Or, why would a pregnant lady even want to go to a concert?
Somehow, Morgan and I had plans for four out of five evenings this week. All right, it was almost entirely my doing; the only plan he requested was Monday night's concert. Yes, that's right, I've been dragging myself around, exhausted, and our week was bracketed by Monday and Friday night concerts. Well, if we don't go now, when will we go?
Monday's show was "Formerly New Zealand's fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo acapella-rap-funk-comedy folk duo" and they were, as expected, hilariously funny. For anyone not familiar with FotC, I highly recommend renting the first season of the HBO show. We expected this to be the easier of the two shows this week, since we had assigned seating (really good seats at that) and went to the earlier of the two shows they had that night. But due to some issues with the fire alarm system at the venue, the show was half an hour late starting and the will call line was ridiculous. I had to wade through crowds with my arms around my belly to keep people from walking into me. But it was all worth it - Bret and Jemaine were very pretty and very funny. And as we were attempting the leave the theater after the show, while the second show audience was attempting to arrive, Morgan got to turn around and snap at the idiot behind me, "Can you please stop pushing the pregnant lady!" For anyone who has ever questioned whether Morg can be menacing, yes he can. My hero.
Friday night's show was Jenny Lewis at the Fillmore. We saw her a year or so ago when she toured supporting Rabbit Fur Coat and loved her stage show. Morgan was a little on the fence about seeing her again, but we were both blown away by her performance last night, although it was as different as could be from the last tour. Whereas the Rabbit Fur Coat tour had shimmery little dresses, costume changes, and choreographed dancing, this show was much more stripped down, with more of a 70s acid rock vibe. Still amazing performances by Jenny and her band though, even if I missed the eerie harmonies of the Watson Twins. Also, no show poster. WTF?
Our big concern with this show was me being on my feet for that long (and we didn't even realize there were going to be two opening bands). I called the club the day before the show to see if it was possible to reserve disabled seats, which I noticed for the first time last month when we were there for the Ting Tings. According to the woman I spoke to, they do not reserve seats for pregnant women because "anyone could show up with a positive pregnancy test and claim to be disabled." I asked what my odds of getting a seat if I showed up with my 9 month belly; she checked to make sure that all the tables hadn't been reserved and told me my odds were good. And they were; we found the nice lady in charge of guarding the disabled seats and asked if it be possible to sit there since I am so very pregnant. She disappeared for a minute, then came back with badges for us to wear saying it was okay to sit there. And so we were introduced to disabled seating at rock shows. Morgan says he wants to always bring pregnant women to shows from now on. We did discover that probably the crappiest job at the club is the two poor women who have to herd people away from those seats; there is very limited seating at the Fillmore, and before the shows started, the two women basically patrolled back and forth, advising anyone (without a badge) who sat down that the seats were reserved. Our favorite response was the guy who wanted to argue with them: "Well, why would disabled people even want to come to a concert?" Why not?
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Pain Management
We went to a Pain Management and Cesarean Section class last night at Kaiser. I don't plan on using/having either of those things, so had initially ruled out the class all together. But, as my wacky childbirth prep teacher pointed out, there is about a 25% cesarean rate at Kaiser Hayward, so there is a chance I might need one. While I am going to do everything I can to avoid it, I figured I might as well be prepared.
Morgan and I both knew a lot of the information presented in the class, but it was still interesting. One of the things the nurse anesthetist said that I liked was that just by coming to the class, we were making it less likely we would need pain medication because anxiety about the unknown can contribute to how pain is perceived. I thought this tied in nicely with the book I'm currently reading. During my last massage, I was talking to Kathleen about my disappointment in the childbirth prep class we took; there was a lot of information about positioning the baby prior to labor and the importance of skin to skin contact and breastfeeding after the baby was born, but very little on coping/relaxation techniques for during labor. Which I'm kind of thinking is important. Kathleen recommended Birthing From Within, which she used for her two births.
I'm not as far as the chapter on coping techniques for pain yet, but the first few chapters talk a lot about raising self-awareness and addressing one's own conceptions about pregnancy, labor, and parenting. The author gives examples of women who have gone through her seminars, which includes creating "birth art" to explore feelings. Not being visually arty (and having difficulty holding anything resembling a writing implement at the moment), I haven't done this, but reading about other women's experiences is making me consider what my own preconceptions are.
