Moving

Dear Internet,

I've moved: http://missniwanda.tumblr.com/

I've heard that tumblr is pretty awesome, so please take the plunge with me and follow me on Tumblr. Hopefully if I can figure out some of those allegedly awesome features, and Monkey Brain will be even bigger and better than before!

Thanks for reading these last months, and I hope that I'll continue to earn your readership as well as expand. As my friend Buzz Lightyear always says, "To Infinity and Beyoooond!"

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

Monkey Brain

You know how when a baby is born in the movies, the first thing the parents check is that there are 10 fingers/toes? Well I didn't do that with either of my boys.

I just checked, and don't worry, they're all there.

Phew!

Manners

Cody's new trick? Spitting up breastmilk.

Through his nose.

Now really, is this any way to pay your compliments to the chef? Sadly for him, I think it hurts inside his nose, based on his current wailing, grunting and sweating.

This reminds me of my relative who at one time used his flatulance as a weapon of mass destruction/party trick. And like some weapons can, it backfired, resulting in the famous phrase: "Ohh, I think I tore something."

Thin Mintgate 2000

I took a couple of years off college, and when I returned to finish my Bachelors degree, I lived off campus with 2 roommates, E & V, across the street from the Porter Square T stop in Cambridge, MA.

One summer, V sublet her room to a young woman whose name is lost on me, so I'll just call her Jane. Jane was very young and didn't appear to have much experience living with others, as noted by her lack of toilet paper buying, and more egregiously, she ate E's Thin Mints, which were in the freezer. Now people, what makes GSCs so special is that they are ONLY available for a short period every spring, and as mentioned, this was SUMMER.

Thin Mintgate put E over the edge and she chastised Jane for her social faux pas. Luckily, Jane redeemed herself by purchasing a Costco sized pack of TP and finding Thin Mints on the internet.

Don’t worry folks, I’ll be sure to raise my boys to ALWAYS respect other people’s Girl Scout Cookies.

Hey, that sounds kinda dirty.

The problem with dvr

Well, for the most part, there is no problem, no problem what. so. ever. I mean, just last Sunday I was lovin' my Tivo as we rewound the moment when the crazy redhead charged the stage to Kanye the best documentary short acceptance speech. I mean, without Tivo, we would not have been able to see that OMG, they were RACING to the stage!! (Well, there's always Youtube, but you get my drift)

Sometimes however, you get backed up and so the water cooler moments lose their relevance. For example, tonight while we are watching one of the funniest hosts ever, Zach Galiafanakis, all I want to do is talk to someone around the watercooler about how funny he is and relive the moment when he says, "We've got a great show tonight; Hoobastank is here. . .no? Oh! Who is it?" And I'm all, Hoobastank?! This is a man after my own heart. I mean, on my celebrity crush list, homeless professor looking Zach just may have sailed past Jason Segel and Jake Gyllenhaal.

Alas, this episode is a week old, so my watercooler moment is gone. This is kind of like one of my favorite movies, Kicking and Screaming. Olivia D'Abo's character, Jane, keeps saying things like, "Oh hey, I thought of a comeback for that comment you made in class two weeks ago. . ." Yeah, it's kind of like that.

Internet? Thanks for being my watercooler.

Monkey Cook: Spinach, Feta, and Olive Pasta

When I was pregnant with Jacob, I had major cravings for olive tapendade. Kind of strange since I've always hated olives, but that's pregnancy for you! This time around, in anticipation of future cravings, I purchased a few jars of olive tapenade last summer. Wouldn't you know it, I had no such cravings, and still have these jars of olive tapenade in my pantry, mocking me. So I've been trying to think of how to incorporate it into some meals, and here's what I came up with:

Spinach, Feta, and Olive Pasta

3 cups short cut pasta (I used penne rigate)
1 onion, halved and sliced into half moons
1-2 T olive oil
1 pinch salt
6 cups spinach (you could also use frozen spinach)
½ c. olive tapenade (I chose Trader Joe’s jarred tapenade, but you could use any tapenade. Once April comes around I'll be getting my tapenade from my local farmer's market)
3 oz feta, crumbled

1. Put a pot of water to boil for the pasta. When the water boils, salt it and cook the pasta to al dente, 8-10 minutes. Drain the pasta and reserve about 1-2 c of the starchy cooking water

2. While the pasta water is cooking, saute the onions on a dry skillet on medium heat until soft, 5-10 minutes. Add 1-2 T olive oil and a pinch of salt, continue cooking, stirring frequently, until onions are very soft and caramelized, about 15-20 minutes total.

3. Add the spinach in batches, stirring in some of the starchy cooking water to wilt.

4. Add in the olive tapenade and a little more starchy cooking water. You don't want it to be too watery, so add the water in 1/4 to 1/2 c increments.
5. Add in the pasta and cheese, stirring frequently. Serve immediately or store in the fridge for later.

The nice part of this dish is that you get all your food groups in one bowl (6 cups of spinach!), but if you are more hungry, feel free to add a green salad or some bread w/olive oil to beef it up.

Wine Note: I served it with Zinfandel, but I think a sweeter white wine (like a Riesling) would work better to temper the saltiness of the tapenade and feta.

Cooking Time: about 30 min

Serves 2 (although one of those two is breastfeeding, so this may serve more)

The junior cheeseburger, and other distortions of the media

When I was pregnant with Jacob, Josh had a vision of our future, and it went something like this:

We’d be at a restaurant, sometime in the future with young Jacob in tow. When it came time to order, Josh would say something like, “And for the little one here, we’ll have the junior cheeseburger.”

His vision hasn’t turned out quite the way we planned, seeing as we are raising a child that is no shrinking violet. Not sure how that happened when the simple act of making a phone call to a stranger makes my palms sweat.

Anyhoo.

When we eat out these days, it is for breakfast, and it usually goes something like this:

Server: Good morning, would you like something to dr---
Jacob: Mickey Mouse pancake pease!!

Even the one time we went out for lunch in the last six months, Jacob kept saying “Handeburg? Handeburg?”(Hamburger) like Rain Man while the flustered server tried to list off the specials, until we translated his order.

Anyway, somehow this vision has morphed in such a way that I now call Cody “The Junior Cheeseburger,” as in “Can you take the junior cheeseburger for a diaper change?”

My brain does this sometimes, just totally distorts stuff where I start with an idea and end up with a random nickname for our son. Like when I used to tell the story about how my father was accidentally shot by one of his friends at an eighth grade dance. Nine months later Dad was hit by a car, and the driver happened to be the priest of the boy who had shot him. Only when I tell the story, it goes something like this: My dad was shot by his friend, who was so upset that he called his priest, who then came to the dance and ran over my dad.

When I do this, Josh says, “Yeah, the media can distort things sometimes.” Basically my brain is like The National Enquirer. And while this was once kind of embarrassing, The National Enquirer is now up for a Pulitzer, so boo-yah!

Lightweight

Just had my second postpartum glass of wine (first was last week).

Whoa.
I
Am
A
Cheap
Date

Don't worry Internet, I won't be nursing for a few hours

As Requested

Cody at 1 month. Usually he's cross-eyed, so this is a good one! 

Month 1: Cody

Dear Cody,

Today marks one month since you made our family four. I must say that you have been a great baby so far. You are a great eater, sleeper, and a champion pooper!

You are teaching Daddy and I so much about being parents. When we had your brother, it was two of us and one of him, putting the numbers in our favor. Now we have you and are juggling two boys, but it’s been a good thing. Somehow the increased chaos has made your father and me an even better team as we do the two-kid dance.

Today was our first day alone together. Well, Friday Daddy went to his teacher work day, but if things got hairy he could always leave, so today was the real deal. Thanks so much for taking a couple of big naps this morning to give me some energy, I really appreciate it.

There’s not much to say yet about your development; you’re still kind of in the floppy stage, and your main expression seems to be crossing your eyes. Try to grow out of that, okay? The ladies aren’t too hip on cross-eyed fellas.

Anyhoo, we all love you so much and are so happy to have you in our family.

Love,

Mama

God Bless the Internet and the United States of America

Reason #1044 to love Google: http://www.marthastewart.com/article/how-to-fold-a-fitted-sheet

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Christmas? Oh no, dear Internet Reader, it's. . .Girl Scout Cookie Time!!

My favorite Girl Scout Cookie are the Samoas, which at some point were deemed politically incorrect and renamed Caramel deLites, and now they go by both names. Second are Thin Mints (DUH!), which are especially good frozen. I have stories dedicated to each cookie, and I'll post them later this week, but for today, I'd like to share my own brief experience with the Girl Scouts of America.

Actually, I never made it to full Girl Scout status; I pooped out after Brownies.  Pretty much all of my childhood pursuits ended in half assed Monkey Brainery (See: flute, viola, piano and acting lessons). I mean who are we kidding? I'm sure the focus and ability to finish stuff that is required to be a successful Girl Scout goes against the very heart of a Monkey Brain.

I think that I was so bad at Brownie-ing that I blocked everything out but the following:

First, Brownies met on Tuesdays. And it was on a Tuesday in third grade that I was wearing my Brownie uniform and my mom had to pick me up because I had lice (I blamed Smelly R, because obviously smelly boys also carried lice--DUH). Instead of going home, we went to the New Rochelle Mall, did some Christmas shopping and I got my picture taken with a particularly crazy-eyed Santa (I REALLY wish I had that picture!), whom I probably gave lice. Oops.

Second, I was a horrible cookie seller. Painfully shy and introverted, going door to door? And selling stuff? To strangers? Oh the panic. I'm pretty sure that some of my cookie-loving family members were my best customers. This was before the days of Girl Scouts setting up shop in front of the local Safeway where all they had to do was show their yummy wares and impulse shoppers like me are hooked. I sold cookies when we had to bring order forms to our neighbors, and remember to deliver the dang boxes. In the snow! Uphill both ways!

Anyhoo.

God bless Girl Scout Cookies and the United States of America! (And God bless the extra calorie burn of breastfeeding!)

