My Tarot Card

My sister had a link on her blog, so I thought I would find out which tarot card it would pick for me. Here is the result:

You are The High Priestess

Science, Wisdom, Knowledge, Education.

The High Priestess is the card of knowledge, instinctual, supernatural, secret knowledge. She holds scrolls of arcane information that she might, or might not reveal to you. The moon crown on her head as well as the crescent by her foot indicates her willingness to illuminate what you otherwise might not see, reveal the secrets you need to know. The High Priestess is also associated with the moon however and can also indicate change or fluxuation, particularily when it comes to your moods.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

It's interesting that I am the High Priestess, since it is one of my favorite cards. However, I always found the High Priestess to be more otherworldly than I usually am.
If anyone out there follows the link above, let me know which card you are.

Entering the Home Stretch

With only four weeks to go until the "official" big day (in quotation marks because nobody ever has their baby on their due date), I thought I'd put up my list of the top five questions I've been asked about my pregancy. Here they are, in order of frequency:
1. When are you due? June 15
2. What are you having? A baby, I hope. I don't know the gender yet.
3. Are you going to breastfeed? Yes; in fact, I plan to exclusively breast-feed for the first six months, and then for as long as the baby wants. If you're a complete stranger (and yes, they have asked), it's none of your damn business.
4. Do you have any "weird cravings?" I eat a lot of ice cream, which I didn't eat very often before I got pregnant. Otherwise, no. BTW, I have yet to meet a woman who really ate pickles and ice cream during her pregnancy.
5. Do you feel any different? If you were carrying 20+ pounds, in a basketball-shaped lump on your abdomen, wouldn't you?
Funny that not many seem to ask about stuff like what's the worst pregnancy symptom you've had (heartburn, by far), or what was your favorite part of pregnancy (when I first felt the baby move). But just a few short weeks, I'll probably be able to post a list of top five questions I've been asked after the baby. Keep reading.

Bad Reality TV Night

SPOILER ALERT!
Okay, so I have a small (unnatural) addiction to reality TV, specifically "American Idol" and "America's Next Top Model." And tonight was a disappointing night for me.
Firstly was "Top Model." My favorite of the top three was Renee. Natasha seemed just weird (and did anyone else notice the tummy action going on? Methinks she stress-eats.), and Joslene was just this side of obnoxious. Renee by far had the best Cover Girl picture and ad. So why did she not make the top two? Because she looked too "old". Whatever.
Next was "Idol." I was absolutely convinced that Melinda was a shoo-in for the semifinals. In fact, I was positive that she would win (along with the rest of the world, I thought). Yet, she goes home tonight. The only reason I can think of is that she suffered from what I call the "too-good syndrome." It seems that every season, one of the best singers goes home way before their time. Last year it was Chris Daughtry (4th place), and the year before it was Bo Bice (2nd place). My theory is that the voters are so convinced that the frontrunner will move on that they don't vote for them, assuming that others will. It's the same idea that nobody will call the fire department when they see a fire, assuming that "someone else" will do it. Voters were so worried that Blake or Jordin would get the axe that they voted Melinda off.
So, this wasn't the best night for my shows. But I guess if the shows were always predictable they wouldn't be nearly as fun. It'll be interesting to see who wins "Idol" next week, because it's now anyone's game.

On Mat Leave, Baby!

So I'm off on maternity leave, and I'm lovin' it. In fact, the first thought I had when I woke up yesterday was "I don't have to work today!" I haven't done anything really exciting since I went off, but a bad day on leave is better than a good day at work, right?
The one task I did tackle was washing all the baby's clothes. It sounds silly, but the new clothes just looked so pretty, it seemed a shame to take the tags off and wash them. I was finally motivated to get them done though, when my step-daughter gave me a bunch of used baby clothes that NEEDED to be washed first. The first lesson of baby clothes: terry cloth sleepers look old fast. Thankfully, I didn't have very many, mostly because I think putting terry cloth on a baby in June is probably bordering on child abuse.
Anyway, I have a small tale of woe to share about my clothes-washing experience. One of the shirts I bought was just the cutest lil' shirt in the world. It's pale blue-grey and it's kimono style, with a snap on the inside to wrap and two at the bottom of the shirt. It also has an adorable ribbon to tie it up. I just couldn't wait to dress up my little one in this shirt. Then, just as I cut off the tags, I noticed one of them cautioned to check the snaps. I did a quick once over, thinking it's brand new, so the snaps are probably fine. So, imagine my disappointment to find that the fabric around one of the bottom snaps was torn! At best, I would maybe get the snap done up and apart a couple of times before it completely fell off.
I put the shirt aside with the tag, and thought that I would go exchange it at the store later this week. I was pretty sure I even had the receipt; in fact, I thought I should get the receipt ready for when I return it. I rummaged through my shoe box full of receipts, and found the right one. Oh, but what was printed at the bottom of the receipt? No exchanges after 30 days. I bought the shirt with a bunch of other stuff way back in February. Thus the second lesson of baby clothes: don't wait too long to wash the new stuff.
So, I kept the shirt, reasoning to myself that I can just leave that corner unsnapped, and the baby will probably outgrow it before the snap comes off anyway. But, even though it probably sounds silly, the shirt wasn't the same. It wasn't as special; and the whole thing put a bit of a damper on all the fun of playing with the new clothes. But at least it happened before I put the shirt on the baby, because knowing my hormones I probably would have cried.
Anyway, I finished washing the clothes and blankets with no further incident. And I can't wait to dress up my little one in all that cute stuff. My baby is gonna be better-dressed than me!

