Author: Tim

So close!

At the doctor’s today, she informed me that I’m dilated to 4 cm! Woo hoo! That’s Phase One of labor already nailed, my friends! According to hospital guidelines, I could get an epidural right now! Just go about my daily life, numb from the waist down…

She also performed a procedure called “stripping the membranes” which sounds much more painful than it is. Basically, she just ran her finger around the edge of my cervix where the amniotic sac is attached and separated the two. She could only get 80% around, as I have, apparently, a “very narrow birth canal” and she couldn’t reach that corner. Right away, I started feeling very crampy, but as yet, no contractions. Because of Mr. Polyp, though, there was much blood. (Aren’t you so glad that you are getting these wonderful details? I feel so close to everyone right now…)

The doctor then offered to send us over to Labor and Delivery right then to get induced. Oh, I was so tempted! I let Tim be the voice of reason, though, and he suggested that maybe we should wait and see if the membrane stripping did any good. She said that something usually happens within 24 hours. She then said she’d have her nurse call and set up an induction time for Thursday. Joy! A deadline!

I then came home and immediately called Judy (the doula) for her advice. She said that although it is best to go into labor on your own, doctors start to get really antsy when you are this far dilated and not in labor yet. They start to worry that once things start to happen, they may happen very quickly, leaving you going through transition in the car while trying to get to the hospital or something. She thought an induction on Thursday would be fine. Double joy! Even the doula is on board!

Of course, this was all for naught when the nurse called and said that the hospital had no opening for inductions this entire week. Apparently, they are just swamped right now with all of us preggos having babies! So then the real kicker is that my doctor is on vacation for the next week! Great!

So the nurse said, ‘You’ll just have to go into labor on your own,’ which is fine, but what if that doesn’t happen within the next week and a half? Did she not even attempt to schedule something for next week since the doc’s going to be gone? I don’t even have an appointment set up with her at any point in the future! Not to mention that I’ve never even met who might be covering for her next week! GRR!

Needless to say, I’m freaking out a little. I do feel a little better that I’m not going to be induced, though. For one thing, your contractions have a tendency to come on strong when they use pitocin. Plus, once they get an IV in you (which they use to administer the pitocin), this invisible clock starts ticking — timing your progression. If you don’t progress so far so fast, then your chances of having a C-section are greatly increased. Plus, I think that getting induced really goes against my whole birthing philosophy. I mean, I’m supposed to be a believer that my body can do this on its own, right? That no medical intervention is really necessary. The baby has to come out at some point.

So much to think about! But I must admit, I felt the temptation of just having this baby right now. Now I’m really in it for the long haul.

Well, here we are. August 6. The Official Due Date of Baby Clauss 2001.

And still no baby! I suppose that’s to be expected, though, since only around 5% of all babies are born on their due dates in this country. Plus, we still have a couple more hours! He could still make it!

Yeah, right.

Cool! UPS man just tried to sneak a package on the porch, but the dogs were on to ‘im. He was bearing purchases from drugstore.com! Woo hoo! Boudreaux Butt Paste for everyone! Baby, if this is what you’ve been waiting for, then wait no longer! The Butt Paste is here!

And, what, you may be asking, is Boudreaux Butt Paste? Kindly remove your minds from the gutters and place them directly on the changing table. Boudreaux is this wonderful concoction invented by a pharmacist in Louisiana to help prevent and treat diaper rash. My friends Brooke and Tim use it on their wee one and it works like a charm. And it smells way better than A&D ointment, kinda like vanilla. And isn’t, “Hey, honey, we need more Butt Paste,” way more fun to say than, “We’re out of A&D Ointment.” I hate that word, ointment. It just sounds unpleasant.

I hope the dogs don’t take a hankering to the smell, though. That’s all we need, is to get the dogs more interested in stinky diapers. Luckily, we have our trusty Diaper Genie to lock-down all the smelliness, though. Guaranteed wiener-dog proof!

Anyway, all of this ruminating on due dates has me recalling last December 1, the day I found out I was pregnant.

