Since I've been opining away for the last several posts, I thought I'd include some pertinent facts without the pressure of a narrative of things that I will potentially want to remember:
1. I am 25 weeks gestation today. 6 months. WOW!
2. I now regularly feel the baby move. His favorite times to make his presence known are directly after a meal or when I am awake in the middle of the night. Daddy has yet to truly feel him, however, as he calms as soon as I put Nathaniel's hand in the area where I've experienced the greatest activity. I am not so secretly hoping that Nathaniel has this calming effect on him in the future as well!
3. I am now tired... a lot. It's a totally typical kind of tired and going to the gym (oddly enough) makes me feel better. But, getting motivated to move is tiresome in and of itself. I'm not concerned... I am still working full time, traveling, participating in family activities and so on... but, I am just more tired than ever before. Oddly, I rarely, if ever, sleep through the night.
4. At the last check (December appointment), I had only gained 6 pounds. With my bump now becoming more pronounced, I anticipate that number has raised. However, I am directly on track for a healthy pregnancy with rational weight gain. The doctor was very complimentary and encouraging at the last appointment and, although I am still supposed to monitor my sugar levels, there is no significant concern at this point about any gestational diabetes-related side effects.
5. I have yet to find a crib I truly like. We have plans for the nursery sketched out vaguely. Grandma Shirley will be spending most of the month of January in North Carolina - I guess that is when we'll make most of the crib bedding. We don't want to do too much too early, in accordance with Italian superstition... errr.... tradition. It is quickly becoming time, though.
6. I have been sick to my stomach twice - once the day after Thanksgiving and once December 21. Both times, I have been unable to control gastric function - something that is foreign to me. Apparently, I am, indeed, more susceptible to sickness and bugs while pregnant. The second one was a particularly vicious bug, attacking Nathaniel as well. I am not rational and called the doctor's office several times to ensure my little boy would be ok without fresh food supplies during the sickness.
7. I am crazy emotional. I cry. A lot. often. with tears.
8. I am finally at the stage when I am eager to meet our child. I remember how quickly the time between the holidays and our wedding went last year. I anticipate a similar level of frenzy and preparation during these few months. Nathaniel is even in on the act, betraying little moments of anticipation.
9. There is light at the end of Nathaniel's dissertational tunnel. Our little boy will make his debut at Nathaniel's PhD music premiere at Brandeis on May 8, 2011. His father will, in all likelihood, be in the final stages of his defense at that point. Hallelujah!
10. We've pretty well settled on a name. We are not going to call him anything specific until we meet him, but are pretty determined that, unless the boy comes out looking like an Arnold or an Oscar or something equally undeniable and definitive, we are going to give him our first place contender. We aren't going to give it away until we're sure, but I'm going to prepare everyone: it's old fashioned and no longer common. I'm excited about it, but have had to make a case to my peers I've told. The older generation will love it, though :)
We have our next appointment on January 7. There is also a trip to Salt Lake City on New Year's Eve wherein we will celebrate my sister in law's wedding. I'll hopefully add some new information after all that!
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Tradition!
"A fiddler on the roof. Sounds crazy, no? But here, in our little village of Anatevka, you might say every one of us is a fiddler on the roof trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune without breaking his neck. It isn't easy. You may ask 'Why do we stay up there if it's so dangerous?' Well, we stay because Anatevka is our home. And how do we keep our balance? That I can tell you in one word: tradition! Because of our traditions, we've kept our balance for many, many years. Here in Anatevka, we have traditions for everything... How to sleep, how to eat... how to work... how to wear clothes. For instance, we always keep our heads covered, and always wear a little prayer shawl that shows our constant devotion to God. You may ask, "How did this tradition get started?" I'll tell you! [pause] I don't know. But it's a tradition... and because of our traditions... Every one of us knows who he is and what God expects him to do."
As is usual for me, Broadway speaks my heart. The above quote is recited by Reb Tevye, the main character from "Fiddler on the Roof" at the very beginning of the musical. The rest of the musical is a journey alongside his family as their traditions are challenged and, ultimately, either changed or preserved by the force of time. It's so funny that I've never been a fan of this musical to the degree that I love others. I've given it its due as a staple to Broadway repertoire and genealogy, but never truly embraced the heart of the story. Pregnancy does some funny things.
My family is at a place where our traditions are being tested. As someone who finds comfort in tradition and runs to tradition for comfort during any given storm, my heart weeps at the challenge and potential changing of these traditions. However, like Tevye, I must learn to keep my balance by embracing the traditions which matter most (like my firm belief in God and His grace), while relinquishing those that are, in actuality, preferences (like waking up in mom and dad's house every Christmas morning). In so developing flexibility, I hope that the new reality that emerges alongside the preserved traditions, as well as those modified traditions, will be a durable and significant beauty and future for our family. As we prepare for our job as mother and father to this new, unharmed, untainted life, I want so much for Nathaniel and I to be able to give him something firm and enduring to which he can and will anchor himself. However, I want to give him the latitude to become who he will and have the freedom to pursue passions with a desire and drive for excellence without unnecessary burden or distraction.
Christmas this year was a year of new patterns in which we fought hard to preserve cherished traditions. With everyone working full time and stretching ourselves thin (as well as stomach bugs and other exhaustion), we managed to sneak in a cookie baking session, albeit at the 11th hour. On Christmas Eve, Nathaniel and I trekked up to Youngsville for cookie baking and dinner prep (Nathaniel worked on his dissertation - I prepared his meal... I guess that tradition is in no danger of changing). Even at the lateness of the hour, our current circumstances pressured us. Mom had to leave to show a house. Nathaniel fixated on writing until after dinner. I needed to sit down and rest as my energy is good, but not endless at 24 weeks gestation. Dad had to check in at work via his laptop. While rolling, icing, and sprinkling our beloved tradition of Knot cookies, time and change were standing at the door.
Later that evening, we welcomed a change to tradition: we celebrated Christmas Eve with our adopted family, Jimmy and Donna Maher and their kids Kim and Jeff and Melissa. We played Apples to Apples, increased volume with Limoncello consumption, made jokes about the implications of the game's outcome, and enjoyed a fireplace's glow. This change to tradition was very welcome, but for those who aren't aware, let me tell you about the Christmas Eve we used to spend. We used to observe a combination of the Hispanic "Noche Buena" and Italian "Seven Fishes." However, my father (the main seafood consumer) developed an allergy to all things pulled from the water. Despite his willingness to still have the food prepared and enjoyed, we all lost our taste for stuffed calamari and other Italian seafood delights if we couldn't enjoy it with him at the helm of the feast. The reverent evening would usually end with Bobby and I drifting to sleep on a hard pew at a midnight mass in a candlelit Catholic church. To move to Chicken Picatta and laughter-filled wondering about what my father meant when he picked "Rubber Gloves" for his round as judge in Apples to Apples is quite a shift - welcome or not.
Thankfully, one tradition remained: My mother, who annually protests that she did not do so, provided us all with new pajamas. Her beautiful grandmother from Panama used to get the entire family new pajamas in which they would sleep Christmas Eve. The next day, the entire family would gather to open presents in fresh, beautiful new pajamas. Aye-aye (a name I've only recently learned I gave to my great grandmother - I thought EVERYONE called her that!?) would ALWAYS claim she did not buy pajamas for the family each year. Yet, at the final moments before bedtime, she would produce some new garment for sleeping for each one. My mother kept this favorite tradition alive and well this year. However, she modified it marginally. Typically, the package of pajamas and the package of pajamas alone are to be opened Christmas Eve. My mother made an exception for her new son in law: She got him the Pumpkin pancake mix and Chai tea he asked me to prepare for him and gave him the foods so that they could be prepared for him on Christmas morning.
In perhaps the biggest change of this Christmas season, I woke up somewhere other than my parents' house on Christmas day. In 31 Christmases, this is the first one I was not in their house. No matter where I have been in the country, I've always come home for Christmas. Sometimes, on a smooth airplane. Other times, in a smoking RV from Miami. But, I've always gotten to their house. Waking up next to my husband was a FINE trade off, but still a change wrought from the pressure of inevitable time and change. This change was followed by another: Christmas Day at OUR house. Mom and Dad trekked down here and made Christmas Day special in our new home. Nathaniel got to play the new Wii game I got him, which worked out well for him. I got to bless my new kitchen with another holiday meal prepared from scratch in the tradition of my Italian and Hispanic grandmothers and aunts. And I got to think fondly of my beloved Nani as I set the table with her china for the second time in as many months. Additionally, I got the unmitigated joy of sharing Christmas with one of the people I love most in the world and consider family without wavering: Matt Webb. Again, our tradition was changed. Our number was diminished. Our location was modified. But the heart of the love and sharing that is at the center of the traditions I love remained the same.
Mom and Dad and I have already spoken and conjectured about how the adaptations we made for this year are not likely permanent. Next year, I will have a little boy who is approximately 8 and a half months on Christmas. While we all think the locations for Christmas Eve/Christmas Day are likely to stay the same, the timbre of a celebration that has children involved will be flavored very differently. The important thing, though, that was preserved this year and will (hopefully) be preserved for years to come is the family's commitment to sharing. To taking time to sit with one another. To passing on the smells and stories and tastes and hopes that have sustained previous generations and may prove comforting, if not beneficial to the next. To loving loudly. To loving completely - even when flawed.
This is the heart of the tradition with which I hope our son learns to balance himself in the precarious world to which he is born.
As is usual for me, Broadway speaks my heart. The above quote is recited by Reb Tevye, the main character from "Fiddler on the Roof" at the very beginning of the musical. The rest of the musical is a journey alongside his family as their traditions are challenged and, ultimately, either changed or preserved by the force of time. It's so funny that I've never been a fan of this musical to the degree that I love others. I've given it its due as a staple to Broadway repertoire and genealogy, but never truly embraced the heart of the story. Pregnancy does some funny things.
My family is at a place where our traditions are being tested. As someone who finds comfort in tradition and runs to tradition for comfort during any given storm, my heart weeps at the challenge and potential changing of these traditions. However, like Tevye, I must learn to keep my balance by embracing the traditions which matter most (like my firm belief in God and His grace), while relinquishing those that are, in actuality, preferences (like waking up in mom and dad's house every Christmas morning). In so developing flexibility, I hope that the new reality that emerges alongside the preserved traditions, as well as those modified traditions, will be a durable and significant beauty and future for our family. As we prepare for our job as mother and father to this new, unharmed, untainted life, I want so much for Nathaniel and I to be able to give him something firm and enduring to which he can and will anchor himself. However, I want to give him the latitude to become who he will and have the freedom to pursue passions with a desire and drive for excellence without unnecessary burden or distraction.
Christmas this year was a year of new patterns in which we fought hard to preserve cherished traditions. With everyone working full time and stretching ourselves thin (as well as stomach bugs and other exhaustion), we managed to sneak in a cookie baking session, albeit at the 11th hour. On Christmas Eve, Nathaniel and I trekked up to Youngsville for cookie baking and dinner prep (Nathaniel worked on his dissertation - I prepared his meal... I guess that tradition is in no danger of changing). Even at the lateness of the hour, our current circumstances pressured us. Mom had to leave to show a house. Nathaniel fixated on writing until after dinner. I needed to sit down and rest as my energy is good, but not endless at 24 weeks gestation. Dad had to check in at work via his laptop. While rolling, icing, and sprinkling our beloved tradition of Knot cookies, time and change were standing at the door.
Later that evening, we welcomed a change to tradition: we celebrated Christmas Eve with our adopted family, Jimmy and Donna Maher and their kids Kim and Jeff and Melissa. We played Apples to Apples, increased volume with Limoncello consumption, made jokes about the implications of the game's outcome, and enjoyed a fireplace's glow. This change to tradition was very welcome, but for those who aren't aware, let me tell you about the Christmas Eve we used to spend. We used to observe a combination of the Hispanic "Noche Buena" and Italian "Seven Fishes." However, my father (the main seafood consumer) developed an allergy to all things pulled from the water. Despite his willingness to still have the food prepared and enjoyed, we all lost our taste for stuffed calamari and other Italian seafood delights if we couldn't enjoy it with him at the helm of the feast. The reverent evening would usually end with Bobby and I drifting to sleep on a hard pew at a midnight mass in a candlelit Catholic church. To move to Chicken Picatta and laughter-filled wondering about what my father meant when he picked "Rubber Gloves" for his round as judge in Apples to Apples is quite a shift - welcome or not.
Thankfully, one tradition remained: My mother, who annually protests that she did not do so, provided us all with new pajamas. Her beautiful grandmother from Panama used to get the entire family new pajamas in which they would sleep Christmas Eve. The next day, the entire family would gather to open presents in fresh, beautiful new pajamas. Aye-aye (a name I've only recently learned I gave to my great grandmother - I thought EVERYONE called her that!?) would ALWAYS claim she did not buy pajamas for the family each year. Yet, at the final moments before bedtime, she would produce some new garment for sleeping for each one. My mother kept this favorite tradition alive and well this year. However, she modified it marginally. Typically, the package of pajamas and the package of pajamas alone are to be opened Christmas Eve. My mother made an exception for her new son in law: She got him the Pumpkin pancake mix and Chai tea he asked me to prepare for him and gave him the foods so that they could be prepared for him on Christmas morning.
In perhaps the biggest change of this Christmas season, I woke up somewhere other than my parents' house on Christmas day. In 31 Christmases, this is the first one I was not in their house. No matter where I have been in the country, I've always come home for Christmas. Sometimes, on a smooth airplane. Other times, in a smoking RV from Miami. But, I've always gotten to their house. Waking up next to my husband was a FINE trade off, but still a change wrought from the pressure of inevitable time and change. This change was followed by another: Christmas Day at OUR house. Mom and Dad trekked down here and made Christmas Day special in our new home. Nathaniel got to play the new Wii game I got him, which worked out well for him. I got to bless my new kitchen with another holiday meal prepared from scratch in the tradition of my Italian and Hispanic grandmothers and aunts. And I got to think fondly of my beloved Nani as I set the table with her china for the second time in as many months. Additionally, I got the unmitigated joy of sharing Christmas with one of the people I love most in the world and consider family without wavering: Matt Webb. Again, our tradition was changed. Our number was diminished. Our location was modified. But the heart of the love and sharing that is at the center of the traditions I love remained the same.
Mom and Dad and I have already spoken and conjectured about how the adaptations we made for this year are not likely permanent. Next year, I will have a little boy who is approximately 8 and a half months on Christmas. While we all think the locations for Christmas Eve/Christmas Day are likely to stay the same, the timbre of a celebration that has children involved will be flavored very differently. The important thing, though, that was preserved this year and will (hopefully) be preserved for years to come is the family's commitment to sharing. To taking time to sit with one another. To passing on the smells and stories and tastes and hopes that have sustained previous generations and may prove comforting, if not beneficial to the next. To loving loudly. To loving completely - even when flawed.
This is the heart of the tradition with which I hope our son learns to balance himself in the precarious world to which he is born.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
The grandness of grandparents...
