Still around, still round.

No, I haven't had the baby yet. I'm having another evening of many contractions, all painless.

Today at the midwife, we discovered that Cletus the Fetus's head is engaged in my pelvis, which I probably should have deduced from the searing pain in my pubic bone every time I shift positions. Seriously, it feels like that bone is going to split down the middle. In other news, I'm strep B negative... again. Which is a good thing, because nobody thinks my labour would be long enough for me to have the recommended course of antibiotics anyhow. Meh, another bullet dodged.

My psychiatrist called today. Last time I was in, on Monday, she insisted that we run another set of bloodwork - thyroid, Vitamin D, etc - because there were a few slightly abnormal numbers last time. Well, she called me today and left a message insisting that she needs to see me tomorrow to briefly discuss the results. Then she "reassured" me that there's nothing really terrible, "just a few deficiencies". A few? A FEW? So important that she needs to see me tomorrow? So now I'm stuck between worrying and thinking that she's just a worrywart who wants to make sure that my Midwives know that I'm iron-deficient or something.

Right this second, I'm feeling like it's something semi-serious. WTF is wrong with me?


UPDATE: I called her this morning to confirm what time she wanted me to come in. She said, "I don't have time for this today, I have to leave by 2:00 and I have back-to-back patients until then." !!!!! I stifled the urge to say, "Well, you were the one who called me in a panic and HAD to see me today." She asked me whether I could just come in and pick up a copy of the results. I told her she should just fax them to my midwife, if she thought they were relevant. So now I don't really know what to think these results are all about... but how important can they be, if hearing about it is subject to my doctor's whims?

Braxton-Hicks

Yes, exactly. Basically painless contractions. Every fifteen minutes.

I know this can go on for a long, long time without me being in active labour. And by a long, long time I mean weeks... but just in case, I'm going to go take a nap.

Musings on a front garden.

Well, it's something to think about. Enough people have disagreed with my and Mr. December's perception of the front-yard issue that we're rethinking our attitude. We're going to compromise, for now, on mowing our lawn more often.

Interestingly, the municipal by-law insists that front yards be kept free of weeds. This in the same city where it is now illegal to spray pesticides and herbicides. And besides, who determines what a weed is? The volunteer foxgloves that sprout between our foundation and our driveway? Chicory flowers (which I love)? Or just the usual old dandelions?

It can all be very confusing when you're not a perfectionist.

I think I can appreciate where my neighbour is coming from, in terms of the veggies. In her day, growing a vegetable garden meant that there was a shortage of produce - either because of war, or simply because you were too poor to buy your fruits and veggies at a store. For her, I suspect that living in a neighbourhood where people only grow ornamental plants is proof of a certain level of affluence.

In our generation, at least among the people we hang out with, growing vegetables is a hobby. A time-consuming, money-consuming hobby, that doesn't necessarily even pay for itself. Also, it's an environmental statement, having something to do with eating locally or organically. All of the above are really luxuries afforded to people with a certain level of affluence, and so we make absolutely no associations between a vegetable garden and poverty. Friends come over, see our garden, and say "Wow, cool! I had no idea potato flowers were purple!". It's seen as a really neat feature.

So all this to say that from now on we'll mow our lawn more regularly and divide the perrenials when they get too bushy and overgrown... but the vegetables stay, and so does the pear tree.

Now, if only I could get the city to come and uproot the dead sapling that's been in our front yard for the past TWO YEARS...

hormonal? Me?

Yes, folks, we've reached that point in the pregnancy. Everything makes me emotional.

Today was Kali's last day of preschool. Her teacher gave each child a personalized slideshow of pictures taken throughout the year. As we watched it, I cried.

I went across the street to ask the elderly neighbour with the broken arm how she was doing. I made a remark about how excited we are about our garden and our blooming veggies, and she started in on how vegetables don't belong in the front yard, how messy and disorganized our yard is, and how her sons cry when they see it because they miss the fastidious woman who lived here years ago. I managed to conceal my rage until I had again wished her well, and then I went back home and fumed. Maybe a single pensioner has nothing better to do than to search her lawn for weeds every. single. day. If we mow our lawn every other week, that's pretty good for us.

