I hate Pennsylvania

 

I took these this morning as I did a half ass job of cleaning off my car of the 3 inches of snow & 2 inches of ice.  The second picture is of my driver’s side window from inside the car….Except I had already rolled down the window so it was just a solid chunk of ice masquerading as my window.  Fun times here in PA….fun times….

Separation

I’ve made reference in a couple of posts now that I’ve been very stressed lately and that my marriage has been in trouble.  After much discussion, ‘S’ and I have decided to separate after 7 1/2 years of marriage.  He has found an apartment and starts moving out on the 30th, completely moving out once his furniture is delivered.  For the time being this is a trial separation.  We are going to see if we can’t somehow pull things together by the end of the year. However, if we have not made strides in that direction by December, we will file for divorce at that time

I always hate it when marriages break down and everyone suddenly has to be nasty as hell to one another.  I understand the feelings are raw during this time and of course being a couple means you know how to push each others ‘buttons’ like masters, but I think this just makes it harder for all parties involved.  I grew up with parents who actively disliked each other to put it mildly.  And while ‘S’ and I don’t have children, I think it still takes a toll to try to see who can out do the other.  So, I’ve decided to take the high road on this and keep it as civil as possible.  Don’t get me wrong, there are days that I am very angry and hurt and will lash out, but for the most part things have been pretty cordial.  I think a big part of this might be because I’m not really hung up on material items and second, ‘S’ is feeling kind of bad about this whole thing.  Although for the record,  it’s going to appear as if we are divorcing now since ‘S’ has purchased a whole new furniture set for his apartment and we are splitting ALL goods since he is paranoid that my good graces will disappear sometime down the road and I’ll “take anything that isn’t nailed down”.  So he’s taking everything he deems is “his” now, so I don’t later have a bonfire with it.  I’ll be honest, it irritates me that I’ve been deemed guilty on that front even though I’ve done NOTHING of the sort, but whatever.

On that note we have started packing his belongings and it was interesting last night when we were splitting up our movie collection, which for the record is quite large.  The funny thing is it came down to just two TV series, Family Guy & Aqua Teen Hunger Force.  We both wanted them.  There were a couple of others that were in the “both want” mix, but those were the two biggies.  We decided to compromise and I took Family Guy and he took Aqua Teen Hunger Force.  Neither of us were thrilled, but it was fair.  So far that’s been the tensest moment while splitting things up, but he’s a procrastinator so there might be more interesting moments before he’s settled in the new place.  We’ll have to see.

Friendship

I have been absent from this site for several weeks now as I have been dealing with several stressful issues lately.  To be honest, these past 8 weeks might be the worst of my life to date, but perhaps it just feels that way as they are most fresh in my mind.  From having my baby die, the loss of my beloved grandfather, the possible end of my marriage, and now the loss of a large part of my salary…I’ve felt that the world of safety and security that I’d built for myself has been left in ruins.  It has left me weary and beaten down by life.

Yet in even my darkest hours of late, I have felt loved…. for I find that I have been blessed with the gift of true friendship.  I have discovered that my friends, whom I have rarely leaned on in the past, have come out of the woodwork to offer their strength, support, love, and most importantly laughter.  They have cried for me when my heart has been so full of sorrow and grief that I could not find the tears.  Been angry on my behalf, when I have been so numb I could not raise my own voice in defense, and have kept my spirits upbeat even when I felt that I could sink into a sea of depression.  They have been my constant reminders that all has not been lost, but merely altered from what I had originally planned.

This is not a debt that I’ve accepted lightly nor feel that I could ever repay, nevertheless it’s one I’m eternally grateful for, and for that I thank you all.

 

“To have a good friend is one of the highest delights of life; to be a good friend is one of the noblest and most difficult undertakings.”

— Anon

Insane laws made by stupid people

I got an interesting call last night from a friend of mine.  She had just heard about the miscarriage and had wanted to call and see how I was doing.  She too had one years ago when she was a little farther along than myself.  She then mentioned something that surprised me at the time, but now just pisses me off.