I am excited for our child to experience so many things. Somethings are question marks: Will he enjoy sports? Will our love of music translate to him? Will he be able to reconcile his father's preference for the Red Sox with his own passionate devotion to the Yankees?
Thankfully, not everything is a question mark. I know, without hesitation, that our son will enjoy his experience with his grandparents. On every front, he will be met with an older generation that loves, cares, prays for, and nurtures him. With the exception of my husband and me, so few children have been given such a well-rounded gift of love and acceptance.
In my father in law, our son will see a wry sense of humor. He will be the butt of jokes and recipient of puns at a record level. He will see an oldest Eschler son, whose own oldest son has now born an oldest Eschler son - the direct lineage to which he belongs. His Grandfather Eschler also has a not-so-secret, quasi-magical workshop. In this workshop, Grandpa Eschler whittles ordinary chunks of wood to trains, cars, tractors, trucks, and any other vehicle imaginable. Having had a grandfather of my own who suffered through hours of wood crafting, I think this aspect of my husband's father is one of the things that excites me most about this relationship in our son's life!
In my own father, our son will see selfless devotion. He will learn the importance of a strong work ethic, careful planning and devotion to family. He will see a man who will spare no inconvenience, expense, or difficulty to ensure healthy and full development into a man who is respectable and respectful. Having been given the protective cloak of this man for my whole life, I place my confidence unwaveringly in his ability and right to develop and shape a relationship with the next generation.
In my mother in law, our son will get the benefits of a grandmother who is not only chomping at the bit to smother him in love and affection, but also a woman who will be endlessly patient and devoted to him. She is the ultimate provider of unconditional love and relentless grace. In her own son's life, she has been a constant source of love and acceptance, despite even the challenges that were provided regularly. Her patience has been demonstrated already in the beautiful blanket she's made for our little boy - something he will be wrapped in for his trip home from the hospital.
And, lastly, in my mother, our son will get wit and quickness and loudness. My mother is effusive and irrepressible in her love. My mother will carry on her father's tradition of spontaneous, undeniable exclamations of love and loosely controlled expressions. She will defend him when he is at loss for defense and call him out when he is in blatant violation of family law. She will make sure he eats well and smells nice. She'll make sure he knows the virtue of small governments and internal moral compasses. She'll impart passion and love and excitement and expression in its purest form. Already hoping for an Alex P. Keaton, she has wholly endorsed my love of argyle sweater vests and is ready to assume her role in April.
My husband and I share stories about the wonderful memories we each have of our grandparents. Sadly, all of our grandfathers have passed on. Nathaniel still has 2 wonderful grandmothers around (1 is 100 YEARS OLD!), and I've got one. While I am still disappointed that my Nani could not be at our wedding, I am thankful she knew and approved of Nathaniel.
It's probably the time of year that has me reflecting on the value and benefits of grandparents. The anniversaries of both grandfathers' passings are in November. My grandmother's one year anniversary is coming up on New Year's Eve.
Even from the other side of the ocean, my grandparents were forces with which to be reckoned in my life. Nathaniel reports a similar experience with his grandfathers. I want, so much, to give our little boy even a fraction of the magic that marked my childhood that was fostered under the watchful eyes of my grandparents. Thankfully, the grandparents we have to work with are a great starting point for that sort of early life!
Thankfully, not everything is a question mark. I know, without hesitation, that our son will enjoy his experience with his grandparents. On every front, he will be met with an older generation that loves, cares, prays for, and nurtures him. With the exception of my husband and me, so few children have been given such a well-rounded gift of love and acceptance.
In my father in law, our son will see a wry sense of humor. He will be the butt of jokes and recipient of puns at a record level. He will see an oldest Eschler son, whose own oldest son has now born an oldest Eschler son - the direct lineage to which he belongs. His Grandfather Eschler also has a not-so-secret, quasi-magical workshop. In this workshop, Grandpa Eschler whittles ordinary chunks of wood to trains, cars, tractors, trucks, and any other vehicle imaginable. Having had a grandfather of my own who suffered through hours of wood crafting, I think this aspect of my husband's father is one of the things that excites me most about this relationship in our son's life!
In my own father, our son will see selfless devotion. He will learn the importance of a strong work ethic, careful planning and devotion to family. He will see a man who will spare no inconvenience, expense, or difficulty to ensure healthy and full development into a man who is respectable and respectful. Having been given the protective cloak of this man for my whole life, I place my confidence unwaveringly in his ability and right to develop and shape a relationship with the next generation.
In my mother in law, our son will get the benefits of a grandmother who is not only chomping at the bit to smother him in love and affection, but also a woman who will be endlessly patient and devoted to him. She is the ultimate provider of unconditional love and relentless grace. In her own son's life, she has been a constant source of love and acceptance, despite even the challenges that were provided regularly. Her patience has been demonstrated already in the beautiful blanket she's made for our little boy - something he will be wrapped in for his trip home from the hospital.
And, lastly, in my mother, our son will get wit and quickness and loudness. My mother is effusive and irrepressible in her love. My mother will carry on her father's tradition of spontaneous, undeniable exclamations of love and loosely controlled expressions. She will defend him when he is at loss for defense and call him out when he is in blatant violation of family law. She will make sure he eats well and smells nice. She'll make sure he knows the virtue of small governments and internal moral compasses. She'll impart passion and love and excitement and expression in its purest form. Already hoping for an Alex P. Keaton, she has wholly endorsed my love of argyle sweater vests and is ready to assume her role in April.
My husband and I share stories about the wonderful memories we each have of our grandparents. Sadly, all of our grandfathers have passed on. Nathaniel still has 2 wonderful grandmothers around (1 is 100 YEARS OLD!), and I've got one. While I am still disappointed that my Nani could not be at our wedding, I am thankful she knew and approved of Nathaniel.It's probably the time of year that has me reflecting on the value and benefits of grandparents. The anniversaries of both grandfathers' passings are in November. My grandmother's one year anniversary is coming up on New Year's Eve.
Even from the other side of the ocean, my grandparents were forces with which to be reckoned in my life. Nathaniel reports a similar experience with his grandfathers. I want, so much, to give our little boy even a fraction of the magic that marked my childhood that was fostered under the watchful eyes of my grandparents. Thankfully, the grandparents we have to work with are a great starting point for that sort of early life!
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Let me tell you about my Beantown friends...
Nathaniel and I can often be heard repeating refrains of praise for our adopted hometown, Boston. While the rich history, lavish cultures, and glamorous metropolitan feel all helped form our positive opinion of the city, as well as our desire to return, the people we met there really cemented our feeling of belonging.
The people I met there model the generosity of spirit and life that I remember my family embracing throughout my childhood. In 18 months living there, the bonds created became so strong and durable that the Boston influence remains prominent throughout the life events Nathaniel and I are experiencing in rapid fire sequence. Who could forget the story of the wedding cake imported in the trunk of an SUV that carried an exhausted baker and 7 month pregnant friend? Or the Boston roommate that moved 5 hours up the road and was sure to dance with me at my wedding? Or the encouragement and love I get from 750 miles away on a nearly daily basis? The people I met in Boston embody the truest definition of love, selflessness, loyalty, honesty, and timeless connection. I feel so thankful to add them to the long tradition of love I've experienced in my life.
Another example of the depth of Boston-born friendships arrived on Tuesday at RDU airport. My friend, Jen, is the mother of 2 little girls, ages 3 years and 6 months. She works a job that is labeled "full time," but usually occupies her closer to 55 hours per week, as opposed to 40 hours. She and her husband work hard to make their family work well, manage to face the expense and pressure of life in the Boston area, and still have the kind of family life for their little Hayley and Taylor that I would love to be able to establish for our little boy. As a matter of fact, Jen and I have already planned that when little boy Eschler grows up, he can choose between Hay or Tay for romantic interests, so that we can preserve our common family values in that perfect union :)
In the middle of one of the most hectic times of year for her job, with her oldest daughter's birthday in the mix, her own birthday coming up, and holiday expenses running rampant, Jen's request was for a plane ticket to North Carolina and 2 days worth of childcare relief so she could come visit me for 48 hours. She sat in my office for a large portion of that time, watching me wrestle with the red tape of the mental health system, reading on her new Kindle. We went to the mall and baked and watched bad movies that entertain us greatly the rest of the time. The lack of pressure and enormity of her support and love were completely medicinal. And, while material expressions are not the clearest demonstrations of anything deep, the generosity of Jen's spirit, and the spirit of the people in our circle up in Boston can be gleaned directly from the material gifts she brought.
In Jen's carry on-sized suitcase, her clothing and personal effects took up less than a quarter of the space. The rest was an amalgam of niceties sent from Boston to make our parenting adventure successful.
Most notably, Jen brought me a BRAND NEW, TOP OF THE LINE MEDELA BREAST PUMP.
One of our friends, Adam, who is a chef in the kitchen where Jen works/where I worked in grad school, recently had a little girl. His girlfriend, Robyn, apparently never used the pump. When he found out I was pregnant, he sent me a message letting me know Jen would have it for me. He also sent a $40 Target gift card for whatever components I may have to buy for it! Thank you Adam, Robyn, and Rayna! Can't wait to see you all in May.
In addition to that fantastic gift and thoughtfulness, Jen collaborated with the baker-extraordinaire, Stephanie. Steph sent the cutest little boy outfits and a changing station!
Thank you, Stephanie, for your continued love, support, and excitement for us. We love you much!
And last, but certainly not least, Jen made incredibly sweet contributions as well. Knowing that our child is destined for Ivy League (or at least high levels of excellence), Jen was sure to start little boy's wardrobe well.
In addition, she PACKED her suitcase with little things that (I am told) will mean a lot: extra breast pads, storage bags, magazines, and other "little" big things...
Before Jen left, though, she made what is, perhaps, the biggest contribution toward our little boy's preparation: A VERA BRADLEY DIAPER BAG. It is BEAUTIFUL and makes me eager to carry around bottles and diapers and wipes and blankies! She said someone bought her a Vera Bradley diaper bag for her first baby and she could not imagine having to go without hers, so she wanted to share the joy. Getting the box in the mail was a thrill, as is the possibility of starting motherhood out in true style! The zebra print changing pad just makes everything better, too!
I wicked seveahly haht you, Jennifah Pike!
As I said, I know material objects are not the most important indication of the depth of affection or true regard, but when speaking of the generosity of spirit of the people I know and love from my time in Boston, their material generosity is unavoidably involved in the conversation. I canNOT wait to bring little boy Eschler to Boston to meet his extended family in May.
I wicked seveahly love and miss you all in my Bahstahn home!
The people I met there model the generosity of spirit and life that I remember my family embracing throughout my childhood. In 18 months living there, the bonds created became so strong and durable that the Boston influence remains prominent throughout the life events Nathaniel and I are experiencing in rapid fire sequence. Who could forget the story of the wedding cake imported in the trunk of an SUV that carried an exhausted baker and 7 month pregnant friend? Or the Boston roommate that moved 5 hours up the road and was sure to dance with me at my wedding? Or the encouragement and love I get from 750 miles away on a nearly daily basis? The people I met in Boston embody the truest definition of love, selflessness, loyalty, honesty, and timeless connection. I feel so thankful to add them to the long tradition of love I've experienced in my life.
Another example of the depth of Boston-born friendships arrived on Tuesday at RDU airport. My friend, Jen, is the mother of 2 little girls, ages 3 years and 6 months. She works a job that is labeled "full time," but usually occupies her closer to 55 hours per week, as opposed to 40 hours. She and her husband work hard to make their family work well, manage to face the expense and pressure of life in the Boston area, and still have the kind of family life for their little Hayley and Taylor that I would love to be able to establish for our little boy. As a matter of fact, Jen and I have already planned that when little boy Eschler grows up, he can choose between Hay or Tay for romantic interests, so that we can preserve our common family values in that perfect union :)
In the middle of one of the most hectic times of year for her job, with her oldest daughter's birthday in the mix, her own birthday coming up, and holiday expenses running rampant, Jen's request was for a plane ticket to North Carolina and 2 days worth of childcare relief so she could come visit me for 48 hours. She sat in my office for a large portion of that time, watching me wrestle with the red tape of the mental health system, reading on her new Kindle. We went to the mall and baked and watched bad movies that entertain us greatly the rest of the time. The lack of pressure and enormity of her support and love were completely medicinal. And, while material expressions are not the clearest demonstrations of anything deep, the generosity of Jen's spirit, and the spirit of the people in our circle up in Boston can be gleaned directly from the material gifts she brought.
In Jen's carry on-sized suitcase, her clothing and personal effects took up less than a quarter of the space. The rest was an amalgam of niceties sent from Boston to make our parenting adventure successful.
Most notably, Jen brought me a BRAND NEW, TOP OF THE LINE MEDELA BREAST PUMP.
One of our friends, Adam, who is a chef in the kitchen where Jen works/where I worked in grad school, recently had a little girl. His girlfriend, Robyn, apparently never used the pump. When he found out I was pregnant, he sent me a message letting me know Jen would have it for me. He also sent a $40 Target gift card for whatever components I may have to buy for it! Thank you Adam, Robyn, and Rayna! Can't wait to see you all in May.
In addition to that fantastic gift and thoughtfulness, Jen collaborated with the baker-extraordinaire, Stephanie. Steph sent the cutest little boy outfits and a changing station!
Thank you, Stephanie, for your continued love, support, and excitement for us. We love you much!
And last, but certainly not least, Jen made incredibly sweet contributions as well. Knowing that our child is destined for Ivy League (or at least high levels of excellence), Jen was sure to start little boy's wardrobe well.
In addition, she PACKED her suitcase with little things that (I am told) will mean a lot: extra breast pads, storage bags, magazines, and other "little" big things...
Before Jen left, though, she made what is, perhaps, the biggest contribution toward our little boy's preparation: A VERA BRADLEY DIAPER BAG. It is BEAUTIFUL and makes me eager to carry around bottles and diapers and wipes and blankies! She said someone bought her a Vera Bradley diaper bag for her first baby and she could not imagine having to go without hers, so she wanted to share the joy. Getting the box in the mail was a thrill, as is the possibility of starting motherhood out in true style! The zebra print changing pad just makes everything better, too!
I wicked seveahly haht you, Jennifah Pike!
As I said, I know material objects are not the most important indication of the depth of affection or true regard, but when speaking of the generosity of spirit of the people I know and love from my time in Boston, their material generosity is unavoidably involved in the conversation. I canNOT wait to bring little boy Eschler to Boston to meet his extended family in May. I wicked seveahly love and miss you all in my Bahstahn home!
Monday, December 6, 2010
It already takes a village...
In the 90s, Hillary (no last name needed - she's the Madonna of politics) made everyone familiar with the idiom "It takes a village" in reference to raising and nurturing children. Even my mother, who would rather face Bush-era torture tactics than admit commonality with the woman, has to give credence to this notion. As I prepare on the downhill slope of this pregnancy to bring a child into our "village" of acquaintances, I am mulling this concept more than ever.