So yeah, two very emotional reactions to things that would normally roll off my back. I must be hormonal or something.

36.5

Here we are, 36.5 weeks. For those counting along at home, that means I'm 4 days away from being considered "full term".

Thanks to all who responded to my last post. We ended up not going. To clarify, this was an informal gathering, not the actual engagement party. Anyhow, I was having an off day where sitting up was making me feel all kinds of dizzy and weird (darn baby mushing my internal organs around), so driving half an hour was really not in the cards anyway.

Many things are going really well around here:

The Garden
My potatoes are flowering, and so are the peas. We have a crop of carrots that looks like it'll be ready by the end of the month, and have sown a whole bunch more. The cucumbers have sprouted. The tomato seeds are in the ground. Sunflowers are slowly catching up to the squirrels, height-wise, and our new fruit tree and raspberry bushes seem to be thriving. Even Kali's pot of carrots, whose future was in question ("no, sweetheart, we don't dig the dirt again after we've already planted the seeds!") is producing some nice little sprouts.

The Toddler
At turns infuriating and endearing, Kali just amazes me. Sometimes she comes up with things that I know I haven't explicitly taught her. Today someone was asking her about the new baby we'll be having soon. Kali explained that she would put the baby in the stroller and take it for a walk and put it on the swings. The adult then asked, "what about feeding? What do you feed a baby?" Kali's response? "Babies eat breastmilk!"

The Pregnancy
I won't lie, the heartburn is killing me and I'm dying to be able to turn over in bed without heaving myself violently like a beached whale in its final throes. But overall I've been blessed with an easy pregnancy, and just enough weight gain to not worry me while at the same time making me feel optimistic about losing not only the baby weight, but the IVF weight too.


The only thing that has scared me recently is, improbably, a charley horse. It woke me up in the middle of the night and was breathtakingly painful. In that moment, suddenly, I thought, "I can't handle this cramp! How am I going to manage in labor?!?" Fortunately, the cramp subsided and I'm left both laughing and silently fretting.

social obligations?

I'd really like to hear some opinions on this one...

We've been invited to an "open house" (i.e. drop-in style party) this weekend for the engagement of a family friend whom we don't see very often. In fact, I haven't seen him since my brother's wedding last year, and before that... well, it was a long time. But anyhow, we've been invited, and he doesn't have a large extended family, and his mother feels that we're the "closest thing to family" they have. My parents are, of course, going.

When my mom asked whether we'd be there, I answered, "no". True to form, she asked my why. I explained that I don't have a really great reason, just that I don't feel like going, it's not conveniently located, we've had a lot of social engagements recently (and we have two others that weekend, neither in direct conflict), and that Mr. December has been working late and hasn't had the time to be at home with us and it would be nice to just have some family time together.

My mom acted like this was a really unsatisfactory answer.

So my question - my musing - tonight is about whether one is actually "obligated" to attend social functions to which they are invited unless they are otherwise occupied (i.e. with an officially scheduled event). Do I need a reason to send my regrets over an invitation? Is it not my perogative to decide that I'm just not in the mood to drive 30 minutes each way just to be smiley and social at an event that will be no fun for Kali and no fun for my husband (and probably not much fun for me)? Can't I just randomly decide not to accept an invitation?

According to how I was raised, no, I can't. I need to attend the event unless I have a *good* reason not to. But that could just be my family's silly rule... so I need to hear from my readers. What do you think?

To be fair...

... I asked Mr. December to talk to MIL about the swim diaper incident, especially since it indirectly resulted in Kali ripping her natural-latex mattress to shreds while the dirty sheets were in the wash. He briefly mentioned to her that she had put Kali in a swim diaper instead of a normal one. End of conversation.

But that WASN'T THE POINT!