I hope that I am not cocky. That's my biggest fear, that I am arrogantly assuming I understand what I am getting into. I absolutely believe labor is painful, but I also know it is finite. I know contractions will hurt, but I know they don't last forever. Throughout my pregnancy, I have been comparing it to running a marathon. The last few weeks have been like miles 23-26, where I really want nothing more than to lie down on the side of the road and call it quits, but I know I'm almost done and I know that when its done, the feeling of accomplishment will be worth it. I'm looking at labor the same way. When I run long distances, I take walk breaks; for every however long I run (anywhere from 2 to 4 minutes at a time), I also take a walk break (1 to 2 minutes). I'm considering the contractions the runs and the time in between the walks. I know it will hurt like hell (like running for a measly two minutes after you've already been going for five hours) but I know if I can get through it, there will be that walk/rest again. And at the end, in addition to an amazing sense of accomplishment, I get a son.
Here's where the moms I know can blast me for being naive for comparing childbirth to something like running. But I believe - I hope - that I have the strength to get through this childbirth on my terms. And honestly, my (well researched) fears about medication are greater than my fears about pain. I have phobias about numbness, which I think I've already talked about here. I also have issues with the idea of not being able to walk around once an epidural is administered. Add to that my tendency towards very low blood pressure and nausea when medicated and the 1% chance of a spinal headache, and all in all, the drugs seem like a very bad idea.
But most of all, what I'm focusing on is the fact that the end objective is a healthy baby. If I decide I need drugs, if for some reason I end up needing a c-section, I will not let myself feel a sense of failure. Because I'll have the froglet either way, and that is the important part.
Morgan and I both knew a lot of the information presented in the class, but it was still interesting. One of the things the nurse anesthetist said that I liked was that just by coming to the class, we were making it less likely we would need pain medication because anxiety about the unknown can contribute to how pain is perceived. I thought this tied in nicely with the book I'm currently reading. During my last massage, I was talking to Kathleen about my disappointment in the childbirth prep class we took; there was a lot of information about positioning the baby prior to labor and the importance of skin to skin contact and breastfeeding after the baby was born, but very little on coping/relaxation techniques for during labor. Which I'm kind of thinking is important. Kathleen recommended Birthing From Within, which she used for her two births.
I'm not as far as the chapter on coping techniques for pain yet, but the first few chapters talk a lot about raising self-awareness and addressing one's own conceptions about pregnancy, labor, and parenting. The author gives examples of women who have gone through her seminars, which includes creating "birth art" to explore feelings. Not being visually arty (and having difficulty holding anything resembling a writing implement at the moment), I haven't done this, but reading about other women's experiences is making me consider what my own preconceptions are.
I hope that I am not cocky. That's my biggest fear, that I am arrogantly assuming I understand what I am getting into. I absolutely believe labor is painful, but I also know it is finite. I know contractions will hurt, but I know they don't last forever. Throughout my pregnancy, I have been comparing it to running a marathon. The last few weeks have been like miles 23-26, where I really want nothing more than to lie down on the side of the road and call it quits, but I know I'm almost done and I know that when its done, the feeling of accomplishment will be worth it. I'm looking at labor the same way. When I run long distances, I take walk breaks; for every however long I run (anywhere from 2 to 4 minutes at a time), I also take a walk break (1 to 2 minutes). I'm considering the contractions the runs and the time in between the walks. I know it will hurt like hell (like running for a measly two minutes after you've already been going for five hours) but I know if I can get through it, there will be that walk/rest again. And at the end, in addition to an amazing sense of accomplishment, I get a son.
Here's where the moms I know can blast me for being naive for comparing childbirth to something like running. But I believe - I hope - that I have the strength to get through this childbirth on my terms. And honestly, my (well researched) fears about medication are greater than my fears about pain. I have phobias about numbness, which I think I've already talked about here. I also have issues with the idea of not being able to walk around once an epidural is administered. Add to that my tendency towards very low blood pressure and nausea when medicated and the 1% chance of a spinal headache, and all in all, the drugs seem like a very bad idea.
But most of all, what I'm focusing on is the fact that the end objective is a healthy baby. If I decide I need drugs, if for some reason I end up needing a c-section, I will not let myself feel a sense of failure. Because I'll have the froglet either way, and that is the important part.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Today's Laundry
4 fitted crib sheets
2 fitted play yard sheets
2 changing pad covers
4 receiving blankets
2 hooded towels
1 miracle blanket
1 waterproof sheet
1 boppy cover
14 short sleeve onesies
5 long sleeve onesies
6 short sleeve t-shirts
4 long sleeve t-shirts
6 long sleeve sleepers
1 tiny pair of pants
And I just washed the stuff that was sized newborn and 0-3 months. We'll have a very well dressed baby.