As a biological and honorary aunt to an ever growing number of children over the past nearly 5 years, I have been struck by a particular idea closely related to Hillary's comment. As I have not had a biological horse in the race as a childless woman, I have been apprehensive to give voice to my recurring idea. However, even with raging hormones and appearing stretchmarks, this particular idea resonates clearer than ever within my head and heart. At the risk of alienating those who disagree, I have to admit to a very honest and simple realization to which I feel compelled to look for guidance as I engage in the task of parenthood. My realization is this:
Our child does not belong to us.
Clearly, Nathaniel and I are going to be a primary influence and role in little boy Eschler's formation. The responsibility of late night feedings and diaper changes will, obviously, give me a sense of entitlement in this child's life that not many, if anyone else, can claim to feel. However, this child does not belong to me or to my husband.
Instead, the reality is this: The moment this little boy was conceived, he was as much a grandson, nephew, cousin, great grandson, friend, and sibling to future little Eschlers as he was our son. The primacy of my role or the role of my husband in no way diminishes or can ever diminish our son's relationship to anyone else. Of course, this realization could potentially make life more difficult.
You see, if Nathaniel and I were (as we are with most other things in our life) able to follow our instincts and rely on research and trusted resources, we would be able to make decisions and execute our methodologies in a systematic, well-controlled environment. However, we do not live in a vacuum, our child is not being birthed into a familial vacuum, and any other role could potentially influence, if not usurp our best intention. If my parents are anything like their parents, our plans will be subject to last minute ice cream trips and ostentatious birthday gifts. To say that my parents would not be able to grandparent in the way they see fit just as Nathaniel and I should be able to parent as we see fit would be at best, futile. At worst, it would be a selfish way of robbing my child.
You see, after much observation, I have come to realize that each child gains something different from each relationship. Their parents (hopefully) teach a loving moderation. Grandparents give an unmitigated and protected excess. Aunts and uncles give patient adoration. Siblings give unadulterated humility. Each person executes his or her gift to the child in a different way, in different expressions. However, each one is a benefit to the child if done in a way that maintains a sense of loving respect for the others.
I know this set up does not make my life any easier. I know that full control is a much easier way for me to maintain sanity - especially as it is the way I've maintained sanity in the other life domains. However, I know that my experience was so enriched by those moments my parents surrendered their control and plans and allowed me to bask fully in the relationship with my other family members and friends. I intend to give our son the same benefit, even if it means I have to learn a parenting style that is flexible enough to account for the influences of so many people in this small one's life.
I just pray we have grace and humility enough to make this idea a reality.
As a biological and honorary aunt to an ever growing number of children over the past nearly 5 years, I have been struck by a particular idea closely related to Hillary's comment. As I have not had a biological horse in the race as a childless woman, I have been apprehensive to give voice to my recurring idea. However, even with raging hormones and appearing stretchmarks, this particular idea resonates clearer than ever within my head and heart. At the risk of alienating those who disagree, I have to admit to a very honest and simple realization to which I feel compelled to look for guidance as I engage in the task of parenthood. My realization is this:
Our child does not belong to us.
Clearly, Nathaniel and I are going to be a primary influence and role in little boy Eschler's formation. The responsibility of late night feedings and diaper changes will, obviously, give me a sense of entitlement in this child's life that not many, if anyone else, can claim to feel. However, this child does not belong to me or to my husband.
Instead, the reality is this: The moment this little boy was conceived, he was as much a grandson, nephew, cousin, great grandson, friend, and sibling to future little Eschlers as he was our son. The primacy of my role or the role of my husband in no way diminishes or can ever diminish our son's relationship to anyone else. Of course, this realization could potentially make life more difficult.
You see, if Nathaniel and I were (as we are with most other things in our life) able to follow our instincts and rely on research and trusted resources, we would be able to make decisions and execute our methodologies in a systematic, well-controlled environment. However, we do not live in a vacuum, our child is not being birthed into a familial vacuum, and any other role could potentially influence, if not usurp our best intention. If my parents are anything like their parents, our plans will be subject to last minute ice cream trips and ostentatious birthday gifts. To say that my parents would not be able to grandparent in the way they see fit just as Nathaniel and I should be able to parent as we see fit would be at best, futile. At worst, it would be a selfish way of robbing my child.
You see, after much observation, I have come to realize that each child gains something different from each relationship. Their parents (hopefully) teach a loving moderation. Grandparents give an unmitigated and protected excess. Aunts and uncles give patient adoration. Siblings give unadulterated humility. Each person executes his or her gift to the child in a different way, in different expressions. However, each one is a benefit to the child if done in a way that maintains a sense of loving respect for the others.
I know this set up does not make my life any easier. I know that full control is a much easier way for me to maintain sanity - especially as it is the way I've maintained sanity in the other life domains. However, I know that my experience was so enriched by those moments my parents surrendered their control and plans and allowed me to bask fully in the relationship with my other family members and friends. I intend to give our son the same benefit, even if it means I have to learn a parenting style that is flexible enough to account for the influences of so many people in this small one's life.
I just pray we have grace and humility enough to make this idea a reality.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
An Ode to our little Abode...
I don't have a home that my family has owned for decades. My parents moved (and continue to move) a lot. My bedroom in their home is a multipurpose guest room in which I happened to be the longest term visitor to date. I've never been attached to a house or a bedroom set or any of those things common to people who go home to the same "Mom and Dad's house" they've been visiting since Kindergarten.
Because of this difficulty I've experienced hitting my family's "moving target," I have never found myself emotionally attached to any particular domicile. Instead, I've developed a few attachments to those things that make wherever my head is currently resting feel like my refuge from the world. My books and pictures are the biggest providers of the "homey" feel I take with me wherever I go. Four walls, however, have never tugged at my heart strings.
Well, never until 2600 Oberlin Rd.
Nathaniel and I have lived in less than 800 square feet since returning from the Dominican Republic where we spent our honeymoon. We chose not to spend much money or many of our resources on furnishings we would have to get rid of when we moved back north for school and our general life goal fulfillment. However, I loved the 1938 2-bedroom-1-bathroom-little-storage-tiny-kitchen-and-dining-room home. The nine months we spent there were blissful.
It was our first marital home. It was where Nathaniel and I were allowed to be alone without prying eyes after our marriage. We interacted with neighbors who knew us as a newlywed couple with the cute dog in the shire. We made good friends there (hi, Erin!) and walked to the near downtown areas for entertainment. I loved coming home each day from work. I loved cooking dinner there. I loved cuddling on the uncomfortable loveseat with Nathaniel as we strained our eyes trying to watch videos on the TV that was far across the living room and tuned using old-fashioned bunny ears with foil accessories.
Buying our new home was an incredibly logical and good decision for us. We need the space, the investment, and the stability. I am happy to bring our little boy home to this address. However, leaving the four walls of apartment T-3 was a bittersweet moment for me. Walking the empty hardwood rooms as I cleaned and made it ready to return to the management made me more sentimental for a home than I've ever been for any other.
Even moving forward toward good things is a painful process at times. I am thankful for our first memories being made in a home for which I can feel a true and abiding affection.
Thank you, 2600 Oberlin Road.
Because of this difficulty I've experienced hitting my family's "moving target," I have never found myself emotionally attached to any particular domicile. Instead, I've developed a few attachments to those things that make wherever my head is currently resting feel like my refuge from the world. My books and pictures are the biggest providers of the "homey" feel I take with me wherever I go. Four walls, however, have never tugged at my heart strings.
Well, never until 2600 Oberlin Rd.
Nathaniel and I have lived in less than 800 square feet since returning from the Dominican Republic where we spent our honeymoon. We chose not to spend much money or many of our resources on furnishings we would have to get rid of when we moved back north for school and our general life goal fulfillment. However, I loved the 1938 2-bedroom-1-bathroom-little-storage-tiny-kitchen-and-dining-room home. The nine months we spent there were blissful.
It was our first marital home. It was where Nathaniel and I were allowed to be alone without prying eyes after our marriage. We interacted with neighbors who knew us as a newlywed couple with the cute dog in the shire. We made good friends there (hi, Erin!) and walked to the near downtown areas for entertainment. I loved coming home each day from work. I loved cooking dinner there. I loved cuddling on the uncomfortable loveseat with Nathaniel as we strained our eyes trying to watch videos on the TV that was far across the living room and tuned using old-fashioned bunny ears with foil accessories.
Buying our new home was an incredibly logical and good decision for us. We need the space, the investment, and the stability. I am happy to bring our little boy home to this address. However, leaving the four walls of apartment T-3 was a bittersweet moment for me. Walking the empty hardwood rooms as I cleaned and made it ready to return to the management made me more sentimental for a home than I've ever been for any other.
Even moving forward toward good things is a painful process at times. I am thankful for our first memories being made in a home for which I can feel a true and abiding affection.
Thank you, 2600 Oberlin Road.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
And, we're back...
We FINALLY have internet! I feel like I've been given an award! "I'd like to thank God... without Him, this would not be possible... Also, my husband... for raising hell when needed... oh gosh... I don't want to leave anyone out..."
I've been thinking a lot during my blogging silence about the things I want to write in my first entry since engaging in the next step of adulthood and subsequent journey into the land of internet purgatory. I have an entry to write about how sentimental it was to watch our first marital home stripped as we moved on to our first foray into home-ownership. I want to write about the excitement of furnishing and decorating. I want to tell about the Thanksgiving dinner I got to host and the stomach bug that caused me to wretch my guts the day after. I want to submit an entry about the new decade I began on Thursday, when I turned THIRTY years old. I want to let everyone know about the incessant moving I can now regularly detect in my body that makes me smile and giggle. I want to write about the sweet moments I am sharing with my niece and nephew before they move north and the understanding I share with my brother as we both move forward, but never in the same geographical location.
I have a lot of words to get out.
However, on Tuesday, November 30, I encountered something that should not be reduced to words, but cannot be ignored in the words I want to pour out.
My sister in law lost her baby. As those who read my blog know, her pregnancy was an encouragement and great source of joy to me. Jess and her husband, Matt, are joys to me. Their loss is devastating to think about and their pain is nearly tangible to me. I do not want to diminish their experience by trying to describe the experience in fallible similes and pedestrian metaphors. However, the bravery of Jess, who was forced to experience labor since she was so far along, and the sadness I feel for her, for the loss of my new little nephew, and for the cousin my baby will never know has to be articulated. I love my husband's family as my own more than ever as a result of this experience, but hate the pain that knits me to them at this time.
And then, there must be joy in the morning...
I've been thinking a lot during my blogging silence about the things I want to write in my first entry since engaging in the next step of adulthood and subsequent journey into the land of internet purgatory. I have an entry to write about how sentimental it was to watch our first marital home stripped as we moved on to our first foray into home-ownership. I want to write about the excitement of furnishing and decorating. I want to tell about the Thanksgiving dinner I got to host and the stomach bug that caused me to wretch my guts the day after. I want to submit an entry about the new decade I began on Thursday, when I turned THIRTY years old. I want to let everyone know about the incessant moving I can now regularly detect in my body that makes me smile and giggle. I want to write about the sweet moments I am sharing with my niece and nephew before they move north and the understanding I share with my brother as we both move forward, but never in the same geographical location.
I have a lot of words to get out.
However, on Tuesday, November 30, I encountered something that should not be reduced to words, but cannot be ignored in the words I want to pour out.
My sister in law lost her baby. As those who read my blog know, her pregnancy was an encouragement and great source of joy to me. Jess and her husband, Matt, are joys to me. Their loss is devastating to think about and their pain is nearly tangible to me. I do not want to diminish their experience by trying to describe the experience in fallible similes and pedestrian metaphors. However, the bravery of Jess, who was forced to experience labor since she was so far along, and the sadness I feel for her, for the loss of my new little nephew, and for the cousin my baby will never know has to be articulated. I love my husband's family as my own more than ever as a result of this experience, but hate the pain that knits me to them at this time.
And then, there must be joy in the morning...
Monday, November 15, 2010
Meet our little boy...
I'm not sure you've noticed, but I am WAY excited about our little boy. I think the only one who can even remotely compare is the baby's Tia Katie, who still capitalizes the letters in the word "NEPHEW" when text messaging. I'd like to introduce you to our child, only in as much as we know him right now:
Look at that profile... very distinguished! I think I already see the "Garcia" nose!
Showing off his little hand... looking a lot like a bundle of joy!
This is the IRREFUTABLE evidence that our apple has a stem... I am hoping this is just a GREAT picture and not evidence of hyper-testosterone levels! In case it's not visible enough, here is the labeled picture:
And, for his final trick, our little boy will show off his arm/hand. I say he is warming up... probably going to conduct Mahler 2 or something great. My father says he's pitching... for the Yankees, no doubt :)
That's our baby... I felt him kick for the first time yesterday as I drove alone from New York to North Carolina. Nathaniel says it's because the baby knew I was alone and wanted me to know I'm never actually alone again! In any case, he was super active between New Jersey and Baltimore!
I'm very excited to learn more about this creature who we only know in shadows right now!
Look at that profile... very distinguished! I think I already see the "Garcia" nose!
Showing off his little hand... looking a lot like a bundle of joy!
This is the IRREFUTABLE evidence that our apple has a stem... I am hoping this is just a GREAT picture and not evidence of hyper-testosterone levels! In case it's not visible enough, here is the labeled picture:
And, for his final trick, our little boy will show off his arm/hand. I say he is warming up... probably going to conduct Mahler 2 or something great. My father says he's pitching... for the Yankees, no doubt :)
That's our baby... I felt him kick for the first time yesterday as I drove alone from New York to North Carolina. Nathaniel says it's because the baby knew I was alone and wanted me to know I'm never actually alone again! In any case, he was super active between New Jersey and Baltimore! I'm very excited to learn more about this creature who we only know in shadows right now!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Still smiling...
I'm still pretty giddy about this whole baby boy thing... even with documentation to do and a 9 am deadline.
I'm sure I'll be sad to pass up some of those ADORABLE knit dresses and large flower headbands I was looking at in various stores, but I am SO HAPPY to be having a baby boy... it must have been what I wanted all along. :)
I'm sure I'll be sad to pass up some of those ADORABLE knit dresses and large flower headbands I was looking at in various stores, but I am SO HAPPY to be having a baby boy... it must have been what I wanted all along. :)
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
He's COMING!
So, I'm still pretty firmly in the giggling phase, but I thought I'd attempt eloquence beyond "It's a boy..."
We met our new doctor's office today. We went through the usual history and they consulted with my previous medical records. They were very amenable to the arrangement about checking my sugar, provided I do it more frequently than twice a day. My first doctor is, herself, pregnant. When I checked out, they explained that their service fee for delivery (which was the financial Armageddon at the other practice) would not be billed until AFTER I had given birth, since the hospital would, invariably, get their billing in first, meaning my doctor's office would qualify for the 100% reimbursement - no deductible funds. This realization makes me even angrier at having gone through the latest fiasco. However, I think they may have done me a favor, as this new practice impressed me. And to top it all off, THEY FIT ME IN FOR MY FETAL EVALUATION TODAY!!! Thus, I saw my little boy's stuff live and in person.