Apparently the law in Pennsylvania is that if you are pregnant and miscarry 16 weeks or later, you are required by law to both name and bury/cremate the fetus.  I thought she had to be mistaken so I looked it up.  She was correct.  The state then issues a Fetal Death Certificate with its name, yours, and the father’s.

THAT IS INSANE!!!

Now I could see it being an option for those people who either for religious or emotional reasons need that type of closure.  However, by making it law, it drags those who maybe don’t wish to name it or bury it to deal with the further pain of putting a name to the fetus, which in my opinion personalizes it even further.  One would then have to deal with a funeral home or crematorium to dispose of the body.  Then you’d have to deal with headstones or find a location to spread the ashes.  So it would just go on…..and on……and on…..  Instead of being able to move on at one’s own pace.

Because I miscarried at 15 weeks, I was spared all of this.  But only by 7 days.  If the fetus had lived just 7 days longer I would have been forced BY LAW to have named it and buried or cremated it.  Talk about screwing with one’s head.  Because I didn’t have to deal with all of the above bullshit, I’m feeling better every day about it and don’t think about it as much anymore — maybe just once or twice a day now.  However, had I been forced to deal with both a name and a burial or cremation — I’m not even sure I would have been okay to go back to work this week since I probably would still be dealing with the funeral home even now because of the holiday.

This is what happens when people who have either a very strong religious or moral views are allowed to have influence over laws.  There is NO REASON why they would have to go this far for a fetus that I personally feel has no rights until it can survive on its own without the mother.  I am not opposed to letting people have options on what to do, but find it asinine that someone would have made this into a law, and thereby drag out people’s emotional pain, and added financial expense, when it serves no greater good.

Just can’t catch a break

‘S’ and I just got back last night from Thanksgiving down in South Carolina where his family is.  We had a great time and I think it did both of us a lot of good not being at home with just the two of us.  We needed some distractions and so it was a big help being away from everything.  My hormones had crashed Tues & Wed and so I would just randomly start crying over anything and would spend hours laying in bed lost in my own thoughts, unable to sleep.  Not a healthy state for either of us.  Work took a backseat for us both and while ‘S’ might take some flack for that since his store went to shit over the week, my work was awesome and since I took care of the bare minimum each day I didn’t walk into a mess today.

We stayed with my sister-in-law and her family over the holidays.  They have a gorgeous house with a kitchen that makes me want to drool.  She said they are so busy though with their children’s activities that they don’t cook all that often which I thought was a shame.  They had a guest suite upstairs away from the rest of the house which was great since it gave us some privacy while we were there.  I was feeling a lot better by the weekend as my hormones had leveled out and I had started to sleep through the night again.  However, I was changing to get ready for bed on Saturday and I realized shortly after changing into my night shirt that the front of the shirt was wet.  Not sure what was going on I took off the shirt and that’s when I realized I was lactating!!  I don’t know why but I was horrified.  For some reason it did not occure to me that this could happen.  ‘S’ on the other hand was not surprised at all since he had said that the doctor had told us this could happen.  For the record, I don’t recall that conversation at all but it must have taken place since he was not surprised.

I don’t know why but I find this so embaressing.  It would be one thing if I actually had a baby but the fact that my body is confused and acting on instinct is so embaressing and vexing.  I’m a small control freak and so the fact that I have no control over this is beyond annoying to me.  ‘S’ and I we went online to find out what I can do to stop it.  We read everything from drinking peperment tea, to breast binding, even putting cold cabbage inside your bra to keep them cool.  Since I didn’t have any cabbage handy I’m at work now wearing a sports bra stuffed with tissue, to prevent leaking, with a huge bag of ice lying on my chest.  The funny thing is no one has asked yet what the deal is with the ice which I think is kind of funny in itself.

I just keep telling myself, I just need to get past this part and it’ll all be over.  Maybe then I can catch a break!

