Tag Archives: doctor

Sophia’s Four-year Child Wellness Checkup

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I knew about how tall she was because when we took her to the fair she could go on many of the rides that she wanted to go on, but I had no idea her weight was equal to her height. Sophia is in the ninety-sixth percentile for height and the ninetieth for weight. She is forty-two and three quarter inches tall and forty-two pounds. Our child who seems to survive on air and sunshine in an area without the sunshine is doing great. Who knew the air had so many calories? The boy, the child that seems to eat his weight in milk, baby food, and graham crackers, is in the eighty-fifth percentile for height and doesn’t even reach the chart for weight. I should have him checked for worms. Really.

Walking to the room to wait for the doctor, we approach the scale to weigh the girl. She, just like last year, refuses to stand on the scale. She had a meltdown and melted into puddle against the wall holding her bunny and backpack she insisted on bringing. “Do you want to weigh your bunny?” the nurse asks.

“No! No! No!” she cried. After several attempts at trying trick her into getting on the scale, I just picked her up, stood there with the sobbing child, and then weighed myself without her…just like last year. Last year she weighed thirty-two pounds and was thirty-nine inches tall.

She passed all the milestone questions. “Does she know at least three colors?” Yes, Sophia knows all of her colors and even in the order they appear in the rainbow. “Can she dress herself?” Yes. “Can she speak in full sentences?” Yes…technically. Half the time I don’t know what the heck she’s talking about, but full sentences do happen. Maybe someday I’ll be able to get her to tell me about her day at school. Even with prompting, she doesn’t say a word this year. Last year if I prompted her she would at least say that they sang songs or something. This year when I ask she responds with, “No! No! don’t ask me!” or “No! No! Don’t tell me!” when I try prompting. She does like school though. She often asks if she can go to school or if it’s time to get ready yet.

wearing new birthday clothes

When it came time for shots the doctor described this bee they have that is a vibrating ice pack they put on the arms of kids Sophia’s age to numb the area so they don’t freak out about the shots as much. I just looked at him as he described it and said, “You saw her at the scale didn’t you?”

“Yes, ” he chuckled I saw.

“This will be interesting.”

“Yeah it might not work.”

We tried it and she fussed about even having the “bee” on her arm and then watched as the nurse put the shot in her arm and began to pull away. Yeah there really isn’t any tricking my child into things. It’ll ether happen or it won’t go well. Usually it’s the latter.

The nurse offered her a tiny toy lizard, a ring with a purple gemstone, and two princess stickers. “No! No! No! I don’t want it!” Yeah I’ll just take those. She’ll want them in the car.

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Lukas’ Nine-Month Check-Up

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His nine-month baby wellness appointment was on the seventh. I knew he wasn’t as chunky any more. I figured he was still steadily gaining, but had grown into his weight. I was shocked to find out that Lukas actually lost weight. The boy now weighs sixteen pounds and five ounces, and he is twenty-eight and a half inches tall/long. He has lost more than a pound since his six-month checkup. The doctor said the weight loss was perfectly normal for his age because babies tend to lose weight once they start crawling. Yeah, that’s the other problem. Lukas doesn’t crawl yet. Even now, days away from his ten-month birthday, he isn’t really mobile. He tries. He really wants to be able to move, but the best he can do is reach for something, fall on his side or tummy, rollover on his back, sit up, and do that process again to get what he wants. Once Lukas rolls to his back, he usually just stays there and amuses himself with the bendability of his own fingers.

Aside from the crawling bit, Lukas passed most of the battery of milestone questions. “Does he pick up things with his index finger and thumb (pinchers)?” Yes.

I was undressing Lukas while she asked me the questions and the newness of it all was creeping the boy out, so he didn’t want to be put down at all. I laid him on the patient bed to get his clothes off as the nurse asked me if he babbles. “Momma,” he cried. Yep, says words even. He started saying, “Momma” about a week before his nine-month birthday. At first I thought it was just a coincidental vocalization, but at that moment in the doctor’s office it was clear he knew what he was saying and meant it. On the fifteenth Lukas added the word “da-da” to his vocabulary. My only objection is that when he says, “momma” he’s crying and has a need that needs to be met immediately if not sooner. When Lukas says, “Da-da” he’s smiling and laughing. Little shit.

“Does he have a fear of strangers?” He’s crying for momma and not wanting to be put down here in the office and you have to ask? Really?

“Does he pull himself up to stand?” No. At the time he would barely put his weight on his feet. He’s getting better about it, but still does not pull himself up. It’s as if he doesn’t know his legs exist. Much like Sophia didn’t seem to know her arms existed at this age. The doctor said to call him in four to six weeks with an update about the crawling. He said if Lukas isn’t crawling in that time that he’ll refer us to the same place he sent us for Sophia’s speech. I hate that place. I think I’ll just wait. I’m sure Lukas will figure out how to use his legs on his own…eventually.

smiley face

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H1N1 vaccination form

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make your markMake sure to mark the box that says, “seizures”. We don’t know for sure that she had seizures, what the doctor told me was not an absolutely official diagnosis. But he said it certainly sounded like I was describing a seizure. I actually have not seen an episode since her eighteen-month checkup. I buckled her into her car seat and was about to back out of the parking spot at the doctor’s office right after that checkup. That was it. I told the doctor about them and they disappeared. I wish more medical things worked that way.