The baby was wiggly all day. At the morning appointment, the doctor kept trying to find the heartbeat with the doppler machine. FOUR times she found it. FOUR times the baby wiggled away - such determination!
When I first became pregnant, I could not have been convinced that I was carrying anything but a little girl. As time has moved on, though, my resolve has failed. Every time we've listened to the baby's heartbeat, the kid has either kicked the monitor or wiggled away. I became more convinced that the likelihood of a Y chromosome at work was more likely.
During the ultrasound, the child's anatomy was undeniable and brought me to tears. I've always wanted a boy first and am SO excited to get my long-held wish. Nathaniel was all smiles, although still (and always) refraining from anything related to a giddiness. My mother, however, was probably the most entertaining person. She was SO convinced that I am having a girl, the news took her breath away. While she was thrilled to see and hear that the baby's anatomy measured well and within normal limits, she was not able to redefine this little creature in her mind. I've seen her: She'll love this little boy no matter what. It's just hard for her to resign herself to abstaining from torturing my offspring with similarly tight parts in hair and little knit dresses. As Emory has already proven, however, little boys are GREAT!
Everyone else has been so sweet and excited for us. I am now anxious to hear about my sister in law's baby, as we're hoping for a "BFF" scenario that would only be enhanced by a same sex relationship.
I understand that this post is still scattered: my excitement has yet to be tempered and a good "Glee" episode only served to exacerbate my current state. We'll put up the pics as soon as we can.
In any case, IT"S A BOY IT'S A BOY IT'S A BOY!!
We met our new doctor's office today. We went through the usual history and they consulted with my previous medical records. They were very amenable to the arrangement about checking my sugar, provided I do it more frequently than twice a day. My first doctor is, herself, pregnant. When I checked out, they explained that their service fee for delivery (which was the financial Armageddon at the other practice) would not be billed until AFTER I had given birth, since the hospital would, invariably, get their billing in first, meaning my doctor's office would qualify for the 100% reimbursement - no deductible funds. This realization makes me even angrier at having gone through the latest fiasco. However, I think they may have done me a favor, as this new practice impressed me. And to top it all off, THEY FIT ME IN FOR MY FETAL EVALUATION TODAY!!! Thus, I saw my little boy's stuff live and in person.
The baby was wiggly all day. At the morning appointment, the doctor kept trying to find the heartbeat with the doppler machine. FOUR times she found it. FOUR times the baby wiggled away - such determination!
When I first became pregnant, I could not have been convinced that I was carrying anything but a little girl. As time has moved on, though, my resolve has failed. Every time we've listened to the baby's heartbeat, the kid has either kicked the monitor or wiggled away. I became more convinced that the likelihood of a Y chromosome at work was more likely.
During the ultrasound, the child's anatomy was undeniable and brought me to tears. I've always wanted a boy first and am SO excited to get my long-held wish. Nathaniel was all smiles, although still (and always) refraining from anything related to a giddiness. My mother, however, was probably the most entertaining person. She was SO convinced that I am having a girl, the news took her breath away. While she was thrilled to see and hear that the baby's anatomy measured well and within normal limits, she was not able to redefine this little creature in her mind. I've seen her: She'll love this little boy no matter what. It's just hard for her to resign herself to abstaining from torturing my offspring with similarly tight parts in hair and little knit dresses. As Emory has already proven, however, little boys are GREAT!
Everyone else has been so sweet and excited for us. I am now anxious to hear about my sister in law's baby, as we're hoping for a "BFF" scenario that would only be enhanced by a same sex relationship.
I understand that this post is still scattered: my excitement has yet to be tempered and a good "Glee" episode only served to exacerbate my current state. We'll put up the pics as soon as we can.
In any case, IT"S A BOY IT'S A BOY IT'S A BOY!!
IT'S A BOY!!
IT'S A BOY IT'S A BOY IT'S A BOY IT'S A BOY IT'S A BOY IT'S A BOY IT'S A BOY IT'S A BOY!!!
TOO EXCITED TO WRITE MUCH MORE NOW! WILL ELABORATE WHEN GIGGLING STOPS!
IT'S A BOY IT'S A BOY IT'S A BOY IT'S A BOY!
TOO EXCITED TO WRITE MUCH MORE NOW! WILL ELABORATE WHEN GIGGLING STOPS!
IT'S A BOY IT'S A BOY IT'S A BOY IT'S A BOY!
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Breaking up is hard to do...
We've decided to go our separate ways: I am officially leaving my ObGYN's office.
I think somewhere around the point that a frigid woman was speaking the words "We've asked people who could not afford to pay for our services to leave our agency. Private care is expensive," that I knew that this blow to our relationship was the final, fatal blow. It's funny - I always thought I would push us to the brink with my blood sugar issues. Instead, they chose to part ways over an irrational monetary request, constricted by an irrational timeline.
I intend to write a letter to the doctors who were so careful and wonderful, especially in my early treatment.
Dr. Zimmerman was nearly declared a minor deity by my family, who remember well the day we spent in a hell-like purgatory at Rex's Emergency Room, as we waited to find out if this was a legitimate pregnancy, or a dangerous ectopic pregnancy. In the middle of a rush to order unnecessary tests and my distraction as I tried to guard my urethra from scary catheters, Dr. Zimmerman calmed the storm by walking into the room. He brought a rational, concrete plan to the scenario. The followup with him was helpful and initiated a journey wherein I reconciled myself to a pregnancy and began to develop rapport with the office treating me.
Dr. Haakenson was another voice of calm and comfort. In the several subsequent early treatment visits, Dr. Haakenson held my hand as we breathlessly waited for a heartbeat and to monitor an ongoing confirmation that we, in fact, were gestating a viable baby. Dr. Haakenson also reminisced with me, as he is the father of an old high school friend from band. He chaperoned our field trip to New York City in my junior year and asked with a jovial sigh how my parents were doing. It was like visiting an old family friend as we walked through weekly visits for the first month we were aware of this pregnancy.
The sad truth is, however, that the humanity of those doctors cannot compensate for the inhumanity of a billing department that refuses to temper the need to be paid with a humanistic approach to accepting that payment.
I realize, however, that I am not completely powerless in this situation. You see, I may not have readily available liquid capital that makes me the desired demographic according to this office manager's policies. My failure to be able to produce $2500 in 4 months may even seem like an appropriate reason for a woman to condescend in her fiscal defense for her unfeeling approach and policy. However, while this business manager spent so much time defending her wallet, she left her reputation wide open. She really ought to understand that in the age of social media, a woman hopped up on pregnancy hormones with a knowledge of resources available to her and a vocabulary developed enough to communicate the wrongs committed against her in a climate rife with ideologues and politicians willing to roast the "mean medical profession," my story and reviews could very potentially get some good mileage. In fact, Atrium ObGYN may not enjoy googling their reviews in the near future. While I will never stop extolling the excellence of care provided by Doctors Haakenson and Zimmerman, I will not hesitate to clearly and concisely illumine those business practices which caused me such significant anxiety well after I began to build a trust relationship with my doctors nearly half way into my pregnancy.
On Tuesday I'll be trying a new office. I don't know much about them except that I have already checked with their office and have been assured that I won't run into the same financial complications at this office. I am changing hospitals to join this practice and will be giving birth at WakeMed. (I've always been a fan of diversity... WakeMed will make sure my child is ethnically socialized from the nursery on!) Perhaps the greatest disappointment is that I was supposed to find out the gender of the baby on Wednesday. I highly doubt the new practice will be able to do that for us. I will be asking, though!
I guess that I have not experienced morning sickness or many negative side effects of pregnancy. If insurance and financial headaches are the worst of what I am to expect, I should be thankful. However, I refuse to go into interest-baring debt for my children. I will comply with industry-standard practices and pay slowly and fully.
But, be warned: for those who would wait until I am nearly half way through my pregnancy before using an appointment I schedule to disclose financial ruin to me, you will feel the wrath of my hormone and indignation-fueled keyboard.
I think somewhere around the point that a frigid woman was speaking the words "We've asked people who could not afford to pay for our services to leave our agency. Private care is expensive," that I knew that this blow to our relationship was the final, fatal blow. It's funny - I always thought I would push us to the brink with my blood sugar issues. Instead, they chose to part ways over an irrational monetary request, constricted by an irrational timeline.
I intend to write a letter to the doctors who were so careful and wonderful, especially in my early treatment.
Dr. Zimmerman was nearly declared a minor deity by my family, who remember well the day we spent in a hell-like purgatory at Rex's Emergency Room, as we waited to find out if this was a legitimate pregnancy, or a dangerous ectopic pregnancy. In the middle of a rush to order unnecessary tests and my distraction as I tried to guard my urethra from scary catheters, Dr. Zimmerman calmed the storm by walking into the room. He brought a rational, concrete plan to the scenario. The followup with him was helpful and initiated a journey wherein I reconciled myself to a pregnancy and began to develop rapport with the office treating me.
Dr. Haakenson was another voice of calm and comfort. In the several subsequent early treatment visits, Dr. Haakenson held my hand as we breathlessly waited for a heartbeat and to monitor an ongoing confirmation that we, in fact, were gestating a viable baby. Dr. Haakenson also reminisced with me, as he is the father of an old high school friend from band. He chaperoned our field trip to New York City in my junior year and asked with a jovial sigh how my parents were doing. It was like visiting an old family friend as we walked through weekly visits for the first month we were aware of this pregnancy.
The sad truth is, however, that the humanity of those doctors cannot compensate for the inhumanity of a billing department that refuses to temper the need to be paid with a humanistic approach to accepting that payment.
I realize, however, that I am not completely powerless in this situation. You see, I may not have readily available liquid capital that makes me the desired demographic according to this office manager's policies. My failure to be able to produce $2500 in 4 months may even seem like an appropriate reason for a woman to condescend in her fiscal defense for her unfeeling approach and policy. However, while this business manager spent so much time defending her wallet, she left her reputation wide open. She really ought to understand that in the age of social media, a woman hopped up on pregnancy hormones with a knowledge of resources available to her and a vocabulary developed enough to communicate the wrongs committed against her in a climate rife with ideologues and politicians willing to roast the "mean medical profession," my story and reviews could very potentially get some good mileage. In fact, Atrium ObGYN may not enjoy googling their reviews in the near future. While I will never stop extolling the excellence of care provided by Doctors Haakenson and Zimmerman, I will not hesitate to clearly and concisely illumine those business practices which caused me such significant anxiety well after I began to build a trust relationship with my doctors nearly half way into my pregnancy.
On Tuesday I'll be trying a new office. I don't know much about them except that I have already checked with their office and have been assured that I won't run into the same financial complications at this office. I am changing hospitals to join this practice and will be giving birth at WakeMed. (I've always been a fan of diversity... WakeMed will make sure my child is ethnically socialized from the nursery on!) Perhaps the greatest disappointment is that I was supposed to find out the gender of the baby on Wednesday. I highly doubt the new practice will be able to do that for us. I will be asking, though!
I guess that I have not experienced morning sickness or many negative side effects of pregnancy. If insurance and financial headaches are the worst of what I am to expect, I should be thankful. However, I refuse to go into interest-baring debt for my children. I will comply with industry-standard practices and pay slowly and fully.
But, be warned: for those who would wait until I am nearly half way through my pregnancy before using an appointment I schedule to disclose financial ruin to me, you will feel the wrath of my hormone and indignation-fueled keyboard.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Did you call them health benefits?
On October 1, 2010, my insurance coverage changed. The former plan I had through my company offered me $25 copays for my OBGYN, with a sizeable deductible for hospitalizations, but still a rational number. The cost of that plan went through the roof. Whether this rate increase is caused by the insurance company's fear of Obamacare or just greed, I may never know - each side will blame the other. And, switching around news stations, the blame will get spread evenly. However, the truth is that my former plan was no longer affordable to me or my company. So, as Socrates did so many years ago, I picked my poison.
Note: I am not being hyperbolic.
The "best" option for my family and I was to put Nathaniel back on his own, Massachusetts-based student plan and for me to choose a high deductible plan. A high deductible plan means I pay the first $2750 for anything and everything out of my pocket and get 100% coverage after that. I also would keep my premium down to around $400 a month, 50% of which my company covers. In addition, I get a Health Savings Account, where I can ferret away pretax dollars to pay that deductible down.
If I planned correctly at all, this set up would mean that I could pay for my doctor out of my own pocket (partially) using the pretax dollars I was saving over a longer period of time and leave the hospital without any bills for myself. That was such a cute little world I had created for myself.
I am the person caught in the middle of the "big, mean insurance companies" and the vigilante health care czars. I am now being forced to pay $2500 BEFORE MY BABY IS BORN in order to maintain the care of my doctor's office. Since my deductible is $250 more than that number, I have to pay it out of pocket. No help from anyone. As we are moving into a new house. As we are trying to save for at least 6 weeks of maternity leave. As Christmas is here.
I am so frustrated about this issue, I don't even think I can write articulately about it. My doctor's office asked for $625 a month until February in order for me to retain their baby-catching services. THAT IS ANOTHER RENT PAYMENT.
I asked the girl in the office what I needed to do. Do they have a procedure that would prevent my child from emerging if I can't pay that money? Am I going to be asked to leave the practice? Are they, honestly, serious about this whole thing?
After a period of what I deemed pretty rational and justified anger, I even attempted to qualify myself for emergency Medicaid. Of course, I make too much money. I just don't make enough money to PAY THAT AMOUNT TO A DOCTOR'S OFFICE TO CATCH MY CHILD AS HE/SHE EMERGES FROM MY WOMB BEFORE THAT CHILD EMERGES FROM MY WOMB.
I'm not sure what to do from here. Their fee is a standard fee for child delivery. Moving to another practice would, most likely, not offer anything different, except the opportunity to tell my insulin resistance story for the 102395748574832 time and have to go through that frustration.
In any case, I have a child coming forth around the middle of April. I am seriously considering finding a tree in Umstead Park to have this baby under. We could make a party out of it. As long as I don't get my mother's pre eclampsia or toxemia, it'll be a blast. I believe this scenario to be the only logical solution to my "health benefit" crisis.
Note: I am not being hyperbolic.
The "best" option for my family and I was to put Nathaniel back on his own, Massachusetts-based student plan and for me to choose a high deductible plan. A high deductible plan means I pay the first $2750 for anything and everything out of my pocket and get 100% coverage after that. I also would keep my premium down to around $400 a month, 50% of which my company covers. In addition, I get a Health Savings Account, where I can ferret away pretax dollars to pay that deductible down.
If I planned correctly at all, this set up would mean that I could pay for my doctor out of my own pocket (partially) using the pretax dollars I was saving over a longer period of time and leave the hospital without any bills for myself. That was such a cute little world I had created for myself.
I am the person caught in the middle of the "big, mean insurance companies" and the vigilante health care czars. I am now being forced to pay $2500 BEFORE MY BABY IS BORN in order to maintain the care of my doctor's office. Since my deductible is $250 more than that number, I have to pay it out of pocket. No help from anyone. As we are moving into a new house. As we are trying to save for at least 6 weeks of maternity leave. As Christmas is here.