My Quest for the Holy Drawer Pulls

For the past week I have been a pregnant girl on a mission: to buy new drawer pulls for the baby's dresser. I spent an entire afternoon scrubbing the dresser, getting literally years of grunge off of it. Then I sprayed orange oil wood cleanser on it to make it all pretty and shiny. But the one eyesore was that the middle drawer had four holes for drawer knobs but only two mismatched knobs on it.
It was easy to find pretty knobs for the middle drawer. I bought two really cute knobs with jumping sheep on them, and a couple of brushed nickel knobs for the other two spaces. I knew they would look fantastic, but the nickel knobs didn't match the other drawer pulls, which were brass. They were also tarnished and tacky, so I got new pulls that matched the knobs to replace them. Now, when I went to the hardware store, the most popular spacing between the holes that screw into the dresser is 3" apart; in fact, there were only a couple of pulls in a different size. I (mistakenly) concluded that the dresser at home must have the same spacing. You see, I wasn't planning on buying new pulls, so I didn't measure the spacing. Besides, if they didn't fit, I could bring them back.
Well, they didn't fit. At least I was smart enough to hold the pull up against the screws on the inside of the drawer before I opened the package, so I could return the pulls. I measured the distance between the holes this time, and it looked like they were about 5" apart. It was too late to return to the hardware store that day, so the following day I returned to the hardware store. This store had a couple of pulls that were 4" apart, and a few 3-3/4" apart but no 5" guys, so I just took them back. I waited until my next set of days off to go to another hardware store, since it's not in the neighbourhood.
So yesterday, I went to the other hardware store and, although they had a pretty small selection of 5" pulls to choose from, they did have a nice set that matched the knobs. I happily took them home only to find they didn't fit either! I re-measured the distance, apparently more carefully this time, and the distance between the screws was 4-1/4". ARRRGGGGGHHH!
Suddenly, I remembered that my own dresser needs new pulls as well; one's bent and one's broken in half. Maybe the new ones would fit my dresser instead, and I could put the knobs from my dresser on the baby's dresser, since they matched. So I went into my room and measured the holes from the pulls against the screws inside the drawer. They didn't match perfectly but they were really close. Maybe I could manipulate the screws to make it fit. So I opened one of the packages and gave it a try. No dice, and now I couldn't return one of the pulls. I measured one of the drawers to see if I could return the other three and buy the right size. The distance was 4-5/8". What the hell was up with these spaces!?! Goddamn antique dressers!
So, the new plan is to use the pulls I bought, but to drill a new hole in each drawer so they will fit. The pulls should cover up the old holes and I figure I will never find ones that fit such oddball spacing anyway. Besides, there is nothing sexier than a pregnant girl with power tools! I should dress up and take photos.

Maternity Scrubs

I went shopping for maternity scrubs yesterday. My "fat" scrubs are becoming too tight, and I will probably only get another week or two out of them, at best. To my knowledge, there are really only three places to get scrubs in my town, and the only place I figured would even have maternity scrubs was the most expensive place. So I went there.

I have only one word to describe what uniform companies call maternity scrub pants: hideous. There were exactly two styles of pant to choose from. The first pair had buttons on the side that you adjust for your belly. Even on the snuggest setting for my belly, the pants ballooned out from the waistband, and the crotch of the pants ended about halfway down my thighs. They then proceeded into a tapered leg through which I just barely fit my foot. To add insult to injury, they were about two inches too long, so the pants bunched up around the tapered leg. The second pair was the same, except it actually had an elastic panel at the waist that I could have easily pulled up to my breasts. Basically, I looked kind of like a Teletubby in a polyester/cotton blend.

My next strategy was to simply buy bigger versions of the scrubs I normally wear. The expensive store wanted $50 each set, which is highway robbery as far as I'm concerned (who wants to pay 50 bucks for something relative strangers are going to vomit and/or poop on?). So, I moved on to the next store. Their scrubs weren't much cheaper ($18 each piece), but I figured I could buy just the pants and wear a t-shirt and jacket on top. They even had flare leg scrubs! The teensy-tiny problem: the medium-sized pants just fit now, so they won't soon. And of course, the large pants fit the waist, but are way too big everywhere else. I swear, it was almost enough to justify going on maternity leave early.

So, two stores, no scrubs. Today I'm going to the last store in the hopes that they will have some pants that fit. If not, you can just call me Po.