2 fitted play yard sheets
2 changing pad covers
4 receiving blankets
2 hooded towels
1 miracle blanket
1 waterproof sheet
1 boppy cover
14 short sleeve onesies
5 long sleeve onesies
6 short sleeve t-shirts
4 long sleeve t-shirts
6 long sleeve sleepers
1 tiny pair of pants
And I just washed the stuff that was sized newborn and 0-3 months. We'll have a very well dressed baby.
Unusual items for a newborn's room
1. Half a dozen guitars.
Morgan feels, and I agree, that the guitars are the bug's inheritance. With guitars ranging from Grandpa's Avalon (most famously played by these girls) to Dad's 12-string Rickenbacker (most famously played by these boys), they perfectly represent how much music looms in our lives. However, once this boy gets mobile, we're going to have to find somewhere else to store them. I'm pretty sure they would be considered a hazard of some variety or other.
2. Several thousand CDs.
See above re the music thing. Never mind that all our music is stored in the computer at this point and that we rarely buy actual CDs anymore. Morgan spent 10 years working as a graphic designer of a record label, so the packaging is still interesting to us both and seems worth keeping. Again, once the boy is mobile, we'll need to move them somewhere else (hopefully by then, we'll have the basement set up in something more like a room and less like a dumping ground for all the stuff we don't know what to do with). We actually rearranged the CD shelves this weekend; where they used to cover an entire wall of the "nursery," they are now tucked in two corners of the room. Somehow they look much less imposing this way.
3. Elliptical trainer.
This one is all my fault. We just don't have anywhere it fits. Eventually we'll have to get rid of it, but right now I have visions of popping the froglet into his swing and exercising for half an hour at a time when I can't get out of the house to actually run.
4. Full sized futon sofa.
The most reasonable of the oddball items in the baby's room; when I was doing google image searches for ideas on how to incorporate all this stuff into the baby's room, I actually found a number of nurseries with sofas or daybeds in them. Since the froglet will be sleeping in our room for the first several months, this will still effectively be our guest room. As long as our guests don't mind sleeping with an excessive number of CDs, guitars and exercise equipment.
Of course, one of the things that won't be in the froglet's room that most people would consider normal is his crib. We've set that up in our bedroom (with its tent... which we had to modify to get to our liking) since he will be sleeping closer to us initially. We were also lent an Arm's Reach Co-Sleeper by the wonderful Melissa and Jeremy. While we love the idea of having the bug this close to us while we're sleeping, we're also concerned about the cats deciding that the co-sleeper is actually a special bed designed just for them. We figure we'll give it a try.
All together, I feel like we make tremendous progress in getting the bug's room ready this weekend. Its still piled high with stuff, but we're weeding it down and figuring out where things need to go. I've also started washing all the bedding and clothes we've received - so many tiny things! We've decided to hold off painting the room until he moves into it full time. We'd love to paint a mural of some variety in there, and we think it will be awesome to wait until we get a sense of his personality. That way rather than projecting who we want him to be into the mural (frogs, music...), or worse, give him a generic Baby Motif, we can customize the room for who he actually is.
Morgan feels, and I agree, that the guitars are the bug's inheritance. With guitars ranging from Grandpa's Avalon (most famously played by these girls) to Dad's 12-string Rickenbacker (most famously played by these boys), they perfectly represent how much music looms in our lives. However, once this boy gets mobile, we're going to have to find somewhere else to store them. I'm pretty sure they would be considered a hazard of some variety or other.
2. Several thousand CDs.
See above re the music thing. Never mind that all our music is stored in the computer at this point and that we rarely buy actual CDs anymore. Morgan spent 10 years working as a graphic designer of a record label, so the packaging is still interesting to us both and seems worth keeping. Again, once the boy is mobile, we'll need to move them somewhere else (hopefully by then, we'll have the basement set up in something more like a room and less like a dumping ground for all the stuff we don't know what to do with). We actually rearranged the CD shelves this weekend; where they used to cover an entire wall of the "nursery," they are now tucked in two corners of the room. Somehow they look much less imposing this way.
3. Elliptical trainer.
This one is all my fault. We just don't have anywhere it fits. Eventually we'll have to get rid of it, but right now I have visions of popping the froglet into his swing and exercising for half an hour at a time when I can't get out of the house to actually run.
4. Full sized futon sofa.
The most reasonable of the oddball items in the baby's room; when I was doing google image searches for ideas on how to incorporate all this stuff into the baby's room, I actually found a number of nurseries with sofas or daybeds in them. Since the froglet will be sleeping in our room for the first several months, this will still effectively be our guest room. As long as our guests don't mind sleeping with an excessive number of CDs, guitars and exercise equipment.