I am so frustrated about this issue, I don't even think I can write articulately about it. My doctor's office asked for $625 a month until February in order for me to retain their baby-catching services. THAT IS ANOTHER RENT PAYMENT.
I asked the girl in the office what I needed to do. Do they have a procedure that would prevent my child from emerging if I can't pay that money? Am I going to be asked to leave the practice? Are they, honestly, serious about this whole thing?
After a period of what I deemed pretty rational and justified anger, I even attempted to qualify myself for emergency Medicaid. Of course, I make too much money. I just don't make enough money to PAY THAT AMOUNT TO A DOCTOR'S OFFICE TO CATCH MY CHILD AS HE/SHE EMERGES FROM MY WOMB BEFORE THAT CHILD EMERGES FROM MY WOMB.
I'm not sure what to do from here. Their fee is a standard fee for child delivery. Moving to another practice would, most likely, not offer anything different, except the opportunity to tell my insulin resistance story for the 102395748574832 time and have to go through that frustration.
In any case, I have a child coming forth around the middle of April. I am seriously considering finding a tree in Umstead Park to have this baby under. We could make a party out of it. As long as I don't get my mother's pre eclampsia or toxemia, it'll be a blast. I believe this scenario to be the only logical solution to my "health benefit" crisis.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
How can people stand to wait?
Nathaniel and I find out 2 weeks from yesterday if there is a stem on our little apple. When we first found out I was "in the family way," I was convinced I was growing a girl. I've always preferred little boys, so it was kind of strange for me to assume we were having a girl.
As time has gone on, my resolve has wavered. Perhaps it is the natural progression for doubt to sink in after a period of uncertainty without any way to confirm or deny a suspicion, but I no longer feel as certain.
I've had very vivid dreams where I had a boy and separate very vivid dreams where it was a girl. Nathaniel thinks it's a boy... but he said that is mostly because he can't imagine anything else.
All of this is to say: HOW ON EARTH DO PEOPLE WAIT FOR THIS INFORMATION!?!?!?
Bobby and Katie waited with Emory. I remember it being a sweet time and when Bobby jumped off the elevator and announced that "EMORY ROBERT IS HERE!" It was exciting on many levels. However, as I gestate, I find myself unwilling even to consider postponing the knowledge.
I attribute part of this excitement and desire to know to the very real surprise and drama we experienced initially. I think the tears shed, concerns worried, and anxiety that marked the first days of our gestational parenthood are enough to last us for a while. I do not feel the need to add any other element of surprise to our life.
Another contributing factor is that our nursery themes are so different. As I've said before, we have no intention of using a traditional nursery theme. As I walk around Target or Babies R Us or anyplace else with a baby section, I am unmoved by the themes I see.
Instead, for a boy, we are choosing a Brooklyn Bridge theme. We intend to have prints by several prominent artists who have created paintings of it. Additionally, Hart Crane's poem about the Bridge will be a beautiful addition. Nathaniel proposed to me on that bridge and we both love New York City. In our new home, a Brooklyn Bridge baby room will be PERFECT.
However, if it is a little girl, we are going to start her off well with an American female artist role model: Georgia O'Keefe. While I have not traditionally been a fan of decorating with red, I LOVE her poppies series. With prints of her poppies as the centerpiece, a girl's nursery will evolve, with probably ladybugs and insects as the natural progression therefrom.
The issue of names also plays into my desire to know. Right now, I am IN LOVE with our boy names. Girl names are, at best, uncreative. At worst, they are controversial (using my grandmother's first name causes angst in certain corners of my family). I exert relatively little effort toward girl names, since boy names roll off our tongues more effortlessly. Knowing which it is will be an end to the pressure, hopefully. Unfortunately, I will mourn a bit if we don't get to use the boy names. As it is, we are only going to come up with a short list and name the child after we meet him or her. At least I'll know which list to keep working on.
This gender question has brought to light the fact that things are so much different when you are face to face with this reality than what you conjecture. I always thought I would wait to find out. NOPE! I always thought I'd go into the delivery room with just my husband. I now find myself wanting my mother there with us. I thought I'd be well adjusted and wouldn't mind weight gain. I freak out over any ache or pain and HATE my changing body. I guess maybe there is no way to prepare for pregnancy. And if there is no way to prepare adequately for pregnancy, maybe that means there is no way to adequately prepare for parenthood either.
Good thing our kid is going to be well behaved anyway... right?
guys?
yeah?
As time has gone on, my resolve has wavered. Perhaps it is the natural progression for doubt to sink in after a period of uncertainty without any way to confirm or deny a suspicion, but I no longer feel as certain.
I've had very vivid dreams where I had a boy and separate very vivid dreams where it was a girl. Nathaniel thinks it's a boy... but he said that is mostly because he can't imagine anything else.
All of this is to say: HOW ON EARTH DO PEOPLE WAIT FOR THIS INFORMATION!?!?!?
Bobby and Katie waited with Emory. I remember it being a sweet time and when Bobby jumped off the elevator and announced that "EMORY ROBERT IS HERE!" It was exciting on many levels. However, as I gestate, I find myself unwilling even to consider postponing the knowledge.
I attribute part of this excitement and desire to know to the very real surprise and drama we experienced initially. I think the tears shed, concerns worried, and anxiety that marked the first days of our gestational parenthood are enough to last us for a while. I do not feel the need to add any other element of surprise to our life.
Another contributing factor is that our nursery themes are so different. As I've said before, we have no intention of using a traditional nursery theme. As I walk around Target or Babies R Us or anyplace else with a baby section, I am unmoved by the themes I see.
Instead, for a boy, we are choosing a Brooklyn Bridge theme. We intend to have prints by several prominent artists who have created paintings of it. Additionally, Hart Crane's poem about the Bridge will be a beautiful addition. Nathaniel proposed to me on that bridge and we both love New York City. In our new home, a Brooklyn Bridge baby room will be PERFECT.
However, if it is a little girl, we are going to start her off well with an American female artist role model: Georgia O'Keefe. While I have not traditionally been a fan of decorating with red, I LOVE her poppies series. With prints of her poppies as the centerpiece, a girl's nursery will evolve, with probably ladybugs and insects as the natural progression therefrom.
The issue of names also plays into my desire to know. Right now, I am IN LOVE with our boy names. Girl names are, at best, uncreative. At worst, they are controversial (using my grandmother's first name causes angst in certain corners of my family). I exert relatively little effort toward girl names, since boy names roll off our tongues more effortlessly. Knowing which it is will be an end to the pressure, hopefully. Unfortunately, I will mourn a bit if we don't get to use the boy names. As it is, we are only going to come up with a short list and name the child after we meet him or her. At least I'll know which list to keep working on.
This gender question has brought to light the fact that things are so much different when you are face to face with this reality than what you conjecture. I always thought I would wait to find out. NOPE! I always thought I'd go into the delivery room with just my husband. I now find myself wanting my mother there with us. I thought I'd be well adjusted and wouldn't mind weight gain. I freak out over any ache or pain and HATE my changing body. I guess maybe there is no way to prepare for pregnancy. And if there is no way to prepare adequately for pregnancy, maybe that means there is no way to adequately prepare for parenthood either.
Good thing our kid is going to be well behaved anyway... right?
guys?
yeah?
Friday, October 22, 2010
Call Me Pokey...
I went to the doctor yesterday. It was not a pre-scheduled appointment. However, I thought I had a bladder infection. Never having experienced one, I was unfamiliar with the signs/pains/indications and called the office to find out if I needed to be concerned.
Note to self: Medical malpractice fears will cause doctor's offices to ALWAYS be concerned and offer extra appointments in order to cover their bottoms on the off chance that I am a lawsuit-happy mother to be. Turns out, I have no infection whatsoever. Instead, the pains were another phenomenon with which I am unfamiliar: The stretching of uterine tendons/ligaments to make more space for my growing little Eschler.
(Can I go on a completely unrelated tangent for a second? Is it weird to any other women that you gestate someone who carries on the DNA and name of people you may never meet? I LOVE my husband's family. It is a bit surreal, though, that my baby will carry the last name of people who got into covered wagons and settled the west. I know my child will feel a strong connection to that heritage, as I do to those who passed through Ellis Island. It was just an unexpected sensation when we visited Nathaniel's father's family and realized this particular quarter of my child's heritage get to provide him or her with the surname that will be an earliest identifier. I love these people and am thrilled to have chosen so wisely when deciding on a family unit. However, it's an odd realization. Perhaps an overly obvious one, as well. Tangent over.)
So, while the intermittent pains with which I was so unfamiliar were easily explained, the urinalysis demonstrated another troubling sign which brought back a conversation I was not eager to have: there were small amounts of sugar in my urine.
Practicing the self advocacy skills I champion for so many of my clients, I summoned the most respectful, articulate version of myself I could as I tearfully realized that exercise and diet modification may never be able to compensate for crappy DNA. After an entertaining engagement with the nurse and doctor wherein I explained that the 90 pound yoga addicts that usually offer nutritional advice to chubby Italian-Hispanic girls were NOT high on my list of people to chat with during pregnancy, I was able to reach a very reasonable compromise. I would not have to do the 3 hour glucose test and resulting in longer term "nutritional" consultation. In exchange, I would monitor my own blood sugar, create a journal, and interact with my medical professionals consistently throughout the rest of my pregnancy.
This arrangement works better for me for several reasons:
1. If the 3 hour test came back saying I DON'T have gestational diabetes, we may be tempted not to pay attention to sugar issues during pregnancy. I am insulin resistant - I have sugar issues. I am not ready to call it gestational diabetes, nor am I convinced I will develop it. However, I readily admit I need to pay attention to this issue during my pregnancy.
2. My mother NEVER got the readings on her 3 hour tests that indicated she needed help. It was only through a consistent monitoring of her blood sugar that she saw her body's behavior and was able to correct it through diet and exercise.
3. I greatly reduce the risk of damaging the relationship with my doctor's office that may have resulted from going 12 hours without food, with high sugar drinks.
4. I feel more in control. I typically know what is going on in my body and am sensitive to the point that I knew my baby was there before I should have known. I like that I am learning about my body and how best to care for myself during this exceptional time period.
I am going to see the practice's nutritionist (who the doctor told me while laughing weighs no more than 90 pounds) and told the doctor I would listen to anything specific to pregnancy. I am getting my own machine and strips and will be testing my blood sugar 3 times daily. Hence, feel free to call me "Pokey." The calluses on my fingers should make for a particularly attractive third trimester.
On the bright side of the news, I was told that my weight gain was perfect. While I feel gross, the doctor assured me I am WELL WITHIN what is normal for pregnancy thus far and can probably increase my caloric intake - a phrase no doctor has ever told me :) Additionally, the doctor told me that it is evident I am caring well for myself. All other health indicators are normal: good cholesterol levels, 117/76 blood pressure, regular pulse rate, etc. She told me my kidneys may just be hypersensitive, as is common during pregnancy. She agreed that slow, consistent monitoring will give a better picture of my gestational needs at this point and that she wants me to continue advocating for myself. She also pushed my next appointment out for 3 weeks so that we can discuss these issues more fully after time to monitor has passed. That means Piccolino will be gender neutral in our dialogue until November 10. However, for that visit, Nathaniel and I get to see our favorite doctor in the practice - worth the wait, if you ask us!
The rest of the day continued stressfully - mortgage issues, working 2 jobs, trying to catch up on work I am behind on, etc. However, I feel like I struck a blow for critical thinking and logical approaches to the metabolic and gestational needs of chubby Italian-Hispanic girls everywhere. I realize that "blow" means I am puncturing my skin 3 times daily. Oddly, at this point in my life, that is a win.
Note to self: Medical malpractice fears will cause doctor's offices to ALWAYS be concerned and offer extra appointments in order to cover their bottoms on the off chance that I am a lawsuit-happy mother to be. Turns out, I have no infection whatsoever. Instead, the pains were another phenomenon with which I am unfamiliar: The stretching of uterine tendons/ligaments to make more space for my growing little Eschler.
(Can I go on a completely unrelated tangent for a second? Is it weird to any other women that you gestate someone who carries on the DNA and name of people you may never meet? I LOVE my husband's family. It is a bit surreal, though, that my baby will carry the last name of people who got into covered wagons and settled the west. I know my child will feel a strong connection to that heritage, as I do to those who passed through Ellis Island. It was just an unexpected sensation when we visited Nathaniel's father's family and realized this particular quarter of my child's heritage get to provide him or her with the surname that will be an earliest identifier. I love these people and am thrilled to have chosen so wisely when deciding on a family unit. However, it's an odd realization. Perhaps an overly obvious one, as well. Tangent over.)
So, while the intermittent pains with which I was so unfamiliar were easily explained, the urinalysis demonstrated another troubling sign which brought back a conversation I was not eager to have: there were small amounts of sugar in my urine.
Practicing the self advocacy skills I champion for so many of my clients, I summoned the most respectful, articulate version of myself I could as I tearfully realized that exercise and diet modification may never be able to compensate for crappy DNA. After an entertaining engagement with the nurse and doctor wherein I explained that the 90 pound yoga addicts that usually offer nutritional advice to chubby Italian-Hispanic girls were NOT high on my list of people to chat with during pregnancy, I was able to reach a very reasonable compromise. I would not have to do the 3 hour glucose test and resulting in longer term "nutritional" consultation. In exchange, I would monitor my own blood sugar, create a journal, and interact with my medical professionals consistently throughout the rest of my pregnancy.
This arrangement works better for me for several reasons:
1. If the 3 hour test came back saying I DON'T have gestational diabetes, we may be tempted not to pay attention to sugar issues during pregnancy. I am insulin resistant - I have sugar issues. I am not ready to call it gestational diabetes, nor am I convinced I will develop it. However, I readily admit I need to pay attention to this issue during my pregnancy.
2. My mother NEVER got the readings on her 3 hour tests that indicated she needed help. It was only through a consistent monitoring of her blood sugar that she saw her body's behavior and was able to correct it through diet and exercise.
3. I greatly reduce the risk of damaging the relationship with my doctor's office that may have resulted from going 12 hours without food, with high sugar drinks.
4. I feel more in control. I typically know what is going on in my body and am sensitive to the point that I knew my baby was there before I should have known. I like that I am learning about my body and how best to care for myself during this exceptional time period.
I am going to see the practice's nutritionist (who the doctor told me while laughing weighs no more than 90 pounds) and told the doctor I would listen to anything specific to pregnancy. I am getting my own machine and strips and will be testing my blood sugar 3 times daily. Hence, feel free to call me "Pokey." The calluses on my fingers should make for a particularly attractive third trimester.