Nesting

When I got home from work last night, I found out that my step-daughter is moving out this weekend! She found a nice place not-to-far-away, that was available right away. Don't get me wrong, I will miss having her around; but I must confess that my thoughts almost immediately turned to how I will decorate the baby's new room. After all, I only have four months left.

It's funny how this kind of stuff turns out because yeserday at work, I was talking about how I haven't bought baby furniture yet because there's nowhere to put it. I also mentioned that I hoped my step-daughter would be able to find a place by the spring. So imagine my surprise when I got home to find I can nest!

I had trouble falling asleep last night because I was busy figuring out where to put the crib we now have room for, as well as the dresser, bookshelf and other furniture. Of course, we'll have to have the carpets cleaned first, and wash the walls down, and scrub the windows...okay so I was getting a bit ahead of myself.

It's one of those things where I smugly thought to myself, "I'll never be one of those nesting pregnant women, who get all obesessed with the cleaning and getting the baby's room ready months ahead of time." Yet here I am, virtually squirming in my seat to get my hands on that room.

The last time my step-daughter wasn't living here, we did little else to the room besides vacuum it for two months. Of course, she still had a lot of her stuff here, too, but I think if I weren't pregnant, we would probably just leave that room for a while. That, or my husband would convert it into a storage room.

But now of course, visioins of baby bedding is dancing in my head. And I thought nobody else would notice, but my husband actually said last night, "now you can start nesting, honey." And my step-daughter said the same thing this morning. Well, except for calling me honey.

So, in the next few weeks, if you're wondering what I'm doing, I'll be in the baby's room, nesting. Those who have been there will understand, and those who have not don't laugh too hard because it'll happen to you.

I HATE BCSLSB!!!!!!

So I have to rant about the British Columbia Student Loan Service Bureau (BCSLSB) because I absolutely hate to have to deal with them. My first rant is about my address. They NEVER have my correct address no matter how many times I change it. The most recent address is no exception. I know I changed my address online when I moved a year and a half ago, on the phone last January, by mail last October when I put in an extra payment (more about that in a minute), and on the phone again today. I also changed it online. You're supposed to wait 24 hours for the changes to show up. What are the chances my current address will appear when I check it tomorrow? Not good. It's so frustrating, especially since I need the statements to know how much of my payments go to interest in order to write off the interest on my taxes. Interestingly enough, they have my new last name...
The second rant is about the extra payment in October. My husband and I re-financed our mortgage and got some extra money, so I put a significant amount on my BC student loan (I must admit it was mostly to pay them earlier so I wouldn't have to deal with them anymore). In the accopanying letter, which had my new address on it, I specifically told them to apply the entire amount to the principal; in fact, I think I put it in boldface. Lo and behold, when I look at my payment history, the bastards put about 60 bucks of the money towards interest. I know that compared with the amount I paid it's not much, but I specifically told them not to do that. Are the administrators there able to read? I tried not to use any big words...
I have other rants, like about when you call them, you can't always understand the person on the phone (I'm pretty sure that their call centre is located in India), and the times they took money out of my bank account without telling me, but I don't want to alienate my few readers. I just want to warn those who have BC loans, or are going to get them: if you have to change your address, do it online, check it, and if they don't have it right, do it again. Repeat as needed.
I can't wait to pay these bastards off; the sooner the better.

It's Peanut Butter Jelly Time!

So one of my co-workers told me about this weird Internet video, featuring a dancing banana. The graphics are ridiculously pixelated (think Introduction to Computer Programming 101), and it's pretty stupid when you think about it, but when you see it, it's pretty funny. The link follows:

http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/banana.php
Just a warning though, it'll be stuck in your head for DAYS.
Apparently this video is so popular that a recent "Family Guy" episode featured Brian doing the dance for Peter. I can't post a link but it's on You Tube if you're interested.

You know, this reminds me of the dancing baby from the "Ally McBeal" days. The baby was funny-looking but watching it always made me smile. I still have the file on my computer, but it won't load onto my blog. Once again, You Tube, the mecca of bizarre video, has it.

Yes, I wrote it all myself!

So Christmas is right around the corner, so I have a present for all you nursey types. Enjoy!