Monkey Brain

I just learned a new word: kinesthetic learner. I learned this from my friend MBM, who also has a blog, which can be found here. Read it, it’s very good. My entire life, I’ve always learned by doing, and it’s nice to hear that there is a word for it. Let’s face it folks, kinesthetic learner is a much better phrase than “ME do it!” (or some other such version of those words that I’ve uttered over the last 35 years. Thanks MBM!

Spam

Dear Male Pharmacy On-Line,

MR Caitlin? MR?! You really need to get a fact checker for your spam business. Um, how many MEN are searching for things like what to eat while breastfeeding (NOT Indian food, fyi). Other than that "pregnant man" from Oregon, methinks not many.

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

On the sunny side of the womb (Cody’s Birth Story, Part III)

I’ll admit it, when I got to the OR, I was scared. It felt good to walk there (instead of being wheeled in), but my old fears started coming back, so I tried to get back to what was actually happening. The room was different, the circumstances were different. Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” played on the radio, and my mind jumped back in time to the British camp counselor who first introduced me to Tracy Chapman in the summer before 8th grade.

As I sat on the operating table while the anesthesiologist prepped my back for the spinal block, I watched the nurses prepare the room for surgery. I found the choreography of their work soothing: the methodical unpacking of supplies, the calling out of items on a checklist to make sure everything was in order before moving forward, it all calmed me. They know what they’re doing. Everything will be okay.

Finally we were ready. Josh came in and said, “I’ve had a vision. We’re having a girl and we’re going to name her Violet.” Erm, okayyyyy. . .

Josh stroked my hair and I took deep cleansing breaths. I eavesdropped on the small talk of the doctors that distracted me from the fact that my body was being cut open. I felt some tugging, and then he (thank goodness, because I was NOT down with Violet Henig) was here. While Cody doesn’t get his name from Wild Bill Cody and Jesse James, he came out gun ablaze. “He’s peeing!” Josh cried, and I felt so happy that he was here and he was safe.

Cody was in the OP (Occiput Posterior), or “Sunny Side Up” position, which is a more difficult way of delivery, and could have presented some complications. He also had the cord wrapped around his neck. Twice. Evidently in the 10 days since my last ultrasound (when his head was facing towards my back in the optimal birth position), he’d flipped. My theory is that mystery pain that I had a few weeks ago was Cody changing position. Silly monkey baby! Anyway, if labor had progressed, the cord would have wrapped tighter around his neck as he moved down the birth canal, and let’s just say that I was very grateful that labor stalled and we chose C-Section.

They brought him back and I was happy to see him, and happy to be feeling at all. This was the opposite of the numbness that I felt during Jacob’s delivery, the distraction of medication and shivering and nausea leaving me emotionless. I was awake and sitting up in the recovery room, not passed out, not feverish. I could even call my family, nurse Cody within a half hour of his birth.

So different. So good. No regrets.

29 Months: Jacob

Dear Jacob,

Oh my gravy, this last month has FLOWN by! You are now officially a big brother, and what a great big brother you are. From the moment Cody came home from the hospital, you knew that this baby was special and different from the other babies that you know. You like holding him and touching his nose (and talking about the boogers in his nose), cuddling up when I feed him, trying to feed him cookies and toast. Good sharing, but let's just stick with the boob for a few more months, mmmkay?

This last week, however, I've noticed a change in your lovey dovey big brother attitude. Your gentle caresses have become a little more pokey, with a focus on the eyes. You are roaring in his face more frequently, and you seem to have figured out that Daddy, Cody and I are staying home while you go to daycare, and this is SO NOT COOL. However, I'd like to remind you of how much you love daycare, and prefer E's tacos and lasagna to anything that I pack in your lunch bag.

Dude, your puzzle making skills have ex.plo.ded. When I went on the Melissa & Doug buying binge a few weeks ago, I figured I'd introduce one puzzle per week, but you got through each one so quickly that I just broke them all out in one week! It's been really fun rotating the puzzles; I want to do puzzles with you forever.

I don't know if it's the responsibility of being a new brother, but you really are starting to seem like a big boy these days. It feels like yesterday that I was just swaddling you, and now you are this little person, a real live little boy. When did that happen? How can I slow things down? Sometimes, I just want to take moments like this morning, when Daddy and Cody were sleeping and you and I ate breakfast and did the fishy puzzle, I want to take those moments and capture them in amber before they fade away to "No time for breakfast Mom, I gotta get to school!"

I know this is a big transition for you (in addition to all the standard growing and learning and developing), and you are being a champ. I hope you know that Daddy and I love you so much, even when you are moody and clingy and whiny, even when one of us can't play with you because we are tending to your baby brother. And it's okay to feel weird right now, it's okay to love Cody and also kind of want to sit on his head. While we won't let you DO that, it's totally okay to want to.

Keep in mind though, that while you can steal all his baby gifts now, sooner than you think he's going to want that Sophie the Giraffe back, and he'll be willing to fight you for it. I'm just saying, you might want to think about cultivating a friendship down the line, and you have the upper hand here. While he may end up taller than you, he'll always love his big brother.

Love,

Mama

Monkey Butt

I am now coming to the realization that while my belly was growing and I was saying "Go, Keiki, Go!" my caboose was on the loose. It's like the fat cells in my butt and hips were like, " She's not looking; it's time to grow, boys! "

Well, listen up fellas, there's a new sheriff in town. And in three weeks when I get the okay from Dr. B, I'm Stroller Striding you right out of Badonka Donk City.

Puzzle Face

Need I say more than the above title? Well maybe just this: Isn't my new camera AWESOME?

The case for #2

I had a lot of fears about having two kids. Don’t get me wrong, I always knew that I wanted Jacob to have a sibling, but it seemed like such a daunting task. What would it be like to not be able to sleep when the baby sleeps because big brother is awake and wants to do puzzles? Life seems so packed to the gills with one child, work, commuting and owning a home, how could we handle two?

I have to say that I’ve been pleasantly surprised by how great it’s been. Granted, we are lucky to (knock wood) have created two boys who are sweet and mellow, so I might be singing a different tune if we had a colicky newborn.

The thing is that this time we know what we’re doing; we’ve traveled the newborn road before. And compared to the added burden of my physical complications the last time, this go around is a breeze. Yes, Josh and I are sleep deprived and slightly batty. And still, I so happy, I not crying.

The other thing is that in the last two years, we’ve built up a local support network. Our neighbor has provided us with two hot dinners (and the fixings for a third in the freezer) since we returned from the hospital. My friend A dropped off snacks, frozen pizza, and while she was at it she conquered our dishes and changed a load of laundry, all while being 7 months pregnant. My in laws took Jacob to the zoo, and he’s in daycare full time for the next few weeks.

This time around, I can take care of Cody. I’m taking it easy, but I have exponential leaps in my recovery.  To think that it was just a week ago when five minutes of standing in the shower left me sitting on the side of the tub as my incision burned and my insides cried out for mercy. Only a few days ago I tried to change Cody’s diaper and after standing for 1 minute I had to cry out for Josh to come help me. Now I take the whole night shift, so hopefully Josh won't be too much of a zombie when he goes back to work. And while I'll miss my sweetie pie when he goes back to work, I'm totally confident that I can handle Cody all by myself. Hopefully I'll still feel that way when it actually happens!

Monkey Brain

Scene: Late afternoon, our media room, watching Survivor: Heroes v. Villains

Monkey Brain: How did Coach make it to the Villains tribe?

Josh: Because there was no dufus tribe!

Spam

In Re: Create the fever in your bed!

Dear Phisherman,

There’s already a fever in my bed. It’s called postpartum night sweats.

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

Monkey Brain

Josh just compared Cody (and all newborns, really) to Bernie from Weekend at Bernie’s, because he’s all loose-limbed and floppy and always needs to be held up. And while I should probably be disturbed by my husband comparing our younger son to a corpse from a movie, what I’m really thinking is I SO married the right guy! I mean, come on! I’ve only seen Weekend at Bernie’s a million times.

Puzzle Time

Josh: Do you buy those Melissa & Doug puzzles for Jacob, or yourself?
Monkey Brain: Let’s just call it a win-win.

It’s true, I love me a good puzzle, almost as much as Jacob. I mean, that kid can spend hours building, deconstructing and rebuilding the same dang puzzle, and I’m right there with him.

I love doing puzzles with Jacob for many reasons. First, I just love puzzles, always have. It capitalizes my visual way of thinking, a dance that soothes the savage Monkey Brain. I tend to think in pictures, so any opportunity to bring that type of thinking from the abstract of my mind to the concrete world makes me happy. This is why I also love crosswords and Scrabble.

Second, I love watching Jacob. During the spring and summer, I'd watch him maneuver through the toddler puzzles that have cutouts for each piece, some that came with sound. Over and over he'd line up the puzzle piece with the corresponding picture, and dance to the sound of a yipping Zebra (or roaring lion, etc) when he got it right.

Now we've moved on to floor puzzles, 48 oversized pieces, and I get to join in on the fun. After the first few tries, I have to step back and let him have a go at the puzzle at hand, because he is a pretty quick learner. Watching him do puzzles is a form of meditation. I am in the moment, and it’s like I’m watching the gears of his brain turn. He tries out a few pieces here or there, and then he’ll just light upon one that he has memorized, and I can see the recognition as he puts it into place, the confidence and satisfaction that he gets from getting it right. In those moments I am seeing something magical, as if I am literally watching him grow before my eyes. I feel as proud of his accomplishment as he is, and so happy to bear witness to his developing self.

Finally, this is something that we can do together. Over the last 10 months, a variety of things have taken me away from my son. Morning sickness, which sent me to bed on many afternoon/evenings for the fist half of my pregnancy, the physical tiredness of the last few months when I couldn’t really lift him, the days in the hospital, and the last two weeks of not lifting him at all while being nearly permanently attached to Cody.

