Tea for two, no more

The relative silence here on my part is the result of constant low-level queasiness that makes it hard to focus on much besides clicking around or wishing there was some food in the house that I felt like eating. Many household activities such as homeschooling and laundry have ground to a halt while I work diligently at vital occupations like growing a baby, suppressing my gag reflex, and trying to stay awake. As sorry as I am to see the laundry taking over the upstairs, I mourn even more for the loss of a necessary stimulant: tea.

I loved tea, and I still love it, in concept. But now tea, in all its acidic glory, revolts me -- maybe because a few weeks ago I threw up a cup of tea I'd had on an empty stomach. Yes, such things color one's impressions. Even now, as I write this, I'm clenching my lips against queasiness.

This lip-clenching is a constant around here, and it affects my ability to speak. Darwin is used now to our conversations suddenly devolving into hums on my part. For example, a sample conversation might go like this:

Me: Well, we did some reading, and then I made the girls lunch mmm mmm.

Darwin: I hope you don't mind, but I bought lunch today with the team. Anyway, there was nothing in the fridge.

Me: Mmm.

Darwin: Oh, by the way, my manager says this new role might fit me to a T...

Me: NGM nnn mmm.

So, no more tea for the time being. I'm searching for a substitute warm drink. I love cocoa, but even though I don't put much sugar in it I'm reluctant to drink anything sweet because I've also given up exercise-like activities such as moving. (Also, if the children catch me drinking cocoa they insist on having some as well, and nothing stains clothes like spilled cocoa.) Hot water with lemon and honey sounds good, as does warm cider, but there are no lemons or cider in the house because no one has been to the store with a comprehensive list in weeks. I've always found chai vaguely disgusting, and coffee gives me the jitters. I have several boxes of tea in the pantry, but I can't even look at them right now. Oh, how the mighty have fallen!

Ah, but as I always say: mmmm mmm mm.

Life Happens

Thanks to all of you for your congratulations and kind wishes; they mean a lot to us.

We're very fortunate to have a congenial readership, and so we can dispense with the givens up front. Yes, we're delighted at the idea of a new life; yes, it's exciting to think of a little brother for Jack, or another beautiful girl. Yes, even though we weren't expecting or planning to have another one so soon, we're glad to see our family grow and we look forward to meeting baby and introducing him or her to the world.

There, that was sweet. Now let's be a bit more gritty.

We were in denial, and then in shock, for several weeks after we discovered we were pregnant. It's hard to complain about a surprise pregnancy without sounding bitter or hostile, and yet the idea of five children is still hard to come around to. I think it's understandable that I'm not excited about having three kids under five years old again. I think it's excusable to feel ambiguous about the process of being pregnant, which is nine months of weariness and discomfort followed by some hours of miserable agony. It's less excusable, but perhaps understandable, to not immediately relish being that woman who drags her five small kids places. People think four kids are cute. People think five is a lot, and tell you so.

We had not planned to be pregnant; we did not want to be pregnant; many of our future plans involved not being pregnant. (So much for the big tenth anniversary trip we were just starting to save up for.) We did not cheat or push our luck or take risks; we made what appeared to be a standard call. Perhaps our scientific rigor was lacking. We had grown complacent, not taking the temperature at the same time every morning, and when the baby walked off with the thermometer after what seemed obviously to be three days of temperature rise, we figured it didn't matter. And it didn't, because it would have been too late by then anyway. The point is, we thought we had played it safe, and met a standard that had held us in good stead in the past. Only, we were wrong.

The only reason I go into any detail at all on this point is that I know that we can't be the only couple in the world to find ourselves in this situation. Everyone knows, or ought to know, that birth control fails. Most of the pregnancies of Darwin's coworkers resulted from birth control failures, and even something so drastic as a tubal ligation isn't always infallible. (I've just wasted a stupid amount of time trying to track down the British news story I read last week about the woman who became pregnant 13 years after having her tubes tied.) But I think that there's a secular perception that charting one's fertility is so fraught with pitfalls or unreliable that if you get pregnant it's really your own fault. Don't you know what causes that?