The Night Before Christmas, Hospital Style

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the ward
Not a patient was stirring, no sound to be heard;
The IV bags were hung on the poles with great care,
In the hopes they’d keep dripping, not fill up with air;
The patients were tucked up all snug in their beds,
While visions of discharge danced in their heads;
The charting all done, the nurses all sat,
And had just settled down for a long winter’s chat,
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their chairs to see what was the matter.
Away to room 7 they flew like in flight,
Tore open the curtains, and threw on the light.
The lights on the patients, pale as the snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to their faces below,
When what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a great big ol’sleigh and eight fat reindeer,
With a driver in scrubs and headed straight for the wall,
They knew in a moment it was the doctor on call!
More slowly than snails those fat animals came,
As he whined, and snarled, and called them by name;
“Now Pre-op! Now Pnemo! Now PE and Staph!
On Chemo! On Cipro On Flagyl and Ancef!
To the top of the hospital! To the roof of this place!
Now move your fat asses and pick up the pace!”
So up to the helipad the reindeer they flew,
With a sleigh full of BP cuffs and stethoscopes too.
And then in mere moments the nurses heard from the roof
A sound just like thunder from each reindeer hoof.
The nurses drew in their breath and looked out to the hall,
Standing there with a scowl was the doctor on call.
Wearing surgical green form his feet to his head,
He was rumpled and mussed like he fell out of bed;
A bundle of equipment he had flung on his back,
And he looked like he’d just finished at least one six-pack.
His eyes – they were bleary! His expression not merry!
His face was all haggard and his nose like a cherry!
His dry little mouth was drawn up in a frown,
And the beard on his chin was days-old and brown;
The cap of a pen he held clamped in his teeth,
And his stethoscope wrapped round his neck like a wreath;
He had a narrow face but a big old round belly,
That shook when he walked like a bowl full of jelly.
He was tired and grumpy not at all like an elf;
And the nurses backed up in spite of themselves.
A slow blink of his eyes and a shake of his head,
Succeeded in filling the nurses with dread.
He spoke not a word but went straight to work,
Ripped the bandage off one patient’s arm with a jerk,
Then sticking his fat finger right up his nose,
He turned on his heel and up the staircase he rose;
Lumbered up to the sleigh, cracked the whip with such force,
That the reindeer took off like a team of wild horses.
They heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
“It’s Christmas goddamn it, don’t call again tonight!”

I feel a rant coming on...

Okay, so yesterday was an awful day and I feel the need to bitch about it so I can move on. I figured this was a much better forum than complaining at work, especially since I considered bringing up the subject during the next staff meeting, which would make me public enemy number one. The issue is the amount of time the day staff people spend on "breaks."
I am an evening float nurse, which means I work from 3pm to 11pm. Half my shift is with the day staff (they work 7am to 7pm), and the other half is with the night staff. Most days when I start work, a couple of people immediately go for "coffee," which means they pick up a coffee downstairs and then sit in the back room for a few minutes and rest. Sometimes the smokers will go for a smoke break. Most of the time I don't really mind. After all, not everyone goes and they usually only go for half an hour at the most. When I used to work day shift, I would occasionally sit in the back for a few minutes if my rooms were quiet and I had all my charting done. However, if my call bell rang, I would go answer it.
Yesterday, I spent the entire first half of my shift with at least someone on break. And it was BUSY! When I first got there, one of the smokers went for a break, but she was only gone for about 20 minutes. She's pretty good about not going unless her rooms are quiet, and sure enough her call bells did not ring once while she was gone. The three non-smoking nurses went for a break when she came back. They sat in the back room for at least 45 minutes and their bells were going off like fireworks. At one point there were four bells ringing! When I went to the back to ask for help, they complained that the two smokers went on a really long lunch(before I start) and that they had to cover for them, so those two nurses should be helping.
Well, anyone who has a job anywhere knows that what should happen and what does happen are two entirely different things. The one nurse did help with a couple of bells, but the other nurse basically stayed in her rooms the whole time. To be fair, she did have a patient with a GI bleed (bleeding in the gastrointestinal system, a potentially fatal problem). The other float nurse was run off her feet just as much as I was. When all the call bells were ringing, she was trying to admit a patient back from the operating room.
So, the time for first supper break came at around 4:30 and the three nurses were still sitting in the back. The smokers and me were supposed to go for that break, but of course, I couldn't go until the others came back. At 4:40, somebody's PCA (patient controlled analgesia) pump started to beep because the bag was empty. When I went to check what kind of medication was in there, I noticed that the doctor had ordered for it to be replaced with oral medication. I'm pretty sure that my blood sugar was getting low because, while I wasn't mad, I was getting pretty cranky. I went into the back room to make sure the nurse wanted the PCA to be done, and she said yes. I was probably more curt than usual because a couple of minutes later she came out and asked if I was angry with her. I wasn't; I was just frustrated with how busy it was and the fact that I was now 15 minutes late for my own break. She said that it wasn't fair because the smokers go for long breaks and that she shouldn't feel bad for having a break, too. I agree, but I don't think it's fair for me to be covering for three nurses when it's that busy. Anyway, I finally got a break, and when I came back, the floor was just as busy. In fact, the nurses that had the long afternoon break skipped their dinner break because it was too busy to leave(although I'm sure they put in for overtime to make it up).
Okay, so here's the part that drives me nuts everytime the nurses protest about being entitled to an afternoon break: according to our union agreement, we're not. In a 12 hour shift, we are entitled to two half-hour meal breaks and two 15-minute coffee breaks. On most floors including ours, we combine the coffee breaks into an additional meal break. That equals three meal breaks with no afternoon coffee breaks. The culture on our unit also means we usually stretch those meal breaks to about 45 minutes, sometimes an hour. Nobody minds this because everyone does it. The problem comes when 3pm rolls around and people take an extra coffee break. Like I said before, I don't usually mind because it is generally quiet on the floor this time of day and the nurses are usually gone for only a few minutes. But yesterday was ridiculous, as far as I'm concerned. I should not be spending four hours of my shift with at least one nurse off the floor the whole time.
Okay, so now I feel better. And I don't want you to think I don't like my job or my co-workers, because I do. In fact, I know at least a couple of my co-workers will be reading this. I also don't want to make them feel guilty, I just wanted to express how I feel sometimes.
End rant.

