Thursday, July 29, 2004

Yesterday's doctor appointment was pretty good.  On the down side, my hemoglobin is down a wee bit - but still not enough that she's gonna give me supplements.  On the plus side, there's the scale: up two kilos!  I want that gold star on my chart.
But the absolute highlight, the alpha and the omega, was the ultrasound.  Not only can I recognize bits and pieces, we saw actual facial features!  The earlier pictures looked like x-rays.  Now we can see a little button nose, eyes, a mouth sucking a thumb.  I don't know enough words in all the languages I speak combined that can describe the feeling that comes from watching the baby inside.  I will not attempt it for fear of sounding like a cheap, tacky greeting card.  Let it suffice to say that it is like nothing I have ever experienced or could have imagined. 

Tuesday, July 27, 2004

Thanks to all who Thought Happy Thoughts for my homegirl yesterday.  Surgery went fine, and the thing they took out was benign.  We like benign.  Keep the happy thoughts coming while everyone recovers.

As for me, I'm off to the doctor tomorrow and looking forward to it - which is something I never thought I'd ever say.  I'm excited at the prospect of getting another glimpse of Bizzleburp - maybe the last one before B-day?  My mom will be there too, probably making goo-goo noises at the screen along with the doctor. 

The other fun part about going to the doctor for a prenatal visit is that it's the opposite of a Weight Watchers meeting: I actually find myself pigging out a little bit in the hopes of tipping the scale higher.  I'd better not get used to that.

Monday, July 26, 2004

Yes, my mom arrived in one piece.  My mother and commercial aviation are the reasons Xanax was invented, I'm quite certain of it.  (And that's just for me to survive the trip.)  My husband is being very brave about his mother-in-law visiting for three weeks.  Maybe Mom should count out those Xanax pills very carefully.

Second shout-out of the day: Happy Birthday to my big brother, who is not only old enough to run for President but also old enough to know better.  

Sunday, July 25, 2004

Psychic Hugs and Happy Thoughts going out Monday morning for my homegirl and her partner who is having surgery.  Looking forward to a happy ending and a swift recovery, knock wood/cross fingers/burn candles etc.  Lots of love. 
My mom arrives for a three-week visit tomorrow.  Mom hates to fly.  Two things have gotten her on an airplane in the past five years: her childrens' weddings and the birth of her first grandchild.  Even then, she'd have preferred to take the train.  Two things are drawing her here: one, an art museum with unrivalled priceless collections; and two, the prospect of getting a glimpse of her future grandchild at Wednesday's ultrasound.  Well, there's also the fact that I asked her to come and hold my hand as we prepare for packing out in a few weeks.  Six months pregnant and planning for a transAtlantic move?  Hell yes, I want my mommy!

Thursday, July 22, 2004

In the words of Michelle Shocked, "Sleep keeps me awake at night."  I'm starting to look like a raccoon with a cocaine problem, ugh.  But hey, last time I stepped on the scale I was up about two pounds!  Maybe my doctor will put a gold star on my chart and give me a lollipop at my next visit.

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

Target departure date: August 21.  We'll fly straight back to our usual side of the Atlantic, to our former hometown where we lived before moving over here.  We don't have an address, temporary or otherwise, yet.  Stay tuned for further developments.

Tuesday, July 20, 2004

My husband surprised me at work today with half a dozen roses. Why six? Because this week I hit the six-month point (three months till baby's ETA), and six years ago this week was our first date.
Reader, I married him. Now you know why.

Monday, July 19, 2004

Travel orders! Travel orders! I got my travel orders!!! Whoo hoo, there is light at the end of the tunnel! The company has finally made it official: I can start planning packing dates and making airline reservations. If I were more sprightly I'd be doing a Snoopy-style Happy Dance right now. I'll just sit back and watch Bizzleburp do one instead.

Sunday, July 18, 2004

The office is down to a skeleton crew for the next few days, and I expect I'll be putting in some extra hours. I hope to stay current on the blog nevertheless.
Today's Sign From Above That It's Time to Go Home: I dropped my cell phone in the toilet.  Don't ask. 
It's still too early to tell whether I'm doomed.  Nevertheless, I'm printing out copies of this article for future reference (that is, I'll enclose copies with Bizzleburp's therapy bills when I mail them to my health insurance company).

Saturday, July 17, 2004

My very kind sister-in-law is encouraging me to set up a gift registry on-line for Bizzleburp and me.  I've made a start but, having never done this before, I honestly haven't a clue about what I'm doing.  Also, since I don't know where we're going to be living and how much space we'll have, I am really hesitant to go totally hog-wild.  But there's a baby on the way and people want to give us STUFF.  Ack!!!  
After sorting through a thousand customer reviews at the on-line stores, I finally gave up and did the most sensible thing: ask my girlfriends who have been there.  I figure the baby isn't really going to notice what s/he is spitting up on and won't care whether it's sleeping in shabby chic knotty pine or a playpen or a cardboard box.  Don't get me started on the whole pink vs. blue thing.  There's still debate among the girlfriends on certain topics (sling vs Baby Bjorn, swing vs Megasaucer) but everyone agrees that the most important thing is having lots of burp cloths and a good car seat.  Thanks, homegirls.

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

Forget money, sex, religion and politics. You want to start a serious blood-curdling argument with someone, start talking about pregnancy and parenting books. Read some of the customer reviews of these titles, and your hair will turn white. Some of these must have been composed by Dick Cheney on a bad day. One book is according the status of Bible by some readers and denounced as sociopathic propaganda by others. Any one of them could bring on crushing guilt even in Mother Teresa; some would make me feel like a communist pervert if I didn't eat organic whole grains for every meal and use only unbleached cloth diapers. I've decided to take a "salad bar" approach to these guidebooks: sample a little of everything, pick out what I like, and forget the rest. Sooner or later I'll have faith in my own common sense, right?

