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November 7, 2001
Well, I had my ultrasound on Monday. I had been a little worried because my measurements were SO far off what they should have been, and they jumped very suddenly. In retrospect, there was no good reason to worry at all.
“Bajellie” is just a big girl. According to the ultrasound on Monday, she weighs 7lbs, 2oz. According to my dates, I was 36 weeks on Monday, but according to my midwives, I’ll be 36 weeks come Saturday. Either way, she’s big. Again, I’m not that worried about pushing out a big baby. I know my pelvis is more than roomy enough to deliver her, and as long as she doesn’t go too much over 10 lbs, I’m pretty confident I can do it without a problem.
She’s long for her gestational age as well, which is partly why I’m measuring so far ahead. Add to that the fact that this is literally my third pregnancy in nearly as many years, and it’s no wonder my poor uterus is all stretched out.
I had wondered if I had suddenly become diabetic or something, but again, no worries. In fact, my blood sugar is too low! We did a “finger poke” test Tuesday morning, about 90 minutes after I ate breakfast. The result? My blood sugar was a meager 57. 57! No wonder I feel so crappy! And I’m now measuring 42 weeks. Will the fun ever end?
So, even though my BP is down and doing well, I’m feeling fully pregnant carrying around what is already a full-term sized baby. Monday afternoon I decided that I pretty much had had enough of work, and called my midwives to let them know. They were more than happy to write me a note, and I am now on full maternity leave. Whoo-hooo!
So, Tuesday, after my regular appointment, I came home and gleefully packed my birth center bag. It feels weird to already have this done, as I never really did it this early with either Chloe or Ivan. But, I suppose, she could really come at any time.
Last night I had contractions for two hours, sometimes as close as 5 minutes apart. But the vast majority of them were only 30 seconds long, and I knew I wasn’t in true labor. This is okay with me. As miserable as I feel, I’d like the assurance that when she comes her lungs will be developed and ready.
The past week and a half John and I have had to devote some serious time into getting ready for this baby. With all that has gone on with Ivan, we neglected some of the more obvious aspects of preparing ourselves for “Bajellie’s” arrival.
For example, up until a week ago, we had no car seat. NO CAR SEAT!!! Yeah, that was a good thing to neglect to do.
The thing about becoming a parent for the second or third time is that you realize how little you actually need in order to be a good parent. The first baby, you buy everything. Every gimmick item, every “recommendation” from friends. Not to mention you actually buy all the stuff those infernal baby lists tell you you need (“82 sleepers? Okay, no problem, we’ll buy ‘em!”). But the truth is painfully simple. You can’t buy experience and that’s pretty much what 60% of those first baby purchases are bought in place of. And to quell those nasty fears that creep up before you’ve even hit L&D. “Will I be a good Mom?” (Buy a highchair). “Will I crack without sleep?” (We need Avent bottles only. And color-coordinated bibs for all the outfits). “What if the baby doesn’t like me?” (Get a mural painted on the nursery! Buy a wood cradle! And extra sheets! And a swing!).
Sure, some of these things are helpful. But a good majority ends up unused or under-used, and destined to be garage sale fodder. It’s amazing that very little is actually needed to be a good parent. Daunting and simple at the same time: An honest heart, a growing capacity for love and patience, and the ability to ask for help.
Update on Ivan
Since I lasted posted on Ivan, things have gotten much better. I don’t think I remembered to mention it, but Ivan was tested for Fragile X Syndrome, a genetic disorder that often is misdiagnosed as Autism. We were worried that if he had Fragile X, then Chloe would likely be a carrier, and “Bajellie” would probably either have Fragile X herself or be a carrier as well. Well, the genetic tests took a little over three weeks, but the results were good. Ivan does not have Fragile X Syndrome, and we can rest easy that Chloe and “Bajellie” are safe from that.
Additionally, Ivan has been doing better just because of the iron we’ve been giving him. His iron levels should be back to normal now (he’s being tested tomorrow), and in the past few weeks we’ve seen dramatic improvement. He will sometimes respond to his name or other phrases where he wouldn’t before. He is also playing more appropriately with his toys, and the head banging and hand flapping has declined as well. I don’t think the iron was the only thing wrong with him, and I don’t think it will remove the autism diagnosis. But I do hope that he may be more mildly affected than we first thought.
About a week and a half ago, we took Ivan to the Early Intervention Center in our area where he was assessed by a team of specialists. While I initially liked the doctor who provided the first diagnosis, my feelings for him are starting to wane, and part of it has to do with seeing people who are truly trained in Early Childhood Disorders interact with Ivan.
The doctor we first went to, while very knowledgeable and highly trained, had a medical degree and was a psychiatrist. The team we saw at EI was made up of three women, each one holding a Master’s Degree in ECE, with specialties in various areas of development – speech, cognitive, social, etc. They were able to get Ivan to do things the first doctor couldn’t. They also had a room filled with age-appropriate toys, and without other “distractions”. One of the things I had disliked about the other doctor was that he had a very traditional office with a few toys. In his report he had sited Ivan’s “peculiar” interest in his plants as proof of is autism. Ivan’s two. Of course he wants what he’s not supposed to have, autism or no. While I think the diagnosis was correct, I question some of his reasoning.
At EI, the specialists spent two hours just talking with us and assessing Ivan’s development. The verdict was that he has some significant delays, and does qualify for the program in our county. They weren’t sure about the autism diagnosis though, and referred us on to the Autism Specialists. This doesn’t mean we have to wait longer to get him started in therapy. It just means they need to really evaluate him for Autism to get him into that program.
Friday we go to a parent interview with EI where we get to meet with another team of 6 specialists and Ivan’s teachers. We’ll discuss what we all want for Ivan in the next year, what goals we want to set, and how we can achieve them. We’ll also go over his therapy schedule, and make sure we’re all in agreement. One of the best things about this program, at least so far, is that I have never gotten the feeling that we are “out of the loop” on anything. Whatever our concerns have been, they’ve been addressed immediately. I have really been impressed with all of the people we’ve met through the program.
The only other thing that I’ve been contemplating is joining a support group. I have to admit that I’m a little worried about it all. I’m so not a soccer mom. I have no desire to martyr myself for anyone, even Ivan or his Autism. I am fully aware how easy it would be to slip into that role, and how satisfying it would feel initially to do that. I can’t do that. For myself, for Chloe and Bajellie and John, and for Ivan. He needs a mom, not a martyr. And I’m deathly afraid that those are the kinds of people I’ll meet in a support group.
And I’m also afraid that I won’t fit in. Me. The one who says what I feel without a moment’s thought. The one who enjoys discussing English literature, Philosophy and current music trends. The one who got a tattoo to honor her first two children. I don’t know if they’d accept me, and I’m not sure that I would want to be accepted. At the same time, I’m painfully aware that I want and need contact with someone who has already been partially through all of this.
Hope everyone is well…I promise to answer all of my messages soon.
heather r
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