Anyway, the first rounds of the H1N1 vaccine were supposed to be administered on the 31st of October. I’m not worried about the swine flu, but if there is a vaccine and I have a kid in the *high risk* age range, you bet I’m going to get ready to stand in line for Sophia’s shot. I don’t care if I’m there all day. I printed out the form we have to fill out and marked that she has had seizures, just in case that is what those episodes were, so that she would get a shot of the dead virus and not the live virus nasal spray meant for those over the age of two.

I located the nearest vaccination clinic, and mapped out my route. I got ready for that day about a week and a half before hand and it was a good thing too. The next day I stayed up late and just happened to surf over to the local paper to see the headlines for Friday’s paper, the clinics were to open a week early for children under four years and pregnant women. This news came out only a day before the event. I knew with such short notice not everyone would get the news but I still planed to get there early and did. To our surprise, they actually opened early and we were in and out within fifteen minutes. After the event, the paper had reports of low turn out. I can’t imagine why, with only 24 hours notice. There were 17,000 doses available between nine sites and only 5,000 doses dispensed. Because of Sophia’s age, she needs two doses with four weeks between each dose and now there are no more mass vaccination clinics. Now it’s an appointment with the doctor…if they have any.

November, 30 posts in 30 days nablopomo.com

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The bumps with the bumps around it

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Mid September I began taking water aerobics classes, and these are not the kind of classes you see all the little ol’ blue hairs talking in order to catch up on the latest gossip. These are real cardio workouts; though after the first class I was a little worried it wasn’t going to be the right speed for me. That was just the new season warm-up. I may actually be in a little over my head. :P

I’ve been taking Sophia to swim lessons consistently since she was about ten months and I’ve gotten used to the whole changing-clothes-with-a-toddler locker-room routine. In those locker-room moments everyone is chatting and it’s accepted that everyone is looking around while changing, mostly because we’re simultaneously corralling children while putting are bras and panties back on. Locker-room time after my aerobics class is completely different.

It’s been a while since I’ve been in a locker-room without a child. I guess I’ve forgotten the unspoken rules. When I dress at home I tend to look straight ahead because I’ve been dressing myself for a while now and I don’t really need to look at my legs going into my pants. That gets me some odd looks in a locker-room, even if my eyes are glossed over with a 30-yard stare and were fixated on a coat hooks beside someone. Whatever, I can adapt.

Not that I’ve ever been in a men’s bathroom but I get the feeling that the appropriate behavior for women dressing in a locker-room is similar to men at a urinal. Look at the floor. Look at the floor. Look at the floor. It’s a little silly considering after seeing them in a swimsuit the only secrets left are, how tight do they shave that bikini line and how big are their areolae. Neither are burning questions to me of anyone in my class. Really.

After my third class I was dressing in the appropriately coy manner with my towel wrapped around me. My chin was down to hold the towel up, which forces me to look at the lovely floor. Wouldn’t it be funny if the floor was a mirror? No? Posters on the floor would be nice. General reading material, I would even accept advertisements.

Anyway I overheard a conversation by three women in my class. It was a mother, her teenage or early twenty-something daughter, and aunt. I didn’t know they were related prior to the conversation but to facilitate my storytelling I’m letting you know ahead of time. Oh and I’ve changed the names not to protect anyone, but because I forgot them. :P

Girl to her mother: Aunt Faye says I should go to the doctor.
Mother: What for?
Girl: For the bumps with the bumps around it.
Mother: I told you to see a doctor about that a long time ago. Maybe you’ll listen to your aunt.

I’m not a nurse or a doctor, but for a place and time in which no one is supposed to look up at each other doesn’t this sound like it could be potentially embarrassing? Just for your information, none of this was whispered. It was said in normal speaking voices about three feet from me in a large echo-y locker-room, and I wasn’t hiding in a locker nor was I the only other person in the room.

The girl walked around a bank of lockers towards the exit but was still in the same room and if I looked up would probably be in my line of sight. I could hear talking but wasn’t paying attention to the words, then out of no where…

Mother loudly to the aunt: Are you telling her to use that wart remover?

Seriously, I don’t know how I didn’t just burst into laughter right there. I finished dressing and got all my stuff together to leave. Moving forward towards the door I put the straps of my bag on my shoulder and fished in my pocket for my keys. I looked up to scope out the exit route and passed right by the girl. Her left arm was raised and her right hand was lifting her left boob for her aunt to look underneath and both of them looked at me as if they just realized all this took place in public. Idiots.

I’m guessing the girl was titty-fucked and got an STD. What do you think?

November, 30 posts in 30 days nablopomo.com

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Murphy’s Law of Triple Disaster

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The first disaster that initiated the rule of ‘everything happens in threes’ was that I received a letter from the county auditor. They never got our marriage papers. Something happened to them on their way from the courthouse to the county auditor and if it turns out our mail carrier works that neighborhood, I’m going to scream. The auditor has the license request on file but no license so I can’t get a certified copy required to change my name or get health insurance. Kurt has already initiated the health insurance paperwork through his employer, so I have insurance, but I’ll loose it in 60 days if this isn’t resolved by then. I called the judge that performed the ceremony and he wrote us a letter to give to Kurt’s employer. Hopefully that will keep me insured if this takes longer than 60 days.