And so I ordered up some puzzles, which I’m introducing to Jacob one at a time. I broke out an underwater scene on Friday, and since then we’ve done the “fishy puzzle,” oh, thirty times at least. In my book, this is time well spent. We are not watching Kung Fu Panda, or Madagascar, or Youtube videos of polar bears, although these all have their time and place. I don’t need to be able to run around the house roaring like a monster. I don't need to be able to lift him up to be close to him. I can sit on the floor with my still slightly aching belly, sometimes while feeding a newborn, and reconnect with my older son in joint meditation over a two by three foot puzzle.

Spam

Dear Hoveround Power Wheelchair,

Have you been following me? I only used the power chair in Target because of massive incision pain due to my C-section. And while I’ll admit I had a lot of fun (except when I rear-ended that poor lady’s ankles), it’s not a permanent situation, my friend.

Sincerely,
Monkey Brain

Spam

Dear Phisherman,

“Give your rocket more TNT”? Now that just sounds like a fire hazard. Safety first, people!

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

I so happy, I not crying (Cody’s Birth Story, Part II)

A month or so ago, Josh picked up Jacob at daycare, and Jacob was very upset and didn’t want to leave. This is unusual, because usually Jacob is saying, “My Daddy! My Daddy!” and can’t wait for pickup, but on this particular day he was having too good of a time. The next day, he was back to normal, and when Josh came to pick him up, he said, “I so happy, I not crying.”

This phrase could have been the tagline of my labor with Cody. Not only did I say it over and over again, I felt so happy through the 16 hours of labor. Tired and in pain, but happy. I felt like an athlete well trained for a marathon, only most of my training was psychological. All the hard work, the blogging, the reliving and letting go of Jacob’s birth had served its purpose; because I felt so great, even through the contractions (does this mean I need to retract my Gisele rant?).

I walked into labor & delivery with my silver birth ball and a smile on my face. I had my birth plan. I rejected meds, even when I thought that the pain from the contractions might tear my body apart. I felt present and completely in my body, and just kept thinking that this is what my body is supposed to do. I felt so damn good.

Onto the nitty gritty.

We got set up in our room and Nurse Mary got out a ph strip to confirm the presence of amniotic fluid, and it turned color immediately. She checked my cervix and I was at 2 cm, 80% effaced.

At 7 am, we got the next nurse, Nurse Diane, and I was about 3 cm dilated.

At 9 am, I was about 4.5 cm dilated, and things started to slow down. Keiki’s heart rate was dropping with each contraction (decels), so they set me up on IV fluids and oxygen to even out his heart rate. This is the part that I hated with Jacob’s birth, because the length of the oxygen tube from the wall to the mask was so short that I was pretty much tethered to the bed. This time, I was okay. I’d still rip it off when I had a contraction, but I tried to sit up in the bed, or sit on the birth ball right next to the bed.

Between 9 and 2, I was checked hourly, and there was little progress. Dr B let me continue because my labor was steady and strong, and Keiki was doing okay, but at 2, we decided that if there was no change by 4 pm, we’d move forward with a C-Section.

By 3 pm, fatigue was setting in, and I wondered how much longer I could go on without rest or pain relief. I knew that the contractions would only get stronger and more frequent, and as it was they were shredding through me, making me feel like my body was cracking open with each one. I wanted to know my fate, so I asked Nurse Diane to check me early. When she noted that there had been no change, I knew that a C-Section was imminent, which Dr. B confirmed via phone.

Once I knew we were going forward with the C-Section, I started crying, a really big, ugly cry. As Josh and Nurse Diane tried to comfort me, I tried to explain that I was okay, but the only thing that came out was blubbering sobs. I was disappointed to say the least, but I knew that I had done everything I could, and that for me, this was the right choice. The contractions were slowing down; my body was slowing down; it was time to let go of the VBAC option. I was okay with my decision, but had a lot of emotion to release, and sometimes crying is the only way to do that. I wanted to say “I’m not sad, I’m just crying.”

The anesthesiologist came in, and it was the same doctor from Jacob’s birth. I re-introduced myself and shared a little bit about my previous experience on the operating table: the uncontrollable shivering, the nausea. He explained that the shivering was pretty standard, but that he’d try to be mindful of it and any nausea and minimize both side affects. He made me feel heard, and that helped with my fears about returning to the operating room.

It was 4:53 pm, I had been in labor for 16 hours, and we were on the home stretch.

Monkey Brain

Is is me, or does Madonna's face look more and more like silly putty with each passing year?

All about the boob

God, I am such a sucker for good grades, even when I’m not the one taking the test. Yesterday Cody had his one week checkup and he’s doing swimmingly. After losing about 11 oz, he’s back above his birth weight and very alert. Dr. M said he’s like a one month old, and we don’t even have to do a 2 week visit!

This news warms the cockles of my heart, especially the weight gain. Since I’m breastfeeding, I have no idea how much is going into Cody’s body, so I am very happy to sustain his growth with my own body. Due to various complications, Jacob was a formula fed baby supplemented with breast milk, and good lord, was feeding high maintenance! Nipple shields, pumping, and this contraption involving a straw with formula taped to my boob to try and get him to feed made breastfeeding an incredibly frustrating and cumbersome process.

Then there was the work of formula: the cost, the constant bottle cleaning, making sure to pack it in the diaper bag. I spent hours with a lactation consultant who told me that while it was unlikely that I’d be able to fully breastfeed Jacob, I was laying the groundwork for number two. That advice is what motivated me to pump every hour, to drink Mother’s Milk tea, to take herbs and try to have patience with Jacob when he would scream as I tried to breastfeed him.


Cody latched on right away and is a champion eater, no nipple shield needed. I love that as long as we are together, my body is all he needs to get a solid meal, and he’s thriving. We had one rough night last week when we considered getting some formula so I could rest and heal, but I was able to push through, and I’ve been recovering really well. (Disclaimer: while it made sense for me and did not hinder my recovery, I am not an advocate for being a martyr.)

The biggest perk of all this? I have one less thing to worry about, and that gives me more energy to be a mom and enjoy my baby, and that sure feels good.

"Either my water broke or I peed the bed" (Cody's Birth Story, Part I)

Like so many, Cody’s birth story began in the middle of the night. One week ago, I woke up in a pool of wetness, put on my glasses on and noted the time. It was 12:50 am, and the wild rumpus of labor was just beginning.

When I was in labor with Jacob, my OB broke my bag after my epidural, so I had no reference point for what was happening. I laid there for a few minutes, feeling the liquid, and there was a lot. Finally I roused Josh: “Honey? Either my water broke, or I majorly peed the bed.”

I went into the bathroom and Josh went on the Internet. Based on his research, we were pretty sure that it was amniotic fluid, I felt a little better, because with liquid coursing down my legs, the only other option that I had lost all bladder control.

Anyhoo.

We called Dr B’s answering service and set about getting ready to go to the hospital, finishing up packing, calling my neighbor to come be with Jacob, changing the sheets, writing down last minute directions for Jacob. I was pretty excited because Keiki was coming in the next 24 hours. We tried to count contractions on line, but kept monkey braining. My best guess is that I was about 7 min apart, but we wanted to get to the hospital to make sure it was amniotic fluid, and because of the possibility of an emergency C-section.

Finally we got in the car and were on our way. It was 3:30 am, February 8, and Keiki was coming. Go Keiki, go!

This one goes out to the one I love

Recently a friend came to visit who is recovering from a breakup of a long term relationship. In the standard girlfriend re-hashing at my kitchen table, one of the missing pieces of the relationship was the absence of romantic gestures by her ex, until the end when the relationship was in jeopardy. I’m not going to go into the details (that’s for her blog, should she want to start one) but the bottom line is that it’s not about fantasy dates and roses, it’s about thought.

As I listened to her, my initial reaction was to think about my own relationship, and let me tell you, Josh is no fantasy date planner. He’s not a big flower guy, or into big romantic gestures of any kind. This doesn’t bother me, but I kept thinking should it bother me?

But then I started to think some more.

I think about the fact that every time Josh drives “my” car, he makes sure that he fills up the tank. He does this despite the fact that his natural inclination is let the tank go as low as possible so he can calculate the mileage. He does this because he knows that I start to get nervous at a quarter tank, and sometimes I forget stuff like filling up the car.

I think about the thousands of poopy diapers that Josh has changed due to my being unable to lift Jacob onto the changing table (in the first weeks of his life, as well as the last weeks of this pregnancy and double duty-doody?-in the last 6 days). And not only does he change the poopy diaper, but I hear them giggling together during the changing. It’s more about the two of them and not about Josh and me, but is there anything more lovely than a man who can laugh his way through shoveling poop? Is there anything more lovely than seeing that the man you love and have chosen to spend your life with is a good father, in addition to all the other great qualities? I don’t think so.

The other day, we were driving home from the pediatrician’s office and Jackson Browne came on the radio. I was musing about how I tend to like every JB song that comes on the radio, but have never made the next logical step of either buying an album or downloading his songs to expand our relationship. This morning, I didn’t get breakfast in a bed of roses or a balloon ride through the Napa Valley followed by a picnic of wine and chocolate, but I DID get an Itunes playlist of Jackson Browne. And did I mention that Josh was a college DJ? My point is that for me, the fantasy date/gift, is one that says that my husband is listening to my monkey brain offhand comments, and knows me well enough that I’ll never get around to buying that album, so he does it for me.

Happy Valentine’s Day, honey. I love you with all my heart.

Spam

In Re: I am your Russian pussy, do you remember my nickname?

Dear Russian pussy,

I may be a Monkey Brain, but I’m pre-tty sure that I would remember having a cat. To be honest, I’m more of a dog person anyway.

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

The Brothers Henig

When I was brought home from the hospital, my big brother D, who was three at the time, was allowed to hold me somewhat unsupervised. As the story goes, he decided he was done holding me, let go, and I plopped onto the floor. Then he asked when they were taking me back to the hospital.

When we placed Cody in Jacob's lap today, I was careful to keep my hands on both kids at all time, but I didn't have much to fear. Jacob was so gentle, and he kept kissing Cody: "Kiss eyes. Kiss ears. Kiss nose." He also kept saying, "I love Cody" over and over again. What's that pool of liquid over there? Oh right, it's my heart.

