know.

Beau and I have been back together for about 9 months now, continuing our fruitful yet expensive therapy, and pretty much content. We thought it was time to start thinking about having a baby again. We went and saw my GP (general practitioner, what NZers call their primary care physician), and we had that "What you should start doing to get pregnant" talk. We talked to the therapist, I began the vitamins, etc. Another year has passed, and I'm 37 now (Beau quite a bit older), so our ages are always a bit of a concern.

"This could take awhile, we better get started."

Then I got pregnant that month.

Good job, Fertile Myrtle.

So since then, I've basically been unemployed, translation, a total bum at home. And every day has been hard, feeling like I've had rampant stomach flu, but without the whole puking thing. Feeling like I'm...just...about...to puke. My aversion to food, basically all food, was rampant, and I shed 15lbs in a way I would have been totally incapable of before. I had that typical pregnancy sense of smell that was overwhelming, to the point where I couldn't bear to make any bath products, except to make myself small bottles of unscented (Ha! There's still a scent!) shampoo and shower gel so I could shower. The ironic thing about this, is that the whole philosophy behind my soap, shampoo, conditioner and shower gel-making over the past year has been to make the smell VERY strong, like Bath & Body Works strong, since that's what *I* really like. Now, I cannot even stand my own product.

So yeah, waah waah waah. But when this does go on day after day, and you're not really working much, you have a lot of time to focus on your own misery. And it does get rather depressing. You just wonder when it will END. I was focused on the end of my first trimester like a dying person staring into the light.

The first trimester came and went...still felt like shit. Fuck.

But I'm not all depression and self-loathing. I realized that most women have to go to work during this time...even if they do feel dizzy, tired, nauseous, or sick. They still have to put in their eight hours and just manage. I get to stay at home and sleep in and watch Judge Judy and eat when I want to.

And I finally discovered that was one of the main keys. Eat....frequently. Like, every 2 hours. Even though I would rather beat myself in the head than eat a cracker, I've learned: EAT THE FUCKING CRACKER. If I make myself eat about once every 2-3 hours, it helps the sick feeling.

The other hyper-focus in my life was that first ultrasound. The one that tells you your baby is alive and whether or not it has a chromosomal problem, like Down Syndrome. My age gave me a 1 in 210 chance of the baby having DS. That's crazy! If that was lottery odds, I'd be buying up tickets! Also, it was the DAY of this ultrasound on my last pregnancy that I had the miscarriage. I thought, "If I can just make it to this day, it'll be okay."

Beau and I drove into the nearest town and met with the midwife first. She laid me out and took out a fetal monitor and suddenly there it was: THP-THP-THP-THP-THP-THP-THP-THP. The heartbeat! I couldn't believe it! I had never heard something like that before. Of course, I began to cry. I'm pretty sure Beau teared up, but he'll be sure to tell you it was dust in his eye.

Then we drove to the next town where the radiology clinic was for the ultrasound. I was liad out and BAM, there was the baby! Wow! But it was the end of the day, and the ultrasound lady was not in the best of moods.

"The baby's in the wrong place. Get up and walk around so the baby will move."

Erm, okay. I got up, walked around, went to the bathroom. Jumped up and down, jiggled. Came back.

She gritted her teeth. "Bad baby."

Hey!

"Go walk out of the lobby and came back."

I walked out, with the top bottom of my jeans undone and that smeary shit all over my stomach and clothes. People in the waiting room gawked. I twirled, I walked, I giggled, I bounced. Came back.

She was not amused. She was downright grouchy.

"Go walk around the block. I'm going to see another patient."

Geez, okay.

Beau and I went for a walk around the block. I did some more bouncing and twirling, even contemplated a cartwheel, then decided against it. We came back, and this time I was nervous. This ultrasound lady only comes to this clinic once every couple weeks and Beau had taken the day off. I laid down and got smeared again.

"Ahhhh good baby!"

Hooray!

Apparently, now it was in the perfect place, on it's back, looking up. She took all her little measurements, cooing happily. Then the coolest thing happened.

While we were staring at the screen, the baby on its back, it suddenly turned its head and stared right at us. Then, one hand came up over its head, fingers separated...and it waved.

Waved.

Pretty neat.

The lady captured the image. At this point, the baby looks pretty skeletal and gross, and since I was never one for looking at anyone else's ultrasound pics, I'll spare you mine.

Instead, I'll just post pics of cute little babies....

P.S. I had to wait nearly 3 weeks for the results. When I finally called up the midwife, still worried about that 1 in 210 chance, she said, "Oh, the place that evaluates it said they never got the ultrasound. I just re-faxed it to them."

"Okay, how long do I wait now?"

"About another week."

ARGH!! But all's well that ends well. When the results from the ultrasound and blood tests finally came in a few days ago, my 1 in 210 chance of Down Syndrome had dropped all the way to 1 in 1800. A huge, huge relief. As of today, a healthy baby. :)