On Friday, I took Sophia to the doctor for her eighteen-month baby wellness check up and it went really well. The nurse went through her usual routine of asking a bunch of milestone type questions and I felt awesome because I could answer “yes” to most of them. Does she drink from a cup? Yep. Does she walk with confidence? Absolutely! Does she help take her clothes off? Yes, especially her socks. She also tries to put her clothes back on by herself. Does she put words together to form phrases? She only has three words, “Da-DEE”, “key”, and “hi”. “Da-DEE” is obviously Kurt. “Key” is a Sophia derivative of kitty, but for Sophia means any four legged furry creature that ranges in size from mouse to moose. Our husky and malamute are both “key”. “Hi” is a greeting only reserved for Kurt, our indoor ‘key’, and I. “Hi” is usually accompanied by vigorous, almost frantic, waving. She’ll even wave at the cat, and he’s been known to wave back, though he doesn’t seem as happy. “Hi” is also occasionally followed by, “Da-DEE”, which for the nurse counts as a phrase. Yay!

The doctor appointment disaster hit when the nurse left and the doctor came in. His first question for me was, “Do you have any concerns?” Up until this point, my only concern was Sophia’s lack of words. Words have finally started to spring up. She’s still behind in that area according to my personal chart, but between her three words and the three baby signs she uses at least we’re communicating better. So my concern this time was something that had been bothering me since Sophia was ten or eleven months old, the bouts of what looked like pure baby rage. Only her rage is completely silent. Even after I told the doctor’s answer to Kurt, he still thinks Sophia is just experiencing a surge of adrenalin.

Three things made Kurt’s explanation not sit well with me. First, the occurrences are random. There are many time that there isn’t even a cause for frustration or anger at all. Second, when Sophia tenses up it’s ALL of her muscles including her jaw. Something about a toddler’s jaw locked in an open position without her making any nose seemed very odd. She’s a toddler, when a toddler’s mouth is open sound comes out, ALWAYS. Third, Sophia acts as if nothing just happened after a ‘surge of adrenalin’. I would think that a toddler would take at least a few minutes to calm down after an adrenalin surge.

The description I gave of Sophia’s episodes of muscle tensing led the doctor to confirm my fear. Those not from a surge of adrenalin. They’re seizures. He told me what type of seizure, but for the life of me, I can’t remember. It’s probably a good thing though, otherwise I’d be freaking out at all the descriptions, causes, treatments, and side effects listed on webmd.com. It may seem odd but part of me is just relieved that it isn’t fits of rage. I feared having to take her to years of therapy to control her anger or something, but of course, seizures bring a different set of fears. We just have to wait and watch that they don’t get worse. I hope that this is something that will disappear with age, preferably before she starts school.

Later the same day I received a call from the veterinary clinic. Chelan, our ten-year-old husky has been drinking water as if we live in the desert. She’s drinking about two and a half gallons of water a day! The results from her blood and urine tests had come back and the vet narrowed down the possibilities to the three most likely. The first is a chemical imbalance in the brain. We love Chelan but she has to be one of the dumbest dogs ever. She survives in our household on cuteness alone. Since bringing her home from the pound, we suspected a malfunctioning brain. The second possible cause is a malfunctioning gland, the name of which escapes me but it’s near the thyroid. The third is a form of cancer. In the morning, I’ll be setting up an appointment for further testing. It’ll take another week to get those results.

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Mamma wellness fifteen-month checkup

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This morning I made it clear that I truly needed a break from the child. Kurt stayed home from work and I locked myself in our room. I told Kurt that this arraignment wasn’t going to be a good substitute because I would just be a prisoner and if the princess was having a bad day, I could still hear it all. Not exactly the most relaxing situation especially when I feel bad that his taking this day off would be no different than the weekend we just had where I got to sleep in a bit but otherwise had to hear all the lamenting and gnashing of teeth once I come down to the kitchen for food.

Sophia actually had a good morning which was a relief, and Kurtie being the sweetheart that he can be when pressed hard enough brought food to me. The first thing he brought was an apple and knife with which to cut it. A few minutes later he literally brought me, the prisoner, a glass of water and piece of bread, the heel no less. Smart ass. Then he brought me scrambled eggs with cheese. He’s so awesome.

This morning Sophia at almost sixteen months had her fifteen-month check up. I scheduled it rather late because I had her get a flu shot before we left for our Christmas trip and since it was her first time it was a two shot deal. They give two separate half doses thirty days apart.

Sophia is thirty-one inches tall and twenty-one pounds. Not much of a height change since the last visit. The doctor said that should be seeing another growth spurt soon. She is at the fiftieth percentile for height and twentieth for weight. As usual, the nurse read a list of questions to determine is Sophia is progressing. She’s walking and climbing? Yes. Does she drink from a cup? No. the nurse advised that we switch her to a cup to avoid problems with her teeth and ear infections. Does she feed herself? Yes. Does she use any words? No. Does she know her body parts as in can she point to any body parts? No. That’s not something I’ve purposely worked with her on. I’ve been concentrating on colors, number, letters, and shapes. None of which can she identify. I really don’t think she’s paying any attention. Does she enjoy listening to you read? No, not really. She could care less. The nurse gave us a look and Kurt quickly jumped in with, “She’s not autistic, she listens and can obey commands.”