With all the good news, I know that this is also a complicated time for Jacob, and I want to be mindful of that. Later in the afternoon, we watched a Netflix together,  Rugrats: The Movie. What neither Josh nor I realized is that this movie is about a little boy who gets a baby brother who cries all the time and the parents ignore the older brother. Well, maybe the movie is about more than that, but that's about as far as we got before Jacob turned to me with his eyes full of tears and said, "Watch Madagascar?" What's that cracking sound? Oh right, it's my heart.

My Baby Ate My Homework

Dear Internet and Readers,

I know I've been remiss in blogging!. However, I have the BEST excuse in the world, I promise. Are you ready? Wait for it. . . .

I had a baby! And I've been in the hospital for most of this week, my phone is not smart, not SMART at ALL, so I here I am a few days late in updates.

There is so much to write about, so I'll just give you some highlights:

Cody James Henig was born at 5:27 pm on Monday, February 8. Of course a birth story will be forthcoming, but the answer to the VBAC/C-Section debate is both. My labor stalled so we went to C-Section, and thank goodness gracious, because he came out sunny side up (best to have baby facing your back) with the cord wrapped twice around his neck, and with the exception of a small trench in his head made my my pelvic born, he is as beautiful and healthy as can be. I have no regrets about my experience, and the C/S was SOO much better this time, so much so that it warrants a whole post.

Jacob is getting more intrigued by his brother, as if we brought a little puppy home. He likes to stroke his cheek and try to give him his pacifier, and then my heart melts like a snow cone in Hawaii. It should be an interesting few months to say the least.

My recovery is going well. It kind of feels like my organs have been rearranged and are still loose in my body, and the incision pain is a BITCH without medication, but I am worlds apart from where I was 5 days postpartum with Jacob. I'm sleep-deprived and achy boobed and tired, but I am also bursting with a happiness that I'm trying to savor and suck on while it lasts, instead of thinking that this must be some sort of post-partum psychosis and denial of the chaotic truth of my new life. I mean, I have showered once since Sunday, my house looks like a tornado hit it, but I don't care because Cody's little face is begging for a kiss and I have to hold myself back from just nibbling his ear off.

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

Spam

Dear “Rose”,

Do I have love handles? DO I HAVE LOVE HANDLES? Sweetie. I am 9 months pregnant. My LOVE handles have love handles!

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

Mama’s day out

I received many great suggestions about what to do with this gift of alone time. I really wish that I had thought of this sooner, because with my luck, Keiki will come tonight! I think since I couldn’t do much (and had no car) for the four weeks that I was at home before Jacob’s birth, I never thought I’d feel up to doing much this time around. Anyhoo, below is a list of suggestions. I recommend you take any of them, or facilitate one of the following activities for a mom in your life.

1. Go to a movie
2. Lunch at a kid unfriendly restaurant (quiet, no highchairs....)
3. mani/pedi (mainly for the hand and foot massage) (this got a few votes)
4. Spend the day at a bookstore, kick up your feet and read at home
5. Movie, especially one that involves buttery popcorn

These are all my cup of tea! So here’s what I did. I headed out to Ikea for a good walk. I left my credit cards in the car to safeguard myself from impulse buys and made it out with only a $4.99 plastic stepstool for Jacob.

My next stop was a nice little bistro in Menlo Park called The Left Bank, where I covered my caloric intake for the next few days with a Croque Monsieur, greens, and Arnold Palmer. Finally, I sat at Starbucks with an iced tea, apple treat, and Us Weekly. Now I could have just gone home to read (one of the suggestions), but I realized that being out with a magazine or book is a totally different experience. While I love my home, right now it is filled with reminders about what I should be doing, like laundry, picking up toys (or other clutter for that matter), doing dishes, etc. I can’t get it all done without some major tiredness on my part, so it was nice to read my rags in peace.

I arrived home and felt wonderfully productive in my doing nothingness. And I really couldn’t have planned this outing at a better time, as Jacob threw up at daycare and came home early. Half of Madagascar and all of Kung Fu Panda later, he puked popcorn all over the couch, again on Daddy, wiping some on me, and ground his puke-covered body into our snuggler (loveseat) for good measure. So we had a bath while Daddy cleaned up, and sent him to bed with crackers and water. If I had spent the day at home zoning out on tv and choring my body into submission, I’m not sure how much patience or energy that it takes to handle a projectile vomiting 2 year old.

Thank you all who provided feedback, and I hope you listen to your own advice. God bless pampering and the United States of America!

Calling All Moms!

Okay, so most of my thoughts lately have been something like this: Go, Keiki, go! Get outta there. When is that baby coming?

What I'm not doing is living in the moment. Right now, I have an amazing opportunity. I am on maternity leave, which means that I am being paid to be at home and wait for Keiki. Being paid means that I can afford to keep Jacob in daycare while I'm at home, not doing much.

I'm taking some advantage of this time off, getting the laundry done, cooking dinner, going to Stroller Strides, getting life errands done.

And yet.

This is the calm before the storm, and I feel like I'm not doing enough to savor this time. Right now, every weekday that goes by without Keiki is 10 hours of ME time. So moms out there, working or stay at home, let me be your proxy! What would you do if you had a whole day to yourself? The children are covered, you can't spend more than half of that time doing chores, and you have a budget of $20-$30. (Note that you are nine months pregnant in this fantasy) Would you go for a hike? Window shop? Take yourself to lunch? Mani-pedi?  Give me ideas!

Someone is looking to get slapped

Dear Gisele,

Please stop talking. Just close your mouth before you alienate every red blooded American woman, and maybe even some empathetic and evolved fathers.

I mean, first it started out small, little things like the fact that you had a water birth in the bathtub of the home that you share with husband Tom Brady. No big whoop, right?

And then you start running your mouth. About how you never wore maternity clothes, just made some small changes in the belly of your current clothes. About how you have no nanny and looooooove being awake every 2 hours.

But the cherry on this sundae? That you didn’t feel pain during labor?!

Woman, do you see what you are doing? Not only are you making thousands, if not millions, of mothers hate you, you are breeding a new generation of mothers to hate you. Presumably your fan base is mostly young and male, who now stupidly think that their future wives and baby mommas should not only stay thin during pregnancy, but what are they whining about these pesky contractions?

For the love of all things holy, blame it on post-partum mania and shut it!

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

39 Weeks: I carried a WATERMELON?!

Actually, according to Babycenter.com, Keiki is the size of a mini watermelon, but from my vantage point, that seems like an oxymoron to me.

For those of you ladies who live under a rock and have never seen Dirty Dancing, the above will mean nothing to you, so let me catch you up:

When Baby (Jennifer Grey) first meets Johnny (Patrick Swayze), she has paid her way into a staff party by helping out Johnny’s cousin Billy carry watermelons. When Johnny angrily says, “What’s she doing here?” Baby replies, “I carried a watermelon.” As the scene cuts away, she turns her head to the side and hisses under her breath, “I carried a WATERMELON?”

Any of you who have said something utterly stupid in the presence of an intimidatingly beautiful person has had this moment; one of the silver screen’s finest. This became shorthand among my college friends; at one point there was a boy crush who was only referred to as “Watermelon” because of my friend’s awkwardness in every encounter with him. There may have even been discussions of multiple watermelons spilling out of arms and rolling down Dunster Street.

In addition to the watermelon floating in my belly this week, I carry invisible watermelons on a daily basis. What is Monkey Brain, if not carrying watermelons everywhere? This has only gotten worse with motherhood, and next week’s addition will surely make things worse. A couple of months ago, I ask Josh to turn of the pillow when he got into bed. Oh sure, pillow, light? Exactly the same. Thank goodness for wedding vows, which should really include the following: “I will love you no matter how many watermelons you carry, and will even help you pick up the dropped ones.”

Keiki, where are you? Let the mommybrain commence (or let’s face it, just get worse)!

Monkey Brain

I'm watching today's Oprah, which is about the adult children of Elizabeth Smart's kidnapper (Wanda Barzee). The youngest girl related a story about her mother serving up her pet rabbit for dinner (and told her daughter the next day). Whatever my mistakes or guilt as a mom, I'm doing A-OK.

28 Months: Jacob

Dear Jacob,

Happy 28th month birthday! You are such a fun little guy. We’ve been doing a lot of activities lately, and I have so much fun making puzzles, legos or racetrack with you, especially since we just got a new activity table from Melissa & Doug (thanks Jojo!). Seriously, kid, I’m having so much fun I don’t even get mad at Daddy when he disappears to the Internet while we play.

Soooo, very soon, you will be a big brother. Holy moly, I know that’s big news. I also know that you probably have NO idea about what’s coming your way. I mean, you are so good with babies, but when we bring the baby home from the hospital, he or she is going to stay with us. Forever. So you are stuck with each other, and man, that is a good thing. You are going to need someone to complain about your annoying parents. Someday I hope you will thank me for making you share your crib, your room, and our hearts.

Speaking of the hospital, there’s going to be a few days where you won’t see us, and we’ll come home with a baby, but don’t blame the baby, okay? You are going to have a really great time with A&P, and hopefully they can bring you to the hospital to see Daddy every day for a little bit, okay? It will be like that time when you stayed with your aunt, uncle, and baby cousin and got to play in that fun place with the ball pit. Wasn’t that fun? Yes, this will be just like that.

My only complaint? This power struggle with food. I know it’s not about the food, but I’m getting to my wit’s end over here. I mean, some days you gobble up salad, but most days you will only eat yogurt and toast with butter. And yet. I hear that at daycare you will eat noodles, or chicken nuggets, tacos (none of which you eat at home, btw). What’s the deal? I’m starting to look like a chump with the lunches that I pack, the items that you eat at home but not at daycare. I mean, is macaroni & cheese really “gwoss”? Don’t you think you should taste it first? My hope is that this is a developmental storm that we’ll get through, but I’m chronicling it here and now for when you have your own picky eater someday. Karma's a bear my love, Karma's a bear.