This one's for you Rory!

Wow! People actually read my blog! I know this because two different people (okay one of them was my sister) asked me why I haven't posted lately. It's because there's been a lot going on lately, so I'll catch up.
Firstly, my step-daughter had her baby. She had a girl, Ivy Danu, on November 25 at 1pm. Ivy weighed 6lb 8oz at birth but she now weighs more than 8lb! She's a good eater! And she's so cute. I just love her and I can't wait till I have my own little one. She was born with a lot of light brown hair (well, a lot for a newborn) and she's grown even more. I can't wait until she's old enough to smile and laugh. Grandma's got some tricks up her sleeve to make that baby giggle!
Secondly, I have finished the first trimester of my pregnancy. Goodbye morning sickness! I have graduated to eating everything in sight. But I can't eat too much at once, because I still get full easily, just like before I got pregnant. So, I'm eating about every two hours. And when I'm not eating, I'm often thinking about food. Watching tv in the evening can get pretty bad because everything in the commercials looks good. Good thing I don't live within walking distance to any fast food places!













And as if that wasn't enough, the hormones have definitely kicked in mood-wise. I have road rage like you wouldn't believe and I can go from mild-mannered to cranky-pants in seconds. My co-workers already know that my sense of humour leans towards the darker side, but even I can't believe some of the stuff I have said. Of course I can't remember a specific example because I also have full-on baby brain. One day I didn't remember that I kissed my husband hello when he got home from work five minutes earlier!
But lest you think this pregnancy thing ain't all it's cracked up to be, let me tell you the delightful parts. One evening at work, we used the doppler to listen to the baby's hearbeat. It's sooooo cool to hear the "whoosh whoosh whoosh" I have heard so many times before and know it's my baby! There's this whole other being in there! And, I'm starting to show, so on my better days, I feel proud that I have this cute little belly (of course on my hormonal days, I just feel fat). I can't wait until my maternity clothes actually have a belly to fill them out (and people can tell I'm pregnant and not just spending too much time at the dessert table)!
So that's pretty much what's new here. I promise not to wait three weeks to post again. In fact, we're putting up our tree tomorrow night so that should be good for a funny entry. Later gator!

The Worst and Best Day

Before I start, I want to say that everything with the baby is fine. This is so my relatives and friends don't freak out when they read my story.
Yesterday morning started out bad. I woke up and I was bleeding. Not a lot, but it was pretty bright, and there was some mild cramping. I didn't call the doctor right away because my appointment with her was in a hour anyway, but I was concerned. I had spotted a bit during my pregnancy so far, but it was minimal, with no cramping so far. It didn't help that I read in my pregnancy book about molar pregnancies. These are pregnancies where an empty egg is fertilized. All the other tissue is there, but it grows abnormally. So the woman feels pregnant, but no baby. It is rare, but I know a woman who had one. The two main symptoms are bleeding and cramping. So, I immediately started to worry that this was what I had.
Just before I left, my husband called from the doctor's office. The appointment was for 10:30 but he was there at 10. I told him I would be there soon. On the way to the office, I tried to talk logically with myself. I really had no indication that there was anything wrong except for this morning. By the time I left the house, the spotting and cramping had stopped. But there was still this nasty little voice in my head saying maybe there's something wrong. I tried to shut it up by thinking, when I have my appointment I'll hear the baby's heartbeat and everything will be okay. Then just as I was starting to look for parking, I got a call from the doctor's office. Apparently my appointment was for 10:15, so I was now late. I pulled into the first parking spot I could find and ran to the office.
When I got there, the usual office visit stuff was done. My urine was checked for sugars and protein (no worries there) and I was weighed (I gained about 2.5 lb). Then the doctor did a breast exam and got the doppler. I was nervous and excited and anxious. The doctor spent what felt like forever looking for the heartbeat. She said it is hard to find because it's still early. I tried to relax while the doctor kept moving the doppler around my lower abdomen. The longer I waited the more frightened I became. Finally, the doctor gave up. No heartbeat. I have never been so disappointed in my life. It felt like every fear I've had about my pregnancy was just confirmed. The doctor told me I could have an ultrasound today, since I was spotting, just to see what was going on. I agreed and immediately burst into tears. Even now, remembering how scared I was makes me feel like crying again. I can't even describe how bad I felt. I was still crying when I got dressed and went to the waiting room to get my ultrasound appointment. I know that John felt bad for me and was frightened too, probably as much about my reaction as the baby. I could not stop crying. After a few minutes, I got an appointment for 2:45 that afternoon.
John had to drive to his store and do some stuff, but he promised to meet me at the ultrasound lab. Then I called my mom on her cell phone. I should have waited till I got to my car because I couldn't hear her, and she couldn't hear me, and I was trying to explain what was wrong as I was crying, and it was just a big mess. Anyway, we managed to arrange to meet at my house. I barely remember the drive home except I was thinking that if there was something wrong with the baby, I would hate the Justin Timberlake CD that was currently playing in the car.
So Mom came over and she was so reassuring and let me tell her what I was thinking and part of why I was so scared of miscarrying (just before I found out I was pregnant, one of my co-workers miscarried for the second time in a row). Then she blessedly distracted me with gossip and talk of better stuff. We had a lovely lunch, and she kept me company until I had to leave for my appointment. Just before I left, I started to feel better. I started to think how cool it would be to see my little Peanut, if there was one. I even said to the baby, "Time for your big debut!"
I got to the appointment a bit early, and my bladder was absolutely bursting. You have to drink a litre of water an hour before the appointment and you're not allowed to pee. I was nervous when my name was called because John wasn't there yet. The technician assured me that he would be directed to the right room.
The tech confirmed my information and then asked about why I was having the ultrasound. I told her about the spotting and cramping and no heartbeat. Her immediate response was, "Is this your first pregancy?" I laughed and said yes, that's why I was so paranoid. John still wasn't there, but I thought here it goes. I mentally steeled myself to see what looks like snow on the TV, since that is supposedly what a molar pregnancy looks like. And, no snow! Just a beautiful little peanut, waving its arms and legs around! It was absolutely fascinating; I could have watched that screen all day long. Right in the middle of the baby was a little area fluttering just like "butterfly wings in light" as my stepdad described later. The tech explained that the fluttering was the baby's heart. Just then John came in. I excitedly told him everything was okay. The tech took some measurements, including the fetal heart rate (167, normal), and length (3.5 cm). She told me the baby was in the right place in the uterus and it all looked good. Then she gave me my first baby pictures! As soon as the ultrasound was done (and I gratefully emptied my bladder) I called my parents and told them the good news. I was positively giddy with happiness. I could not stop smiling.
So now I have one less thing to worry about this pregnancy, although I know it won't be the last. I also know it won't be the first time the baby worries me so much I'm crying. But that's the joy of parenthood, I guess. Today, I feel a bit silly for freaking out so much, but I'd much rather feel a bit sheepish than spend the next week or two afraid of the worst and not knowing. And as John points out, we got baby pictures out of the ordeal. So one of the worst days I've ever had turned out to be one of the best.