After the nurse left the room Kurt started making kissy sounds at Sophia and she being super ultra cute, leaned in so that Kurt could kiss the top of her head. It became a new game and the two of them did this several times. It was disgustingly cute. She got off my lap and started exploring the room. When the doctor came in she freaked out, slipped on the floor, and hit her tooth against her lip. Good thing we were already at the doctor’s office. *sigh* Her mouth bled but not badly. On the up side, her crying allowed me to see that she has two molars coming in on the bottom. She only has two teeth on bottom so there is a big gap between them and the two new teeth.

Despite it being my day off from baby, I had to go to the appointment with Kurt because he insisted that I bring up a medical issue that I’m having while there. We also asked about Sophia’s lack of language and her extreme clinginess to me. I told the doctor that Sophia doesn’t say ANYTHING. Nothing at all. I don’t count that when I went to Alaska in early December that while she was crying one night I distinctly heard, “ma ma ma” because she also runs around the house saying, “ma ma ma” and sometimes, “da da da”. It’s like saying her other favorite consonant combination of “tur lur lur shlur lur” or “ba ba ba” are also words. Just for the record, I’m rather fond of the “tur lur lur shlur lur”. It’s the one she uses very quietly while analyzing the intricacies of an object as she dissects or disassembles it. I like this one because if she happens to be out of my sight I know I need to check on her to make sure whatever it is that she’s destroying is Kurt’s and not mine. I love you Kurtie. *cheesy grin* She also uses those sounds to talk to her food while she inspects it’s consistency.

The only “words” she has EVER used is the sign for “all done”, which she actually invented before I started using signs with her and just happens to be very close to the real sign. She uses that one very regularly. She regularly claps her hands to show she has accomplished something she’s proud of and sometimes, very rarely, she’ll clap her hands to mean “more”. Only one time has she EVER used the sign for eat and that one was very clear and deliberate. On Thanksgiving, we had some awesome pumpkin pie from an actual bakery as opposed to Costco or some other grocery store which simply isn’t the same quality and Sophia LOVED it. She made the sign “eat” a couple times for the pumpkin pie after a few bites and never repeated it EVER again.

On a side note, I gave her an adult bite sized chunk from my slice of pumpkin pie and set it on her tray. Instead of picking the whole thing up like a regular toddler and smashing it into her face or maybe taking bites of it, my child took tiny pinches off the top and turned one adult bite into about 42 baby bites. Ok maybe 42 is a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the idea.

The doctor said to wait until 18 months to see if maybe there’s an explosion of words. He says that kids often go from zero to six words quite literally overnight and at this point she should have a three to six word vocabulary.

A few people have suggested I get this DVD or that set of children’s songs to help Sophia. I don’t think they understand when try to communicate that, “SHE DOESN’T CARE!” Oh, and I don’t like children’s songs. I know I’m such a scrooge, but don’t find them in any way cute. They are actually quite irritating to me, so they don’t get airtime in our home. And even though I take Sophia swimming twice a week where we recite nursery rhymes, for the life of me, I can’t remember any of them, so they don’t get airtime at home either.

I don’t watch TV during the day. I occasionally put on a Baby Einstein DVD, but Sophia shows no interest in them whatsoever. She’s more interested in playing with measuring cups, boxes, and her favorite Christmas present, a $3 box of alphabet flashcards from Kurt’s mom. She may in fact be listening to the DVDs but it’s not obvious and probably not as effective as listening to my voice. She does listen and often obeys when I tell her, “That’s not ours put it back on the shelf.” The only exception to Sophia’s personal TV rule is still M*A*S*H. Oh and the other day I saw a Biography on Lindsey Buckingham in which they played one of his solo songs and Sophia danced to it. She bent her knees to the beat in a very ‘white-man’ sort of dance. My dad, a Fleetwood Mac fan will be so proud.

About Sophia’s extreme attachment to me, the doctor looked up some info on Separation anxiety though it’s not what we described as the problem. Kurt told him about me not being able to leave the room at home and about the times Sophia is fine with him *until* I show up. I described how we went for a walk on Sunday. I became too tired to hold her so Kurt took over and she screamed and cried the entire time he held her despite me walking alongside them. The funny part was while I was holding her I tried to get her to walk along with us, but as I set her down it was like putting a cat in a bath. Her legs came up higher and higher as I bent lower and lower, so I passed her off to daddy. Kurt mentioned how nice it was to walk along though nature with the grass, trees, fresh air, and screaming toddler. Beautiful, just beautiful, it really warms the heart.