Love,

Mama

39 Week Checkup: Loooking gooood. . .

BP: 130/74 Fundal Height: 40 cm
Weight: +2 lbs
Cervix: 50% effaced, 1 cm dilated, -2 station

Oh Internet, I can hardly contain my excitement! While the above stats may look like a bunch of numbers to the average eye, they are happy numbers that bring some really great news.

Let’s start with the cervix, shall we? Hmmm, there's an ice breaker. . .Anyhoo. So my cervix is soft and thin, which is what you want at 39 weeks. I’m 1 cm dilated, and -2 station, which means that Keiki has started to move down into the pelvis. The baby starts at -3, and all the way out of the birth canal is a positive 3. This explains the fact that while my abdominal pain has passed, I’m feeling lots of pressure and discomfort in my pelvis. That said, it's a good pain, a pain that feels right. Even without jumping jacks, Keiki is moving along. Dr. B said she could feel Keiki’s head. Isn’t that wild?!

For the first time, Dr. B has been excited about VBAC. For the most part, she’s been pretty conservative and open about that from our first conversation about VBAC, when she said her success rate was 85%, mainly due to the fact that she is conservative about all the stars aligning. We talked about potential interventions, such as stripping membranes (to move along the dilation process), breaking my water, maybe a little pitocin, and while I’m not so keen on interventions (the pineapple that I just ate doesn’t really count), the discussion itself made me feel like Dr. B was giving her seal of approval. It was felt hard-won, and that felt wonderful. I didn't want a doctor who pushed her own agenda or completely cave to my agenda, whatever that may be. I hope that every pregnant woman can have such a great advocate.

Today’s physical exam, along with last week’s ultrasound has given us some really great news. And by great news, I don’t need to schedule a C-Section anymore. The plan has always been that if I get to my due date, we’ll schedule a C-Section, but that is no longer a necessity. Oh sure, lots of things can happen in the next week or two that may shift the tide, but right now, we are looking good for VBAC. And after a nice walk through Target, I’m cramping away and it hurts so good. Go, Keiki go!

After I had Jacob, I just immediately assumed that I needed to have a C-Section, done deal, that’s all she wrote. And then I started learning about VBAC, and opening up to that choice, as well as all the emotional work required to keep my options open. Despite all the good news above, I may end up with a C-Section after all. While I can’t say how I’ll handle that, what I know right now is that I’ve done everything I can to make the best choice for me and my family, and I am so grateful for that. I know that if I had stuck rigidly (barring medical necessity) to one camp or the other, I would have regrets and what ifs. My feeling is that the best birth is one that you feel good about and feels good to you, regardless of how the kid comes out. I don’t know that I would always have defined it as such or even thought about it at all, but I'm sure glad that I have. Go, Keiki go!

Ads

Dear Cottonelle Roll Poll,

We roll under here in the Henig household. In my experience, it makes it a little more difficult for toddlers to undo the entire roll when we eat dinner and forget to close the baby gate.

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

Spam

Dear California Democratic Party,

I don’t know how you got my personal e-mail, which I never give out (that’s what yahoo accounts are for), but this needs to stop. If I get ONE more e-mail from an assembly person or other California legislator, I swear to Jehosepha that I will vote Republican whenever possible.

Please do not take this as an empty threat. When my Granny was in labor with my father, Grandad made her vote in the Republican Primary and as a result, my father was born in an elevator. Granny voted Democrat for the rest of her life.

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

Monkey Brain

I never thought I’d say this, but after the 10,000 th viewing of Madagascar, I miss Kung Fu Panda. Why did I, erm, I mean, Santa, have to buy all the Madagascar beanie babies???

Spam

Dear VicodinPharma,

I’ve received several e-mails from you this week. Hmm, do you have some insight into my upcoming delivery? Please, tell me what is in your crystal ball!

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

Spam

Dear Phisherman,

Do I “want to bigger down there”? Um, no. And trust me, everyone does NOT want “to bigger down there.” For example, I am carrying a big Valentine’s box of chocolates in my belly, and the bigger it gets, the less likely I’ll have a successful VBAC; yah feel me?

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

Monkey Brain

Dear Tivo,

HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? WHY DON'T YOU HAVE A MONKEY BRAIN SETTING? HOW COULD YOU ERASE THE LAST TWO EPISODES OF THE TONIGHT SHOW WITH CONAN O’BRIEN?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!!?!?? YOU ARE SO GOING INTO TIME OUT!!!!!!

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

38 Weeks: Fabulous Fetus

2 more weeks! 2 more weeks! 2 more weeks!

My pain is clearing up, which is a relief in many ways. I also had an ultrasound this morning, and Keiki the leek is measuring 8.2 lbs (+/- 1lb, but they estimated that the baby’s probably under 8 lbs), and the head is in proportion to the rest of the body (no big pumpkin head right now). I believe the radiologist’s words were, “Baby is looking fabulous.” And who doesn’t like to hear about her fabulous fetus? Overall, it looks like I’m measuring about a week ahead, so that’s pretty good.

For most of the afternoon, I felt so happy and really giddy. We are down to the last two weeks, and my VBAC chances are looking better and better.

This pregnancy has been so different from the first time around. With Jacob, we knew the sex, he was named at 20 weeks, and around this time, we scheduled the induction and family visits; so much was planned to a T. I think I felt so much anxiety under the surface, which drove my need for structure and planning to provide comfort.

In contrast, we don’t know the sex, we have ideas about names but no final choices, we don’t know how Keiki is coming out, and we have no immediate postpartum visits planned. I have said “I don’t know” so much during this pregnancy, and I’m finding that I kind of like it.

When I was a kid, I spent as much of my summer as possible in the Atlantic Ocean. On rough surf days, I would often find myself with a few bruises and a bathing suit (if I was lucky) or mouthful (if I was not) of sand as I fought the scary pull of the water that could tumble me around like a sock in a washing machine. On the few times that I could relax my body into the movement of the ocean, I would find myself safely ashore, and while the sand up the butt was not always avoidable, I could certainly avoid a few bumps and bruises.

Today I felt like I was relaxing into the tumbling undertow that pregnancy can be sometimes. As I imagined the increased possibility of VBAC, I’m looking forward to that journey and hope it works out. I can envision the pain of labor, but it is a good pain, a pain with a purpose, and as strange as it may sound, I can imagine enjoying it. Even now, as Keiki head butts my cervix, it is a sharp, stabbing feeling, but I think to myself, ‘Go, Keiki go!” as I know that it means that my body is preparing for something big. And even if that ends in surgery, that is okay. Right now, I am enjoying the feeling of sweet surrender to whatever the next two weeks bring.

And this is why I write, because tomorrow my abdomen pain may be back and that C-Section could be on like Donkey Kong.

Monkey Brain

Dear Biggest Loser Producers,

Despite my Monkey Brain, I am fully capable of remembering what happened during the first hour, so show me more sweat and less recap.

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

38 Week Checkup, Stats & Baby Mama Drama

BP: 134/74 (highest so far, but still in the normal range)
Fundal Height: 40 cm
Weight: No change
Cervix: 50% effaced, dilated .5 cm
Other: See Below
So last Friday, I woke up and couldn’t move without pain in my lower abdomen. I was mostly okay when sitting (working on the computer is most of what I do) so I got distracted by my work and felt okay except when getting up to eat, etc. I was a little worried, but figured I’d give it until Saturday before doing something about it since I wasn’t having contractions, just pain.

On Saturday, I was still in pain but thought I could go to Stroller Strides and walk it off (erm, denial much?). There were some rain showers, and it turns out SS was cancelled so we thought we would just take a walk. I could barely walk about 50 feet before I just stopped and started sobbing. Combine pregnancy hormones and scary pain that is not contractions (along with decreased fetal movement), and that’s what you get, I guess. So I hobbled back to the car and had Josh call my Dr, since I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to string two sentences together. A couple of hours later, we were on our way to the hospital for a nonstress test and an ad-hoc test run for Keiki’s delivery.

Since children under 16 are not allowed in labor & delivery (H1N1), we had to come up with an impromptu plan for Jacob. Luckily our neighbors were home and happy to take him, so he played with their four year old and watched some Lightning McQueen while Josh came back to the hospital to be with me. We have friends who will be with Jacob while I’m at the hospital, but they are about 30 min away, so we are lucky to have great neighbors to fill that gap if needed.

A nonstress test, despite its name, is more of a stress test. Basically, you lie in a hospital bed with a fetal monitor attached to your belly to track the baby’s heartbeat and contractions if any. They have a certain number of heartbeat accelerations that they want to see in an hour to demonstrate that the baby is healthy and active. Good ole Keiki gave them what they were looking four in 10 minutes, and during the hour I was monitored, she/he moved more than in the previous 36 hours! I felt sort of silly, but relieved and still glad that I got things checked out. Most likely Keiki has been moving down and is now putting more pressure on my scar and so my lower abdomen is not a happy camper. I was told to stay on bed rest and see my doc ASAP, which brings us back to this morning.

After hearing more about my weekend, Dr. B told me that if she checked me and I was still closed up, we could do the C-Section this week if the pain does not subside. And while I admit to waffling back and forth this pregnancy, my eyes bugged out like Joey Tribiani in that episode (“The One with the Kips”) of Friends when he realizes that Monica and Chandler are sleeping together. Dr. B’s thinking is that if I am in a lot of pain, she doesn’t want me to stay pregnant if I don’t want to, especially since I’m full term.

My visceral reaction to this option finally helped me realize what I think I've been unwilling to let myself see: that unless it’s medically necessary, I don’t want a C-Section. That may change if this pain does not go away this week, but right now I can deal with it. I have an ultrasound on Wednesday to check out the size of this kid, and if it shows that Keiki is looking like a 10 pounder that may change my tune, but as of now, I’m medically clear to still wait until my due date, and then I am willing to schedule a C-Section for Friday, February 12 (mark your calendars, Internet!).