Our Profound Loss

As a few of you may already be aware of, I suffered a miscarriage late Saturday/early Sunday morning.  I was 15 weeks (3 months and 3 weeks).  As I pulled out our laptop to write this post I thought about doing just a simple announcement and leaving it at that.  However, in my need to process what happened now that it is done, I find myself wanting to write about it in an attempt to understand.  I seek no explanations, nor gestures of sympathy from you, my readers, but rather I’m using this post as a means to remember what occurred and come to terms with it in my own mind.  I’m therefor warning you before you read further that this post may not be for everyone.  It was not a gentle miscarriage (I don’t know if many are) and I may be too graphic at times, also some events might be out of order (‘S’ would know better than I) since I was not in a good place physically or mentally for most of this….

I woke up early Saturday morning and had some minor cramping that was occurring on and off.  Now many of you may be thinking that this should have been my first sign that something was wrong and you would be right, heindsight is always 20/20.  However to me it felt like gas pain.  After having problems with pooping over the past 3 months, this was not an uncommon pain to me.  I also had no bleeding so I was not alarmed.  I massaged my stomach and after about 2 hours most of the pains went away.  I then went about my weekend as I normally would, laundry, watching some TV, and general pickup.  I did not however, feel 100% as my stomach would slighty cramp every now and again.  ‘S’ came home early and we laid down for a nap.  I woke up to cramping around 8pm and it steadily built over the next few hours.  By 11pm I was not a happy camper and was making constant trips to the bathroom and walking the hall in an attempt to ease my suffering.  I told ‘S’ it felt like the gas pain I had this morning and if I could just pass it I would be fine.  He went online and saw that I could take Gas-X while pregnant and offered to run to the store to get me some.  I was all for it and he left the house while I went back to the bathroom.

‘S’ was gone for maybe 5 min when I got up off the toilet and decided to walk the hall again.  I made it only a step away from the toilet when I got a horrible cramp (contraction) that bent me over and I felt something shift inside of me and slide down.  I reached between my legs and felt something solid half hanging out of me.  I cramped again and the baby slid out of me, into my hand.  I stared at it completely stunned.  It was the length of my hand and looked fully formed with a large head, complete with hands, legs and feet. Horrifyingly enough it even had short blonde hair covering it’s little head.  I dropped it onto the floor and started crying and screaming, “No!” over and over again.

I also realized at this time that when the baby came out I had started to bleed as if someone had turned on a faucet.  My legs were covered it blood from crotch to ankles and was continuing to pour out.  I sat back on the toilet for a few minutes trying to decide what to do.  I had 1,000 thoughts going through my head and my mind was racing.  I knew I needed help fast though as I was already getting dizzy and the blood was still pouring out of me, but I was also still reeling from the shock of the baby laying at my feet with it’s detached cord and I was shaking from head to toe.  I grabbed the pants I was wearing and held them between my legs as I ran for the phone.  Of course the damn phone was downstairs so I retraced my steps and went downstairs to get the house phone.  I immediately went back upstairs and sat on the toilet as I had already soaked through the pants I had bunched between my legs.  I called ‘S’ but he didn’t answer (his ringer was off).  I don’t know why but the next number I called was my mother, who of course in 2,000 miles away, so not like she could do anything.  But I needed someone and didn’t know who else to call.  I don’t recall everything I said to her but I know I was crying and hysterical at this point.  I think I just kept saying that the baby was on the bathroom floor since that’s all I could think of at that moment.  ‘S’ called me back then and I hung up with my mother and answered the line.  I don’t recall everything that I said to him, and he doesn’t remember either although I remember us talking.  He told me later he heard me say “The baby’s laying on the bathroom floor” and me screaming and crying and he left the checkout line in a dead run for the car.  I do remember him saying “Shhhhhh, Shhhhhh” over and over trying to get me to calm down a little.