And yet, what this comes down to is a control failure. We thought we had the next few years mapped out, and that we were really in charge. As life-changing events go, we're lucky. Instead of losing a job or dealing with some terrible disease or injury, we're getting a baby who will bless and enrich us for the rest of our lives. And we've received a fairly clarion signal that we're not really as in control of our future and our fertility as we thought. And if any well-meaning person asks me, "So, are you done yet?", I can pretty honestly say (through politely gritted teeth), "I don't really know." Because it seems that in the end, it's not totally my call. Life happens.

ADDENDUM: I should add, now that I'm not sleepless and nauseous at 3 AM, that writing out what we've been chewing on for the last five weeks privately is very therapeutic. For various reasons, including some early miscarriage worries, we were reluctant to talk about the pregnancy earlier, which perhaps is good, because we don't have a month's worth of "What the hell!" posts archived. It's very refreshing to get all this off my chest, and now I have to go contemplate getting this cup of tea off my stomach. Toodles.

About a Boy

First, let's clear up this clairvoyant rumor and tell the not-so-exciting truth. The reason I could predict baby's birth date and time with such accuracy was not second sight, but insider trading. I had a midwife appointment on the 10th and I knew that she would strip my membranes (that's loosening the bag of waters from the wall of the uterus), a maneuver that has, in conjunction with other therapies, always brought on labor for me in less than 24 hours. (Confidential to TS: next time you play the lottery, try the numbers 09-11-08.)

And the birth. It was pretty uneventful for everyone but me and baby. I started with the contractions at 12:17, called the midwife at 1 am, spent the next few hours pacing and feeling increasingly miserable, and baby was born at 4:33 am. I did not need stitches, for which I'm still thanking the good Lord.

Sounds easy, no? No. I knew labor was coming the night before, and I was scared. I prepared for birth by reading the lives (or more accurately, the deaths) of the North American martyrs. Contractions, I reasoned, could hardly be as bad as having your thumb bitten off. And given that a week and a half later, I'm not in pain and still have my thumb, I think that assessment was correct.

I think it's a crying shame that hospitals will sterilize women right after they've given birth. No one wants to have a baby again right after she's just pushed a head through her pelvis or had major surgery. It's coercion of the worst kind.

But! To balance out all this toil, I present the sweetly cross-eyed reward:


Who wouldn't go through nine months of discomfort and four hours of agony for that precious boy?

In case you were wondering...

The answer is no. Not yet.

Labor Day? Not here

We interrupt this regularly scheduled program to post no news.

My prediction: Baby will be born in the early hours on Thurs., Sept. 11.

Now he's messing with MY head

Baby at 38 weeks, meditating on his wrongs

Perhaps baby resents having his head repositioned just when he was so comfortable, because now he's playing head games with me. This morning at 6:00 I woke up to an honest-to-goodness contraction -- not that painful, but there. After two more contractions at 30-minute intervals, I got up and started folding laundry and getting my room in order in case I had to call the midwife. And since then? Nothing. Zilch. Nada.

Maybe this is just a sign that there's too much laundry in my room.

Head Down!

You guys! I will never get over this -- the doctor just pushed the baby's head into position as easy as could be. After a week of stress and misery and alternative treatments, it took about three minutes to turn the boy. (It cost a lot more than acupuncture, but on the other hand, it worked.) And as soon as he was in position, my blood pressure shot way up -- a sure sign for me that the end is nigh.

Thanks for all the prayers! I can't tell you how relieved I am.

Turn, turn, turn

After a weekend of medical run-around and referrals for consultations for referrals for consulations, baby's external version is scheduled for tomorrow at 11:45. The doctor says there's usually a 50% chance that baby turns during the version, but that our likelihood is higher because it's a fourth pregnancy. There is the slight risk that the cord will become compressed or the placenta will become detached. If that happens, they put me under and do a c-section right then. However, the odds are good that instead baby will turn and we'll have our home birth in a week or so.

Thanks for your prayers and encouragement. Friday I was feeling upset and anxious. Saturday I had a massage, which went a long way towards restoring my equilibrium.

Also, let me give you the lowdown on acupuncture from my perspective as the whitest person alive. I found it a basically painless procedure the first time -- the needles are small and I really didn't feel a thing. There was a bit of soreness for a few seconds after the needles were removed, but that was it. (The points for trying to turn a baby are on the sides of the little toes.) We also tried moxibustion, which is burning mugwort herb right by that pressure point. The second time, my toes were a bit sensitive from the heat and needles earlier. Yesterday afternoon we tried the moxibustion for the third time, and my toes were definitely feeling irritable. So I'm going to give the Oriental medicine a rest as I'm starting to build up a little scar tissue on my toes.

