Right now, if someone gave me the choice between a good night's sleep and having Big Dave, Big Dave would probably win out, but I would think long and hard about the choice first.
Baby Big has decided he/she will remain active all day and all night long, giving me no peace. If it's not the baby's constant movement keeping me up, it's the 3,000 trips to the bathroom, the 3-4 snack attacks in the middle of the night, or the soul-searing, gut wrenching heatburn.
When I finally drag myself out of bed in the morning, I am greeted by a smiling, well-rested Big Dave, who cheerfully asks me if I slept well. I attempt a snarl, a glare, some kind of facial expression to signify my displeasure, but all I can usually manage is a snort, followed by a glazed stare from under half raised eyelids.
The father of this child then smiles, hugs me, then says, "Baby Big giving you trouble again? Well, that's all part of the process, isn't it?"
Any man who can say that to a non-caffenated, sleep-deprived, swollen-footed, achy pregnant woman is a brave man. Smart, no. But brave indeed.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
What is Love?
Many years from now, my son or daughter will come to me with the age old questions:
How do you know you're in love? How do you know when someone is "the one?"
And I will tell them:
Does their happiness mean more to you than your own? Are they the first thing you think about when you wake up in the morning, and the last thing you think about when you go to sleep?
Will they be the one standing right beside you, holding your hand during the unexpected trip to the emergency room? Will they be the first one to cheer your accomplishments, the first one to comfort you in times of saddess or failure? Will they be in the doctor's office when you're given bad news, and, once outside the doctor's office, will they hold you while you cry? Would you do the same for them?
It's love when you watch them get sick, then clean up the mess without a second thought. It's love when you serve them the last piece of pie. It's love when you give them the TV remote control.
You're in love when you have seen all the other person's faults and shortcomings, and in spite of, or maybe because of them, you still can't imagine your life without them.
You're in love when you'd rather end the argument and make up than be proven right.
You'll know they're the one because after meeting them, you will feel like a whole person -- that the missing half of you has finally been found, and you'll never take that forgranted.
Mostly, I will smile and tell them, "You'll just know. The same way your Dad and I did."
How do you know you're in love? How do you know when someone is "the one?"
And I will tell them:
Does their happiness mean more to you than your own? Are they the first thing you think about when you wake up in the morning, and the last thing you think about when you go to sleep?
Will they be the one standing right beside you, holding your hand during the unexpected trip to the emergency room? Will they be the first one to cheer your accomplishments, the first one to comfort you in times of saddess or failure? Will they be in the doctor's office when you're given bad news, and, once outside the doctor's office, will they hold you while you cry? Would you do the same for them?
It's love when you watch them get sick, then clean up the mess without a second thought. It's love when you serve them the last piece of pie. It's love when you give them the TV remote control.
You're in love when you have seen all the other person's faults and shortcomings, and in spite of, or maybe because of them, you still can't imagine your life without them.
You're in love when you'd rather end the argument and make up than be proven right.
You'll know they're the one because after meeting them, you will feel like a whole person -- that the missing half of you has finally been found, and you'll never take that forgranted.
Mostly, I will smile and tell them, "You'll just know. The same way your Dad and I did."
Sunday, May 17, 2009
8 Weeks and Counting!
As of Thursday, we only have 8 weeks until Baby Big arrives, so we are trying to get the rest of the baby chores done. We have a meet and greet with a pediatrican at the beginning of the week, a birthing class later on in the week, and some final touches to complete the nursery. Eight weeks still seem like a long ways away to me, but then again, this last week flew by at an alarming rate, so maybe it will pass quicker than I think.
Big Dave and I did find out some distressing news, though. Turns out, I have gestational diabetes. So we have to go back for a consult visit with the Shands people and meet with a dietician to develop a new diet plan for me. Just what I didn't need or want, but at least it was caught early enough so that with diet changes the baby and I should be fine. At this point, they don't see insulin being needed. And after I deliver, the diabetes should disappear too. The most distressing thing about it all, though, is that subsequent pregnanies, if any, are at higher risk for diabetes as well. Disappointing news, but at least everything still seems to be right on target with Baby Big.