Of course, one of the things that won't be in the froglet's room that most people would consider normal is his crib. We've set that up in our bedroom (with its tent... which we had to modify to get to our liking) since he will be sleeping closer to us initially. We were also lent an Arm's Reach Co-Sleeper by the wonderful Melissa and Jeremy. While we love the idea of having the bug this close to us while we're sleeping, we're also concerned about the cats deciding that the co-sleeper is actually a special bed designed just for them. We figure we'll give it a try.
All together, I feel like we make tremendous progress in getting the bug's room ready this weekend. Its still piled high with stuff, but we're weeding it down and figuring out where things need to go. I've also started washing all the bedding and clothes we've received - so many tiny things! We've decided to hold off painting the room until he moves into it full time. We'd love to paint a mural of some variety in there, and we think it will be awesome to wait until we get a sense of his personality. That way rather than projecting who we want him to be into the mural (frogs, music...), or worse, give him a generic Baby Motif, we can customize the room for who he actually is.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Maternal Instincts
I almost hit a kid on my drive home today. I was about five blocks from my house, turning off Macarthur onto my street. I saw them playing on the sidewalk, obviously some variety of hide and seek or tag: two boys, no more than five or six, stalking a third boy from behind a hedge. There was a girl too, maybe a year or so older than the boys; maybe she was supposed to be in charge. When the first two boys jumped out from behind the hedge at the third boy, he ran right between two parked cars and into the street. Thank god I had already slowed down or the Impala's squishy brakes wouldn't have been enough. As it was the brakes made an impressive squeal, and the boy stopped short, a look of terror on his face. My first instinct was to jump out of the car, grab the lot of them by their ears and drag them off to find whoever the frak was supposed to be looking after them. Instead I glared at the poor kid and pointed sternly at the sidewalk, while he pointed a hand at the boys behind him, indicating that they were the reason he was running into traffic.
My heart didn't stop pounding until I got home.
I'm certain that I gave my mother a considerable amount of grief as a kid, tearing around my neighborhood on my pink bike with its flowered banana seat. I got grounded when I was 8 or 9 for riding down the middle of the street, completely oblivious to my four-year old sister peddling furiously after me on her big wheel. But our street wasn't particularly busy and I knew the rules about which streets I could and couldn't cross. One of the reasons I love our current house is the enormous back yard. We live on a busy street; it makes me cringe when I see or hear cars or motorcycles roaring down it, knowing how many cats and children live near by. While our yard is a huge mess of weeds right now, I can imagine how, by the time the bug is old enough to play out there, we'll have conquered it, made space for a playset, with grass or clover for him to run and tumble in. So he can stay the hell off the streets.
In other news, today is exactly one month before my due date. I have very little expectation that the froglet will arrive in exactly one month (we have friends who just had their first baby - 12 days late) but its pretty amazing being this close. And I'm not even stressing about his room today.
My heart didn't stop pounding until I got home.
I'm certain that I gave my mother a considerable amount of grief as a kid, tearing around my neighborhood on my pink bike with its flowered banana seat. I got grounded when I was 8 or 9 for riding down the middle of the street, completely oblivious to my four-year old sister peddling furiously after me on her big wheel. But our street wasn't particularly busy and I knew the rules about which streets I could and couldn't cross. One of the reasons I love our current house is the enormous back yard. We live on a busy street; it makes me cringe when I see or hear cars or motorcycles roaring down it, knowing how many cats and children live near by. While our yard is a huge mess of weeds right now, I can imagine how, by the time the bug is old enough to play out there, we'll have conquered it, made space for a playset, with grass or clover for him to run and tumble in. So he can stay the hell off the streets.
In other news, today is exactly one month before my due date. I have very little expectation that the froglet will arrive in exactly one month (we have friends who just had their first baby - 12 days late) but its pretty amazing being this close. And I'm not even stressing about his room today.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
One Hour
Its amazing the difference an hour can make. This week, I've started downsizing my work day by an hour, meaning I leave at 4pm instead of 5pm. It doesn't seem like it should make that much of a difference, but it really does. Psychologically, getting off an hour earlier makes the day fly by. It also means that traffic is a lot lighter heading home, so I miss the backups at the Caldecott and at the 580/13 merge. (Well, I have so far this week; I actually left at 4pm on Friday and had an even longer wait at the tunnel than usual.) And what do I do when I get home that hour earlier?