It was a Friday. I had been acting crazy all week long, going totally ballistic on Tim for the smallest of reasons. In fact, just a couple of days before, I had gone to get my hair cut (Tim had an appointment with the same person for that night) and the check card was declined. I just asked if Tim could pay later and she said sure. Well, I went home and started to look for the checkbook, totally enraged, because I knew I would then have to deliver it to Tim since his check card wouldn’t work. I couldn’t find the damn checkbook which made things even worse. I did all of this instead of looking at our bank to see what might be the problem with the check card. I ended up driving back to the salon, sans checkbook, where I knew Tim would be going to soon. I found him in the lobby, playing a video game while waiting for his appointment. He said that he had the checkbook.

It’s terrible to say this, but keep in mind that I was temporarily insane: If I had had a gun, I would have shot him. That’s how mad I was. Why? Hell if I know! It’s irrational anger — there’s no explanation! Anyway, turns out there was nothing wrong with the card at all. I just needed to have her try it again. Looking back, I feel so bad for poor Tim. He just said, “What is wrong with you?”

We soon knew why — I was pregnant.

By Friday of that week, I couldn’t wait any longer. We had only been trying to get pregnant for about a month and a half, so I thought that if I was pregnant, I couldn’t be very far along. So I researched the pregnancy test that would yield the most reliable results at the earliest possible time and went to Walgreens to buy it. Of course, it was at lunchtime and for some reason, the Walgreens was totally packed. I had to stand in a huge line of people, all the while trying to looking nonchalant about buying a home pregnancy test. I took it home, carefully read the directions and realized that I needed to wait four hours before taking it.

I typed email, puttered around and generally stalled for as long as I could. Finally, the four hours had passed and I took the test. You have to wait a couple of minutes for it to work, but mine had two pink lines like that! Very pregnant!

I can’t think of the right words to describe the feeling that washed over me. Paralyzing fear. Elation. Relief at the knowledge that I was not, indeed, insane. Anxiety. Wonder at what those two pink lines really meant.

The one thing I was sure of: I did not want to give Tim the news over the phone. So what did I do? I called him immediately.

I was sobbing as soon as I heard his voice. Needless to say, he was very happy. But the actual conversation is for us only.

That night, we just happened to be hosting our friends the Grifters after they played a show downtown. Actually, it was a good thing I found out that I was pregnant that day, or else baby Clauss could have been exposed to mucho alcohol with those boys in town.

So, by the end of the night, my mom knew (had to call her!), Tim’s parents knew (I think), the Grifters knew and about five or six of our friends who just happened to be at the show knew. We were crazy! And, to think, I was only 4 weeks pregnant! When I think about all of the things that could have gone wrong with the pregnancy between then and now, well, I probably still would’ve told everyone. It was nuts!

So that’s the story of how I found out that I was pregnant. And it’s hard to fathom just how many light-years away August 6, 2001 sounded on that day.

You know the wierdest thing about this time right now? Being so on the verge of the biggest event of my life.

I mean, my life is about to take such a different direction, once this baby comes (when? if?). Things will never be the same for me, Tim, me & Tim, the dogs (I know, I’m lame to include them, but it’s true!) and our families. Everyone will have to fit the little guy into their lives as they know it. For us, he becomes our lives as we know it.

Anyway, just something I was pondering as I took the dogs out one last time tonight. Tomorrow’s the big Due Date. Here’s hoping this guy is as much of a stickler for punctuality as I am…

A-ha! You thought I had the baby, didn’t you?

Sorry. I was simply rendered immobile yesterday with extreme post-walking exhaustion. I did, however, get two rugs shampooed (by Tim). That’s something, right?

Anyway, straight to today’s topic so I can get to eatin’ some of my fresh-baked banana bread.

Tim and I are planning on a natural birth with the help of a doula. For those of you just joining us, a doula is a professional labor support woman. She will be with us every step of the way once labor starts, answering questions, helping me to manage my pain and suggesting things that Tim can do to help. She basically takes over the “coach” position, leaving Tim to do what he does best: cheer me on. This takes mucho pressure off of him to remember all those Lamaze breathing patterns, massage techniques and other pain distraction measures we learned back in childbirth class (also taught by our doula).