Our last ultrasound was on Saturday, and Baby Big weighed in at 4 lbs 1 oz (according to the size of the femur). With 8 weeks to go, and the baby gaining about a 1/2 pound a week, he/she is expected to be around 8 pounds at birth. Oh boy.
Also on Saturday Big Dave and I had some professional pregnancy photos taken. They show off the pregnant belly, and will probably be the last photos of "just the two of us". We'll be emailing those out later on in the week, as well as the best of the ultrasound photos, so keep an eye open for 'em!
Big Dave and I did find out some distressing news, though. Turns out, I have gestational diabetes. So we have to go back for a consult visit with the Shands people and meet with a dietician to develop a new diet plan for me. Just what I didn't need or want, but at least it was caught early enough so that with diet changes the baby and I should be fine. At this point, they don't see insulin being needed. And after I deliver, the diabetes should disappear too. The most distressing thing about it all, though, is that subsequent pregnanies, if any, are at higher risk for diabetes as well. Disappointing news, but at least everything still seems to be right on target with Baby Big.
Our last ultrasound was on Saturday, and Baby Big weighed in at 4 lbs 1 oz (according to the size of the femur). With 8 weeks to go, and the baby gaining about a 1/2 pound a week, he/she is expected to be around 8 pounds at birth. Oh boy.
Also on Saturday Big Dave and I had some professional pregnancy photos taken. They show off the pregnant belly, and will probably be the last photos of "just the two of us". We'll be emailing those out later on in the week, as well as the best of the ultrasound photos, so keep an eye open for 'em!
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Why I Dislike Doctors
A group of doctors got together one day for lunch. They started discussing some of their more interesting cases when one doctor brought the subject of pregnant women.
"You know, I've noticed that women go through a lot during their pregnancies, what with morning sickness, aches, pains, heartburn, etc. But I don't think they go through nearly enough. Is there any way we can make it more difficult for them?"
A second doctor chimed in. "Why, you know I believe I have the answer. I've developed a blood test for pregnant women to test their glucose levels."
The third doctor asked, "But what is so difficult about a simple blood test?"
The second doctor smirked, then said patronizingly, "It's not a simple test. First, I tell the women they cannot eat any food for 12 hours."
The first doctor said, "Oh, that's good. A pregnant women who doesn't eat for 12 hours. If she's not nauseous enough, she soon would be. Brilliant!"
The second doctor continued. "Then, when her stomach is churning and complaining, I make her drink a very syrupy glucose mixture that tastes horrible and gives her heartburn while it travels to the stomach."
The fourth doctor smiled. "That's absolutely cruel and mean. And I like it!"
The second doctor continued. "But wait. The best part is yet to come. While she is getting sick from the drink, she must have blood drawn."
The first doctor gaped in admiration. "You mean you stick a needle into her while she's trying to keep from tossing her cookies? Now THAT's a great idea!"
The second doctor bowed his head in modesty. "But not just once. She must have blood drawn every hour for THREE hours. And she must have blood drawn at the beginning of the whole ordeal. So she must be stuck FOUR times in three hours."
The other doctors around the table start applauding. A chorus of "well done!" "bravo" and "good show old man!" can be heard from across the room.
After the noise dies down, the fourth doctor asked, "And after all that, what do you do for an encore?"
The second doctor cackled maniacally and said, "Why, I make her pay an outrageous sum of money for the privilege, of course!"
The table exploded with more laughter. Then all the doctors sit back and relax.
Yes, a capital idea, they were all thinking. It's amazing what one can learn from one's peers.
Now, it's possible I could have make up the preceding conversation.
It's possible that the doctor who developed the three hour glucose test wasn't a maniacal, evil, Nazi-like little gnome. I have no proof that he was.
But then again, I have no proof that he wasn't, either.
"You know, I've noticed that women go through a lot during their pregnancies, what with morning sickness, aches, pains, heartburn, etc. But I don't think they go through nearly enough. Is there any way we can make it more difficult for them?"
A second doctor chimed in. "Why, you know I believe I have the answer. I've developed a blood test for pregnant women to test their glucose levels."
