Dr. D Says

I went in for my regular check-up this morning with Dr. D. Everything is groovy so far. My blood pressure is good, no (extra) swelling, and even my jump in weight is nothing to worry about.

It came time to check the baby's heart rate and our little wiggler wouldn't sit still. Dr. D had a reading going, when *swoosh* the kidlette moved and she had to start over again. After Dr. D finally got her reading, 168 beats/min, she looked at me and said, "You're having a girl, right?" I just said, "I don't know..." She answered, "I think you're having a girl, this baby acts like one."

So, Dr. D has weighed in on the "Girl" side of the argument.

In other baby related news, John and I have settled on our prospective names. Girl and boy. It's been a challenge, but we're both happy with the results. You'll have to ask me in person if you want to know what they are...

Random Thoughts on a Sunny Day

Today as I walked from class to the English Society Tea I passed the following happenings:

International Student Fair--Complete with food booths ranging from fresh crepes to shish-ke-bob and a stage where Muslim rappers were performing.

Student Protest--They staged a walkout and picket line to protest fee hikes across the Cal Sate system.

Science 2 BBQ--I'm not sure who the Science 2 students are...but the BBQ sure smelled good.

I also got flashed from across the street while waiting for my train home by a woman who just didn't understand how short her skirt was as she sat, knees open, at the bus stop. That was before she dropped her cell phone and did some weird contortionist moves to pick it up from behind her seat. That gave me a view I can only describe in terms of my birth class. She was ready for the side laying one leg up pushing position...but I'm not her OB/GYN.

In other news, the shirts were off everywhere as the pasty skinned begin to work on their summer tans! It's about 77 F outside and sunny as can be. The first thing I did when I got home was to flip on the fan and trade my t-shirt for a tank top. Yikes, I hate being sweaty. I should get used to it, it's not going to get any better any time soon.

My cold has been replaced with the discomfort of allergy nose...dry then runny...and itchy eyes and a sore throat. I'll ask the doc tomorrow if there's anything I can take for it. On the "plus" side, my sense of smell has climbed up again to the level it was when I first got pregnant. It had been dormant for a while. Today in class I was so grossed out by the smell of my classmates bad coffee. Ick. It could get ugly as everyone gets sweaty.


All in all, so far, not a bad day. Even with the creeping allergies. I hope the sun decides to stick around. Things are much more appealing that way.

42 Days and Counting...

It's gone from 40 weeks down to about 40 days. Time flies when you're having a baby.

John and I attended our childbirth class last Saturday. We did the intensive one day eight hour session...that ended up being about nine hours. Our instructor loved the topic, has been teaching classes and acting a professional doula and is currently six months pregnant. Great combination for a class...but it was hard to condense the information.

It was a different experience than what I thought it would be. I was prepared to be frightened by everything we didn't know yet...but it turns out I should be more scared of what everyone else didn't yet know. Was I really the only woman there who already knew (and practicing) what Kegel's are? I thought, foolish me, that most people in this day and age and in this area, would have read up on the basics and would be looking for some specifics from the class. Not so. In Santa Clara County only about 10% of all expecting women attend a birthing class. I wonder what the other 90% do? I know it's an option, but I thought most people would want to know what to expect when the big D-day arrives. I do. Also, Santa Clara County has the highest rate of epidural use in the nation at 98% of births. I'm not judging, because I am so willing to accept the epidural, but I'm at least going to try other things before the feeling in my legs is taken away. That idea kind of bothers me. Laugh all you want mom's who have been there...but we all have our own ideas about labor and how we would like it go.

John and I left thinking that for most couples there that day, this was the only preparation they would do. That's fine...it's at least some preparation. We had breathing techniques explained, comfort measures practiced and some alternative labor positions presented. I like the over-the-side-of-the-bed-squat-bar position. Sounds kind of kinky doesn't it? What was reassuring was the knowledge that John and I are preparing ourselves as much as we can. I think that will make a world of difference when the time comes. It will hopefully allow us to have a sense of control over what is happening...control in that we understand what is going on and what our options are. I will say, John was the best husband there. But, I might be biased.

Six more weeks...give or take. It's getting kind of scary. Yesterday I was bone tired and not feeling very peppy. I had a classmate look at me and go..."You look like you're done with being pregnant and ready to have a baby." Yesterday I might have felt that way...but today I'm just ready to make it through to finals. Yup. I have one month of school left, and only a couple weeks of actual instruction to go. My biggest concern is: What have I learned this semester? Lot's about stars, literature, and even something about myself. It's all kind of a jumble right now mapped out in papers and projects. I'll do all right. Keep your fingers crossed for the next 42 days...