The doctor couldn’t think of another term that fit this situation or for this age group since a certain amount of toddler clinginess is normal. He gave it to us with the idea that it could give us some hints. The basic gist of the handout is to not be emotional when separating. That’s not too difficult especially when all I need to do is go to the bathroom. It’s not that emotional an event for me. It also said not to sneak away when the child isn’t looking. Again, I’m just going to the bathroom. Do I really need to announce my departure upstairs when Kurt is home? When it’s just Sophia and I at home, I do tell her I’m going to put laundry in the washer or get groceries from the car. She takes it well sometimes. Other times, not so much. And it said, on return don’t pick the child up. What? Not even to say good morning on a day that Kurt gets up with her instead of me? Yeah, I don’t think this applies to our case. It’s not as if I pick her up after I get groceries out of the car. I have her follow me screaming in to the kitchen while I put things away. Sometimes she’s fine with the whole process, sometimes she gets distracted by taking groceries out the bag for me and distributing them throughout the house, and other times I really want a couple shots of rum.

If anyone still thinks I’m just caving in to the desires of the princess I swear I’ll go get copies of the security tape from the last two times I’ve taken the demon seed to Target. She wanted to play with stuff on the selves and wouldn’t obey when I told her to stop so I put her in the cart. She didn’t want to sit in the cart, so she tried standing. I wound up carrying the screaming child like a football so it wouldn’t seem as if I’m condoning her behavior, and so she wouldn’t kick me. I proceeded to retrieve the items I wanted before leaving and everyone smirked at the lady carrying the evil tantrum child. I think they’ve all been there.

After the doctor left the room enough time passed for Sophia to get comfortable exploring the room again before the nurse appeared again to administer shots. When Sophia saw her, she literally shrieked and hid her face against my leg. I can’t say that I blame her on that one. Oh, and my own problem I went to this visit to discuss – I didn’t bring it up. I have no idea where Sophia gets her stubbornness. It surly isn’t from me. :P

This exceedingly long post was made possible by Kurt giving me the day off and is brought to you by grey hair and possible hearing loss. I dedicate this to one of my stalkers most dedicated commenters, Susan, and her family consisting of Hubby Henry, seventeen month old Chloe, and baby girl in the belly due in May.

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Baby Squeezins: Diaper of the Month

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This month’s Baby Squeezins is brought to you by, “Got Milk?” At the Sophia’s one year check up we were given our regular hand out from the doctor that lets us know what to expect and how to proceed with Sophia’s development. One of the bullet points was that we could wean her onto whole milk if I was going to stop or limit breastfeeding. We tried giving Sophia straight whole milk. She, in true Sophia form, didn’t like it so we mixed it with formula since I don’t have any spare breast milk. We started with three ounces of formula with one ounce of whole milk to each bottle for a week, and then went to half formula and half whole milk.

I don’t remember if it was on the doctor’s papers or another place that I read switching to whole milk can cause temporary constipation until the body gets used to it. Well for Sophia it caused Post’s rejected breakfast cereal, Stinky Pebbles. She also had her first two real diaper rashes this month. Her little tokhes* looked like the Japanese flag. Both of the rashes cleared up in two or three days thanks to Lansinoh. No, I didn’t take a picture of that, but you will get to see a very stinky pebble. Taken on the 19th of November with my Nikon D60 for your high-resolution pleasure, I now present to you the little nugget of a Baby Squeezins, the Diaper of the Month.

*Yiddish for butt

November, 30 posts in 30 days nablopomo.com

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55 Flash Fiction Friday: Impossible to be different

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I’m happy to be a stay at home mom, but without work, I have no insurance. I could buy it for $350 a month or if we were married, I could get it through Kurt. Thankfully, it’s only $50 annually for a single doctor visit, but today I had a prescription filled that’s $243.00 monthly.

55 Flash Fiction Friday
Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55′s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.

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Pure sisterly ass-vice on pregnancy

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1. I was much too tired to have any morning sickness. I just slept. I tend to refer to the first trimester of my pregnancy as my coma. I’ve heard that keeping bland crackers near the bed for near intravenous snacking really helps morning sickness, but I didn’t have that problem. Here are some symptoms I did have…

2. Your body will probably never be the same again. You may be able to get it close, but the pooch belly will probably always linger. Make your peace with that now and don’t worry about how many pounds you gain during your pregnancy. Some women gain 25, some gain 35. I gained 42. Your body will pack on the pounds you are supposed to gain no matter what you eat. That doesn’t mean you might as well go crazy with the chocolate cream pie or whatever, but don’t worry too much if your cravings take you away from dirty-hippy-vegan-leafy-granola-squirrel-food. The weight doesn’t just go to your belly either. You will get bigger EVERYWHERE and you will feel like you ARE a planet by the end of it. You’ve been warned – albeit a little late.

3. You are in fact eating for two, but remember one of you starts out about the size of a pea. Something the size of a pea couldn’t possibly need *that* much. Don’t force yourself to eat more than you can handle. Just eat as healthy as possible.

4. There are TONS of lists of what you should or should not eat and drink during pregnancy. You will drive yourself MAD trying to follow it all. The big one is to stop smoking crack. Never do a drug named after a part of your body (Dennis Leary). Seriously though, street drugs are a pretty obvious no-no.

The following three quoted areas are from Pregnancy Nutrition Guidelines by Elizabeth Eden at How Stuff Works*.