On the bright side of the news, I was told that my weight gain was perfect. While I feel gross, the doctor assured me I am WELL WITHIN what is normal for pregnancy thus far and can probably increase my caloric intake - a phrase no doctor has ever told me :) Additionally, the doctor told me that it is evident I am caring well for myself. All other health indicators are normal: good cholesterol levels, 117/76 blood pressure, regular pulse rate, etc. She told me my kidneys may just be hypersensitive, as is common during pregnancy. She agreed that slow, consistent monitoring will give a better picture of my gestational needs at this point and that she wants me to continue advocating for myself. She also pushed my next appointment out for 3 weeks so that we can discuss these issues more fully after time to monitor has passed. That means Piccolino will be gender neutral in our dialogue until November 10. However, for that visit, Nathaniel and I get to see our favorite doctor in the practice - worth the wait, if you ask us!
The rest of the day continued stressfully - mortgage issues, working 2 jobs, trying to catch up on work I am behind on, etc. However, I feel like I struck a blow for critical thinking and logical approaches to the metabolic and gestational needs of chubby Italian-Hispanic girls everywhere. I realize that "blow" means I am puncturing my skin 3 times daily. Oddly, at this point in my life, that is a win.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
See, what had happened was...
A week from tomorrow, Nathaniel and I will celebrate 6 months of wedded bliss. It was also this time last year that Nathaniel traveled with me to North Carolina from our Boston homes to spend Emory's 3rd birthday with the family and asked my father's blessing for us to get married. My, how times change!
Certainly, the past year has been a radical amount of change - we experienced all of the top 5 stressors on psychological stress tests within that time period. We've moved from Boston to North Carolina, gotten married, lost a very close family member, planned a wedding, lived with parents, found a new apartment, took a pay cut, found new jobs, fought the usual first year fights, dealt with an unforeseen pregnancy, made progress on a dissertation, reevaluated another PhD program, traveled across the country (several times), navigated new neighborhoods, felt isolated from our professional peers, struggled to fit in with our old peers, been desperate to connect with those like us, wanted to escape, felt compelled to stay, and struggled with our life and life choices in general (and specific). We are emerging from the protective shelter of Nathaniel's extended student existence to the harsh realities of devastated workplace that is not able to offer much at this point.
I can say without hesitation, that there has also been significant joy as well. Our wedding day was one of the most remarkable days of my life. Even without linen napkins and other things that frustrated me, the day I got to marry Nathaniel and wear a "magical" dress and have music created by people I love and gather those I treasure most to enjoy a weekend, our wedding will always be a seemingly perfect memory, if not completely the wedding we planned. Also, I have experienced the birth of a beautiful niece, Elizabeth, who is growing into one of the sweetest girls in the world. I got to dance with my daddy. I got to feel the love of my mother as I cried over surprisingly positive pregnancy tests. I've had several house guests who make me smile from my soul outward. I received news that a beloved sister in law is pregnant alongside me.
It has been a time of drastic extremes. Moments of true, unadulterated happy punctuating a flowing river of stress and, at times, anxiety.
I feel like there is a parting of the clouds right now, though. I am cautious to get too excited, lest the light I see above our heads is not the sun peaking through and simply a new lightening bolt headed straight for us. But, odds are looking stacked our way.
On Monday, Nathaniel and I decided to look at what it would take for us to return to Boston or move to NYC. The sad truth we discovered is that, especially with a baby on the way, there is no way we could be prepared to move to a location like that, let alone eventually hope to get ahead financially if we moved. This sad realization led Nathaniel to a conclusion: we need an investment. Now.
On Tuesday, Nathaniel approached me with the idea that, instead of a 2 year baseline plan that would have us stay in North Carolina and save money, we change the plan to 5 years and invest in something more extensive... something like real estate.
I contacted my mother and explained to her what sort of financial restrictions and hopes we have, what we want specifically and in general. SuperRealtor adjusted her cape and began the pursuit. She explained our financing options, what would be required of us, and sent possible houses for us to look at.
Fast forward to the following Friday: we put a bid in on a house.
After debating how we would balance our aesthetic with a practical investment, we found a 3 bedroom, 2.5 bath townhouse. It has over 1600 square feet. Piccolino no longer has to nap on our bed, as he/she will not have daddy's piano in his/her room. Nathaniel and I have a DUAL vanity. Our kitchen is BEAUTIFUL and includes all appliances INCLUDING a wine chiller. Also, SuperRealtor negotiated for the very large, wall-mounted flat screen TV that hangs above the fireplace. The carpets are beautiful, cabinets new, storage ample, and walls neutral. I don't even feel like we need to paint before moving in, except for our Master Bedroom - and only because neither Nathaniel nor I like blue for a wall color - not because it is not beautiful.
In addition to having a larger, more appropriate place to call home as we bring our baby to his or her first domicile, there is also a very real, very viable, very hopeful possibility regarding Nathaniel's job prospects. I will not say too much about it, as he is apprehensive and a little gun-shy about entering the workforce. However, I will say that in this particular situation, many many professional and academic stars have aligned, offering us the greatest hope for follow through with getting Nathaniel the professional beginning we've been hoping for!
As I said before, it appears as though the clouds are parting a bit and will shed a bit more consistent light on us. We're saving, working, and planning. Now, it appears we'll be able to use our time here to make money on an investment, keep Nathaniel's CV alive, and give me the opportunity to further develop mine.
We are willing to work to achieve all our goals. It's just nice to know that the hard work and difficult decisions may actually bring about a positive outcome for us!
Sadly, I have not taken any pictures of our new home. I am attaching the link to the realtor.com page for it. Feel free to look at the pictures on there - they do NOT lie... it is BEAUTIFUL!
Can't wait to cook you all a meal in our new home once we're all settled!
http://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/3952-Wendy-Lane_Raleigh_NC_27606_M59372-47081
Certainly, the past year has been a radical amount of change - we experienced all of the top 5 stressors on psychological stress tests within that time period. We've moved from Boston to North Carolina, gotten married, lost a very close family member, planned a wedding, lived with parents, found a new apartment, took a pay cut, found new jobs, fought the usual first year fights, dealt with an unforeseen pregnancy, made progress on a dissertation, reevaluated another PhD program, traveled across the country (several times), navigated new neighborhoods, felt isolated from our professional peers, struggled to fit in with our old peers, been desperate to connect with those like us, wanted to escape, felt compelled to stay, and struggled with our life and life choices in general (and specific). We are emerging from the protective shelter of Nathaniel's extended student existence to the harsh realities of devastated workplace that is not able to offer much at this point.
I can say without hesitation, that there has also been significant joy as well. Our wedding day was one of the most remarkable days of my life. Even without linen napkins and other things that frustrated me, the day I got to marry Nathaniel and wear a "magical" dress and have music created by people I love and gather those I treasure most to enjoy a weekend, our wedding will always be a seemingly perfect memory, if not completely the wedding we planned. Also, I have experienced the birth of a beautiful niece, Elizabeth, who is growing into one of the sweetest girls in the world. I got to dance with my daddy. I got to feel the love of my mother as I cried over surprisingly positive pregnancy tests. I've had several house guests who make me smile from my soul outward. I received news that a beloved sister in law is pregnant alongside me.
It has been a time of drastic extremes. Moments of true, unadulterated happy punctuating a flowing river of stress and, at times, anxiety.
I feel like there is a parting of the clouds right now, though. I am cautious to get too excited, lest the light I see above our heads is not the sun peaking through and simply a new lightening bolt headed straight for us. But, odds are looking stacked our way.
On Monday, Nathaniel and I decided to look at what it would take for us to return to Boston or move to NYC. The sad truth we discovered is that, especially with a baby on the way, there is no way we could be prepared to move to a location like that, let alone eventually hope to get ahead financially if we moved. This sad realization led Nathaniel to a conclusion: we need an investment. Now.
On Tuesday, Nathaniel approached me with the idea that, instead of a 2 year baseline plan that would have us stay in North Carolina and save money, we change the plan to 5 years and invest in something more extensive... something like real estate.
I contacted my mother and explained to her what sort of financial restrictions and hopes we have, what we want specifically and in general. SuperRealtor adjusted her cape and began the pursuit. She explained our financing options, what would be required of us, and sent possible houses for us to look at.
Fast forward to the following Friday: we put a bid in on a house.
After debating how we would balance our aesthetic with a practical investment, we found a 3 bedroom, 2.5 bath townhouse. It has over 1600 square feet. Piccolino no longer has to nap on our bed, as he/she will not have daddy's piano in his/her room. Nathaniel and I have a DUAL vanity. Our kitchen is BEAUTIFUL and includes all appliances INCLUDING a wine chiller. Also, SuperRealtor negotiated for the very large, wall-mounted flat screen TV that hangs above the fireplace. The carpets are beautiful, cabinets new, storage ample, and walls neutral. I don't even feel like we need to paint before moving in, except for our Master Bedroom - and only because neither Nathaniel nor I like blue for a wall color - not because it is not beautiful.
In addition to having a larger, more appropriate place to call home as we bring our baby to his or her first domicile, there is also a very real, very viable, very hopeful possibility regarding Nathaniel's job prospects. I will not say too much about it, as he is apprehensive and a little gun-shy about entering the workforce. However, I will say that in this particular situation, many many professional and academic stars have aligned, offering us the greatest hope for follow through with getting Nathaniel the professional beginning we've been hoping for!
As I said before, it appears as though the clouds are parting a bit and will shed a bit more consistent light on us. We're saving, working, and planning. Now, it appears we'll be able to use our time here to make money on an investment, keep Nathaniel's CV alive, and give me the opportunity to further develop mine.
We are willing to work to achieve all our goals. It's just nice to know that the hard work and difficult decisions may actually bring about a positive outcome for us!
Sadly, I have not taken any pictures of our new home. I am attaching the link to the realtor.com page for it. Feel free to look at the pictures on there - they do NOT lie... it is BEAUTIFUL!
Can't wait to cook you all a meal in our new home once we're all settled!
http://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/3952-Wendy-Lane_Raleigh_NC_27606_M59372-47081
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
That thing I told you I'd tell you about...
So... I've got permission to write about this new development and share it with those who read my blog. I am SO EXCITED to be able to share!
I have often spoken about how much I truly enjoy Nathaniel's family. Most notably, I got FOUR NEW SISTERS when I said "yes" to Nathaniel. As a girl who never had a sister growing up, the possibility of late night giggling and craft hours made my heart so happy! I love each and every one of my sisters! They are beautiful, talented, driven, diverse, and entertaining. I am THRILLED that my child will share holidays and DNA with them.
When Nathaniel and I got married, only one sibling had changed her last name. Jessica, the youngest sister, married my fantastic brother in law, Matt, on 8.8.08. Both very dedicated to their future and their goals, they work a lot, study hard, and renovate their sweet little house together. I like to joke with Nathaniel that Jess and Matt are he and I in reverse - Jess and Nathaniel are even-keeled, matter of fact, and (at times) scathingly sarcastic... especially to one another. Matt and I are more emotional, effusive, and from the eastern US. Jessica can make me laugh for hours with the stories of how she inadvertently ruins her husband's hard work at romance when she comes home from work turning on lights, blowing out candles and yelling to him about why there are rose petals on the floor! When the four of us are together, conversation is easy and laughter is commonplace.
A few weeks ago, I got a phone call from the phone number programed into my phone as "Jessica." It was Matt's voice that cheerfully greeted me, though. He asked me if I remembered our most recent visit to Utah, where Jess and I traded jabs about my accidental pregnancy and her spitting in the air about the whole scenario. Jess just laughed at me and told me there was no chance she'd be joining our ranks of surprisingly pregnant anytime soon. I told him I remembered those exchanges well. He told me I could now point and laugh - he and Jessica are expecting!
She is due May 8, 2011. Our children will be less than one month apart!
This news thrills me for several reasons:
First, my best friend is my cousin. We only lived near each other for the first 9 years of my life. The rest of the time, she faithfully sent cards, waited for me to visit, and managed to keep in touch. We are about 3 months apart. I have high hopes that, especially if they are the same gender, our children can be great friends who love and support one another throughout their lives.
Secondly, while I have NO desire to join mommy support groups or play groups or anything like that, I LOVE that I have a sister with whom I can travel this journey. She and I have shared our moments of nausea, pains, and frustrations. Things like decisions about flu shots seem better when you have someone going through it, in real time, for the first time with you!
Third, my in laws are getting the influx of grandchildren they have waited so patiently for. Nathaniel put the gray hair on their head. Now he gets to give that gray hair credibility as they become grandparents. I love that his parents get to brag about the wedding and baby explosion currently going on in their family - they deserve every bragging right they get.
Fourth, holidays are going to be so fun with two little ones - for them AND for us! My niece and nephew have rejuvenated our family traditions. I'm so pleased our baby will have a partner in crime for Eschler holidays!
Fifth, my niece and nephew are a joy to me. They are fun and entertaining, encouraging and sustaining. I am SO HAPPY that Nathaniel will become a father and an uncle (again... Emory and Elizabeth call him "Duncle Dannel...") and I get to be an aunt again! I am SO happy that Nathaniel's sisters get to be aunts and that, come New Year's Eve, the babies will have a fantastic new Uncle Josh. I've so enjoyed the process of loving my brother and sister in law's children, I'm happy that these babies will be able to be in the center of such love and, invariably, enthusiasm.
Lastly, I am so excited about this coincidence because Nathaniel and I have a 10 year plan that involves living near Jess and Matt in the end. We once spoke to them about how we need to meet each other in 10 years and buy a Victorian home in Boston that can be split in 2. Jessica enthusiastically agreed. Having children at the same age means not having to venture into school systems alone, having chronic partners in figuring out how to make sure the children avoid the pitfalls of youth as much as possible, mutual childcare possibilities, fun holidays, and the extended family I so much want for my child. Our living arrangement would be wonderful - for us AND the children - now that the stork is making 2 stops in the Eschler family!
This news has encouraged me as I have been so frustrated by my other life circumstances. I know that this season will pass and we have MUCH to look forward to - for ourselves and our family at large.
Who knows... maybe I'll be a little bit late and she'll be a little bit early and our kids will share a birthday? In any case, YAY!!!!!!
I have often spoken about how much I truly enjoy Nathaniel's family. Most notably, I got FOUR NEW SISTERS when I said "yes" to Nathaniel. As a girl who never had a sister growing up, the possibility of late night giggling and craft hours made my heart so happy! I love each and every one of my sisters! They are beautiful, talented, driven, diverse, and entertaining. I am THRILLED that my child will share holidays and DNA with them.
When Nathaniel and I got married, only one sibling had changed her last name. Jessica, the youngest sister, married my fantastic brother in law, Matt, on 8.8.08. Both very dedicated to their future and their goals, they work a lot, study hard, and renovate their sweet little house together. I like to joke with Nathaniel that Jess and Matt are he and I in reverse - Jess and Nathaniel are even-keeled, matter of fact, and (at times) scathingly sarcastic... especially to one another. Matt and I are more emotional, effusive, and from the eastern US. Jessica can make me laugh for hours with the stories of how she inadvertently ruins her husband's hard work at romance when she comes home from work turning on lights, blowing out candles and yelling to him about why there are rose petals on the floor! When the four of us are together, conversation is easy and laughter is commonplace.
