This entry goes all the way to 40 weeks, Nov. 16, the baby's due date...
But yet, she is posting today, on the due date, so... she couldn't have had the baby, right?
She's not posting from the hospital is she?
... Or is she?
Well, you have to read on to find out.
weeks 38 & 39; astoria, ny
Nov. 1: Bump shots up to 38 weeks. For the full gallery of weeks 15 - 38, scroll down to bottom.
Nov. 2: 38 weeks. Little Fetus Froo Froo is the size of a pumpkin, they say. Sheffield and I attend a co-ed shower at our friends' Jenny and Eric's. There are gifts, lots of food, many children, and everyone talks to me about my baby and my birth plan: tremendous! We are there for eight hours. I hope Jenny and Eric still like us.
Nov. 3 Evening primrose oil. Do you know about this? Anyone...? Anyone...?
It was prescribed by the midwives, but not to be toyed with until the final weeks of pregnancy when you really want to get things going (delivery.) I am taking all the natural suggestions, so I got some capsules. It is not to be taken orally.
Oh.
Say the midwives: "We think it's better to get it closer to the source."
Say I: "I'm open-minded. Or, er, open... you know..."
Nov. 4: Our diaper service is to begin a week or two before the baby's due date. On the appointed day, they will delivered straight to our apartment door. That means someone will have carried them up the hallway stairs to our third-floor apartment. Guys, this is huge! I am expecting them sometime between 9 PM and 2 AM. Imagine my utter delight when I open our apartment door around 10:30 at night to discover a pristinely white diaper chute full of teeny tiny newborn cloth diapers, little diaper covers, soaps, and creams. It was like Diaper-St. Nick stopped by. Sheffield and I watch two vimeos (no one uses diaper pins anymore, by the way) and then practice on my 25-year old Teddy Bear, Aloycious. Look at how thrilled he is:
Nov. 5: I make "Pumpkin soup in its own shell." Because what I have is time. And an aging Halloween pumpkin. And this may be the only time in one's life when one actually has time to cook $#it like this.
Nov. 11 We meet Pediatrician #3. (Are we obsessing? Are we going to be those parents?) Also, to pass time, we start a 1,000 piece puzzle of brightly colored bugs.
Nov. 12: Grandma-to-be and I get pedicures. Sheffield and I meet Pediatrician #4. We are scheduled to meet him next week (two days after the baby's due date,) but on a whim, we swing by his office to check it out. Maybe we can eliminate him based on a shoddy waiting area, seventeen families waiting, or guns mounted on the walls. I happen to encounter his nurse, and explain that we have a consultation next week, but I'm due in four days... might he have any time to meet us? She smiles and says she'll check. Sheffield scurries to park the car and within minutes we are sitting in front of Pediatrician #4.
This is unheard of.
Am I right?
I don't care where you live. What doctor has extra time for an unscheduled meeting with parents? Who are actors?? (We had to put occupation on the form) Who don't even have a real kid yet???
The doc seems about my age, has a 7-month old son, shares our child-health philosophies, and is the most well-spoken of all the doctors we've met (yes, I know he won't be teaching our child usage and grammar, but after that much education, a person should know how to use "literally" and the difference between subject and object pronouns.)
Long story short: we love Pediatrician #4. LOVE. We don't even have to say any words. We exit the office, face each other on the sidewalk wide-eyed with relief, and we high-five. We are those parents... The High-Fiving kind.
Nov. 13 Ultra sound. Fluids: good. Heart rate: good. Movements: Excellent. A new OB asks when "they" want me "to have the baby?" I shrug: "When she's ready to come out, I guess. She's not due for another few days." New OB seems mildly annoyed, and offers to examine me. But then she says, "I'm not really sure what the point is. You either go into labor or... I mean, you're going to go into labor."
Yep, that's the idea. (Sooner, rather than later, Froo. As much fun as it sounds, you don't want them up in your junk with drugs and balloons and shit...)
Nov. 14: I took a Cardio Dance class today. No good reason. My mom is in town and wanted a class, so I said I would take the first ten or fifteen minutes with her then go do my own thing. Basically, I prefer my senior citizens/pre natal kind of workout: lifting 3 lb weights + lots of deep squats and inner thigh stretches. (I can still do the splits at almost 40 weeks. It must look so weird...)
But you should have seen the cardio-dance instructor's eyes when she saw me and my belly! I assured her that I knew how to modify everything for myself and would only take the first 15 minutes. Um, it was hilarious... because the music was bumpin', all the other girls were really getting down, and I looked like a dancing blonde hippopotamus.