Alcohol:
In the US you will probably NEVER find a doctor that says it’s ok to have any amount of alcohol, however they will tell you not to worry about the drinks you had before you knew you were pregnant. I’ve known several people that had a drink here and there during there pregnancies and their kids came out just fine. I didn’t dare have any because it would be my luck that just smelling one silly drink would permanently harm my child.

No safe level of alcohol consumption has been established. As a result, it is best to take a cautious approach during pregnancy by abstaining from alcohol.

Cigarettes:
If you smoke you already know it’s not good, so I’m not going to beat a dead horse.

Caffeine:

increases production of stress hormones, causing constriction of uterine blood vessels, which lessens the blood flow to the uterus and may temporarily decrease the amount of oxygen reaching the fetus. Large amounts of caffeine cannot be good for your baby or you. However, caffeine consumption in small amounts (one to two cups of coffee per day) is considered safe during pregnancy.

Herbal Tea:

Some herbs and herbal teas contain drugs. Ginseng tea contains a small amount of estrogen. Chamomile tea contains ragweed, which can cause severe allergic reactions in some people. Teas made from juniper berries may cause stomach irritation. Just because herbal teas are considered to be natural does not mean they are safe for pregnant women. So, in general, avoid herbal teas except for those teas known to be safe for pregnancy such as peppermint and raspberry leaf.

I ran into a bunch of sites that say to stay away from soft cheeses and lunch meats. My thoughts are to just make sure the cheeses you eat are pasteurized (it should say on the label). I haven’t found a cheese in the US yet that isn’t pasteurized, including the ones listed as “no-nos” on the CDC web page about preventing listeria like feta and queso blanco fresco. As for the deli meats and such, don’t eat them past the expiration date and toss them after about a week.

The other thing I saw a lot of are sites saying to avoid fish because of mercury content, but it is safe to eat some fish in moderation (that’s always the key isn’t it?). FDA – What You Need to Know About Mercury in Fish and Shellfish.

Fish contains DHA, which is fabulous for brain development, so if you like fish at all don’t rule it out completely because of mercury fears.

The best sources of DHA are: seafood, algae, and especially coldwater fish. Omega-3 fatty acids are nature’s antifreeze. In general, the colder the water, the higher the omega-3 content in the fish oil. Popular sources of DHA are: salmon, sardines, and tuna. Eggs and organ meats have a small amount of DHA in them, but the healthiest source of dietary DHA is seafood. Two 4-ounce servings of omega-3-rich fish per week should yield a sufficient amount of omega-3 fatty acids, especially DHA. Besides fish oils, vegetable oils (primarily flaxseed, soy, and canola) are also rich sources of omega 3 fatty acids, with flaxseed oil being the best. The two F’s, fish and flax, are the top brain-building foods for growing children, and adults.

I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on TV. This advice is not meant to take the place of talking to a doctor.

*Eden, Elizabeth. “Pregnancy Nutrition Guidelines.” 17 November 2006. HowStuffWorks.com. 21 July 2008.

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The story of Sophia’s birth

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Kurt and I tried for a year and a half to conceive. I only mention it because I would have loved to tell Sophia that she was conceived in a castle in Spain, but she blew it. Apparently, the stubbornness gene is very strong. Sophia was conceived after ruining my Christmas with a monthly cycle. I gave up on that day, broke down and decided to buy tickets to Vegas for our eighth anniversary. I wound up going to Vegas nine weeks pregnant and extremely tired! I worked up to the bitter end of my pregnancy. I felt like I wasn’t going to make it during the first trimester.  Although I was extremely tired I didn’t see why not work since I have a desk job. There were a few days that my supervisor would come up to see where I was on my projects before I made my announcement at work that I was so tired he would jokingly ask if I was on drugs. What’s funny is that the HR department selected our whole department to be randomly tested soon after he started making those jokes. Sometimes I wonder about those coincidences, anyway…I worked up to the end.

I convinced my employer to let me work from home the last week of my pregnancy. The last day at the physical office, I filled out all of my time sheets and leave slips. I put down that my last day of work would be my due date and planned to start leave on that date even if Sophia came late. I started working from home on Thursday, September 20th. The next day I went into the office to change my leave slip to make Monday the 24th my last day of work. I wasn’t feeling good and just wanted the whole thing to end.

Monday I spent the not only working from home, but working in my bed, still in my PJs. It was awesome! After work, I went to some stores looking for a vegetable steamer basket. I only remember that because I stayed up late that night blogging about it and as my friend pointed out that post is probably what started my labor. I posted it at a quarter to midnight then surfed around commenting on other blogs. I figured I didn’t have to work in the morning, so why not stay up.

At about two in the morning, I decided to go to bed except that when I lay down I kept feeling my stomach hurt. It wasn’t a stomachache – it was more like mild cramps that came and went. I thought might be Braxton hicks’ contractions. I hadn’t felt anything like it through the whole pregnancy – maybe these were them, I tried to sleep through it. No luck. I know! I’ll change positions – that’s supposed to make them go away. I stood up and walked around. I waddled from room to room. Nope, still there. Damn, I’m getting sleepy.

2:30 a.m. – these cramps just keep coming! Shit! OHMYGOD – this is the real thing! Should I wake up Kurt? These don’t really hurt that bad, I can handle this. I’ll wait on waking up Kurt for now.