A few weeks ago, I got a phone call from the phone number programed into my phone as "Jessica." It was Matt's voice that cheerfully greeted me, though. He asked me if I remembered our most recent visit to Utah, where Jess and I traded jabs about my accidental pregnancy and her spitting in the air about the whole scenario. Jess just laughed at me and told me there was no chance she'd be joining our ranks of surprisingly pregnant anytime soon. I told him I remembered those exchanges well. He told me I could now point and laugh - he and Jessica are expecting!
She is due May 8, 2011. Our children will be less than one month apart!
This news thrills me for several reasons:
First, my best friend is my cousin. We only lived near each other for the first 9 years of my life. The rest of the time, she faithfully sent cards, waited for me to visit, and managed to keep in touch. We are about 3 months apart. I have high hopes that, especially if they are the same gender, our children can be great friends who love and support one another throughout their lives.
Secondly, while I have NO desire to join mommy support groups or play groups or anything like that, I LOVE that I have a sister with whom I can travel this journey. She and I have shared our moments of nausea, pains, and frustrations. Things like decisions about flu shots seem better when you have someone going through it, in real time, for the first time with you!
Third, my in laws are getting the influx of grandchildren they have waited so patiently for. Nathaniel put the gray hair on their head. Now he gets to give that gray hair credibility as they become grandparents. I love that his parents get to brag about the wedding and baby explosion currently going on in their family - they deserve every bragging right they get.
Fourth, holidays are going to be so fun with two little ones - for them AND for us! My niece and nephew have rejuvenated our family traditions. I'm so pleased our baby will have a partner in crime for Eschler holidays!
Fifth, my niece and nephew are a joy to me. They are fun and entertaining, encouraging and sustaining. I am SO HAPPY that Nathaniel will become a father and an uncle (again... Emory and Elizabeth call him "Duncle Dannel...") and I get to be an aunt again! I am SO happy that Nathaniel's sisters get to be aunts and that, come New Year's Eve, the babies will have a fantastic new Uncle Josh. I've so enjoyed the process of loving my brother and sister in law's children, I'm happy that these babies will be able to be in the center of such love and, invariably, enthusiasm.
Lastly, I am so excited about this coincidence because Nathaniel and I have a 10 year plan that involves living near Jess and Matt in the end. We once spoke to them about how we need to meet each other in 10 years and buy a Victorian home in Boston that can be split in 2. Jessica enthusiastically agreed. Having children at the same age means not having to venture into school systems alone, having chronic partners in figuring out how to make sure the children avoid the pitfalls of youth as much as possible, mutual childcare possibilities, fun holidays, and the extended family I so much want for my child. Our living arrangement would be wonderful - for us AND the children - now that the stork is making 2 stops in the Eschler family!
This news has encouraged me as I have been so frustrated by my other life circumstances. I know that this season will pass and we have MUCH to look forward to - for ourselves and our family at large.
Who knows... maybe I'll be a little bit late and she'll be a little bit early and our kids will share a birthday? In any case, YAY!!!!!!
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Round 2!
It's official... I'm in the second trimester. I've been here for a few hours now and have yet to experience the "energy burst" everyone keeps telling me about... but, I also have yet to get out of bed.
I am determined to get back to working out regularly. While I never called in sick or took a day off during my first trimester, I did have some significant fatigue at the end of the day. Most often, this lack of energy meant I sacrificed a trip to the gym. I do NOT want to go into the "biggest cardio-vascular event of my life" (to quote the irrepressibly stupid, Gisele Bundchen about birth) without some preparation. We went to the Y yesterday (I rearranged my work schedule so that I got off a little early and went before my level of energy plummeted through the ground). I felt so good after the workout. However, I did not get anything done for work that I planned later in the evening.
I've also slept through the night for the past 2 nights. I am hoping that trend continues. I wake up before my alarm still, but I'm fine with that as long as I get 6.5 hours or so in a row.
I am now going to get out of bed. I am going to eat breakfast, do some documentation, and think positively about the day. I am going to wait for the energy burst to descend on me like tongues of fire at Pentecost. And, I am going to hope that this trimester at least makes me look pregnant, instead of just fat.
These are my great expectations for my second trimester.
In the mean time, I will draw energy from the spiritual goodness that is the "Across the Universe" soundtrack... if it helps with workouts, I figure it helps with gestation....
I am determined to get back to working out regularly. While I never called in sick or took a day off during my first trimester, I did have some significant fatigue at the end of the day. Most often, this lack of energy meant I sacrificed a trip to the gym. I do NOT want to go into the "biggest cardio-vascular event of my life" (to quote the irrepressibly stupid, Gisele Bundchen about birth) without some preparation. We went to the Y yesterday (I rearranged my work schedule so that I got off a little early and went before my level of energy plummeted through the ground). I felt so good after the workout. However, I did not get anything done for work that I planned later in the evening.
I've also slept through the night for the past 2 nights. I am hoping that trend continues. I wake up before my alarm still, but I'm fine with that as long as I get 6.5 hours or so in a row.
I am now going to get out of bed. I am going to eat breakfast, do some documentation, and think positively about the day. I am going to wait for the energy burst to descend on me like tongues of fire at Pentecost. And, I am going to hope that this trimester at least makes me look pregnant, instead of just fat.
These are my great expectations for my second trimester.
In the mean time, I will draw energy from the spiritual goodness that is the "Across the Universe" soundtrack... if it helps with workouts, I figure it helps with gestation....
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Fine... call it a comeback...
I've spent the past weekend and the beginning of this week trying to redeem the end of last week. While the weather has become beautiful (meaning better hair for me), the process of getting out of the pit established last Friday has been arduous. Working against me have been several factors: the death of another uncle, an assistant at work that was not able to cope with some stressors and took it out on me, further Department of Mental Health service amendments, continued sleep interruption, student evaluations at school, authorization expirations at Psych Support, ongoing attempts to rationally interact with my OBGYN's office about my treatment, and other general stresses.
These factors all conspired to keep me in a state of prepartum depression - which is why I am going to conspire against their plan. Go ahead - call it a comeback... I am determined to let go of that which I cannot control and be happy for what I have been given/earned.
A list of the things that make me smile are as follows:
1. My mother has supplied me with about TWO DOZEN adorable maternity shirts. Having a chest the size of Montana and a growing bump is so much easier to cope with when I can choose between 6 cute new shirts each morning!
2. Nathaniel is working - on everything. His paper is coming along brilliantly. His thoughts are clear and well formulated. He has an appointment scheduled with his adviser to check in with them in November and get the continued green light. He is choosing his second reader and outside reader (we've already identified who we want... just need to get their agreement now!). Additionally, Nathaniel is getting more and more students. His income this month has really made the difference.
3. I work for an amazing agency. When I truly lost it and melted into tears the other day at my agency, my boss invited me into her office, closed the door, let me cry, sympathized, and helped me develop a plan. She listened to my fears and concerns about how this scenario will all play out, including my concerns about 6 weeks of unpaid leave. She reassured me that not only would I continue to have the security of a flexible schedule, but that my child would be welcome in the office whenever it is clinically appropriate. She even went so far as to tell me that while I was doing intake interviews (which usually last an hour to an hour and a half), I could bring the baby in and the office staff would take turns holding the baby while I did the part the baby could not be present for. Who has job security and support like that?
4. My parents are amazing. I am getting to pick out the crib set I like and they are buying it. My father actually threw a fit when I proposed the idea of getting a used bassinet. He let me know that his grandchild would be WELL looked after - by the entire family! For now, my parents are taking delight in caring for the baby by making sure "the garage" (a term MY grandfather used for my mother when she carried his grandchildren) is well maintained - food, drink, clothing, toiletries, laundry, relaxation - they are a one-stop-shop!
5. My parents-in-law are amazing. We are going to be able to be in Salt Lake City for New Year's Eve, celebrating my sister in law's wedding with the rest of the family thanks to Nathaniel's parents helping to foot the bill. Traveling over the holidays to Utah costs at least $850 for both of us. Without their assistance, getting Nathaniel there alone would have been difficult. Thanks to their generosity, we both get to be there and share a holiday with his family.
6. I am leaving the first trimester without ever having tossed my cookies, been too tired to finish a day of work, or had any of the truly negative experiences other women face on a day to day basis. I am hoping that the rest of the pregnancy and delivery are as uneventful. Even with the diabetes always looming, I am healthy and, generally, happy. If I can keep the pregnancy weight down (so far, gained only 4 pounds) and the baby healthy with a minimally invasive delivery, I will consider the experience a success. (if not, the child will still be a success... I just may be a little disappointed in my body's reaction to the process)
7. Nathaniel and I have been able to save a bit. Not as much as we would like. But, saving is a regular part of our plan. And we are sticking to it. I'm so happy we have been able to get on the right track financially, even if it feels like cars and taxes and babies are conspiring to keep us from ever getting to a point of financial clarity.
8. Nathaniel and I are enjoying a great season of marriage. We are communicating well, working together toward goals, sharing our thoughts/fears/hopes/concerns openly, supporting one another, and keeping the house clean :) I always knew I would enjoy being married to Nathaniel - this season is just easier to be thankful for, even in the midst of our multiple stresses. I am thankful for my husband who is learning to love me well each day, and forgiving my shortcomings with more and more grace. (That is the last of our public display of written affection - we are NOT the couple who writes to each other on facebook to express love. I just want to let people know honestly about where we are, since I've been honest about how we have been struggling to cope with it all)
I'm still in a season of stress and still freaking out a bit. However, I am determined to be cliche and count my blessings. If I'm going to survive teaching these kids this morning, I'm going to have to start counting and recounting NOW!
These factors all conspired to keep me in a state of prepartum depression - which is why I am going to conspire against their plan. Go ahead - call it a comeback... I am determined to let go of that which I cannot control and be happy for what I have been given/earned.
A list of the things that make me smile are as follows:
1. My mother has supplied me with about TWO DOZEN adorable maternity shirts. Having a chest the size of Montana and a growing bump is so much easier to cope with when I can choose between 6 cute new shirts each morning!
2. Nathaniel is working - on everything. His paper is coming along brilliantly. His thoughts are clear and well formulated. He has an appointment scheduled with his adviser to check in with them in November and get the continued green light. He is choosing his second reader and outside reader (we've already identified who we want... just need to get their agreement now!). Additionally, Nathaniel is getting more and more students. His income this month has really made the difference.
3. I work for an amazing agency. When I truly lost it and melted into tears the other day at my agency, my boss invited me into her office, closed the door, let me cry, sympathized, and helped me develop a plan. She listened to my fears and concerns about how this scenario will all play out, including my concerns about 6 weeks of unpaid leave. She reassured me that not only would I continue to have the security of a flexible schedule, but that my child would be welcome in the office whenever it is clinically appropriate. She even went so far as to tell me that while I was doing intake interviews (which usually last an hour to an hour and a half), I could bring the baby in and the office staff would take turns holding the baby while I did the part the baby could not be present for. Who has job security and support like that?
4. My parents are amazing. I am getting to pick out the crib set I like and they are buying it. My father actually threw a fit when I proposed the idea of getting a used bassinet. He let me know that his grandchild would be WELL looked after - by the entire family! For now, my parents are taking delight in caring for the baby by making sure "the garage" (a term MY grandfather used for my mother when she carried his grandchildren) is well maintained - food, drink, clothing, toiletries, laundry, relaxation - they are a one-stop-shop!
5. My parents-in-law are amazing. We are going to be able to be in Salt Lake City for New Year's Eve, celebrating my sister in law's wedding with the rest of the family thanks to Nathaniel's parents helping to foot the bill. Traveling over the holidays to Utah costs at least $850 for both of us. Without their assistance, getting Nathaniel there alone would have been difficult. Thanks to their generosity, we both get to be there and share a holiday with his family.
6. I am leaving the first trimester without ever having tossed my cookies, been too tired to finish a day of work, or had any of the truly negative experiences other women face on a day to day basis. I am hoping that the rest of the pregnancy and delivery are as uneventful. Even with the diabetes always looming, I am healthy and, generally, happy. If I can keep the pregnancy weight down (so far, gained only 4 pounds) and the baby healthy with a minimally invasive delivery, I will consider the experience a success. (if not, the child will still be a success... I just may be a little disappointed in my body's reaction to the process)
7. Nathaniel and I have been able to save a bit. Not as much as we would like. But, saving is a regular part of our plan. And we are sticking to it. I'm so happy we have been able to get on the right track financially, even if it feels like cars and taxes and babies are conspiring to keep us from ever getting to a point of financial clarity.
8. Nathaniel and I are enjoying a great season of marriage. We are communicating well, working together toward goals, sharing our thoughts/fears/hopes/concerns openly, supporting one another, and keeping the house clean :) I always knew I would enjoy being married to Nathaniel - this season is just easier to be thankful for, even in the midst of our multiple stresses. I am thankful for my husband who is learning to love me well each day, and forgiving my shortcomings with more and more grace. (That is the last of our public display of written affection - we are NOT the couple who writes to each other on facebook to express love. I just want to let people know honestly about where we are, since I've been honest about how we have been struggling to cope with it all)
I'm still in a season of stress and still freaking out a bit. However, I am determined to be cliche and count my blessings. If I'm going to survive teaching these kids this morning, I'm going to have to start counting and recounting NOW!
Friday, October 1, 2010
Prepartum Depression...
There are just some days that should be stopped before they start. Unfortunately, I am not prescient enough to identify them until they have covered me in their slop and mess. Yesterday was such a day.
I had a morning where I just could not get out of my own way. Everything took longer than it should have: making breakfast, cleaning myself up, making the bed - everything. The reward for the frustration? A bad hair day. Even if I had the time to pay attention to it, my hair in the middle of a Tropical Depression is unqualified for redemption.
So, with water still dripping from my freshly washed scalp, dressed in an outfit I did not feel confident in, I ask for my husband's help getting the laundry basket, the dog, my work bag and me into the car. I was teetering on the precipice of on time/late when my sweet husband pointed out the flat tire on the rear passenger side - that tipped the scale to "LATE." I frantically called the school, where no one was picking up, to tell them I would be late for the PreK Spanish hour as I rolled at 15 miles an hour down the hill to the service station.
The men at the service station were very sweet. However, a woman with no make up, dripping hair, a dog about to be taken to the vet in her first trimester should not be promised "10 minutes" for a tire patching which would require at least 25, complete with "can you roll your car back?" "Now, can you put the emergency brake on?" "Now can you take it off?" All the while, Tropical depression Nicole reminding me that my hair would NOT be ok at any point in the day.
Once on the road with a tire patched with $15 worth of interventions, I continued to attempt to contact my school. My school continued to ignore the ringing phone.
I met my mother in Wakefield, transferred the dog she was going to take to the vet for me and my smelly laundry to her, for which I received a delicious turkey sandwich from her: one of the small flickers of grace in the day...
I proceeded on to the gates of Hades... I mean, the school where I teach.
I am going to have to reimburse several parents for the copays they spent to have their children's minds cleansed on the image of my bulging eyes as I was threatening them with notes home and times out if their bottoms did not stay in the place I assigned them to be. The administrator wanted additional lesson plans out of me; the kids were not able to remember the difference between "here" and "there" in Spanish; the pianos were electronic (not anything new to this day, but always annoying to me).