I have to give ‘S’ a lot of credit here.  He kept his cool walking into a HORRIFIC scene.  It looked like someone had slaughtered an animal in our bathroom.  I was sitting on a toilet that was covered in blood, including all the way down the front.  I too, was covered in blood from my wrists down, and both my legs were completely coated in blood.  As if that wasn’t enough, there was also a large pool of blood on the bathroom floor and laying in the middle of it, face down, was the fetus.  He told me later he was terrified for me just on the amount of blood he was seeing.  He helped me into the bathtub and rinse everything off, threw some clothes at me and then I got a towel and I picked up the baby and put it in a ziplock bag and we raced to the emergency room.  I had not stopped bleeding through any of this.  I was also still having contractions and after each one I would have a large gush of blood come out.  We walked into the ER and I remember seeing people waiting but as soon as we walked in I got another contraction and soaked through both the jumbo pad and pants I was wearing all the way down to my ankles.  After that they put me into a wheelchair and took me back immediately.  I remember being slightly amused by the young ER nurse’s face and her whispering frantically into the phone telling someone she had someone bleeding out in the ER and didn’t know what to do.

Have you ever been in the ER before and you saw a nurse here or there but it seemed like everyone was standing around doing nothing while you waited?  I’ve had that before and have almost felt neglected.  I mean, when you go to the ER, you expect them to be racing around you frantically making all your boo boo’s better.  There was no neglected feeling on this visit.  I was taken to a large one person triage room and there were nurses everywhere.  I was stripped and on a bed with a large pad underneath me in moments.  ‘S’ came in from parking the car and they were already trying to get an IV line in and blood pressure.  I was in full shock during this.  I was shaking so bad I had no control over my limbs anymore.  I also was unable to maintain body temperature and my blood pressure was so low I kept setting off the alarm every time it would auto check my BP.  ‘S’ said I had 2 bags of IV fluid in less than 30 min.  The whole time I’m still contracting and bleeding.  The ER doctor came in and explained that she was going to do an internal exam and that I probably have either clots or part of the placenta holding my cervix open and causing the cramping.  If she could get them out then the cramping would stop.  So she worked on me for about 30 min, and I’ll be honest, we had some terse words back and forth a couple of times.  Every time I would have a cramp she would say, “Now I need you to relax and stop tensing cause I can’t see” and I finally told her. “Well if you quite touching me when I’m having a cramp I could relax between them!!”  Finally she said she thought she got it all.  But after she left the cramping didn’t stop, in fact it got much, much worse.  They had given me a small pain killer around this point which was kind of a joke cause it wasn’t doing shit.

Finally the OBGYN came in and let me tell you, she was a blessing.  She told me she was going to do the same exam since the ER doctor had not gotten everything as I was still bleeding out and cramping hard.  She told me I was in full labor at this point and to tell her each time I got a contraction and she would stop touching me until it eased up,  She also got me a warm blanket to try to help the shivers so I could relax between them.  Then she told me to push with each contraction and even though I would lose more blood, hopefully I would expel everything at the same time which would end everything.  She too worked on me for 30 min. but all to no avail.  I was having back to back contractions at this point and was in so much pain I almost couldn’t stand for anyone to touch me.  The whole time through every bit of this, ‘S’ stood by my side either holding my hand or at the end when I was gripping the railing and screaming, petting my hair.

She finally recommended that I go in for a D&C – I don’t remember what she told me it was but I looked it up later.  It’s a “surgical procedure often performed after a first trimester miscarriage. Dilation means to open up the cervix; curettage means to remove the contents of the uterus. Curettage may be performed by scraping the uterine wall with a curette instrument or by a suction curettage (also called vacuum aspiration), using a vacuum-type instrument.”  It sounds just awful and I remember giving my consent and when she went over the risks and the things that could happen such as the sharp curette going through the uterus, and I told her I didn’t consent to that part, but I was all for doing the rest.  Apparently I have a screwed up sense of humor even when I’m in agony.  It seemed like it took forever before I was wheeled back.  I wasn’t completely out of it but was sedated enough that I don’t remember any of it.  Apparently I talk to her during and afterwards and she told me she was laughing at the end cause I very nicely asked her if she would mind cleaning me up while she was down there.  Apparently being cleaned up was something I asked for over and over again both in the ER and afterwards.  I don’t really recall it as much but I remember not liking the feel of the sticky blood on my legs and butt, however it was a never ending battle.  Even though I remember a nurse trying to sponge me off and them changing the pad underneath me over and over again.  The next morning we found out that the D&C was absolutely necessary as I had only passed part of the placenta and a huge piece had been holding my cervix open which was why I had been in such pain for the last 30 min.