My bug-eyed response was both a confirmation of what I want in my heart, but also excitement and temptation. If I have a C-Section this week, I get to meet Keiki, and I’m so ready to meet him/her. That temptation is huge, not only because I get to meet this child I’ve been dreaming about, but there is also the fact that my decision will be made. No more waffling, no more VBAC/C-Section debate, and as helpful as this process has been, I’m sure ready for it to be over. I had a flash of relief, as if I move forward with a scheduled C-Section will tie up loose ends and I’ll know what’s going to happen and can plan for it, and that sounds so comforting right now.

And yet.

I’ve spent the last 5 months or so blogging my way through my fears and anxieties about things that I can’t control, and so I want to see it through. I want to continue to sit with the ambivalence as long as I can without being a risk to myself or Keiki. And again, what I love about Dr. B is that she gives it to me straight. Today I told her, “I want a VBAC, but I don’t want that to cloud my judgment and make decisions that may put myself at risk.” Her response was that medically speaking, I’m still in the green for VBAC. I have an ultrasound on Wednesday, which will give us both more information, and we agreed on some more parameters about what would be okay if I do go into labor, but I’m not locked into surgery just yet.

This may all change by the end of this week if the current pain/discomfort doesn’t improve, but so far, it has. Saturday morning’s walk was about 7-8 on the pain scale, and today I’m getting down to a 5 or so, and it feels less like pain, and more like soreness, so that’s good. I’ll keep you posted!

It's the little things, part 2

Dear Animal Planet,

Please stick to your day job of providing interesting animal programming. While it's good to try new things, trust me when i state that your foray into puzzle making is an UNMITIGATED disaster.

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

It's the little things

Dear Melissa & Doug, makers of puzzles for tots,

I am so sorry, and will never do it again. Your puzzles are so great, especially the oversize jigsaw puzzles. Not only do ALL the pieces come in each box, they are sturdy enough for almost 28 month old boy genius' to stomp on and put together all by themselves! The interlocked pieces also don't fall apart when moved, causing certain bed-resting (more on that later) preggos to want to set them on fire. I love your puzzles and we will never stray again.

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

Spam

Dear Phisherman,

Why yes, I AM looking to be a top chef. Finally, you guys are listening!!

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

Monkey Brain

I feel bad about how this whole NBC latenight fiasco turned out, especially since I love me some Conan (and not just because he went to Harvard). He didn’t get totally fired, but he kind of got passive aggressively fired.

This is just like what happened to Lynette? On Desperate Housewives? When she hid her pregnancy from Carlos, and then when he found out he knew he couldn’t fire her, so he gave her a “promotion” which required that she leave Fairfield and move to Florida (FLORIDA!) and so she said no and he said she was out of a job because she said no to the promotion and that he wasn’t firing her, and it was SO! DAMN! SNEAKY! So, yeah, I think it’s totally like that.

Good gravy, I need a life. . .

Postpartum Story (Jacob)

Warning for all you squeamish folk out there: there will be blood. .

When Jacob was about 2 weeks old, I woke up with unexplained pain in my left hip and groin to the point that I couldn’t walk without help. After two days of on and off pain, it got so bad that I ended up in the ER at 4 in the morning and called my Mom in NY to see if she could come out and help with Jacob because I couldn’t take care of him.

Over the next 3 weeks my mom (props to Jojo!) did most of the day to day caretaking of Jacob while I tried to rest and visited the chiropractor and tried to figure out the mystery of this random pain, which kept me up most nights while Jacob slept. During this time I bought not one, but TWO Magic Bullets (Buy One Get One Free if you act NOW!) and became addicted to the Food Network and Rachael Ray. When Jacob was almost six weeks, I found an orthopedist who ordered an MRI which would later show a bulging disc. The good news was that I was starting to feel better, and my mom went home.

I started passing large clots the day that my mom left, literally passing the first one in the half hour before she left for the airport. Since the postpartum bleeding had slowed down and was now increasing, I was scared and called my OB. The office wasn’t too concerned, so I felt kind of foolish. As the evening wore on, I continued to pass golf ball sized clots, which steadily increased in size. Finally, we drove to ER at about 2 am, the third such trip in six weeks.

As soon as I stepped out of the car in the ER parking lot (what a polite uterus I have--NOT ON THE JETTA!!), I felt a whoosh of blood pour down my legs, like someone had pulled a string on a bucket in my uterus. Not one to give up appearances, my first thought was, good thing I’m wearing black pants. I walked into the ER, my slippers leaving Rorschachs on the cream colored linoleum and had a flash of guilt over the mess I was making. After I got on the examining table, I continued to pass more clots and it felt like I was part of a horror movie. I can only imagine how Josh felt, sitting next to our sleeping 6-week old while witnessing clot after clot coming out of his wife’s body.

The ultrasound technician did a scan and found nothing, so they sent me home and told me to see my OB. Since my OB was on vacation, I saw Dr. G, who was the same backup when my Dr was on vacation after my C-Section the next day. When I got to her office at 11 am the next morning, she saw a huge clot blocking my cervix, and sent me back to the hospital next door for surgery to remove it.

I went into surgery at about 1:30 pm, where they did a D&C (dilation & curettage), which is where they dilate your cervix and scrape your uterus clean. I was already dilated about 3-4 cm (much faster than with Jacob!), my body had gone back into labor because there was something still there.

When they removed the clot, 800 ccs of blood came out, a little under 2 pints, which I’m told is about 25% of my blood volume, a factoid I was very glad not to know at the time. They ultimately found that a piece of placenta had been left behind after my C-Section, and that was what had been causing so much havoc on my body.

 Dr. G was very apologetic and Monday Morning Quarterbacking her choice to not give me a postpartum scan when I had the uterine infection. I have to say I have no ill will towards either doctor that treated me. They made the best choices that they could, I received good care, and a heartfelt apology goes a long way.

I hated being back in the hospital. I hadn't been apart from Jacob, and after Josh and he left for the night, I cried myself to sleep. I was so afraid and alone, but in shock at what had just happened. That night was probably the lowest point for me, watching my family leave. Now that I was on the mend and feeling safe, my mind finally let me image their life without me.

After that night in the hospital, things improved dramatically. Luckily I didn't need a transfusion and got to go home Saturday morning. That Saturday and Sunday I was tired as my body rebuilt its iron stores, but most of my physical ailments were gone (except for the bulging disc, but even that felt better), and the nice part is that I was so happy to be physically able to take care of my son that I didn’t care about being up in the middle of the night. If I was up, it was because of him, not me, and that was an unexpected joy. I also stopped thinking about what happened to me and put it away in a box, one that I am now trying to slowly unwrap as I gear up for Keiki.

The phrase that goes in and out of my head is this: I could have died. Every time this phrase comes up, it wraps around me like a boa constrictor until I push it down and back into the box. Don’t be silly. You’re such a drama queen. People have been through worse. Whether or not these things are valid, the fact is that when I walked into the ER that last time with blood streaming down my legs, it’s very likely that I was a few bad decisions away from death, and facing that truth is what drives my current fear and indecision regarding Keiki’s birth.

I'm sharing this to try and loosen the power that this has over me. What happened to me was scary and potentially life-threatening, but I made it. I made it to my Dr.’s office before passing that large clot and losing all that blood at home, in my sleep or someplace else where I couldn’t have gotten immediate help. I recovered and was able to care for my son. I am able to carry another healthy baby, and I am willing to work through all this shit, no matter how scary it is. I am so grateful that I am here with my lovely family about to be expanded, which makes it feel all the more selfish to keep up this loop in my head. And yet, I feel that if I can express it, however crazy or self-indulgent that feels, I can let go of it. I can stop thinking about how I could have died, and remember that I didn’t.

God Bless You and the United States of America

For some reason, I have such a fondness for the sayings and mixed up idioms of those for whom English is a second language. I think this is because I often mix up syllables in words (there's even a word for it: Spoonerism), or like to make up new words (epinerdis anyone?). Oh how I love the poetry of a new phrase or the images that come to mind when a mixed up phrase is used. Like the time my friend A (daughter of immigrants, she kind of inherited this trait) said, “She is one cool glass of water,” and instead of thinking of a tall thin girl, I imagined a glass filled with ice water with a head on top and some arms poking out the sides.

This may be one of the reasons why I married a man with foreign born parents, so I can bask in the beauty of words lost in translation. I would share some here, but my in-laws may someday find this site. Despite the fact that I write about the state of my cervix, I do have some boundaries, people!

My first real experience with this was when I worked in the undergraduate science library during my final year of college. One of the daytime supervisors was a Polish woman we’ll call L. She was a character, and to look at her, she really had no place in a science library.

5 feet (if that) and all cleavage, she favored tight clothes and high heels, despite being somewhere in her mid to late fifties, although she would never admit her age. In fact, she liked to put people on the spot by asking them how old they thought she was; any year in the 40s brought a big smile. Her husband was a Stanford professor and they had a long distance “open” relationship. She smoked like a chimney, as did I, she liked to talk, I liked to listen, so we got along famously.

My favorite thing about L was that despite living here for over 30 years, she had a very thick accent. I think this was a point of pride for her, as her brother, who was only a couple of years younger than she and emigrated at the same time, spoke perfect accentless English.

Anyhoo, L mixed up words all the time, like saying “I give you an inch, and you take my leg!” to the man with the 6 month overdue textbook who wanted to wave his fines. My favorite was when someone said something sweet to her, and she said, “God Bless You and the United States of America!” I thought it was a one time deal, but she said it frequently and something about it sent me into fits of laughter. So now, every time I think “God Bless Blank” I silently, and sometimes not so silently, add “. . .and the United States of America!" And every time I say, think or write this phrase, I make sure to do a thick Polish accent in my head.