So I mentioned it to my FIL and pointed out that Kali's bed was completely wet and had to be stripped and so forth, and that she ended up sneaking into her room and ruining the mattress while its protective cover was off.

MIL called the next day.

She apologized profusely, offered to buy us a new mattress, and apologized again while emphasizing that she wants to be a "force for good" and not cause problems. I thanked her for her concern, apologized for not having re-stocked the diaper drawer before I left, and suggested that next time she just call my cellphone and ask what to do if she found herself without the proper supplies. She acknowledged that as "probably a good idea".

So here's to open communication and to not "protecting" the grandparents. If they don't know there's a problem, they can't fix it. And I tip my hat to MIL for her immediate and gracious response.

Scenes with the in-laws

Well, I'm heavily pregnant and hormonal, and mothers' day has just passed, which means it must be time to gripe about the in-laws. (Really, I know that my joy in doing this is one of my major spiritual failures. I conquered envy this year, next year I'll work on the in-law thing.) Rather than editorialize, I'm just going to give you the actual scripts. Enjoy... in that schadenfreudische way that blog readers do...



MIL: You don't use a wipe every time you change her diaper, do you?
Decemberbaby: Yes, we do.
MIL: I mean, I'll wipe if there's poo, but otherwise, do you really need to?
December: Would you wipe yourself if you'd been sitting in pee for a couple of hours?
MIL: I guess so...

__________________


December: Um, Kali woke up soaking wet this morning. Why did you put her to sleep in a swim diaper?
MIL: I didn't see any other diapers where you usually have them.
December: Well, there was a bag of new diapers on the floor next to the change table, and there's a basket of cloth diapers there too.
MIL: I didn't think you were using the cloth ones anymore.
December: They're a lot more absorbent than swim diapers. Swim diapers actually only hold solid waste. Did you know that?
MIL: well, there weren't any other diapers.
December: *facepalm* Okay, next time just call my cellphone if you can't find something.

__________________


December: The carseat looks a little off kilter. Did you guys re-install it?
MIL: No, we don't even know how.
December: (lifting the carseat up off the seat and moving it around) Well, it's not connected to the car except by the top tether. In a collision she'd probably just fly up and hit the ceiling with the weight of the carseat behind her.
MIL: Who would disconnect it?
December: It was installed with the seatbelt... probably one of your passengers disconnected it by accident while trying to undo their own seatbelt.
MIL: I don't remember having any passengers recently...
December: did it look or feel off centre when you put Kali in this morning?
MIL: You know, I didn't look.

Mamma Mia!

Now, it could be the music, or the fact that the entire set and most of the costumes were in my favourite colour scheme, or the half-naked singing and dancing Colin Firth. It could be any of those things... but why split hairs? I've just finished watching Mamma Mia (the movie), and I feel marginally less awful.

I'm on self-imposed bedrest today. Given the fact that I have a babysitter here til Kali's bedtime it just seems wise. I hope to be well enough tomorrow that I can actually take care of Kali all day instead of having to pawn her off on the grandparents like I did all weekend. I miss my little girl.

I'd like to know...

Why does pregnancy = crap immune system?

I'm sick again. blah. It hurts to swallow, I get short of breath taking a shower, and my head feels like it's stuffed with cotton. All this on the most beautiful weekend this year. I hate it.

Thank god for parents. Mr. December's parents have Kali right now, and my parents are poised to take over in a couple of hours. I do not have the energy to enforce any of the following rules:

1. We do not pull all the drawing paper off the roll and use it to make a bed.

2. You may not throw the pewter candlesticks onto the hardwood floor because you're done playing with them.

3. While it is wonderful that you want to "play shabbat", you may not climb onto the kitchen counter in search of the wine. Imaginary shabbat, imaginary wine. Deal with it.

4. If you have to climb all over mummy's belly and boobs to get to the most coveted corner of the couch, you should infer that said corner is unavailable.

5. Your cuteness will not save you from having to wear a diaper. Only potty-training can.


Gee, I'm tired just typing all that. Please excuse me while I recline listlessly on the couch.