Our doula Judy came highly recommended, and I must admit that I feel much more secure knowing that she will be there to help, instead of just the two of us trying to make things up as we go along. I mean, Tim and I have never done this before, so how the heck are we supposed to know what’s going on? Judy has attended so many births, she’s pretty much seen and done it all. She’s got some interesting stories about dads that punched out the doctor, moms that completely lost all control and other frightening stuff. But mainly, she’s the one that’s going to be there to say, ‘Let’s try this first,’ when I’m screaming, ‘Get me the drugs!’ She won’t stand in the way if I truly decide that drugs are what I want, but there’s a much larger chance that I’ll get through labor without them if she’s there. As opposed to Tim, who I’m sure would be so freaked out by seeing me in pain that he’d give in at my first whimper. ‘Can we get this woman some drugs?!’ God love him.

Our friend Brooke used a doula last summer to deliver her nine pound plus baby without drugs. And Brooke was definitely not blessed with the kind of child-bearing hips that I sport. I say that if she can endure many hours of labor (back labor, even!) and two hours of pushing without drugs and with a doula, then bring on the doula!

My main point that I have failed to mention over the past few days is that I am not afraid of childbirth. I know that this is what my body was made to do. The same things apply to breastfeeding and circumcision. I mean, who are we to think that God created us or our children imperfectly? That baby boys are somehow born with a flaw that must be “fixed” by modern science? Or that some man-made formula could even begin to compare to the food that our bodies automatically create when our babies are born? (Please don’t even get me started on my feminist rant about formula companies keeping women down.) Or that childbirth is something that must be medicated or surgically remedied (by C-section)? If there’s one thing that I always try to do in my life, it’s experience everything to the fullest. I want to know this experience, just like I feel I’ve been able to fully experience this pregnancy.

Now, you have to promise not to laugh at me if I’m like, ‘Dude, it really hurt. I totally got the epidural.’ After all, you’re my friends, right? And my philosophy has always been: I’ve never done this before. I can’t make up my mind about something until I’m actually there.

So I’m keeping my options open. But I’m still trying to do the things that can help me reach my goal of being all-natural earth mother goddess. Except for the Twinkies.

OK, no more topics! Back to the whimsy!

I am the walking queen.

I have walked so much in the past 24 hours that I’ve worn a blister on the sole of my right foot. Last night, I dragged Tim to Union Station, which is much smaller than I remembered. I was thinking we’d have two levels of cool, hip walking pleasure. Wasn’t I saddened to find that Union Station, once the bastion of cool little clothing boutiques (not that I could shop there now anyway), is now simply filled with pitiful T-shirt shops and over-priced chain restaurants. And it was decidedly not cool in there. So we were off to the Galleria, where we traversed its many halls of retail fun. We even got a cute hat and sunglasses (on sale) for the boy at Baby Gap!

All this walking, though, has provoked nary a contraction, however. Grr!

Anyway, back to today’s topic: breastfeeding! Since today is the first day of World Breastfeeding Week, I am giving myself extra points for my supreme timeliness. Yay, Beth!

I must admit, I cannot wait until my baby is born and we can start breastfeeding. For those of you who have never done it, or are ill-equipped to do it (e.g., men), that may sound strange. But think about it: I’ve been carrying around this baby inside of me for the past 39 weeks. I’ve never been closer to anyone in my life, save for my own mother when she carried me around for 40 weeks. So once he’s born, one way we will stay closely-connected is through our breastfeeding relationship. I’ve seen one of my friends have the best time breastfeeding her son (now over a year). I’ve gone to a couple of La Leche League meetings and heard the mothers there talk about their breastfeeding trials and triumphs. I’ve seen their beautiful, chubby children.

Now, I’m not even going to go into the health benefits of breastfeeding over formula, because for me the point is moot. All you have to do is look to the American Academy of Pediatrics or the World Health Organization for the facts. I’m not condemning anyone who chooses formula over breastfeeding. I think mothers should do what’s right for them. But for me, I am incredibly blessed to be able to work from my home. I am incredibly blessed to have a supportive husband who is completely behind me on this. I am incredibly blessed to have friends and people I can call if/when I run into problems breastfeeding. This is the right choice for me, and I will gleefully toss any and all formula samples and literature foisted upon me into the trash from now until kingdom come.