After all this, I was in a hospital room and ‘S’ and I got to try to process everything that had happened.  We seemed very normal, as in we went through a traumatic experience but that we both lived through it and it was in the past.  We talked a little about the baby and what each was feeling.  Both of us decided that we really weren’t that upset because with so many problems over the past month we had kind of distanced ourselves emotionally from the pregnancy.  I think we both feel sad and disappointed, but not devastated.  I remember someone saying that seeing a pregnant person on the street or TV was upsetting to them after they miscarried, but I haven’t had that problem at all.  Perhaps my grief will come later, or maybe I already did the majority of my grieving while the baby laid at my feet.  I really just don’t know.  Right now I’m seeking some return to normal.  Getting up, going to work, taking care of the needs of the house.  I’m very weak however, as I lost a large amount of blood.  I get tired after just going up a flight of stairs and need to sit down and rest.  I’m also very sore and still have minor cramping.  I’m going to take it easy this week and ease into things and just kind of play it by ear.  In the meantime, ‘S’ and I will keep talking and seeing how we feel.  I don’t think we’re opposed to trying again.  But I won’t lie, I am fearful of experiencing both the pain and the loss again.

Ask to look at what?!?!

When ‘S’ and I announced to family and friends that we were pregnant, one kind family member immediately went out and ordered us 2 books.  “What to Expect When Your Expecting” for me and “The Expectant Father” for ‘S’.  The ironic thing is it arrived when we were in the midst of dealing with a miscarriage scare so she was worried about upsetting me as it arrived on one of the days I posted about the possibility of miscarriage.  I was running on about 5 hours of sleep for 3 days so I didn’t really care, or pay much attention to anything so it was all good in the end.  Anyway, ‘S’ finally cracked open his book last night and was telling me a little about what was in it.  First, I think the guy is a little obsessive.  Apparently he was very INVOLVED in the pregnancy to the point where I think he may have even helped choose which OB they went to and setup his wife’s appointments.

‘S’ was a little disturbed/amused by one page in the book where it was talking about how when a guy’s “partner” is at her OB appointment and she’s up in the stirrups, that the man should ask to see his partner’s cervix.  I was a little confused when ‘S’ he was telling me this and so you might be as well.  What the author is saying, is while I would be up in the stirrups with a speculum in me that ‘S’ should speak up and request to take a peek up inside of me to see my cervix….

WHY??  Why would anyone who is not in the medical profession want to take a peek at another person’s cervix or any organ for that matter?    And it’s not like you’re looking at the womb where the baby is.  I can only imagine if ‘S’ had actually made this request while we were at our first appointment.  I probably would have given myself whiplash from turning to look at him while saying, “What the hell….”.  As you can probably imagine, this is not going to happen.  Not only because I don’t believe that’s anything he needs to see, but also because ‘S’ also believes that this is something that he could happily go to his grave not seeing as well.

At the end of this particular chapter it does have an add-on at the end saying that you should probably speak to your partner before hand about wanting to take a look.  Ya think??  I can’t even imagine how a man would go about starting that conversation, even if it is his wife.  Maybe her response could be, “Sure honey, if next time you have a prostate exam I could participate with a finger or two of my own.”  Fair is fair after all…..  

Me, You, I, We

I’ve used the term “walking on eggshells” to describe different people in discussions before.  Normally I’m referring to when a person is very sensitive to the way others phrase sentences or use specific words.  However, I’ve come to the conclusion that we all have eggshells, just some are harder than others. 

I would say that I’m a hard boiled eggshell.  I’m not one that people have to filter what they say, nor do I put a whole lot of stock in the way that people phrase a specific sentence.  Seriously…I believe there are WAY more important things that I could focus on and have emotions about than what words someone uses to communicate something.  Now I’m not talking about swear words and angry arguments.  I’m talking about the words you and I would use while having a discussion about something important or inane.

