Halloween pics

Happy Halloween, everyone! Here are some pics of B in his scarecrow costume (I can't believe he let me put makeup on him!), earlier in the day in his Halloween shirt, and the mini pumpkin cupcakes I made.

Rallying

Feeling much better today. And so goes the roller coaster of hormones. Yesterday even the picture of the 20 week fetus on my newsletter from Kaiser was so upsetting to me I had to throw it on the floor of the car. Today I was able to read it and chuckle at the advice on safe sex with your partner during pregnancy - um, doesn't apply, thank you! 

Thanks for your helpful comments. It's good to know I'm not the only one scared of childbirth and who considers the whole process pretty horrible. I've just come to the conclusion that there are two types of women in the world - mumsy types who are all into the miracle of pregnancy and birth and can't get enough of their toddler's antics, and people like me who see pregnancy and birth as the unpleasant gateway to the goal of having a child, and who would rather have a nice cup of tea and watch a documentary about how we're overfishing our oceans than squat on the floor and play trucks with our two-year-olds. I'm not saying this is the best, or even a good way to be, I'm just saying this is who I am, and I accept it. I hope the abundance of hugs, kisses, "I love yous" and the fact that my face lights up when he walks into the room makes up for the fact that I don't so much want his spitty fingers repeatedly shoved into my mouth, thank you very much. 

We went to the music class again today. Again he was pretty freaked out by it - I have to say, though, I enjoy when he actually wants me to hold him or sit on my lap, because at home he just wants to climb all the furniture. It feels good to be able to comfort him; it's very healing. Especially when it works. What is it about a mother's touch that's so magical?

The Wall

...as in, I hit it today, listening to Pink Floyd's "Mother" in the car on my way home from my OB appointment. I mean rivers of tears and deep, full body sobs. I needed that. I really did.

What can I say? I'm depressed, and have been for some time. I just can't seem to fight it. The things I'm depressed about, scared of, etc, are very real and are indeed as bad as I think. Nobody can help me. I just need to get through it. 

I went to see the A list midwife today. She asked how I felt about the upcoming birth and I said, "terrified and depressed." She did give me some good resources - places to find doulas in training to help with costs, left a message with the Kaiser social services person to call me, etc. But right now all of that just seems like more work for me. Everything looks like a pain in the ass when you're depressed. At the end she took my hands, looked in my eyes and said, "you're going to have a better birth this time." I didn't say anything. "You don't believe me, do you?" she asked. I said, "nope."

And I don't. I feel like no matter what happens it's going to be awful and painful and exhausting. Even if I get the best case scenario and don't have health problems and don't get pre-e or GD or anything else. Even if I get to go into labor naturally. It's still going to be awful. And I know this is a shitty attitude. But I just can't shake it, I'm sorry. I am just sick with dread and fear. This was SO much easier last time when I could convince myself it wouldn't be that bad, that it would be empowering, that it would be quicker and less painful than I thought. None of those things were true. It's hard when you're already a pessimist and expect the worst and then things are even worse than you imagined. It's hard to come back from that. 

The good news is, everything still looks good health wise although as anticipated I gained eight pounds this month and the midwife shamed me about that quite a bit. She wants me to only gain two pounds next month. Yeah, I'll get right on that! Also she put herself as my primary physician so starting in December it should be easier to get appointments with her. She also said I would not need NSTs if I'm healthy unless I hit 41 weeks. Which is a huge relief considering how much they cost and how inconvenient they will be with childcare. So I do feel some comfort that I'm in good hands with her. 

Anyway, I had a good sob and now I do feel a bit better. I'm mostly just pissed off and disappointed that I've spent so much of this pregnancy depressed. I really don't want to feel like this. I want to feel joyful and serene like I did last time. But I just don't. Hell, maybe when B's room is done, everything is in order, and I have some of my coming event sorted out, I'll feel better. I feel like I'm spinning a million plates right now and am utterly overwhelmed. 

In other news, B is happy as a clam and oblivious to his mother's private grief. Gotta love this kid.