Sympathy Nausea

My husband just called to find out if I was feeling nauseated this morning. He said that he's been feeling queasy in the late morning and early afternoon lately. I actually read about partners of pregnant women experiencing similar symptoms, and it looks like that's happening to my hubby. It's funny but really sweet too. My poor honey! If you're reading this, I'm sorry both of us have to be nauseated, but it's kind of nice to know you understand. I love you.

Milestones

I just realized that in two weeks three momentous things will occur:
1. My step-daughter will have her baby, making me a GRANDMOTHER.
2. I have my first prenatal physical, where I will hear my baby's heartbeat for the first time.
3. I will have my Nintendo Wii.
I have also realized that this is my tenth post. Wow. There must be something going on in the universe.

Not for sissies!

Okay, I admit it. I really thought this whole pregnancy thing would be a breeze. I thought that I would be so excited to finally be pregnant after about 2 years of trying that every day would be a delight. I was arrogant (and foolish) enough to believe that I would be above the mind-numbing fatigue everyone else had because I was fit before I got pregnant. I would still do pilates through my first trimester, and then move on to prenatal yoga. Because I did not get morning sickness right away, I thought I was magically immune. Surely I would be able to eat everything I needed to in order to be healthy; I woulnd't be reduced to eating one thing everyday because it was the only thing I could tolerate. Boy was I wrong!
Before I was pregnant, I almost always stayed up until 1am. I work evenings, so I usually get home around 11:15pm. I only have to get up before 10am if I have an appointment of some sort. So, my pre-pregnancy routine was to come home from work, get ready for bed, and watch TV or read until around 1, and then sleep in until 10am or so. Now, I'm lucky if I can stay up until midnight, and I get up at least twice in the night (more about that later). On the nights I don't work, I can barely stay up until 11:30 to watch "The Daily Show." I still get up at around 10am. And I'm still tired all day. A book I read likened it to being on nighttime cold medication, and that's an accurate analogy. For much of the day, I feel like I've had a big dose of NyQuil (for more on how this makes you feel, read my sister's blog). And exercise? Are you kidding? Walking up a flight of stairs makes me winded. I've never felt so out-of shape in my life.
And then there's the nausea. The closest thing I can compare it to is when I would get motion sick if I read on the bus. Most of the time, it's not so bad that I have to stay in bed, but it makes me feel uneasy because, every so often, my stomach gives a lurch that makes me consider how far it is to the nearest bathroom. Of course the really bizarre thing is feeling nauseated and HUNGRY at the same time. This is not a "oh yeah, I could eat something" kind of hunger. It is the "if I don't eat something right now, someone will be hurt" kind. And there is absolutely no middle ground. I'm either not even remotely interested in food, or I'm ravenous. But because I'm also somewhat queasy, there is often only a couple of things at the time that are appealing. I thought my friend Sandy was silly because in the early months of her pregnancy, all she ate were cheese sandwiches. Now I understand the appeal, because grilled cheese sandwiches have become my saviour. And ginger ale.