Nov. 15: We get a little scare when Froo Froo stops moving for an hour. True, it's very early in the morning and, like her dad, the morning hours are not her fave. But we are supposed to be monitoring her movements and if there are less than five in an hour, we have to call, and a call means we are going to the hospital to be observed. After two glasses of juice, oatmeal with sugar, and a spoonful of honey fail to inspire my LFFF to wiggle it just a little bit, I wake Sheffield and ask him to try by making this loud squeaky kissing noise he does on my belly's surface. He is able to instigate a little punch ("let me sleep you assholes!"), but it's still nowhere near five. We call the pager number and wait. I cannot help it; I cry. Sheffield is not having it. He knows my emotional well is deep and if I even peer over its edge I am likely to fall. I press my fists to my eyes and try and try and try not to worry. We cannot have come this far for a baby that does not move. Move, baby. Move! We finally connect with our medical professionals, and are advised to go in.
There is traffic on the bridge. There is traffic on 2nd avenue. I would panic, except...
Little Fetus Froo Froo wakes up and stretches, kicks, does the boogie-woogie, and basically demands to be fed. I am suddenly famished.
I call the midwife again. We are advised to go in anyway. I am poked and prodded by a number of cheerful, kind, and understanding medical professionals. They seriously could not have been nicer. After two rounds of fetal heart rate monitoring, an ultra-sound, and a doctor's less-than-pleasant hand up my woo woo, they assured us that the baby is just fine and that we did the right thing by coming in.
I spend the rest of the day watching football (both our teams win and we consider the baby name "Scarlet Crimson Chastain"), eating nachos with extra jalapenos (spicy foods reportedly evict a baby), and a good, long, hot shower and blow dry. (I mean, those boogers aren't going to be easy to come by for a while are they?)
Nov. 16: A gallery of naked bellies. (I didn't mean to do this on purpose, but do you notice that the numbers get smaller as the bellies get bigger?)
Baby is due today, but she is not here as of Sunday morn. This could, however, be the last pregnancy post. So... thank you for joining us on this journey. Your support, comments, and enthusiasm have been like a really cool modern day Greek chorus to our comedy/drama. We look forward to sharing more.
Nov. 7: Here's the deal: Midwives are cautious about my going overdue because "at my age" there is a greater chance of "fetal demise" after 40 weeks of gestation. "Fetal demise" is a horrible phrase, but it gets the point across. They discuss this with us around 35 weeks and make sure that we understand that if we don't have our baby by 40 weeks, they will want to discuss induction with us. We stay calm and express that we have no intention of scheduling an induction on Monday the 17th if baby doesn't come on the 16th. At 40 weeks we'll discuss our options, of course, but we'd like to try the natural methods first. (Mostly these are natural teas and supplements like the Evening Primrose Oil mentioned above, but there are a couple more that are R-rated. Look it up; it's a fun Google.)
But when I go for ultra sounds, I do not see the midwives, I see their sister-OBs. Today, an OB whom I've never met asks when I'll be induced and then says the word "stillborn" to me. As much as I dislike the term "fetal demise," I find the term "stillborn," spoken to the ears of a woman 39 weeks pregnant, simply bad manners. I calmly state that we are still over a week away from term, and didn't they just tell (show) me that the fetus is happily swimming in plenty of amniotic fluid?
ME: We'd like to to try all the natural methods first.
OB: (Smiles) Good. We always think natural birth is best. So, what are your plans for the weekend?"
ME: I'm thinkin' Primrose Oil up the vag and intercourse. You?
Nov. 8: Just another football Saturday:
Nov. 9: 39 Weeks. Froof is the size of a mini watermelon. Will this be the last profile bump selfie???
Nov. 10 Grandma Hoben arrives. While we and Sheffield sit in our living room, chatting and listening to jazz, Froo Froo dances visibly!!! in rhythm!!!- to Etta James' At Last. We can't believe our eyes, so we repeat the song and she does it again. Grandma gets out her phone to record a video. Froo dances again! But the video is no good, so we go for four. With video working, Little Fetus Froo Froo stops. She is no one's dancing monkey.
Nov. 12: Grandma-to-be and I get pedicures. Sheffield and I meet Pediatrician #4. We are scheduled to meet him next week (two days after the baby's due date,) but on a whim, we swing by his office to check it out. Maybe we can eliminate him based on a shoddy waiting area, seventeen families waiting, or guns mounted on the walls. I happen to encounter his nurse, and explain that we have a consultation next week, but I'm due in four days... might he have any time to meet us? She smiles and says she'll check. Sheffield scurries to park the car and within minutes we are sitting in front of Pediatrician #4.