I try to be realistic about it. I know that getting started will be hard, since breastfeeding is a learned art. But I am willing to put up with any amount of discomfort to do this, because I know that it will pass. I can’t tell you the number of times I have gotten up before dawn in the past months and sat in my glider in the nursery, just dreaming about having the baby in my arms, nursing away. In reality, I’ll probably be trying not to fall asleep after the eighth millionth feeding of the day in that glider, but it’s so fun to dream right now!

Sure, you’re saying, great! Breastfeeding is wonderful! But here’s where it gets sticky for some people: I’m going to breastfeed this child until he’s ready to stop.

Whoa, you say. How long is that? Well, it’s hard to say. Pediatricians recommend that babies be exclusively breastfed until they’re six months old. Then you can start feeding them solid foods gradually, along with breastfeeding for at least a year. So, really, the weaning process starts when you start introducing solid foods. But for some kids, they continue to breastfeed until they’re two and up, and this is OK with the doctors. Keep in mind that once your child is two, you’re breastfeeding probably twice a day, but some people still find it a little creepy. Of course, some babies are ready to stop at a year. It all depends on you and your child. So that’s what I’m prepared to do–let him decide when it’s time to stop.

Now don’t freak out and think that I’m going to be one of those moms with the breastfeeding kindergartner. That won’t happen. In fact, all this discussion is putting the cart way before the horse. I don’t mean to sound defensive, but this is something I feel very strongly about, and something that I feel very priviledged to be able to do for my son and myself. Second to actually growing and birthing a new life, being his sole source of food for the first six months of his life is pretty neat too!

Tomorrow’s topic: Why I’m going to have this baby naturally with the help of a doula (unless it hurts really, really badly).

Dang.

Absolutely nothing new to report from the doctor. Actually, that’s a lie. I have one thing to report. But the jist is that I have not progressed at all with the dilation (or “dilatation” if you would like to use another word that’s spelled differently but means exactly the same thing). Apparently, though, that whole bleeding thing from a couple of weeks ago is because of a small polyp (I hate that word for some reason, maybe it’s the “y”) on the edge of my cervix. Even her just touching it with a Q-tip made it bleed. Why did she touch it with a Q-tip? Good question. Maybe to see if it would bleed?

I asked if it would interfere at all with the labor and delivery process and she said no, that I would probably just know that I was dilating because it would bleed. So there you have it — a built-in labor warning system. No more sleepless nights! The pregnant body is a miraculous thing!

I must admit that even though I have a week until this guy is officially due, I’m discouraged. I mean, I’ve been walking every morning (while restraining four rowdy wiener dogs), sitting on the floor and squatting (which is really comical to watch, I’m sure, with my big belly and all) and Tim and I have been acting like it’s our honeymoon again. What is the freaking holdup?

Did I mention that the baby is getting really huge now too? It feels like he’s about to fall out everytime I go to the bathroom. One of the nurses today recommended lots of walking. Of course, there’s a “spontaneous combustion warning” everyday now, so anything other than my morning walk is kind of out of the question. Maybe I’ll drag Tim to Union Station tonight and we can walk around there, acting like tourists in the air conditioning. Yippee.

Anyway, other than my non-exciting, non-productive doctor’s appointment today, I actually have a topic to discuss! Yay, topics! My old friend Chris emailed me yesterday with a not-so-subtle hint that we should consider leaving our son intact (i.e., uncircumsized). I thought, ‘Hey! That’s something interesting to talk about. And, some day, our son will be so embarassed that I even brought it up!’

So consider this the first in a series of discussions of “Things That We’re Doing That My Mom Doesn’t Understand” or something to that effect. (Sorry, Mom.)

We’re not circumsizing our son.