20 week Halloween bump

I've been neglectful with the bump pictures. Last time I felt weird about it; this time I have a toddler who can't be left alone for half a second to even take the darned pictures. But luckily at last night's singing gig I managed to recruit a friend for this pic. I feel HUGE even though I know I'm not. I have gained quite a lot of weight this month - it's hard to say how much exactly since the hospital scale is consistently 3-4 lbs above my home scale (probably due to being dressed at the hospital and it being the middle of the day rather than first thing in the morning). But according to the home scale I am about 13 lbs up (I think-?). Which seems about right considering I'm halfway through - but not when you consider typically people gain little to nothing in their first trimester and the bulk of the weight is gained around now, when you could eat the contents of a small barn every day. I'm not worried about the weight for vanity reasons - I think I've already shown I'm one of those lucky bitches that loses weight while breast feeding. It's more that I'm worried about my shitty food choices lately - a week of pasta every night, more Starbucks pumpkin spice lattes than I care to admit to, and many trips to Astroburger for veggie burgers while B has his midday car nap. Well, other than the flood of Halloween cupcakes and candy headed my way this week I am determined to do better - macrobiotic clean food for dinner and a lentil/feta salad for lunch, which I'm sure is 1000 times better than drive thru even if it's supposedly healthy. 

Halfway

Here we are. The halfway point of this pregnancy! I'll allow myself to celebrate a bit. Even though (this time) the easy part is behind me, still. I survived the tenuous first trimester and the genetic testing. I now know the gender, and the name. The future profile of my little family is now set. I will have two boys. For all eternity, no matter what happens, I will be the mother of two boys. Just like my aunt who's death spurned this whole "having a baby" thing to begin with. There's a nice symmetry there.

The ticketing company could not offer me a decent rate so I think I will pass. I just can't justify making my customers pay an extra $20 (for weekend pass buyers buying two tickets, which is mostly what people buy). They also didn't feel they could build some of the pass requirements I need, like if you buy this particular pass you can't then register for a dance contest, etc. It's very complicated and not at all like the events they usually work with. So, that's that. I am kind of bummed, but I guess there's a reason we little Lindy Hop events don't use professional ticketing agencies - we just can't afford it! In a way I'm relieved because at least my sleep-deprived post partum brain will be able to sleepwalk through the same system I've used for years rather than trying to learn (and then teach all my volunteers) a new one. 

Now I have to decide if I want to take up a friend's offer to redesign my website. I desperately need a new look...but he wants to charge me $2000. I told him I have $0 and he seemed to be ok with deferring payment. I would like to do one thing to bump up the professionalism of my event...but part of me thinks I can spend these dull holiday months working on it myself rather than committing to a huge expense like that, even if it's down the road. I think I might just pull the plug on all these ambitious, costly projects with the understanding that this is simply NOT the year. Next year, we'll see. I need to get this baby out of me first.

Here is a picture of Bumpus "helping" this morning:

The Woman Who Knew Too Much

Today I spoke briefly with someone from the professional ticketing company for my event - I gave him the rundown, and he said he'd have his boss call me tomorrow. I am very nervous about it. I hate, hate, hate negotiating fees. I keep telling myself this is not meant to be a money saving venture, it's a time saving venture and a bump up for my level of professionalism. So honestly even if it somehow costs me more, I should still probably do it. There are so many advantages - a mobile app people can use to register (hurrah), incentives to get people to "share" my event for discounts via Facebook, a professional registration form instead of the clunky 90s-looking one I have now, etc etc. It's so hard when everything in my life right now is screaming at me, "Cut costs! Cut costs!" But in this arena I may have to spend. Ugh. We'll see how it goes tomorrow. But honestly I'd be crazy not to hire them. I feel like if I present this event more professionally people will treat it more professionally. 