3am – HOLY SHIT THIS HURTS! I can’t take this. If I have to be awake then he should be awake!  Time to wake up Kurt! I waddled into the master bedroom and an especially painful contraction hit. Kurt woke up, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s time!”

For a split second, he looked very confused, as if to say, “How can this be? She’s not scheduled to arrive until the 27th. See, look here on the spreadsheet.” Kurt jumped out of bed, looked at me, and then leaned over and said, “Oh my god I think I’m going to be sick.” I will never forget those words because at that moment I was thinking, “Don’t you dare force me to be the strong levelheaded one right now!”

Kurt snapped out of it quickly. He got into his drive the land whale to the hospital clothes. He asked me how long I had been having the contractions and how far apart they were. My answer, “Since two a.m. and I have no idea, that’s what you’re here for.” He and found a note pad to record the times that my contractions hit. He tried to find the books that we got from the hospital because despite all of our planning neither one of us thought to post the number to triage in a handy spot. It took us a while to remember where I put the books and then it took a while longer for us to realize that the number was conveniently printed in the front of the book, and not somewhere in the middle.

The contractions started out at ten minutes apart and each time one hit there was not comfortable position to be found. I tried kneeing at the bed, sitting on the bed, sitting on the toilet, standing, standing slightly hunched over. At one point I remember sitting on the bed and moving across it backwards. Kurt mostly watched on in wonder as if I was one of the freak sideshows at the circus. He offered to try one of the positions mentioned in class and I went with it, but it wasn’t working for me. I pushed him away and continued my silliness of moving across the bed backwards and making useless trips to the bathroom.

Apparently, many of the sounds I made during my contractions were very much like the ones I make during sexcapades. “Is it wrong that you’re turning me on right now?” He asked. No, not really, but it is wrong that you decided to let me know what you’re thinking. Freak. What is it about guys that allows them to get all turned on when we’re sick with rivers of snot flowing out our nose or waddling around like a five foot eight duck that swallowed a beach ball that’s about to be delivered out the other end?

After three or four contractions at ten minutes apart, it went down to eight, and then the next one was six, then four. By this time, I was crying. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

“It feels just like my miscarriage.” I said. I repeated that a few times and Kurt assured me after each utterance that this time I would have a baby. I must have been having some sort of psychotic episode because I still had my doubts, and it really did feel just like the miscarriage I had nine years earlier.

After a couple contractions at four minutes apart, I told Kurt it was time to go to the hospital. “Ok” he said. I could tell he only said, “Ok” because that’s what they told the partners to say in class. I’ll call triage. He called the hospital at about 4:15 and they told him that because it was my first baby that we should wait until I had been at four minutes for at least a couple hours. And my uterus was all WTF? Kurt then proceeded to try to stall me. “Why don’t you go brush your teeth first?” He said. I obediently went and brushed my teeth. Then he said that he was going to go do the dishes – “You don’t really want Angel to see all the dishes in the sink when she comes to feed the animals do you?”

“I don’t give a shit, we need to GO” I said. My contractions were now three minutes apart. Kurt called triage at 4:30 to tell them we were on our way. He ran around the house doing god knows what. I felt like he was still stalling. I was getting really annoyed, but didn’t say anything. It was finally time for me to get in the car. Kurt cracked some joke that I don’t remember and didn’t laugh at. “Boy you must be in pain” he said. Do ya think!? On our way to the hospital, Kurt stopped for gas. I wanted to kill him, but I needed a driver. He only put a gallon in the tank but it took F-O-R-E-V-E-R! We arrived at the hospital around 5:30. As we walked into the admitting area, I had a contraction. I sat on a chair, got up, leaned on a wall, waddled to another wall and leaned on it. There was a brief pause and then it started again. This marked the beginning of my one-minute apart contractions that lasted forty five seconds. The nurse in the admitting area must have missed the pause because she said, “Is that still the same one?” Lady, you really aren’t helping!

Even though I pre-registered with the hospital months ago, there were still some papers to sign, T’s to cross, I’s to dot, and all that time consuming jazz. Finally, I was escorted to some area that rang of the ER. It was a large room with about four to six beds. I really didn’t count the beds. It wasn’t on my short list of priorities at that particular moment. The nurses hooked me up to some machines to monitor my heart rate and measure contractions. A nurse checked my cervix. Only two centimeters dilated, but there was some blood. The “bloody show” has officially begun.

My contractions were now consistently one minute apart and lasting F-O-R-E-V-E-R!! I was beginning to freak out. I kept saying, “Make it stop!” I was in a bed in a sitting position and at the beginning of each contraction, my first impulse was to reach for the top of the bed and pull myself up it. I was pretty much climbing the walls. I wanted my epidural and I wanted it NOW!! The nurse explained that they couldn’t give me anything without my doctor’s permission. Damn it!