Now, I know that I sound like a great big whiner, especially if you've never experienced the miracle of pregnancy. But lest you think this is one big rant, let me tell you about the greatest invention ever: anti-nausea bands.


These little wristbands have a plastic button on them that fits over the NEI-KUAN point on each wrist. This is an accupressure point that reduces nausea, and boy does it work. The first day I wore them, I had absolutely no nausea. I was even able to eat chocolate, which I have been unable to even contemplate before. Yesterday I thought they weren't working because I was still nauseated, but when I took them off, my queasiness went from "mild" to "severe". So, basically they aren't miracle workers. But they allow me to function, so as far as I'm concerned, they're money well spent.
So, I've been humbled by pregnancy, but I've found ways to survive. And I AM really excited and happy to be having a baby. Thanks for reading my whining, and if anyone has any advice or comments, feel free. I'm off to make a grilled cheese sandwich.

Vancouver Island Mommy!

For the 5 or so of you who have read my blog, you may have noticed that I haven't posted in a couple of weeks. That's because I have big news, and I didn't want my friends and family to read about it on a blog before I got to tell them in person. Of course that news is that I'm pregnant!

Of course, I'm not that far along yet; I'm seven weeks and three days, so I'm not even showing. But, I'm really excited. That is, when I'm not nauseated and half-asleep. So, since the cat is out of the bag, I though I'd share my most embarassing (and funny) story so far. It takes place on my birthday, which also happened to be the day for my first prenatal doctor's appointment. I brought my sister-in-law with me, and I thought I would have a physical, but it was just a consultation. No biggie, since having a pap smear is not my idea of a fun birthday activity. Of course, the first thing I was required to do when I arrived was pee in a cup. This was absolutely no problem, since I seem to have to urinate pretty frequently these days. I had my meeting with the doctor and then we met my brother and nephew for lunch.

After lunch, I had to go to the lab for my first set of prenatal blood work. The lab tech seemed to be having a bad day. She was positively grumpy when I arrived. Oh, did I forget to mention the fiasco with my last name? I changed my name after I was married, but in my laziness, did not immediatly change all my ID. In fact, I put off changing my last name on my medical because my medical was being paid by my employer, and I figured they would change it. So, when I got to the doctor's, they still had me under my old last name and I didn't know which name BC Medical had. Anyway, I think they found that it was under my new last name, because the requisitions for the lab work were also under my new last name. The problem is that my care card still has my old last name because it costs $10 to get a new card, and I'm cheap as well as lazy. So, to finally tie this in with the lab tech, she initially printed the labels for my blood work using my old last name. Then she realized that everything else was printed with my new name. I don't think I've heard such an exasperated sigh in a very long time. I just knew she wondered if I was doing this on purpose to ruin her already bad day.

Anyway, after she took like six vials of my blood, she handed me yet another container for a urine sample. I didn't feel like I had to pee, but I've never had a problem before. So imagine my utter dismay and embarassment to find I COULDN'T PEE. I must have sat in that bathroom for 20 minutes with the water running, trying desperately for something, anything to come. But it seemed the more I wanted it to, the less I had to. Finally, to my mortification, the tech knocked on the door to ask if I was okay. I had to tell her I couldn't pee. She suggested I drink a couple of glasses of water to see if that helped. So here I was in the waiting room of the lab, drinking huge glasses of too-cold water and willing my bladder to fill. I had had a large lunch as well, so the more I drank the more bloated and nauseated I started to feel. I began to wonder if I was even pregnant, because I had read that pregnant women pee a lot. Surely, if I was REALLY pregnant, I would have no difficulty. Add to that the fact that my doctor did not do another pregnancy test earlier, and I wondered if I had just imagined it all.

Finally, I could not drink any more water, and the lab was due to close in ten minutes. I crept into the bathroom to try again. You'd think after 3 huge glasses of water, I'd have no problem, right? Wrong. I barely got enough for a decent sample (insert image of urine sample here; I couldn't upload one to my blog). Of course, once I left the lab, I had to pee every hour or so because of all the water I drank. The Goddess has one SICK sense of humour.

Anyway, it's been a week now, and I haven't had anything else that embarrassing happen so far. Of course, as my pregnancy progresses, I'm sure there will be new depths of indignity and humilation to explore. And I'll be sure to share them with you all.

More Wii!

I'm officially a video game junkie. Despite the fact that i have THE FLU, I got up this morning at 7 am, drove to the local mall, and waited outside the EB Games to pre-order my Nintendo Wii. I got there just before 8 am, and there was already a good line-up. In fact, there were two lines, one for the Wii, and one for the Playstation 3. The scary thing I noticed about the Wii line was that, except for a mother waiting with her son, I was the only female. I was also probably the oldest person in line, again except for the mother. However, we all had one thing in common: we were gamers, and that transcends age and gender. Not once did I feel like, "What am I doing here?" After all, we nerds need to stick together.