Tuesday, July 13, 2004

Happy Birthday to Me!

Monday, July 12, 2004

As I've said before, I work in travellers' assistance in Baltic Europe. Life behind the Rusted Iron Curtain has its ups and downs, and I've dealt with some clueless people, but at least I never had to come to the aid of someone this bloody stupid.
Non sequitur giggle du jour: you would need a security clearance for this job?
Well I guess I'm doing my part for my demographic...

Sunday, July 11, 2004

I took a few days off from the blog while the in-laws were in town. My husband's parents and one set of grandparents were in town (yep, six adults in one apartment, it was cozy) for a week. It was lively and enjoyable, but it's nice to once again have the bathtub to myself utterly guilt-free for an hour. Yesterday's pregnancy milestone du jour was actually seeing the movement when Bizzleburp started kicking. (Hey! My shirt moved, and it wasn't me belching!) So this morning I took a nice luxurious soak in the tub and watched the show when wee Biz got hiccups. Getting out of the tub was really hard - not just because I was having a lovely time, but mostly because when getting up, I move with the graceful ease of a cow on an ice rink. Ooooof!

Wednesday, July 07, 2004

Latest news from the doctor: Of course she's concerned about me losing weight -- funny, I stepped on the scale yesterday and thought I'd actually gained, but since my last appointment at the clinic I've lost about a pound and a half. But all that energy is going to build Bizzleburp, whose heartbeat is a perky 138 bpm and who has stretched my uterus to 25 cm tall. So mostly happy signs today. The good news about the glucose test is that they didn't take the blood out of my arm, just little finger sticks and a monitor like diabetics use. The bad news is that the process was still unpleasant. It took me over 20 minutes to choke down the glucose: dissolved in water it just seemed like cheap flat cola, and if I have too much liquid on an empty stomach I get bloated and nauseated. So I tried the spoon approach, which resulted in less bloating but still felt icky. I still managed to yak up a bunch of the stuff (ugh), but thankfully it wasn't so much that they had to start over. It was like being an extra in a Willy Wonka/Buffy crossover flick: "Here, have a big wad of sugar. Now, give us some blood, please." At least I got to nap in between finger sticks: "Wake up dearie." POKE. OUCH! Drip, drip, drip, beep. "Okay, looks good, go back to sleep." Repeat several times.
So I'm not diabetic. But my hemoglobin is on the low end of the scale, so I have to consume more iron. The doc also gave me some horse pills loaded with calcium. I'm supposed to dissolve one in a glass of water every day, and drink up. After this glucose experience, I must admit I'm not too enthusiastic. How about I just eat a pint of ice cream every day, and we'll call it even?

Tuesday, July 06, 2004

Wednesday I go in for my Glucose Tolerance Test. It's a fairly common screening in North America, but less frequently done here in Europe. Basically I get to go into the doctor's office with an empty stomach, have some blood drawn, then they give me some super-mega-sticky-sweet beverage and draw my blood several times over the next few hours to see how my blood sugar levels are. The idea is to determine whether I am at risk for gestational diabetes. Sounds to me like a cross between Abu Ghraib and a particularly twisted episode of Buffy.

Monday, July 05, 2004

Pregnancy Milestone du Jour: First time a stranger has ever shown deference to me because of wee Bizzleburp. I was out at a tourist site with my husband and in-laws yesterday, and my mother-in-law and I both had to do the chick thing: find the restroom! Some things are universal: the line at the ladies' room is always longer. But the attendants noticed my belly and let me jump ahead to use the "family" restroom. Somebody in front of me tried to protest, but the restroom lady said, "that room is especially for people like her!" and ushered me in. Whoa.
Behind the Rusted Iron Curtain, folks in "service sector" jobs are historically not known for initiative and customer service; nevertheless, there is a quaint kind of chivalry that endures: men will hold doors for women, oftentimes my male co-workers will offer to carry things for me (even when I insist that the packages are not heavy), and anybody over the age of 65 is treated with a certain amount of respect because most folks just assume that you're lucky to be alive past that age around here. (Hey, if you weren't killed in WWII or purged sometime afterwards, and haven't drunk yourself to death, you've lead a charmed life.) Back home, I wouldn't necessarily expect someone to offer me his seat on the bus just because of the Biz. My peers who have gone through pregnancies lately in this town have mixed reviews of others' manners concerning Women In A Delicate Condition. So to be told, "Come here sweetie, you're next," around here kind of throws me for a loop: it's a pleasant surprise, but still a surprise.

Friday, July 02, 2004

Yesterday was Canada Day, Sunday is the Fourth of July. Let's hear it for three-day weekends. I could use a good break. Not that I'm going to get one: family arriving tomorrow! My parents-in-law and one set of grandparents-in-law are staying for a week. Still, three days of sleeping late is three days of sleeping late.
One of my co-workers has a daughter, about eight years old, who is fascinated with pregnant bellies and has been on a Quest to Feel Bizzleburp Kick. Unfortunately, as many of you know, babies keep their own schedules, and the last couple of times the girl has been around me hasn't been Bizzleburp's playtime. Yesterday, as I sat on the sofa telling her about babies kicking more when mommies are sitting still, I let slip that sometimes Biz will start moving around when Daddy is doing his nightly multiplication tables drills (don't ask, I beg you). Kiddo marched across the room, took my husband by the hand, dragged him over to the sofa, pointed at my belly and said, "TALK!" (We should all have the moxie of eight-year-old girls.)