This is unheard of.
Am I right?
I don't care where you live. What doctor has extra time for an unscheduled meeting with parents? Who are actors?? (We had to put occupation on the form) Who don't even have a real kid yet???
The doc seems about my age, has a 7-month old son, shares our child-health philosophies, and is the most well-spoken of all the doctors we've met (yes, I know he won't be teaching our child usage and grammar, but after that much education, a person should know how to use "literally" and the difference between subject and object pronouns.)
Long story short: we love Pediatrician #4. LOVE. We don't even have to say any words. We exit the office, face each other on the sidewalk wide-eyed with relief, and we high-five. We are those parents... The High-Fiving kind.
Nov. 13 Ultra sound. Fluids: good. Heart rate: good. Movements: Excellent. A new OB asks when "they" want me "to have the baby?" I shrug: "When she's ready to come out, I guess. She's not due for another few days." New OB seems mildly annoyed, and offers to examine me. But then she says, "I'm not really sure what the point is. You either go into labor or... I mean, you're going to go into labor."
Yep, that's the idea. (Sooner, rather than later, Froo. As much fun as it sounds, you don't want them up in your junk with drugs and balloons and shit...)
Nov. 14: I took a Cardio Dance class today. No good reason. My mom is in town and wanted a class, so I said I would take the first ten or fifteen minutes with her then go do my own thing. Basically, I prefer my senior citizens/pre natal kind of workout: lifting 3 lb weights + lots of deep squats and inner thigh stretches. (I can still do the splits at almost 40 weeks. It must look so weird...)
But you should have seen the cardio-dance instructor's eyes when she saw me and my belly! I assured her that I knew how to modify everything for myself and would only take the first 15 minutes. Um, it was hilarious... because the music was bumpin', all the other girls were really getting down, and I looked like a dancing blonde hippopotamus.
Nov. 15: We get a little scare when Froo Froo stops moving for an hour. True, it's very early in the morning and, like her dad, the morning hours are not her fave. But we are supposed to be monitoring her movements and if there are less than five in an hour, we have to call, and a call means we are going to the hospital to be observed. After two glasses of juice, oatmeal with sugar, and a spoonful of honey fail to inspire my LFFF to wiggle it just a little bit, I wake Sheffield and ask him to try by making this loud squeaky kissing noise he does on my belly's surface. He is able to instigate a little punch ("let me sleep you assholes!"), but it's still nowhere near five. We call the pager number and wait. I cannot help it; I cry. Sheffield is not having it. He knows my emotional well is deep and if I even peer over its edge I am likely to fall. I press my fists to my eyes and try and try and try not to worry. We cannot have come this far for a baby that does not move. Move, baby. Move! We finally connect with our medical professionals, and are advised to go in.
There is traffic on the bridge. There is traffic on 2nd avenue. I would panic, except...
Little Fetus Froo Froo wakes up and stretches, kicks, does the boogie-woogie, and basically demands to be fed. I am suddenly famished.
I call the midwife again. We are advised to go in anyway. I am poked and prodded by a number of cheerful, kind, and understanding medical professionals. They seriously could not have been nicer. After two rounds of fetal heart rate monitoring, an ultra-sound, and a doctor's less-than-pleasant hand up my woo woo, they assured us that the baby is just fine and that we did the right thing by coming in.
I spend the rest of the day watching football (both our teams win and we consider the baby name "Scarlet Crimson Chastain"), eating nachos with extra jalapenos (spicy foods reportedly evict a baby), and a good, long, hot shower and blow dry. (I mean, those boogers aren't going to be easy to come by for a while are they?)
Nov. 16: A gallery of naked bellies. (I didn't mean to do this on purpose, but do you notice that the numbers get smaller as the bellies get bigger?)
Baby is due today, but she is not here as of Sunday morn. This could, however, be the last pregnancy post. So... thank you for joining us on this journey. Your support, comments, and enthusiasm have been like a really cool modern day Greek chorus to our comedy/drama. We look forward to sharing more.
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| Today, November, 16. 40 weeks pregnant. Full Term. |
I woke up thinking about you, again! Waiting (Im)patiently for your next post and photos!
ReplyDeleteWe can't wait to see her ��
ReplyDelete