Armed with my new Nintendo DS, I sat down on the cold mall floor to wait. One of the guys in line said he heard that the EB Games would open at 8:30 to do the pre-orders. I felt like I got here just in time, especially since I figured they would only have 10-12 pre-orders available. I was lucky number 8, so I was confident that I was in. At around 9 am, the EB Games guy arrived. He came out a few minutes later and said, "Do you want the good news first?" One guy actually said, "No, give us the bad news first so we have something to look forward to!" Anyway, the good news was that there were, in fact, 12 pre-orders for the Wii. The bad news was that there were only 5 pre-orders for the PS3. Sadly, the PS3 line-up was longer than that for the Wii, and the first couple of people were carrying SLEEPING BAGS. Needless to say, there were some unhappy campers in PS3 land.

By far the funniest part of the whole pre-order experience was the organization. Firstly, the customers were only allowed in the store two-at-a-time, one from each line. The employees lifted the gate (using their magical key), ushered the lucky two inside, and then lowered the gate again. Secondly, there was a mall security guard present the whole time. I guess there was some concern that we would get unruly and start duking it out in the middle of the line-up, or we would rush into the store and shove our way to the front. Or maybe those unlucky bastards in the PS3 line would cause a riot and loot the store. In any case, anyone who lives on the Island knows that we are WAAAAAY to laid back for that.

So, after waiting for an hour and a half, I was the proud owner of a Wii pre-order. Those who read my previous post about the Wii will not be surprised to learn I also ordered the "Twilight Princess" game. To the average person (and those giving us strange looks in the mall), I waited for an hour and a half and paid $200 for a piece of paper. But to me, I bought my ticket to join the few who would have a Wii on launch day (provided that there are no shipping problems). Cheers!

The Party Curse

I'm beginning to wonder if our house is cursed for parties. Last year, we held Thanksgiving at our place. That same day, my brother and his girlfriend broke up, so needless to say, they did not attend. My sister had to go back to school, so she only stayed for about an hour, and my mom had to leave to drop her off. My stepdad was working so he came late, and, to top it all off, my husband had a hissy fit. One of my friends, whom I invited since she had no plans, brought her ex-boyfriend who DID NOT get along with my husband. He was pissed that this guy was here and when someone knocked over one if his things, he totally blew up. Luckily, he waited until after dinner, but the party was pretty much over after that.
Then, this summer, I threw a party for my husband's birthday, and nobody showed up except for my parents. My friend from work completely forgot until the next morning, and my other friend and her husband had to work. The couple of friends that my husband managed to remember to invite had something they couldn't get out of, but he forgot to tell me until that night. And, another couple of friends got the day wrong and showed up the next day, only to find nobody home! I visited with my parents and felt like crying. My husband, who apparently didn't really want a party anyway but didn't say anything, played video games on his computer.
The third curse was my step-daughter's baby shower. The first problem was the time. I left the date and time up to her, and she picked Friday the 13th (I know, I know, tempting fate) at 2pm. Imagine my surprise when 2:30 came and went and no guest of honour. I called her at work (it was her last day), when she informed me that she thought the shower started at 5pm, and that's what she told her friends. I had told everyone the shower started at 2... Of course, that proved to be a minor detail, since the second problem was a distinct lack of attendees. I invited a few friends of the family (who didn't show up), and I left it to my step-daughter to invite whichever friends she wanted. She ended up inviting four people, and only one of them was here. One wanted to go drinking with her boyfriend instead, one had to work, and one had a horrible day and didn't want to bring everyone else down. Once, again it was mostly my family who was present.
So now I'm wary about throwing any more parties. We're thinking about having Yule dinner at our place, but who knows if anyone will come? Then again, maybe bad things come in threes, so maybe the curse is lifted. What I do know is that I'll leave the invitations to me.

Wii, Wii, Wii

I have a confession to make: I'm dying for the Nintendo Wii to come out. It'll be released on November 19, and I'm trying my darndest to pre-order it. I check the Future Shop website every morning to see if they're taking pre-orders. In fact, I've checked my work schedule to make sure I have a couple of days off, just to play with my Wii (sorry, couldn't resist).

Happily, the Wii comes with a game, Wii Sports, which should be a good way to get used to the motion sensor system. With this system, I'll be able to hit a baseball by swinging my arm like I'm holding a bat. Of course, what I'm REALLY waiting for is the chance to play "Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess," which was supposed to come out for the Gamecube last Christmas.

Just thinking about playing this game makes me do a little happy dance as I sit on my fitness ball. So, just as a warning to all my family and friends, don't expect to see much of me after November 19. I'll be surgically attached to my game-playing chair, with my arm swinging madly about and cursing up a storm (but only if the game is really challenging!). Ooh, I can't wait!