Sure enough, my house is covered in plaster dust. Even in rooms that had two closed doors between them and where the sanding was happening; I had to wipe down B's entire high chair before he could eat lunch. Jesus. Tomorrow, trim and paint. Which means another day of keeping B out of the house right up until bed time, unless I want his little fingerprints in the paint for all eternity. He currently has two big scratches and bruises on his forehead - one from falling off the edge of the bed this morning, then another from falling and skidding on concrete at a playground. Let the injuries commence!

I just spent a little time perusing my old medical records to see when everything started to "go south" with my health in the last pregnancy; much to my dismay it appears nearly all of the bad news was in the last few weeks. So yes, at the halfway point last time everything was still looking dandy, much like it is now. I am consumed with a feeling of a Sword of Damocles hanging over my head; that I will get pre-e again, have to induce again, or even worse, some other fucked-up thing will come entirely out of left field that I'll have to deal with. Since I'm now at the point where so many friends had to be put on bed rest and/or went into pre-term labor, I am consumed with fear about that - every ache or pain is a contraction; every heavy feeling is the baby dropping into my shortened cervix. Relax and stop worrying, right? There's nothing to worry about until there's something to worry about, right? Already two of my big fears - not being able to get pregnant, and having horrible morning sickness, have been proven to be baseless this time around. But, I don't know. I just feel like come the third trimester everything is going to turn to shit. Stop being so negative, think happy thoughts, right? I was so good about that last time. I think the problem is this time I know too much. Or maybe it's just hormonal.

Could I have my Hormonal Sex Fog back, please? That was WAY more fun than this bull crap.

It's music time!

I would like to point out that it's 11:30 at night, the house is dark as the inside of a cow's stomach, and one of B's V-Tech toys is currently talking to itself up in the attic. It keeps saying "it's music time!" and "bye bye!". Ahhhhh!!! Thoroughly creeped out.

Speaking of music time, I finally got off my ass and got us to a little neighborhood music circle today I'd been meaning to check out for ages. It was good - I will go back. Being hippy LA I kind of cracked up at the crunchy granola vibe - in particular when we sang this song "The Earth is Our Mother" that Kathy Griffin roundly makes fun of in one of her specials. And when I say "we sang", I mean everyone else sang with their babies on their laps while I tried to prevent Bumpus from climbing on to the stage, falling off, and cracking his skull open. And so it goes.

Bumpus didn't seem to care for it. He was very freaked out and clingy at first, then spent pretty much the entire session at the other end of the room playing with some little girl's ball until I finally felt the need to give it back to her because she looked upset (with resultant screaming on B's part bien sure). But I'll continue going because I think he'll get into it. He does love music, dancing, and banging on drums. What little kid doesn't? 

The last of the drywall went up for B's room today. We are officially boxed in. It doesn't look like it'll get done this week, though. Tomorrow is the messiest day as it requires sanding. I have stressed to the handyman how I can't have the whole house covered in plaster dust - that he MUST make an effort to cover everything. They never do, though. I don't know if it's a guy thing or a contractor thing or what, but they always make a horrible mess. I can picture shaking white powder out of baby blankets for months. Ugh. I am SO glad I made that attic room when I did - I would never attempt something like that now. I was up there today just thinking how great it is and how glad I am I went for it even when I thought there'd be no more babies. Now "the kids" have the option of sharing a room or not.

I spend a huge amount of my time wondering what B will be like when he's older. In my experience boys rarely resemble their baby selves - it's usually "something around the eyes", but that's about it. If B grows up to look anything like the donor he'll be tall and angular with a strong jaw (so the clinic told me); it's impossible to reconcile that image with the plump-cheeked baby face I have before me on a daily basis. I recently watched a documentary where a man was spending time with his college-aged son before the father went to jail for running a Ponzi scheme; the son was red headed and angular and I wondered if that's what B would be like. The son spoke lovingly about his dad in interviews. I can't imagine B speaking at all, much less with a man's voice, and even less talking about ME. What will he think of me, when he's that age? What will he remember about his childhood? Will he remember today's music class and how I made him give the ball back and chuckled ironically all through "The Earth is Our Mother"?