I was so scared of this step of the whole process. Those movies they shoe in the birth classes really don’t help. My legs began to shake uncontrollably. It freaked me out. Kurt asked for some washcloths to put on my thighs. I can’t remember if he asked for warm or cold, but I did remember that it was something they told the partner to do in the class we took. I couldn’t control my breathing so I started hyperventilating. With each contraction I repeated, “Make it stop!” I could hear some nurses in the background giggling. They were probably laughing at me, but I really didn’t give a shit. I could tell that everyone including Kurt thought my saying, “make it stop” was a plea to make the baby stop coming, but that’s not what I meant. I just didn’t have the capacity to explain what I wanted was for some one to relieve the pain, NOW! After a few more contractions, my lips felt numb. I told Kurt, because for some reason I thought it might be in his power to fix the numbness. With each contraction, I became more scared and started hyperventilating even more. My fingers and forearms started to feel numb. I felt like I was going to throw up. Kurt asked for a bucket. The nurse yelled at Kurt to calm me down or I would pass out, and Kurt looked at her like, “Are you fuckin’ kidding me, she won’t listen to me.” He gave it a shot anyway.

Kurt very calmly tried to get me to follow his breathing pattern. I gave it a shot, but I had such a hard time following direction. He kept trying and I kept trying. We finally came to a happy medium when he stopped trying to micromanage each breath and just let me know when I’m going too fast. Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth – ssslllooowww. I wanted anything to focus on other than the pain, so I complied. I focused on Kurt’s mouth. Yep that gaping hole was my focal point. Love you hun. After each contraction, I took another sip of water and Kurt took a couple seconds to wipe my spittle off his glasses.

Seven in the morning was shift change. After a lot of praise on how well I had been handling my contractions since Kurt started helping me with my breathing I was introduced to Kim, the nurse that would deliver Sophia. She told me my doctor had approved pain medication for me. She said that it wouldn’t eliminate the pain, it would just change the way I felt about it. She administered a half dose of fentanyl via my iv. She said she would give me the second half when we got to my room. I had a few more contractions before I was moved into a wheelchair. They seemed so much easier to manage and I felt like I was getting a good fifteen-minute nap in-between each one. I later learned from Kurt that I was only closing my eyes for fifteen seconds.

We arrived at my room. My cervix was checked again. I was now at six centimeters. My doctor popped in. He said that he had heard about my morning.
“Yeah I was climbing the walls earlier.”

“Yep, that’s what I heard.” He told the nurse she should really read my birth plan. He said that he made copies and all the nurses in his office loved it.

I got the other half of my drugs. Ahh drugs. At nine, I received my epidural. The nurse had asked me what I expected to feel after the epidural and how much I wanted to feel – I don’t want to feel ANYTHING! I had felt quite enough in the last few hours. I don’t need to feel anymore of it. We invented, cultivated, synthesized, refined all kinds of drugs so that we don’t have to go through the pain our ancestors did and I want to take advantage of that technology. Natural birth is scary thing and I’ll let someone else go through it. That shit is not my bag baby!

me and the lamb just hanging outThe epidural went in easily, however I could still feel my contractions so they tried to up the dose, nope still there. The anesthesiologist had to come in again, pull the tape off my back, and push the needle in a little further. AAaahhh all better. After it kicked in all I felt was a little pressure with each contraction. At ten, the doctor broke my water and then we just waited for Sophia to drop into position. Kurt ran down to the car to grab the birth plan, which was almost pointless by this time. It was more for comic relief for the nurse than anything else.

I can’t remember if Kurt took this time to start making calls or not. I remember that we sat around and talked for a while. It was really odd to me to think that this time had finally arrived.

At noon the nurse came in to check on Sophia’s position for the umpteenth million time and she was right there. It was time to push. The doctor came in to check things out and while he was there, commented on the interesting pattern on my feet. I wore sandals (without socks – because that’s how sandals should be worn) and I had a tiger striped tan line on my feet. Note to self – if I ever get to do this again take the frickin’ time to put on socks before the doctor comes in.

The nurse asked if I felt the urge to push. I felt nothing, but she was right there, so it was time. I pushed with each contraction a few times and then the nurse said with one more push she’ll be out. YIKES! I asked the nurse if I would feel this part. She seemed to understand that I really needed to know if there was any chance I might feel the pain. She said it would be and intense pain as the head crowned but that it would be brief. Push push push push. “Guess what color her hair is?” The doctor asked me. I just smiled. Well that answers that question. “Shall I make it into a Mohawk” he asks showing the nurse. Wow, really, there’s THAT much hair. Holy crap! “Ok one more push and we’ll get the head out” She told me that about three more times. I just didn’t have the energy for the third push. My first two pushes one each contraction were really strong, the third, not so much.

“Are you tired of pushing?” The nurse asked in a sympathetic voice.

“Yes!”

Sophia arrived!“Well then push harder!” I laughed at her drill sergeant like attempt. That stuff didn’t work when I was in the military either. She decided to try another position/method for me to use. She got a bar out with a towel or sheet wrapped around it. The bar was at my feet and I was to hang onto the towel. The doctor explained that I was going to push just the head out then stop while he cleared her mouth and then I would push the shoulders out.

I didn’t feel the crowning at all. They had to tell me when to stop pushing. She came out crying. I pushed the shoulders through without any problem and the doctor held her up for us to see. She had meconium all over her back side. The nurses took her and wiped her up, wrapped her in a receiving blanket, and handed her to me. I cried.
Me overcome with emotionSophia on the scaleSophia getting footprints

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