37 Weeks: Not so neutral swiss chard

37 Weeks = Full Term = Let the jumping jacks commence!!

In all seriousness, it feels so good to be full term. Despite mind-boggling nausea for half of this pregnancy, overall things have gone pretty well. I'm starting to learn energy moderation and have been able to still enjoy things like making dinner and stroller striding without feeling like I'm going to collapse. Unfortunately I am down with a head cold that is making me a fusspot and giving Jacob a run for his money right now, but I’m trying to be patient since I can’t take lots of decongestants and whatnot, but god bless Benadryl and the United States of America! (I will give some context to that in a post someday, I promise)

Unlike my little chard within, I am not feeling so Swiss (neutral – I know, lame wordplay, but Babycenter is not giving me much!). I’m leaning more into the VBAC camp, but not ready to fully get on board with either decision. I will have an ultrasound next week that I may allow to decide my fate for me if Keiki is looking like another almost 10 pounder.

While part of me doesn’t want to make a decision before my due date, there is another part of me that just wants to decide already and be done with this. It is really hard work to slog through my labor, delivery and aftermath with Jacob and the emotional scars it left; all the fears that I have about my impending birth experience with Keiki. There is part of me that knows that it’s not just about this birth experience, and that if I don’t sit with my ambivalence and fear, it will manifest itself somewhere else in my life. Whoah, is that too Oprah for a blogger that responds to her junk mail? Well, let’s face it people, I’m kind of Oprah. Let’s just say that feeling my feelings are kind of hard for me, and all this feeling stuff and growing can be really draining.

I’m trying to see the up side. If I keep up this work,  then I’ll have something to hold over Keiki when he/she is 15: “Do you know how many feelings I had to feel, how many tissues I used and how much therapy I went through to be a good mother to you?! Now just pick up your damn room!” Not as good as the guilt I can hold over Jacob, what with the “I went through surgery so you could come out with a nice round head, fella!” Oh well, it’s a start.

Monkey Brain

7 am, working from home, a conversation in my head:

Self, while logging onto VPN and code changes: Dang it!
Monkey Brain: What’s that?
Self: I HATE it when my RSA code changes in the middle of logging onto VPN!
MB: You know what?
Self: What?
MB: Your epinerdis is showing! (wild hoots of monkey laughter)
Self: My wha?
MB: Your epiNERDis! Like Epidermis, but NERD? Get it? Get it? (more cackles)

Between the ages of 6 and 10, my brother Ben (now that he’s on the Internet, I’m using his full name) told me, “Hey, your epidermis is showing,” about 999 times, and EVERY time I fell for it! And to think, it only took 13 more years to get a diagnosis of ADD. Oh look, a shiny object!

Spam

Dear Marriage-minded People,

Marriage minded? But of course! That’s kind of why I got married. Duh!

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

Spam

Dear Gmail inbox sorters,

E-mails from Oprah to NOT go into the junk mailbox. You were doing so well, but minus 10 points for you!

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

37 Week Checkup Stats

BP: 99/77
Fundal Height: 40 cm
Weight: +1 lb
Cervix: No change
Other: Strep B was negative

Looks like Keiki really jumped in size this week, but I had the backup OB, who noted that measurements can depend from caregiver to caregiver, so we’ll see. No major changes, BP still looking good, no swelling yet. I’m tired, but I also have a cold (got the go ahead for Benadryl, thank God!)

On Wednesday, I’ll be full term, and I can’t wait. Unfortunately we are having major rain this week, so potentially no Stroller Strides, which I was kind of hoping would help put me into labor. I also read Your Best Birth this weekend. I’ve been procrastinating on reading it because I’ve been afraid that it would make me feel more pressure to pursue VBAC, but I think they did a very good job of advocating the concept that your best birth is one in which you are making informed decisions and doing what is best for you.

I was pretty impressed with the OB today. I go to a all-female practice with three doctors, and they make sure you get to meet everyone before your delivery just in case your usual OB is not there. I've met the third doctor, but this one is new, replacing the OB who happened to back up my OB when Jacob was born and when I hemorraghed six weeks postpartum.  My OB was there for the birth, but out of town during my uterine infection and the six week disaster, so I was grateful that I knew and liked the backup.
 
Anyhoo.
 
I must be a cheap date because she had me at hello. Since today was a holiday, both my fellas came with, and her opening comment was, "Is this the little guy that was 9 lbs, 14 oz?" At the end, she asked twice if we had additional questions. These two gestures may not seem like much, but as a patient, it's the little things that earn my trust. When I read about OB experiences where the doctor has a one eye on the clock, I'm grateful for my OB practice and that this woman took some time to learn about me and my past experience, and wasn't running out of there once she got a feel of the ole cervix.

Monkey Brain

While I have made good use of psychotropic drugs in my lifetime, when the side affects take up four (FOUR) pages of my People magazine, we’ve gone too far. Do NOT mess with the People, people. It makes me think about that Chris Rock bit: “Do you get up in the morning? And go to sleep at night? You need blahbedy blah drug.” Check your Spam for 80% off!!

Feedback to the producers of the Golden Globes

I may get some bad Karma for saying this (and will deny all and blame it on late-pregnancy bitchiness), but I think that the speech time for the Golden Globes should be determined by how famous you are. For example, Meryl Streep gets 2 minutes because we know who she is and she has something great to say. The producer of Grey Gardens, however, would only get 15-20 seconds because no one knows who the heckadeedoodle she is. In the meantime, thank god for Tivo. Okay, bring on the handbasket!

Could this day get any better?

We started the day with a Vikings playoff win, Daddy & Jacob got some shots (of the H1N1 variety) and had a Borders Books date, they are bringing home Pluto's (the best salads ever!!) and the Golden Globes are starting in 15 min. Also? I haven't changed out of my PJs or done anything besides blow my nose all day. Loverly, just loverly.

Semantics

Dear E-Surance,

Given the fact that you seem to have the budget for daily radio ads on KCBS, I bet you have the budget for a $50/hour fact checker. If you had decided to spend the big bucks, you would have learned that “-itis” is a Greek suffix that among other things, means “inflammation.” So your new ad campaign about “Walletitis” is about inflammation of the wallet, not shrinking you silly geese. Fortunately for you, I’m probably the only one out there who thinks about these things.

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

Monkey Brain

I've been watching you, little stretch mark on my side. Don’t think you’re getting away with something just because I have to crane my neck to get a glimpse. I mean, really? What happened? After 35 weeks you had a meeting and decided, hey guys, we need to get started?! Didn’t you have enough fun with my first pregnancy? I really thought I was finished with your cartography, you sneaky little devil.

Spam

Dear Google,

I have to tell you guys that your Spam is way more interesting than Yahoo! With all your medical discounts and creative euphemisms for male genitalia, you are kicking Yahoo!’s Christian Ministry Course’s butts.

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

Birth Story, Part II (Men read at your own risk. . .)

As written about here, I went into labor five days after Jacob’s due date, on the afternoon of Monday, October 1, 2007. I labored through the night at home, and from what I can remember, there was a fair amount of timing, showering and pooping (sorry guys, but isn’t it better to do it in the toilet than on the birthing table?) At around 5 am, after 12-13 hours, we headed to the hospital.

As soon as we got to the hospital and I was in the bed, I was hooked up to the fetal monitor and given IV pain medication and Pitocin. I was so exhausted at this point that I didn’t even think about whether or not I wanted pain relief or the ability to walk around. I dozed in and out, and continued to contract without much progress. At about noon, my OB came in and physically made my water break (also called “breaking the bag”). I think that I was around 4 cm dilated (you need to get up to 10) and had received an epidural, so I felt nothing. There was meconium (fetus poo) in my waters, which wasn’t such a huge deal, but we wanted things to move forward, that’s for sure. Then Jacob’s heart started dropping on every contraction, so they gave me medicine to stop the contractions, and then to start them up again.

On and on we went through the afternoon, and during some of that time I needed to wear an oxygen mask, which I hated. I felt tied to the bed, scared, and somewhat claustrophobic with the mask, but too foggy to even think about what was happening.

At around 5:30 pm, my OB came back and gave me two options. She would let me labor until about 11pm, during which they would try to use a vacuum extractor to get Jacob out, and if that didn’t work I’d have to have a C-Section, or we could move forward with C-Section now. In thinking through what my body and my baby had been through, his heart going up and down all day, I couldn’t bear putting him through more of the same, and so we chose C-Section. At the time, I felt good about the decision, thinking that while it would be harder for me, it would hopefully be easier for Jacob, and ensure a safe delivery.

We rolled into the operating room at about 6pm, and I was laid out with my arms in the crucifix position as the anesthesiologist got to work. I remember my doctor chatting with the other surgeon about her upcoming high school reunion, her telling me that my abs looked great, and that “they won’t look as good the next time around!” and I was comforted by the chitchat which made me feel like what was happening was not such a huge deal.

I remember starting to shiver, and the feeling that I was going to throw up, and the fear that I would vomit on my face or into my mouth because I couldn’t sit up. Josh was on my left, and when Jacob came out, he was dazed at first, until the anesthesiologist nudged him into action: “Go on, take some pictures!” Then Josh was dancing (if not physically, his voice was) and saying how much Jacob looked like his dad. He brought him back to me so I could see him, and as I’ve written here before, I felt nothing. I still couldn’t stop shivering, and what I didn’t know at the time was that my body was beginning to fight a uterine infection that was only the beginning of things to come.

They brought me into recovery and I passed out as my fever spiked. I was in and out for about an hour, and then I was awake enough to sit up and have Jacob come in and try to nurse, without much luck. We rolled back to the room and I think that our family was still there: my mom, Josh’s dad and stepmom, Josh’s brother.

My fever spiked twice more. I remember one of the labor and delivery nurses telling me that one of the spikes (104 point something) was the highest temperature she’d taken in her 30 year career, and I had a little sick pride over that. I remember that the on-call OB decided to only do a uterine scan if I spiked a third time, which I didn’t, and six weeks later, we’d both wish that she had ordered the scan. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that.

I remember the removal of the catheter, and subsequent pain and re-insertion after my bladder got so full and I couldn’t physically pee. I remember the kindness of the labor and delivery nurses, the best nurses of all. One braided my stinky hair and got the knots out when I couldn’t shower for two days. She was the same one who got as giddy as a schoolgirl when I finally passed gas, which meant that I could eat food, and ran to get me a menu so I wouldn’t have to wait until dinner time after nearly three days of watered down apple-cranberry juice and ice chips. I can’t say enough about labor and delivery nurses, who certainly don’t chose this specialty for the pay. Overall, Josh, Jacob and I got a lot of tender loving care during our stay.