Why? Well, I’ll tell you. You see, circumcision is really hard to spell, first off. Second, it is truly one of those things that is still done to babies out of tradition. There’s no real medial reason for it. Any medical benefit that was once touted has been refuted. For example, boys who are uncircumsized do not have any higher instances of penile cancer or urinary tract infections. There are no “cleanliness” issues if you just make the proper hygeine a part of your child’s bathing routine. And, hey, you’re not subjecting your brand-new baby to pointless pain and suffering simply so he will “look like” other boys or his father. Plus, since the circumcision rate is way down in the past decade (like only half of all boys are now circumsized now), he will have comrades! And, as Tim so eloquently put it one day, ‘When you’re in the junior high locker room, the last thing you are looking at is some other guy.’

Well said, Tim!

And this is an issue we’ve really discussed a lot. I was worried that my own anti-circumcision feelings had made Tim feel that he didn’t have a say. Turns out, though, that once he thought about it, he wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of the surgery either. (Perhaps Tim would like to post about his feelings if he gets the chance as well.)

So that’s the deal. Sometimes I find it hard to believe that I have to think about these things now. You can breathe a sigh of relief that you do not, I guess.

Tomorrow: Why I want to exclusively breastfeed my child, and why we’ll keep breastfeeding until he wants to stop (well, before he can say, ‘Yo, ma, boob me’).

Sorry to leave everyone on such a downer note for the weekend — I’m much better now! Wow. I just hit scan on my stereo remote (which Tim so thoughtfully hooked up for me this weekend) and they were playing “Hero” by the Foo Fighters. I kinda like that song. Now, they are playing this terrible song that sounds like a cover of Michael Jackson song. Oh God. I think it is. Scan, again!

Yay, KDHX, player of obscure country-rock tunes!

So, anyway, I’m still pregnant. Obviously. Only one more week till my due date, she said wryly. I’m officially in sitting-on-my-behind, watching-movies mode. So far, since going to see A.I. in an actual theater (which turned out to be very expensive, for a matinee), I’ve watched The Emperor’s New Groove (don’t ask), Unbreakable, You Can Count On Me and Red Planet.

“She’s Tight”! This DJ rocks my pregnant bootie. And can I be a little more random, but what is up with “bootylicious”? Ever since seeing those girls do their Farrah-Fawcett thing during the NBA Finals’ halftime show, I have been scratching my head over that one. Stuff like that makes me feel really old. None of the bands I like sing songs about their booties.

So, back to the movies. Liked Unbreakable and You Can Count On Me, thought Emperor’s New Groove was very David Spade-ish (i.e., mildly humorous) and could not believe how bad Red Planet was. What the heck was Carrie-Anne Moss thinking? And Tim loses movie selection priviledges for a while.

My dogs are singing you all a little song. For no apparent reason. But it’s very loud.

Nothing happened this weekend, in case you couldn’t tell. We just stayed home and tried not to spend money. I swear, every single bill we have is due at the beginning of the month. I woke up at 4 a.m. Sunday morning and had a few contractions, but they went away and I fell asleep about 5:30. That’s it. The way the baby is moving around in there, you would think he’s having a going-away party or something. Maybe he’s taking his umbilical cord for one last spin around the ole uterus. Time to come out!

Tim said last night that he really feels that this week is going to be “the week.” Let’s hope his intuition is sharper than mine, because I have no idea…

Ugh! I feel terrible.

I just got out of the shower, which made me feel marginally better, but I’m still feeling very nauseous. And if you know me, you know that there’s no worse feeling in the world for me than nausea. As a matter of fact, I’ve been saying that throwing up is against my religion for so long that I think it may actually be against my religion now.

I don’t have a fever, though, which is good, because I think an actual illness at this point would be quite bad. I’m not hungry, which has been the major cause of any nausea lately. Usually, if I just eat something, everything’s OK again. This morning, though, I woke up at 5 and just felt like the nothingness of my stomach was still trying to slide back up my esophagus. Unpleasant!

So I got up, ate a little oatmeal, and sat in my comfy chair in the nursery, watching the sun slowly light the neighborhood. I think I fell asleep for a bit, and I went back to bed about 6:15. By the time Tim was leaving at 7:30, I was feeling really terrible. Like how-long-do-I-have-before-I-must-visit-the-bathroom terrible. Not good.