However, I realize that there are a lot of people out there who ARE sensitive to such things.  Everyone has a different degree of sensitivity, and in different situations.  I used to be oblivious to this before and I believe that it made me come across as both insensitive to other’s feeling as well as just being a jerk in general.  I would just plow along in my own merry way, indifferent to the casualties I left in my wake.  Over the years I have matured, and have made efforts to become more sensitive to other’s while still maintaining my own insensitivity to the way people talk to me.  However, this is not a natural state for me as most people talk to other’s the way they would like to be talked to.  Since I don’t care what other’s say to me, it’s a conscious effort on my part to try to not offend others and I will admit that there are times when I do slip up.

I’m laying all of this out so that I can explain why I felt that I was damned either way earlier this afternoon.  A little bit of background here….

I work in an office with both engineers and sales people.  A few months ago, I was called on the carpet by a few of my co-works for my use of “I” and “my”.  Specifically, when I would say something such as “my partners”, meaning the partners that I specifically worked with and no other sales people did.  This is a common phrase in sales but the engineers took exception to it as they saw the partners as “our partners”, meaning the whole companies and therefore all of the employees.  The other thing they didn’t like was my use of “I”.  As in “I would take care of something, or I needed some specific information.”  They felt that everyone in the company was a team and so therefore the word I should use is “we” as in the team. While all of this seems very insignificant to me in the big scheme of things, once they brought it to my attention, I worked hard on my phrasing over the past few months and had all but eliminated “I” and “my” from my work vocabulary.

Today we had a conference call with our new sales managers and teammates in CA.  During the call they asked if we had any questions.  Because there had been some question in our office  from a couple of sales people about one of the documents that had been sent, I spoke up and said “Yes, we in Pennsylvania had a question about one of the contracts….”.  About an hour later I was sitting at my desk when one of my co-workers walked up to me and very calmly said that they did not like the way that I use “we” in both talking in the conference call and in e-mails.  (I believe I may have sent some e-mails with some questions and everyone in sales had been cc’d on the e-mails)  They felt that I may not have even been aware what I was doing, but that by putting “we” instead of “I” in the sentence I had made myself an undeclared spokesperson of the group.  And they felt that they may not have had those questions, but was automatically included because I used “we”.

Well fuck a duck….

Here I was using the word “we” instead of “I” in both speech and writing to be part of the “team” and have it so that everyone could benefit from me putting myself out there and being the one to ask the question and I still get screwed.  Before when I used to use “I” and would send an e-mail with a question to our boss or other party, often only I got a reply.  But when I started using “we”, I found that many times the person would reply to all of sales and we would all benefit from the answer, regardless of who may or may not have also had the question at that particular moment.  Also, I thought I was using the correct phrasing because “we” as in the sales team, was getting a question answered.  Isn’t the old saying, there is no “I” in team?

Since this type of sensitivity does not come naturally to me — I have to ask, and would honestly like to hear your opinions.  Do you honestly think I’m out of line on the “me, you, I, we” phrasing??

My line in the sand

I’ve just decided to become the most difficult patient at my OBGYN’s office.  I don’t claim this title lightly or without thought.  Here’s my reasoning….

I’m a pretty well informed person on most issues.  Normally this is because I pay attention to what others have to say when they are going through things.  I also am completely addicted to CNN.com and read a variety of articles on all sorts of subjects.  Because of this I normally have strong views on what I want when it comes to either financially, medically, politically, etc.  The exception to this rule is pregnancy and children.  I never thought I would get pregnant or have a child so honestly, I would get really bored and kind of check out when people would be talking about their pregnancy or child.  (Sorry out there to all of my friends who have children)  I’m not that way anymore, but I have a lot of catching up to do.  Because of my lack of information on pregnancy and babies, I’ve been very much just going with the flow of what the nurses and midwives want to do with me and what tests they want to run.  Not anymore.