Sleep.
At least that's what I've done so far. I didn't intend to either day, but found myself passed out within 15 minutes of getting home. Morgan worked late tonight, so didn't call for a ride from BART until nearly 7pm. And I slept until he got home - nearly two hours.
Like baths, naps are not something that come naturally to me. I can probably credit my mom, who instilled in me a belief that there was something wrong if you napped - you were either sick or depressed. And tonight, I was pretty damn cranky when I woke up, but I blame that on the fact that right before I woke up, I dreamed I was having a migraine. Hopefully after a few days of this, I'll have caught up on some lost sleep and will be able to start spending that extra hour doing stuff around the house - I'm still feeling pretty overwhelmed by the amount of stuff we need to do before the froglet arrives. Hence, cranky.
Sleep.
At least that's what I've done so far. I didn't intend to either day, but found myself passed out within 15 minutes of getting home. Morgan worked late tonight, so didn't call for a ride from BART until nearly 7pm. And I slept until he got home - nearly two hours.
Like baths, naps are not something that come naturally to me. I can probably credit my mom, who instilled in me a belief that there was something wrong if you napped - you were either sick or depressed. And tonight, I was pretty damn cranky when I woke up, but I blame that on the fact that right before I woke up, I dreamed I was having a migraine. Hopefully after a few days of this, I'll have caught up on some lost sleep and will be able to start spending that extra hour doing stuff around the house - I'm still feeling pretty overwhelmed by the amount of stuff we need to do before the froglet arrives. Hence, cranky.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Giving In
I am not a bath person. This hasn't always been the case; I remember taking periodic baths in high school, and I distinctly remember when I had to adapt to taking showers instead of baths as a child.* But as some point I started getting itchy just thinking about sitting in dirty bath water. I have marathoning friends who swear by ice baths after long runs, but I've always found that cold showers work just fine for me.
But I am really tired of the swelling. Yesterday at our last childbirth prep class, our teacher commented on my feet, recommending I get myself to a pool. Which I know, and which I really mean to do... at some point soon. Anyway, last night Morgan offered to clean the bathtub so that I could try taking a bath.** I didn't take him up on the offer, but this morning when I woke up with the same puffy feet and fingers so stiff I couldn't make a fist (its been really warm), I decided it was worth a try. I scrubbed out the bathtub with vinegar and baking soda (because the thought of bathing in traditional cleansers makes me even itchier than the thought of dirty water), dumped in a bunch of epsom salts... and sat there.
It did help. I had a prickly, feeling returning to fingers tingling, and my ankles are definitely slimmer. The top of feet are still puffy, but the improvement was noticeable. Which I guess means I should keep up with it or something. Despite the boredom, despite the slight ick factor, despite the discomfort. Sigh.
* The first apartment that my mom, sister and I lived in by ourselves. It was also the first Christmas I spent without a fireplace, and I was very concerned about how Santa would visit (even though I was terrified of him). My mom explained that Santa had a tiny little elf who worked as a key so Santa could let himself into the apartment without needing a chimney.
** We've lived here for four years, and never used the bathtub for a bath. The cats eat in the bathtub. When I explained this to our vet for some reason, she asked if they were afraid of drive-bys.
But I am really tired of the swelling. Yesterday at our last childbirth prep class, our teacher commented on my feet, recommending I get myself to a pool. Which I know, and which I really mean to do... at some point soon. Anyway, last night Morgan offered to clean the bathtub so that I could try taking a bath.** I didn't take him up on the offer, but this morning when I woke up with the same puffy feet and fingers so stiff I couldn't make a fist (its been really warm), I decided it was worth a try. I scrubbed out the bathtub with vinegar and baking soda (because the thought of bathing in traditional cleansers makes me even itchier than the thought of dirty water), dumped in a bunch of epsom salts... and sat there.
It did help. I had a prickly, feeling returning to fingers tingling, and my ankles are definitely slimmer. The top of feet are still puffy, but the improvement was noticeable. Which I guess means I should keep up with it or something. Despite the boredom, despite the slight ick factor, despite the discomfort. Sigh.
* The first apartment that my mom, sister and I lived in by ourselves. It was also the first Christmas I spent without a fireplace, and I was very concerned about how Santa would visit (even though I was terrified of him). My mom explained that Santa had a tiny little elf who worked as a key so Santa could let himself into the apartment without needing a chimney.
** We've lived here for four years, and never used the bathtub for a bath. The cats eat in the bathtub. When I explained this to our vet for some reason, she asked if they were afraid of drive-bys.
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