James is the Best Cat Ever

I was inspired this morning to sew. I had the fabric, I had the plans and I have been thinking on this project for weeks now. I made my very first ring sling for the baby. Nothing fancy, just some nice woven fabric, bright purple brushed aluminum rings and a very long tail. I'm fairly pleased with how it turned out. So pleased in fact, I think I will attempt to make a padded sling next with the fabric I didn't end up using and the extra rings I ordered. Why not?

I needed to try on the sling. I've never worn one before, and I was wondering how it would really feel. As there is a lack of babies in the house at this very moment I wondered how I could simulate the weight of a small child across my shoulders. A-ha. I do have a 10lb cat wandering around...but the sun is out and last I saw, he was outside enjoying it. Still musing with the empty sling strapped across my back and chest, I turned as the soft click of the cat door announced the arrival of my dear, sweet victim.

James headed straight for the clean folded laundry on the bed. That was my excuse. Tightening the inner "pouch" of the sling I waltzed into the bedroom and picked up my fur baby in the cradle hold. Gently holding him in one arm and opening the sling with the other, I placed him inside. At first, I thought he was going to bolt for dear life. His little head poked out the top and he turned to face me and let out a plaintive "mew". I simply cradled his back and adjusted the sling until he was snug, but not suffocated. He relaxed. I let go of his backside and started to walk around the house. He poked his head over the side and to watch from this new angle as I walked. It was great. Very comfortable. I felt his warm little body and could tell he was very secure. He must think I'm crazy.

After about 10 minutes of jouncing around, I thought I had better not push my luck with his patience. I didn't want claw marks on my new sling, after all. I walked back to the bedroom and gently got him into my arms and out of the sling. I'm amazed at how easy it was to get a good hold on him coming in and out of the sling. I put him back on the bed and he curled right up again for a nap, no worse for the wear.

My only regret is that I don't have a picture to share of James all snug in the baby sling.

Conversation

Husband: (from floor) I can't get up.

Ever More Pregnant Wife: (from bed) Welcome to my world.

Happy Monday!

The litany of small trials that made my morning yesterday:

Woke up on time...actually got out of bed too late.

Ants attacked the kitchen cabinets.

Went to catch my train to school. As I just reached sidewalk over crossing to the train pulled in...As I ran to the top of the stairs hollering "Wait!" the train pulled away.

It began to rain while I was sitting at the station waiting for the next train.

There were no seats for me on the train.

I had just enough time to walk-at a hustle, with a stitch in my side from running-the five city blocks to campus and get to class on time.

Deciding I needed a small chocolate pick me up for my frustrating morning, I stopped at the vending machine for some peanut M&M's...my package of M&M's got STUCK IN THE MACHINE. I just stood looking at them...hanging there...taunting me.

I spent another .75 to release the original package of M&M's from vending machine bondage.

On the plus side...I still have an uneaten package of peanut M&M's in case today doesn't go well.

Note from the kitchen...

The brownies will be out of the oven in five minutes. If you can make it here in ten, they'll still be warm.

This is what happens when I'm left alone all day and it starts to rain. Again.

Lost and Found

Sorry about the two-week break in writing. I've been in my head lately and needed to kind of zone in and away. And then I got sucked into My Space. But that's another story altogether.

The most important happening, and the one that has turned into a catalyst of sorts, is that I have been found. I didn't even know I was lost. In the process of being found, I have made a new friend from an old one and discovered that I might not be as alone in the world as I (sometimes) like to think I am.

Background...(It's a writer's convention that in this case must be followed. Jumping in epic style "in the middle" would just make no sense. It becomes important to the story as a whole, I promise)...I spent the first 1/3 of my life living a semi-gypsy lifestyle. My dad wasn't military; he worked for Bechtel, which is a very large engineering/construction firm. Perhaps you've heard of them? No? They were getting contracts in the Middle East before Halliburton was a household name...Fortunately; Dad worked the domestic side of things. He was a project management accountant. He would be sent to new sites across the United States to help manage the army of construction, union, and contract workers needed to build VERY LARGE THINGS.