Tonight I’ve decided to draw my line in the sand and make any person who want’s to run a test or procedure explain to me IN FULL why they want to do it.  If they can’t sell me on it, it’s not going to happen.  I’m tired of just letting them run tests, poke and prod me with no explanation because they think they know best.  I know my body, and what feels normal, and also know when I’m feeling off.  I believe everyone should do this.  Become an informed patient when it comes to your health.  DO NOT sit back and become passive in your own health care.  Most doctors are well trained and have good intentions, but they are not Gods, no matter how some might view themselves, and are not infallible.  Sometimes you have to throw a tantrum to make yourself heard, but do not be afraid.  At the end of the day, you are the one who has to live with what is or is not done to you.  So if you are not convinced, ask questions, make them, make you feel comfortable with whatever test or procedure.  If you’re not 100% comfortable, refuse the procedure.  This is a double edged sword since “informed consent” is rather an oxymoron since most of us have not gone to medical school.  However, I place some of this burden on the doctors.  It is their responsibility to inform us of both of the benefits and risk of any procedure, if they fail in that endeavor than you should not consent.  Or in the very least get a second opinion.

Here’s is just one example of why I’m fustrated with the medical field.  I had a blood test a few weeks ago to check my hormone levels.  Those of you who know me well and have been with me when someone is holding a needle, know that I have a great hate for needles.  Now I know no one is exactly fond of getting a blood test or shot but mine is not just a dislike.  I actually get minor panic attacks from them and have actually passed out after getting poked.  Knowing they normally run a battery of standard tests when one is pregnant I called in to my doctor’s office and asked if they could add those tests to the order for the hormone test since they already would be sticking me.  This way I could avoid an extra poke, and all they would have to do is draw another vial of blood.  They said no.  But guess what I got when I went to the doctors last week?  An order for me to go down to the lab and have a blood test for the standard tests.  I’ve decided I’m not getting the blood test since it was apparently not important enough a couple of weeks ago.  It can’t be that critical now.  I had one of these tests done in Jan of this year and since I haven’t had any other sexual partners other than ‘S’ and I’m not on the street corner sharing needles so honestly I believe we are in over kill.  I am not going to be the one size of standard care kind of girl.

Now there are some concessions I’m willing to make as far as the pregnancy.  I will go to my monthy appointments, but what I’ll allow them to do while I’m there is in question.  Since every doctor is different and I’ve really only been to my first appointment, the others we will be playing by ear.  I can tell you right now that I’m not jumping up into the stirrups every month.  That just seems excessive with no real benefit to me and actually risks infection.  Originally I had also decided not to have anymore ultrasound done since I’ve had 4 to date but none of them has seemed to do a lick of good in answering why I keep bleeding.  However, ‘S’ did not like this idea and I believe they give him some peace of mind that they baby is still there.  So for his sake I will endure if they order anymore.  However, I have decided that we are going to wait for all vaccinations for the child until he/she is older.  I have read too much about parents who say their child was fine before vaccinations only to show autistic tendencies after, especially after the MMR vaccination.  I realize there is no proof of this but neither have there been any extensive studies either.  I also know that even though by law doctors are required to report any side effects of vaccinations, they do not.  I myself had a Tetnis shot when I was younger and had a bad reaction.  I know for a fact that my doctor brushed it off as nothing and didn’t report it.

As for my leg, as soon as this pregnancy is over I’m going to find the best orthopedic surgeon in the North East and get an appointment with them to review my leg.  Since my current surgeon would like to put me under the knife again and I’m still having problems with the joint, I’m going to get a second and then a third opinion.  Before I even think about going undergoing surgery again I’m also going to make an appointment at the Mayo Clinic and even if I have to fly to one, I will have some of the best doctors in the country look at it before I do anything to it.  I already made one mistake with the doctor I ended up with by default who could not manage my pain nor send me to physical therapy when I should have gone.  Now I’m paying the price.  Once again, doctors do not know everything.

