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August 21, 2001
**WARNING** If you are easily offended, this is not the journal entry for you. Turn back, do not pass GO do not collect $200.
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I thought I’d start off by explaining the reason why, aside from this entry, I never use “dh”. With my first pregnancy journal, recorded during my second pregnancy on a different site, I seldom used it. Maybe I have an abbreviation phobia or something, I don’t know. Point is it wasn’t like I was swimming in “dhs”.
One day at work I mentioned to a friend that I was keeping an online journal. Never married or pregnant herself, she was curious how the other half lived, and begged for the URL. I obliged of course, because I’m a little vain and I like my writing to be read. Most especially by someone I considered an alter ego – the kind of free-spirited, quirky and cool-clothes wearing chick I like to think I would have been without a husband and kids. After reading my entries, and skimming a few other journals, had only one statement - “What the hell does “dh” stand for anyway, dickhead?” After recovering from that supremely timed line, I was never able to bring myself to use that abbreviation again.
My Rants for the Week
I know unsolicited advice is a common complaint of both parents and pregnant women, but I sometimes wonder if I have the market cornered on this little avenue. Because I can, I’m gonna complain until my heart’s content.
I’m having a water birth at a birth center with midwives. Big freaking deal. I’m not asking anyone to do this for me. I’m doing it myself, out of my own preferences and needs. By the flack I’ve caught for this, you’d think I was shooting up heroin or something. If I hear one more person make a hippie reference I’m going to scream my damn head off. Or ask if I’ve thought this out at all. No, really, I always make decisions like this by asking my Magic 8 Ball what it thinks.
I’m not one of those annoying people. You know the kind of people who insist that their way is the only way. I’ve had two kids before, both in a hospital. I had an epidural with my first, nothing with the second. For me, the second was a lot easier, and I enjoyed the whole experience more. But nothing ticks me off more than hearing “Oh, you’d never refuse drugs if you were having a tooth filled,” or “I hate those women who are lazy and just sit back, have the drugs and don’t feel a thing.” What the hell is this, some sort of war? Labor is hard enough as it is, regardless of how you go about it all. You make it through all of that, epidural, morphine, no drugs, C-Section, you deserve some sort of medal, and probably a year’s paid vacation. Do we women really have to divide ourselves over this, of all topics?
Look, my opinion is that anytime you introduce something unnatural, you run risks. Having a baby in what is essentially a bedroom has its risks too. But life is chock full of these chances anyway, and we all go through some sort of mental process when we make our choices. Let’s say you decide to go out dancing Saturday night. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you know that there is a higher risk of getting hit by a drunk driver when you close down the bar at 2 AM. But you really like going out late, and you weigh the possibilities and decide the likelihood of being hurt by a drunk driver is worth the fun you’ll have out.
So, you’re pregnant, and you decide to have an epidural. So maybe things will slow down, and you’ll have a harder delivery. Maybe instead, you decide to birth at home and something goes wrong and you’re not at the hospital. But we all face risk everyday and damn it, I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions.
Which is why I abhor people talking to me as though I were 3. Comments ranging from the subtle “It must be nice to be so confident,” (said with a very sarcastic tone) to the not so subtle “What if the baby dies?” make me see red. What’s worse is that these are people I work with, and, let’s be honest people, do you really, truly think the people you work with are that smart? Of course, you have your work buddies, but those friends aren’t the lobotomy experiments that we’re talking about here.
Things only worsen when somehow the topic of parenting comes up. Yesterday I made the mistake of remarking that I wasn’t getting any crib bedding because we don’t have a crib, and don’t plan on using one. We had one for Chloe and Ivan and it was pretty much an expensive clothes hanger. They both slept with us, and then went straight away to a regular bed around 15 or 16 months. Upon hearing this one woman I work with actually said that I was making my kids perverts. PERVERTS. Yeah, they’re at home right now, downloading porn off the net, you imbecile.
And the only thing worse than their crazy assumptions about how bad I’m screwing up my kids are their attempts to make me out to be some sort of lunatic. For example, they will deliberately try to bait my friends and me into an argument by saying something like “Heather thinks that anyone who spanks their kids is a child abuser.” Of course, this is said, in front of me, to a friend who does spank (obviously, I don’t think this at all). It’s as if the very concept of having an adult relationship with a person who has a different set of guidelines they work by is completely foreign to them.
At least I can comfort myself by the fact that I’ve only got about 13 more weeks before I’m going out on leave, and, I’m rally keeping my fingers crossed that I won’t need to come back when my leave is up in April. Life is too short to work in a dark and cramped office building all day, and my idea is to work with some intelligent people for once, or, at the very least, a higher ratio.
Ultrasound #2
I’ve got to somehow turn the vitriol of this post around a little, so I think I should end with my most recent ultrasound. We drove 3 hours, from Portland, OR to Bellevue, WA, to get this thing done. It was worth every ounce of gas and every minute on the road. The woman runs a small business out of her home, and is a licensed u/s tech. She has a new u/s machine, the typical table, everything. Only it’s all in the den of her house. She performs only non-medical u/s, which means that she spends the entire time showing you the baby, taking loads of pictures, and recording it on VHS.
We got there just as someone else’s appointment was ending. Melissa was warm and gracious, and I felt immediately comfortable. Her den was homey, and she had hooked the u/s machine up with the TV, so that John and the kids could sit on the couch and watch the entire u/s, without having to crowd around the table. Chloe was enthralled, and actually realized that the baby was truly a baby. Several times during the ultrasound she came over to be and rubbed my hand saying, “Momma, do you see the baby? That one’s in your belly.”
After maybe ten minutes of seeing the head, chunky cheeks and face of this wee one, we got down to the real business, and asked if she could tell the sex. Melissa was more than happy to look, and immediately she looked at me and said, “It’s a GIRL!” She showed me, and sure enough, there was a ( | ). Even I could tell it’s a girl. John asked, “Are you sure?” Melissa’s response was something like, “Unless you’re having a boy with a serious problem, it’s a girl.” We laughed, and it felt really good to feel like the dream about my dad had been right all along.
Melissa also commented that Jellybean had the longest legs she had ever seen (I could have told her that). This really isn’t too surprising – I’m 5’10”, and John’s 6’4”, but she said she would be surprised if this baby came in measuring less than 22” at birth. Both Chloe and Ivan are pretty tall, so I think this is most definitely one of our kids. :)
The u/s lasted about 25 minutes, and then we were on our way. We spent the night in Seattle, visiting with my best friend Tiffany. The following day we went to the Children’s Museum at the Seattle Center (a must if you are ever in the area and have small kids), and the day was just perfect. August in the Pacific Northwest always feels good – you know how soon the cold and rain are coming, and it just seems like everyone is friendly, enjoying the last few weeks of warm sunshine.
We are still tossing around names, and there are 3 in the running. Two are neck and neck, but the third is a dark horse, and it will be interesting to see which one wins out. We’ve also decided not to tell anyone what name we pick, or even the three names we’re picking from. They are all a bit unusual, but also pretty and feminine. Our families have already come up with some wild ones, and it’s a riot to hear them.
I always feel like I’ve got more to talk about, but my fingers are tired. It’s 10 PM, Monday night, and I’ve still got a million things to do, so I’ll wrap up. But I’m hoping that everyone has a great week…
Heather
Mom to Chloe, Ivan and the Jellybean
Due December 8, 2001
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