While battling the inane insanity of PreK through 2nd grade, my full time job needed me to fax signatures to agencies in Durham so they could have the privilege of paying $100 for the release of a personnel chart dating back to 2007. Of course, the fax machine did not work, forcing me to pay $1.25 to Staples to take care of this silly matter.
While wrestling with fax machines and unnecessary fees, my mother called: Hector is NOT neurotic. His incessant scratching was from fleas. FLEAS... while on K9 Advantix... and sleeping in our bed... FLEAS! That meant, I got to give him a flea bath when I was done with the other errands of the day!
Then, as I was on my way to open a health savings account in accordance with the terms of my new health benefits (I use the term "benefit" lightly... health burden would be as accurate), the doctor's office contacted me. Knowing that I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, which is caused by insulin resistance, and knowing that THEY took me off of my insulin-sensitizing medicine more than 2 weeks ago, they contact me to schedule a longer, more intense blood glucose test. Apparently, the upper limit of the test range was 139. I came in at 143. At first, I accepted my fate of the 3 hour test. Then, I thought critically about the situation.
I have polycystic ovarian syndrome. I have no medicine, per the doctor's request. I am KNOWN to have insulin resistance. The upper threshold was lowered for pregnant women due to increased vigilance. And, I was only 4 points above the NEWLY LOWERED threshold.
Do you know what that means?
It means I'm actually a rock star. It means WITHOUT ANY CHEMICAL REGULATION WITH INSULIN THAT DOES NOT WORK, I manage, through diet and exercise, to come within 4 points of a normal range! I AM A ROCK STAR. Additionally, it means, No, you may not ask me to spend my $2700 deductible to see a 27 year old, 99 pound yoga addict for a nutritional consultation - I already abstain from what I shouldn't eat. And, if God forbid I have the scoop of ice cream after dinner, I GET MY BUTT TO THE GYM... I do NOT have diabetes and WILL NOT be spending my time, energy, and money (all of which are at a premium) on chasing down paper men. This pregnancy is already dramatic enough - no need to add more drama!
After the bank, I headed to my mother and father's house. Again, the only moments of grace in the day occurred there. My mother made DELICIOUS white bean soup. My laundry was done. There were 2 new bras and 2 new maternity shirts waiting for me.
As the contracted muscles which forced my shoulders up around my ears all day long started to relax and the last of the laundry tumbled in the dryer, we got a phone call. My Uncle Junior died of a sudden heart attack while in Grand Central Station with his son.
Uncle Junior was not sick (that anyone knew of) and was a member of the dwindling numbers of my grandfather's siblings. He was one of the large Italian voices and guts which make my First Holy Communion video a family classic. He always "knew a guy" who could get us food for family reunions or my grandmother's funeral - whatever you needed, whenever you needed. In April, he tried to rouse his brothers and their wives to make a trip to NC for my wedding. Uncle Junior was a stalwart, calling for annual family reunions - and this year's will be bittersweet without him.
Yesterday just should NOT have happened... so thankful it is today.
I had a morning where I just could not get out of my own way. Everything took longer than it should have: making breakfast, cleaning myself up, making the bed - everything. The reward for the frustration? A bad hair day. Even if I had the time to pay attention to it, my hair in the middle of a Tropical Depression is unqualified for redemption.
So, with water still dripping from my freshly washed scalp, dressed in an outfit I did not feel confident in, I ask for my husband's help getting the laundry basket, the dog, my work bag and me into the car. I was teetering on the precipice of on time/late when my sweet husband pointed out the flat tire on the rear passenger side - that tipped the scale to "LATE." I frantically called the school, where no one was picking up, to tell them I would be late for the PreK Spanish hour as I rolled at 15 miles an hour down the hill to the service station.
The men at the service station were very sweet. However, a woman with no make up, dripping hair, a dog about to be taken to the vet in her first trimester should not be promised "10 minutes" for a tire patching which would require at least 25, complete with "can you roll your car back?" "Now, can you put the emergency brake on?" "Now can you take it off?" All the while, Tropical depression Nicole reminding me that my hair would NOT be ok at any point in the day.
Once on the road with a tire patched with $15 worth of interventions, I continued to attempt to contact my school. My school continued to ignore the ringing phone.
I met my mother in Wakefield, transferred the dog she was going to take to the vet for me and my smelly laundry to her, for which I received a delicious turkey sandwich from her: one of the small flickers of grace in the day...
I proceeded on to the gates of Hades... I mean, the school where I teach.
I am going to have to reimburse several parents for the copays they spent to have their children's minds cleansed on the image of my bulging eyes as I was threatening them with notes home and times out if their bottoms did not stay in the place I assigned them to be. The administrator wanted additional lesson plans out of me; the kids were not able to remember the difference between "here" and "there" in Spanish; the pianos were electronic (not anything new to this day, but always annoying to me).
While battling the inane insanity of PreK through 2nd grade, my full time job needed me to fax signatures to agencies in Durham so they could have the privilege of paying $100 for the release of a personnel chart dating back to 2007. Of course, the fax machine did not work, forcing me to pay $1.25 to Staples to take care of this silly matter.
While wrestling with fax machines and unnecessary fees, my mother called: Hector is NOT neurotic. His incessant scratching was from fleas. FLEAS... while on K9 Advantix... and sleeping in our bed... FLEAS! That meant, I got to give him a flea bath when I was done with the other errands of the day!
Then, as I was on my way to open a health savings account in accordance with the terms of my new health benefits (I use the term "benefit" lightly... health burden would be as accurate), the doctor's office contacted me. Knowing that I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, which is caused by insulin resistance, and knowing that THEY took me off of my insulin-sensitizing medicine more than 2 weeks ago, they contact me to schedule a longer, more intense blood glucose test. Apparently, the upper limit of the test range was 139. I came in at 143. At first, I accepted my fate of the 3 hour test. Then, I thought critically about the situation.
I have polycystic ovarian syndrome. I have no medicine, per the doctor's request. I am KNOWN to have insulin resistance. The upper threshold was lowered for pregnant women due to increased vigilance. And, I was only 4 points above the NEWLY LOWERED threshold.
Do you know what that means?
It means I'm actually a rock star. It means WITHOUT ANY CHEMICAL REGULATION WITH INSULIN THAT DOES NOT WORK, I manage, through diet and exercise, to come within 4 points of a normal range! I AM A ROCK STAR. Additionally, it means, No, you may not ask me to spend my $2700 deductible to see a 27 year old, 99 pound yoga addict for a nutritional consultation - I already abstain from what I shouldn't eat. And, if God forbid I have the scoop of ice cream after dinner, I GET MY BUTT TO THE GYM... I do NOT have diabetes and WILL NOT be spending my time, energy, and money (all of which are at a premium) on chasing down paper men. This pregnancy is already dramatic enough - no need to add more drama!
After the bank, I headed to my mother and father's house. Again, the only moments of grace in the day occurred there. My mother made DELICIOUS white bean soup. My laundry was done. There were 2 new bras and 2 new maternity shirts waiting for me.
As the contracted muscles which forced my shoulders up around my ears all day long started to relax and the last of the laundry tumbled in the dryer, we got a phone call. My Uncle Junior died of a sudden heart attack while in Grand Central Station with his son.
Uncle Junior was not sick (that anyone knew of) and was a member of the dwindling numbers of my grandfather's siblings. He was one of the large Italian voices and guts which make my First Holy Communion video a family classic. He always "knew a guy" who could get us food for family reunions or my grandmother's funeral - whatever you needed, whenever you needed. In April, he tried to rouse his brothers and their wives to make a trip to NC for my wedding. Uncle Junior was a stalwart, calling for annual family reunions - and this year's will be bittersweet without him.
Yesterday just should NOT have happened... so thankful it is today.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Glucola!
Doesn't that word sound like it should be something really fun?
It's not... it's the term for the first trimester Gestational Diabetes screening I did this morning. While the Orange-flavored Tang knock-off was better than what I envisioned drinking, my hopes were still just the tiniest bit disappointed... after all, don't promise a girl GLUCOLA! (to be read in a Spanish "Ole!" inflection) and deliver glucola (to be read in a post-nasal drip 90 pound wuss inflection) :(
I got to hear the baby's heartbeat again on the doppler... today was 160 beats per minute. Old wives, that means girl apparently. However, the last reading was 125... so either my little hermaphrodite switched teams between the scans, or that old wive's tale isn't particularly reliable. I am getting eager to know what the baby's gender is. I took a quiz online at Parents.com, which told me it was too close to call. The Chinese calendar says it's a girl. My father in law told my husband to finish his dissertation so his grandson doesn't have to suffer through it, too... apparently 1 vote for the boy camp. I've read about these over the counter tests sold at Target and Walgreens... I'm so tempted... but, my next appointment is October 27. I suppose I can wait until then!
Hope you all are having a Glucola! day... not a glucola :( day...
It's not... it's the term for the first trimester Gestational Diabetes screening I did this morning. While the Orange-flavored Tang knock-off was better than what I envisioned drinking, my hopes were still just the tiniest bit disappointed... after all, don't promise a girl GLUCOLA! (to be read in a Spanish "Ole!" inflection) and deliver glucola (to be read in a post-nasal drip 90 pound wuss inflection) :(
I got to hear the baby's heartbeat again on the doppler... today was 160 beats per minute. Old wives, that means girl apparently. However, the last reading was 125... so either my little hermaphrodite switched teams between the scans, or that old wive's tale isn't particularly reliable. I am getting eager to know what the baby's gender is. I took a quiz online at Parents.com, which told me it was too close to call. The Chinese calendar says it's a girl. My father in law told my husband to finish his dissertation so his grandson doesn't have to suffer through it, too... apparently 1 vote for the boy camp. I've read about these over the counter tests sold at Target and Walgreens... I'm so tempted... but, my next appointment is October 27. I suppose I can wait until then!
Hope you all are having a Glucola! day... not a glucola :( day...
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
I may be pregnant, but some things don't change :)
This is the one that makes me cry... Mandy Gonzalez is a goddess!
This one also makes me cry... Usnavi finally makes peace with the barrio... it's beautiful... and so latin... I LOVE IT...
Is it possible to register for for tickets to "In the Heights" when it comes to DPAC in February? Or, would that be an appropriate place for a baby shower? :)
This one doesn't make me cry... I just love the immigrant theme and the way Lin Manuel Miranda knits the stories together... AND, the way he integrates every Latin genre from the Bolero to the Salsa to the Merengue to Reggaeton... Genius...
Makes me so proud of the people who came here from those same Hispanic countries to give me what I have...
Piccolino WILL speak Spanish... :)
This one also makes me cry... Usnavi finally makes peace with the barrio... it's beautiful... and so latin... I LOVE IT...
Is it possible to register for for tickets to "In the Heights" when it comes to DPAC in February? Or, would that be an appropriate place for a baby shower? :)
This one doesn't make me cry... I just love the immigrant theme and the way Lin Manuel Miranda knits the stories together... AND, the way he integrates every Latin genre from the Bolero to the Salsa to the Merengue to Reggaeton... Genius...
Makes me so proud of the people who came here from those same Hispanic countries to give me what I have...
Piccolino WILL speak Spanish... :)
Monday, September 27, 2010
1 almost down...
Tomorrow marks 12 weeks... I am, officially, almost done with my first trimester. Very rarely in my life have I looked forward to something so much. While my complaints can't possibly measure up against the women who face multiple instances of sickness each day and crippling exhaust, I have noticed a significant change in myself... and I am not a fan of surrendering control to this little parasite (not trying to be mean, but the child is LITERALLY mooching off of me right now... without reserve... just soaking up whatever I have to offer... parasitic, no?)...
Most notably, I am EMOTIONAL. I know this is a departure from the usual, stoic character that I am... haha! But, seriously... I work hard to be a logic-oriented person. I have had to have my heart broken and boundaries tested and many other difficult lessons taught in order to reign in my naturally very strong emotions. Thanks to Piccolino, I now have very little control, if any, over my emotions. For instance, I cry while listening to "In the Heights" in the car. There is a song toward the end, after Abuela Claudia passes, where one of the main women characters sings about how Abuela Claudia kept every scrap of paper about the lives of those she loved in boxes. The character (Nina) sings that she's sorting through these boxes while the woman she loves is gone... it reminded me of my Great Grandmother, Manuela, to whom I always referred as "Aye Aye" after the sound she made standing up. And I cried... in my car... listening to an iPod on radio... crying. As in tears.... from my eyes... cried. WHAT?
Thankfully, some of those pains which initially indicated there was something askew in my womb have subsided. I cannot wait until I can say that about the daily nausea, ridiculous emotionality, and fluctuating between excitement and anxiety.
However, my fear is that these things may never revert to "normal." My mother was known in our youth for crying at Hallmark commercials. She never was able to cope with either of us driving, even when we lived out of the house. Her anxiety induces calls to me every 20 minutes of a road trip. She's never had nausea, but her behavioral anecdotes lead me to believe maybe this is my new normal... uh oh...
In only slightly related news, I started my new applications to universities. I am applying to Masters and Doctoral level programs in either Public Administration or Public Service. I am so hoping this is my last year of applying to universities... I've had QUITE enough of it all...
So, you see, even in the midst of worrying that a new norm I am not ready for is being established, I am also being an agent of change in my own life.
I guess I know where Piccolino gets it from :)
Most notably, I am EMOTIONAL. I know this is a departure from the usual, stoic character that I am... haha! But, seriously... I work hard to be a logic-oriented person. I have had to have my heart broken and boundaries tested and many other difficult lessons taught in order to reign in my naturally very strong emotions. Thanks to Piccolino, I now have very little control, if any, over my emotions. For instance, I cry while listening to "In the Heights" in the car. There is a song toward the end, after Abuela Claudia passes, where one of the main women characters sings about how Abuela Claudia kept every scrap of paper about the lives of those she loved in boxes. The character (Nina) sings that she's sorting through these boxes while the woman she loves is gone... it reminded me of my Great Grandmother, Manuela, to whom I always referred as "Aye Aye" after the sound she made standing up. And I cried... in my car... listening to an iPod on radio... crying. As in tears.... from my eyes... cried. WHAT?
Thankfully, some of those pains which initially indicated there was something askew in my womb have subsided. I cannot wait until I can say that about the daily nausea, ridiculous emotionality, and fluctuating between excitement and anxiety.
However, my fear is that these things may never revert to "normal." My mother was known in our youth for crying at Hallmark commercials. She never was able to cope with either of us driving, even when we lived out of the house. Her anxiety induces calls to me every 20 minutes of a road trip. She's never had nausea, but her behavioral anecdotes lead me to believe maybe this is my new normal... uh oh...
In only slightly related news, I started my new applications to universities. I am applying to Masters and Doctoral level programs in either Public Administration or Public Service. I am so hoping this is my last year of applying to universities... I've had QUITE enough of it all...
So, you see, even in the midst of worrying that a new norm I am not ready for is being established, I am also being an agent of change in my own life.
I guess I know where Piccolino gets it from :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)