I even called my mom at 8 and dissolved into tears. What is it about calling your mom when you feel really sick that turns you into a seven year-old again? I would’ve given anything to have her here, stroking my eyebrows like she used to when I was little. As it was, I pulled myself back together and managed to have a conversation with her. Her recommendation: get out of bed, get upright and drink some Sprite, which I have none.

So here I am, upright at least, clean as a whistle and feeling marginally better. If anyone knows a mom who felt deathly ill the day she delivered, let me know, I guess. That’s probably the only thing that would make me feel better at this point.

Oh! And today’s my doula’s moving day to her new house (still in St. Louis, thank goodness), so today could actually be The Day, according to Murphy’s Law. And what’s all this stuff in my horoscope lately about “things happening behind the scenes”? What’s up with that?!

Ah, is there anything more decadent than going to the movies in the middle of a weekday afternoon? Sure, I work from home, and my projects are winding down now that the baby is so close to being here, but still! I love the illicit, playing-hooky feeling of slinking into a darkened theater with a gigantic soda and a small popcorn (plain, which is how I like it, but never get it, because Tim likes buttered).

So what did I see? Well, I sorta surprised myself, but I went to see A.I. And you know what? I liked it! I’m still a little shocked actually. You see, I’m not a Stanley Kubrick fan (yeah, yeah, I know it was a Spielberg film, but it was Kubrick’s idea). In fact, I wanted to throw things at the screen during Eyes Wide Shut. I still do not get 2001, even though Tim has tried to explain it to me since he’s read the books. The Shining is O.K. And I think that’s all the Kubrick I’ve seen. Not a wide sample, to be sure, but after EWS, I had little hope for A.I.

So why did I even go and see it? First of all, there really wasn’t anything else I wanted to see (Legally Blonde? No thank you!). Second of all, Tim got me hooked on this unbelieveable web game that is loosely related to the movie (for an exhaustive, enthusiastic introduction to this, see Jason’s ravings about it.) Third, it got pretty good reviews, but no one I know has actually seen the thing.

So why did I like it? I may be a little emotionally vulnerable at this point, but the story of a little boy robot who only wants to be loved by his mother got me right here. I thought the story was interesting and unpredictable, the conflicts truly troubling (forgive my alliteration). I mean, you get a robot boy because your own son has died (and subsequently cryogenically frozen), but then your son is returned to life through the miracle of science. What do you do then? Your real son is jealous of the fake son, and probably a little creeped out that you tried to replace him. Your fake son doesn’t understand that he is any less “real” than the other. Can the two co-exist? Wow.

But the rest of the story was a little weak after that was “resolved.” And the ending totally blew. It just felt fake.

Overall, though, it was a very enjoyable afternoon of playing hooky at the movies. The best part was walking out into the parking lot, blinking at the sunshine glaring off of the windshields.

I don’t know what it is about going to the doctor’s that makes me so tired. Maybe it’s just the fact that doing anything in this heat makes me really tired. Poor Beth!

So, no new news from the doctor. I’m still stuck at 3 cm, 100% effaced, if you can call that stuck. The doc’s baffled, though, as to why I have not yet gone into labor. “Just a couple of good contractions should get you going.” So I guess I can look forward to super-spicy food until the little guy decides that he’s tired of looking at his knees. Or I can put on my seduction hat… which doesn’t fit anymore, really… (Not maternity-sized)

I wasn’t surprised that I wasn’t dilated more. I mean, I just haven’t had any contractions to speak of in the last week.

Tim was such a sport and came with me to the doctor’s. He even took the afternoon off and hung out with me, eating ice cream and watching “Days of Our Lives.” What a guy! I fell asleep eventually, and he set off on a 16-mile bike ride. Wow. My husband kicks butt.

So that’s it. I guess I have a few more days to wrap up business with clients, maybe even squeaking out a layout before this baby comes. Yay, money! And there’s only 12 days left till my due date, so at this point, I’m just going to reset my mind back to August 6 as the date to look forward to. This day-to-day stuff is driving me nuts.