I realize that this post has been more on a soap box than most.  ‘S’ already had to endure my speech on this earlier tonight and remarked that in all the years he’s known me I had more conviction in my tone about this than ever before.  I’ve decided that this is far too serious to be passive about, nor view with a sense of humor.  Far too much is at stake.

Our Blob

So ‘S’ and I had a doctors appointment earlier this week to meet the midwife and really have the first pregnancy exam even though I had been there a couple of times before for other stuff.  Since all of the typical pregnancy symptoms such as nausea, sore breasts, etc had gone away for me, but I was still in the 1st trimester and have been spotting nonstop; there was a question of if I had possibly miscarried, so before we did the typical exam we did the ultrasound….again.  Above you can see our little blob that is still hanging on.  I think it’s kind of funny that he’s hanging upside down though.  The blob in itself as a photo isn’t that fascinating cause it’s just, well… a fuzzy blob.  But it was kind of cool when the dildo cam (internal ultrasound) was “live” cause you could see it’s heartbeat as well as it’s little flippers waving.  Very cool, but also very surreal feeling.  I still have moments were I go….Naw, this can’t be real, I’m not really pregnant.

Anyway — as promised, I’ll talk about the things that happens during these exams that NO ONE else seems to want to talk about…..all for your amusement.  This actually kind of irritated me and ‘S’ had to deal with me venting about it in the exam room, on the way home, and then later that evening.  As I mentioned they did the internal ultrasound with the dildo cam.  Now of course before inserting this probe she lubed that baby up….a lot.  After that she did an visual exam with the speculum, which for the record, is never very comfortable.  Anyway, before inserting the speculum, she covered it in lube….to the point that it was dripping.  While down there she put something else up there which I have no doubt was also drowning in lube.  Finally, she got up and went to the counter, grabbed a tube and proceeded to squeeze a HUGE pile of lube, like 1/4 of the tube in her gloved hand, and said she needed to check my hips to make sure I wasn’t too narrow.  With her handful of lube, if felt like she then tried to shove her entire fist up my hoo hoo.

Now I have no problem with the exam.  Really.  What I didn’t like and was just a little too stunned at first to say anything about, was the fact that I now had practically a tube of lube shoved up inside of me.  Seriously folks,  there was no risk of friction after the dildo cam.  I was WELL lubed after that baby.  After the exam she had me sit up and handed me ONE Kleenex when I asked for some wipes, and started to talk with us, go over our histories, etc.  I got the Kleenex to my thigh and it was so soaked the lube was actually pouring off it.  She was talking but I completely checked out at this point.  All I could feel was the lube she had shoved up inside of me actually leaking out onto the table.   All the while, I’m holding this dripping Kleenex, cause she didn’t bring the trash to me, which was across the room.  It was beyond gross.  I interrupted her, told her that I wanted to clean up, get dressed, and then talk, cause I wasn’t paying any attention to her.  She looked a little flustered but then left the room.

I hooped off the table and started bitching like crazy.  I ignored the little Kleenex box she left me and went straight for the paper towels.  It was just nasty.   My legs were covered in sticky lube almost to my knees and it took the whole stack before I felt like I could even think about getting dressed.  All the while I’m cleaning and wiping myself in front of ‘S’ and let me tell you, nothing says “you’re so sexy” than watching your wife scrub between her legs with some paper towels while wearing an muumuu hospital gown.  And of course you ladies know that that’s not the end of it.  Cause what goes up must come down.  So for the rest of the day I was running to the bathroom to clean up again and again.

This midwife was not my favorite by far.  Not only because she seems to have a lube fetish but also cause she wasn’t real outgoing and friendly.  And I’m a friendly person.  If you’re not warm & fuzzy and I can’t crack you in 10-15 min, then you’re just too uptight for me and not worth my time.  I will try to avoid her for future appointments and hope that she’s not on call when I go into labor.  Or maybe I can get in tight with one of the other midwives and tell her that I really want her to deliver instead of who might be on call.  That we will have to see on.

Oh and for those wondering — Our due date was changed (I wish people would listen to me the first time when I tell them I know the date I got pregnant)

It’s now May 19th, 2009