Maintaining the Status Quo here

Where's baby's head? Oh, it's still right up top. Yesterday was acupuncture and moxibustion -- baby squirmed and wiggled obligingly, but no dice. Today is acupuncture and moxibustion, round two. Tomorrow: massage. Next week: chiropractic treatment and external versioning.

Unfortunately, it sounds like if baby doesn't turn we're definitely in for a c-section. This means that a) I want to try the external versioning as early as possible, because I'd be really peeved if I went into labor before it was even attempted and had an automatic c-section regardless of whether he could be turned; and b) it's time to look for a doctor and a hospital. I suppose this wouldn't be so much of an issue if we were already seeing a regular ob-gyn, because we could just switch game plans. But since the midwife obviously doesn't do c-sections at home, we need to be ready to transfer care, and I'd like to meet the operating doc before I'm on the business end of the knife. (Just typing that makes me want to cry.)

Also, we need to figure out emergency child-care. My mother is coming out a week before baby is due, but as we'd been planning a home birth, even if baby came before that we'd have some leeway as to when a babysitter could show up. But if we're rushing to the hospital we need a plan for getting an adult on the scene quickly, or stashing the kids somewhere quickly. (Confidential to Big Tex and family: oh, how we miss having you so close! Move back!)

Of course baby may well still turn, on his own or with help -- we're only at 37 weeks today. But I'm starting to feel a bit discouraged, and I'd welcome your continued prayers.

A Frank Breech of Trust

So we're at 36 weeks now. Everything is in readiness for the home birth. I've got my kit, I've packed all the supplies I need where the midwives can find them easily, I've cleaned my room and the bathroom. We're all set except for one thing: baby has flipped breech.

The problem with this is that these days, not so many people want to deliver a breech baby vaginally. My midwife, with almost thirty years' experience, has only assisted at three or four breech births. Doctors are reluctant to allow vaginal breech births because of the slight risk of the cord getting pinched and cutting off oxygen to the baby -- and I'll grant that, if it happens to your baby, the statistics on the low incidence of occurrence mean nothing. So we're looking at opposite ends of the medical intervention spectrum -- if baby flips head-down, we can have a home birth; if he stays breech, we have to go to the hospital and have a c-section. Needless to say, I'm rooting for the former.


It turns out there are various methods for encouraging a baby to rotate, one of which is for the mother to lay pretty much upside down. This is about as uncomfortable as it looks (though less uncomfortable than a c-section, I keep telling myself). The awkward part is not in maintaining the position for twenty minutes at a time, but in getting into it in the first place. Baby does respond, especially when I put a bag of ice on his head to encourage him to wriggle away up toward the pelvis. (Image from SpinningBabies.com)

Other low-intervention methods include massage, chiropractic adjustment (though my friends tell me that no chiropractor will see you without an x-ray, which seems counterproductive in this case), acupuncture, and swimming. I have a massage scheduled for this weekend, and I'm going to need it after laying on my neck and shoulders for twenty minutes at a stretch. I also have an appointment with a doctor to discuss external version, should the at-home fixes fail. This involves the doctor rotating the baby from the outside, sounds to be quite painful ("Like ligaments tearing," the midwife suggested), and needs to be done after 37 weeks in a hospital with ultrasound monitoring in case baby gets tangled up in his cord and needs an immediate c-section. I'm praying we don't have to take it that far.

UPDATE 1/27/10: This post seems to get a lot of traffic from people searching for information about breech babies, so I'll let you know how it turned out: Acupunture and massage, though relaxing, did nothing for me. Nor did hanging upside down or floating in water. In the end I went in at 37 weeks for a version. It was successful and amazingly fast -- I'm still talking about it a year and a half later. Since this was my fourth, my muscles were sufficiently relaxed for the OB to get a good grip.

The version wasn't painless, but I didn't find it agonizing. He had to grab pretty deep to get under baby, and I had to consciously breathe and keep my muscles relaxed. But it went by quickly, and at the end I had a head-down baby!

Jack was born at home on 9/11/08.