We stayed 5 days in the hospital so I could recover, and went home on Saturday morning, and while the real-world journey of parenthood began, the labor and delivery part was not yet over.

After the C-Section, I felt like I had failed at something so fundamentally female, the experience of childbirth, and I second guessed all of my choices. What if I had created a more specific birth plan? What if I had held out when they started hooking me up to machines and medicines from the moment I walked into the hospital? What if I had waited until the last possible moment, and given the vacuum extractor a shot?

I find it easier to question myself than to give myself credit for making a choice that may have saved both me and Jacob from further trauma. I find it easier to listen to the voices that speak of interventions and criticize C-sections and hospital births instead of trying to accept that my birth story is my own, and I could have had a much worse outcome than I did. As it stands, I had a healthy baby who was a good eater, a good sleeper, with a calm and mellow personality.

I think that the scariest part of a C-section is my fear of a repeat experience. And while everything I’ve learned has taught me that an operation without labor can be easier to deal with, I’m still scared. I’m sharing this to try to let go of that fear, because I want to make the best choice for me and Keiki, and I don’t want it to be a choice that comes out of fear. As I write, I’m learning that it may not be the C-section itself that is scary. To use a California metaphor, if my C-Section was an earthquake, it set in motion a series of more dangerous aftershocks, and for me, everything that happened in the weeks after Jacob was born emotionally leads me back to the C-Section and clouds my ability to make a choice now. And all that is another story. Stay tuned.

Near Miss

There several times that I’ve almost killed my son, but I’ll just share a few:

• The time I flipped over his car seat when he was a few weeks old and I barely caught it before it rolled into oncoming traffic.
• The time I let him crawl up the two steps leading from our house to the concrete patio and he thunked his way down to the concrete.
• The time I had the oven door open and a knife in my hand and Jacob ran towards me and I reflexively went to him, knife still in hand, hot oven still open.
• The time that Jacob crawled halfway up my sister’s big staircase while Josh and I each thought the other was watching him.
• The time I left the big chopping knife on the edge of the counter, thinking it was out of reach until Josh demonstrated with a rock that it was very much within reach.

Clearly, I didn’t really almost kill him, but at the time it felt something like that. With my imagination, a near miss is just enough for me to picture the potential (and often very bloody) outcome.

I’m thinking of this because today I made my first call to 911. My neighbor was pounding on my door this morning and I opened it up to find her distraught, her four year old in her arms with a bloody towel covering his face. A door mirror had fallen on his him while she was in the bathroom. The paramedics came and took him to the hospital, and while he’ll have a good scar to tell the ladies about, he still has all his teeth, the shards just missed his eye, and he should be okay. Still, that doesn’t do much to alleviate a mother’s guilt because something bad happened under her care.

We make so many mistakes as parents, and it seems so hard to acknowledge it, like we should always be watching, as if all the baby proofing and safety gear out there should mean that there won’t be any boo boos or trips to the ER. And while so far Jacob’s mishaps have only needed a little ice or band-aid here and there, I know that there will be a day when there’s a big one, and it may be on my watch. I hope that I can give that future me the same empathy that I gave my friend this morning.

Anyway, I better sign off. Jacob's been alone in the bath for a while and it's been quiet; too quiet. . .

Monkey Brain

Dear Mrs. Crocker (and the makers of Fiber One muffin mix, since you don’t really exist),

If I had the spacial intelligence (or any brain cells that aren’t eaten up by motherhood) to figure out what a 2/3 full muffin cup should look like, would I be making muffins from a box? If I had that superpower, wouldn’t I be grinding my own wheat and baking muffins from scratch? Help a girl out, wouldja? Like, “add ¼ c batter,” or something like that.

(This is what I get for entering Costco while pregnant, nesting, and not on Ritalin.)

Sincerely,

Monkey Brain

36 Weeks: The Home Stretch?

Since Keiki is the size of a Crenshaw melon, I’ve wracked my brain for some sort of Crenshaw Boulevard reference, but let’s face it; I’m just not that cool. In case you even think about rejecting that notion, let me tell you a story, and then I’ll get back to pregnancy.

The summer I turned six, we took a family trip to England. First, we were in London, where we saw Evita, which I loved, loved, loved. We made our way south to the beach town of Sidmouth, where some friends of friends owned a news shop. While in the bathroom of the news shop, I decided to entertain myself by singing “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina.” AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS. Still in that childhood stage where you think you are invisible if you can't see anyone, oblivious to the fact that a closed door does not mean SOUNDPROOF, I finished my business, walked back out to the store to a standing ovation from my family and the shop patrons, turned red and melted into a nearly six-year-old puddle of embarrassment in the floor.

Back to the present.

In the final weeks of pregnancy, people often tell you that you’re on the home stretch, the final mile, almost there, Tiger. Although according to the Semantics Police, Keiki will be an Ox, not a Tiger, because the Chinese New Year won’t come until after his/her arrival. Stupid semantics, guess Daddy wants a little organizer not a charming, charismatic leader. . .reel it in Monkey Brain, REEL. IT. IN.

This week I’m realizing that these comments, while true in some sense, are also completely misleading. I know from experience that taking care of a baby in my belly is NOTHING compared to when they get out into the world.

While I’m on the final lap of the pregnancy, this is just a warm up. I’m finishing a marathon, only to begin a lifetime version of the Iron Man Triathlon. I want to savor this time, because so much will go into a vortex over the coming months. Part of my motivation to blog is to have something to share with my friends and family, most of whom are far, far away. It’s my way of saying, “I may not return your call or call you, ever. I may take months to respond to e-mails, but I still love you, and here’s what’s going on in my life that, along with my general Monkey Braininess, prevents me from being good about keeping in touch.” I wish I could tell my friends that if I don’t call you for the next five years, please don’t write me off, and try to remember when I was a good and caring friend because I still care, I’ve just got my head up my arse and that may not change for a few years.

I know that there are people who maintain social lives and ties with their best friend from third grade despite having jobs and kids. I’m not one of those people. I am not a good phone person, which makes me a bad long distance friend. I like e-mail, but completely flake out, which gets worse with parenthood. I’ve definitely lost friends due to my crappy correspondence skills, and I can only hope that the friends that remain either accept that part of me, or are so busy themselves that they don’t notice. Either one suits me. So those of you reading, wondering why I am such a shit, know this: I do think about you, and sometimes I’ll even set about calling or e-mailing, but 9 times out of 10, I will get distracted by a shiny object or poopy diaper. I’m sorry.

The Big One

As a resident of the Bay Area and living miles from the Hayward Fault, which is set to go at any time, the fear of a big, scary earthquake is always rattling somewhere in my consciousness, and so my heart breaks for the people of Haiti. The thing is that I work in a building that is on rollers which will move with an earthquake and live in an area that is better prepared than most for when the big one strikes. I can't imagine the devastation and shock that Haitians are dealing with tonight, as well as their relatives here who are hoping and praying to hear some good news. My thoughts and prayers are with them, and I will hold my own family a little closer tonight.

The playground is to toddlers as the Marina Safeway is to grown ups

Just in case the above reference has too many San Francisco values, here is a link to a brief background.

Jacob: Hi! Whatchu eating?
Girl at the Playground: Cheerios
Jacob: No, dat’s cookies!
GATP: Blank Stare
Jacob: Whatchu doing?
GATP: Blank Stare
Jacob: Whatchu doing?
GATP: Blank Stare

She did approach him later in the sandbox and they took laps around the playground for a bit. Look out ladies!

Monkey Cook: Penne Carbonara

This is my take on the classic comfort food that is spaghetti carbonara. I’ve made some switcheroonies to make it a little healthier, but you may want to have a light lunch if you are serving this for dinner. Serves 2-3

Ingredients:
6-8 slices turkey bacon (feel free to use less if you are not a meat-craving preggo)
2 eggs at room temperature
6 T shredded parmesan cheese, divided
3 oz whole wheat penne
3 oz penne
Black pepper (to taste)
Directions:
1. Preheat your oven to 400°, and bake turkey bacon in the oven for about 7-10 minutes on each side, until brown.

2. Place a large pot of water to boil for the pasta and cook the pasta to al dente (~10 min); be sure to salt the water before you drop in the pasta. .

3. While the pasta is cooking, chop the turkey into bite size pieces, and beat the eggs with ¼ c parmesan and a few sprinkles of black pepper.

4. Drain the pasta, reserving about 1c of the starchy cooking water.

5. Return the pasta to the pot, and stir in the egg mixture and the chopped bacon. The heat of the pasta should cook the egg. Add spoonfuls of the cooking water to help the egg mixture and bacon stick to the pasta (if you don't use the whole cup, that is okay). If the egg is not cooking, feel free to put the burner on low so you don’t get salmonella, which would totally suck.

6. Stir in the remaining parmesan an add black pepper to taste (I say bring it on!!)

7. Enjoy with a green salad and a nice glass of wine (optional of course)

36 Week Checkup

BP: 103/86
Fundal Height: 37 cm
Weight: +1.5
Cervix: 30% effaced; closed

What this all means: Things are looking very good. In terms of belly size, growth has slowed down to the point where I don’t really need a last ultrasound to determine the size, but I’m still going to have one to help me make the VBAC/C-Section determination in a few weeks. While I’ve agreed to schedule a C-Section if we are looking at another 9 pounder, I still have a resistance to that idea, despite the fact that it may be in my best interest. Clearly there’s some more work to do, so stay tuned for more birth stories (sorry fellas!)

The cervix stuff up there means that my cervix is starting to thin out, but still closed. This is okay given that I’m not at 36 weeks, but good news that things are starting to happen down below. We still want to keep this kiddo in the hot tub for at least another 9 days, but then all bets are off!