The third doctor asked, "But what is so difficult about a simple blood test?"
The second doctor smirked, then said patronizingly, "It's not a simple test. First, I tell the women they cannot eat any food for 12 hours."
The first doctor said, "Oh, that's good. A pregnant women who doesn't eat for 12 hours. If she's not nauseous enough, she soon would be. Brilliant!"
The second doctor continued. "Then, when her stomach is churning and complaining, I make her drink a very syrupy glucose mixture that tastes horrible and gives her heartburn while it travels to the stomach."
The fourth doctor smiled. "That's absolutely cruel and mean. And I like it!"
The second doctor continued. "But wait. The best part is yet to come. While she is getting sick from the drink, she must have blood drawn."
The first doctor gaped in admiration. "You mean you stick a needle into her while she's trying to keep from tossing her cookies? Now THAT's a great idea!"
The second doctor bowed his head in modesty. "But not just once. She must have blood drawn every hour for THREE hours. And she must have blood drawn at the beginning of the whole ordeal. So she must be stuck FOUR times in three hours."
The other doctors around the table start applauding. A chorus of "well done!" "bravo" and "good show old man!" can be heard from across the room.
After the noise dies down, the fourth doctor asked, "And after all that, what do you do for an encore?"
The second doctor cackled maniacally and said, "Why, I make her pay an outrageous sum of money for the privilege, of course!"
The table exploded with more laughter. Then all the doctors sit back and relax.
Yes, a capital idea, they were all thinking. It's amazing what one can learn from one's peers.
Now, it's possible I could have make up the preceding conversation.
It's possible that the doctor who developed the three hour glucose test wasn't a maniacal, evil, Nazi-like little gnome. I have no proof that he was.
But then again, I have no proof that he wasn't, either.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
A Last Hurrah
Big Dave and I spent the last few days in St. Augustine, as a last just-the-two-of-us vacation before Baby Big arrives. The weather was perfect, and we had a great time, walking the "old city" section and eating our way from one end of the city to the other. I finally had the opportunity to try some gelatto (an Italian ice cream), and enjoyed some chocolate from both Kilwin's and Rocky Mountain Candy Factory. We toured Flagler College and the old Castillo de San Marcos fort. We also went on two ghost tours (you can't visit the oldest city in the US without going on at least one ghost tour). But since I get tired very easily, we had to limit our daily excursions, so we also spent a lot of time around the hotel pool. The pool was Baby Big approved.
The next few weeks will be busy with birthing classes, dr's visits (our next ultrasound is in mid-May), and final preparations in the nursery. We'll also start interviewing for pediatricians. I get tired just thinking about it all! : )
Meanwhile, the furry kids have been teaming up to try to break into the nursery. They see us bringing new items into the room, and they see us spending more and more time in the room (which used to be the guest room), so naturally they want to investigate this strange turn of events. When they see us head for the room, they bolt for the door, and try to squeeze their way through once the door is opened. You woudn't think an 18 pound cat would try to squeeze through an a 2 inch opening, but try they do. They are slowly getting the idea that they will not be allowed in the room, but they are very resentful for now. But once that room is occupied by a crying infant, I don't think it will take much to convince them to stay away. One whiff of a smelly diaper, and the romance will be gone.
The next few weeks will be busy with birthing classes, dr's visits (our next ultrasound is in mid-May), and final preparations in the nursery. We'll also start interviewing for pediatricians. I get tired just thinking about it all! : )
Meanwhile, the furry kids have been teaming up to try to break into the nursery. They see us bringing new items into the room, and they see us spending more and more time in the room (which used to be the guest room), so naturally they want to investigate this strange turn of events. When they see us head for the room, they bolt for the door, and try to squeeze their way through once the door is opened. You woudn't think an 18 pound cat would try to squeeze through an a 2 inch opening, but try they do. They are slowly getting the idea that they will not be allowed in the room, but they are very resentful for now. But once that room is occupied by a crying infant, I don't think it will take much to convince them to stay away. One whiff of a smelly diaper, and the romance will be gone.
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