The average time on a job was two years. About every two years, from the time I was 2 until I turned 9, my family up and moved to a new place. A new state. Somewhere in the Mid-West. I have three siblings. None of us were born in the same state. I was talking to my mom the other day, and she mentioned how annoying it was to have delivered under four different OB's...she knew what was going to happen (very fast, easy births...lucky...no wonder she had four of us) but each new doctor wouldn't believe her until the baby popped out hours ahead of when the ob said it would. But I digress...

When I was about 5 we landed in Robinson IL. I remember the house, it was one of my favorites...two stories, fireplace, big living room and a bedroom with a view of the street below. I found a ceramic miniature pig toy that the previous owner had lost. I took it to be some kind of omen and the pig was my talisman for a while. The street, in my mind's eye, was idyllic. It was the kind of dreamy, Mid-West town street with large trees and wide lanes that Hollywood would film on. I had a tricycle there...I think...it was a lovely place to be. I had a baby brother at the time. But he was 1 at the most. I ruled the roost and would begin my school career at Lincoln Elementary in the fall.

Best of all, there were playmates on our street. Right across the street lived the girl who would be my best friend for my short stay: Dea. We fell into a natural little girl friendship. She was a year younger than I, but sharp as a tack and could keep up with any and all of my mental imaginations...often beating my ideas out with her own. What I remember best are the games of dress-up we used to play and the long intricate games of "Heidi". She had the best "Clara chair" and we would argue over who got to be the bossy invalid that Heidi, the good girl, eventually saves from herself. Dea would win; by virtue that it was her chair after all...being the bossy one is always the most fun.

I ran away to live with Dea once when my mom wouldn't let me have my own way. We watched Strawberry Shortcake and by the time it was over, I was ready to go home. The shortest running away in history, but also the most fun. Speaking of Strawberry Shortcake...Dea saved the day at my 6th birthday party. She was the only girl who had the very rare "Orange Blossom" doll that would complete the table setting at my themed party. She very graciously loaned me the doll. That was the best party of my childhood. My dad even dressed up as the Purple Pie man of Porcupine Peak. I couldn't get mom to agree to dress as Sour Grapes, the female "bad guy", but having the Pie man there was treat enough.

I remember hunting fireflies in her back yard on warm summer nights.

I remember she had much older siblings, and how cool I thought that was, being that baby brothers aren't that interesting.

For some reason I also have a memory of her tied in with an eight-track player and tapes...but my memory is sketchy at best. That is my problem.

You see, I left. And part of my coping with leaving is to forget. I have only scattered memories of my early childhood...like most children. I thought I was normal in this respect. I have better memories than my siblings. Of course, I am older than they are. But over time...my pictures of Dea faded in to the other places I was. I have one photograph of us together, but I can hardly remember the little girl I was...much less the girl she was. Across the years, I would think of her. I asked mom about how to find people, if I could go back to Robinson to look for her one day. I foolishly thought I could send a letter to our old address and ask the new owners to deliver it to "Dea across the street"...I couldn't even remember her full name anymore. Our last move, from Michigan to California, all but erased my life in the Mid-West. We had to pack light, and any trace I might still have had of Dea was gone. Except for that one photograph.

It was rather a surprise when I checked my news list-group-filler e-mail box a couple of weeks ago and found a message from Reunion.com. From Dea. How many Dea's are there in the world...who would even know to look for me? Stunned, I replied that I was indeed the one and only Valerie Kesweder (maiden name folks...distinctive...yes...memorable, I didn't think so...) and how the heck was she after 20+ years?

So, the reunion of a friendship began. If by some weird chance my family had stayed in Robinson...I believe Dea and I would have stayed friends. She is still wicked sharp...funny...imaginative. She's a writer. A wife...a military wife at that. A mother of two young boys. An independent thinker. A painted and pierced lady. A home baker with a new food processor. A computer junkie. A graphic designer. A thinker. A friend. And now she is the traveling gypsy and I am the spot-bound girl. She didn't leave that same street until college...and has now lived across the US.

I am scared and thrilled by this new friendship in my life. Scared by the immediacy and the connection I am feeling across years with nothing but notes and pictures to fill the gaps. Thrilled, because connection is something I crave, but something I am only just now learning to nurture. So far, it's e-mail and My Space and the occasional on-line chat...I am happy with that. It's amazing to me to have been found by a girl I loved as a child and begin to understand, and perhaps love, the women we have both become.