giddysinger’s Neighborhood

Just a sampling (still figuring out how to use the digital camera Ken got me for my birthday).

Moira and Anna in their customary daytime nap spot: the mat that will eventually be their play gym.

Me with Anna.

Moira in my lap.

The girls let us sleep a bit last night, and they've been very mellow today.  I'm almost afraid of what they have in store for us tonight!

On the subject of just sheer amusement, I sometimes forget I'm not pregnant anymore.  This evening I was getting hungry and absentmindedly put my hand on my stomach, and it felt weird not to have the huge belly!  The past few days I've been uncovering a lot of pregnancy magazines that were given to me at doctor's offices and such -- it's actually very strange to think of that phase being over and done.

But to sum up the past week that we've been home, it's been a mix of overwhelming joy and overwhelming exhaustion.  The days are all kind of a blur now.  I hardly remember the first sleepless night; I just remember asking Ken's aunt to pick up some formula for us since we were running out of the freebies from the hospital (having trouble with milk production -- another story), and then we invited her to stay as long as she wanted because she loves babies and we needed sleep!  I do remember the night the toilet got backed up, so Ken dealt with that while I juggled babies.  Anna had a hard time settling down in the crib, so she often ended up sleeping with us.  We spent two nights in our mini TV room, me on the couch and Ken on the floor, just for the sake of being at arm's reach of the girls.  We got more sleep that way, just not particularly comfortable (for Ken)!  There was the beautiful afternoon that we had just for the four of us, Ken and I watching a movie and the girls mostly sleeping -- that was the first moment I really felt like we're a family.

And every now and then I break down thinking about how uncertain this scenario was just a year ago.  What a journey and a struggle it's been to bring these two beautiful little miracles into our lives. 

It's also strange to realize that as crazy as the journey has been so far, it's really only the prologue.  Welcome, parenthood.

I've been composing this for days, but I finally have a few moments to type two-handed.  I guess what I'll end up writing here is snippets of the last nine days when my life changed forever.

Morning of the 10th.  I suppose I should consider myself lucky that my water broke while I was sitting on the toilet during what I thought was just another frequent trip to the bathroom.  Very strange feeling: I actually felt little Anna's head slip down in my pelvis.  That was, what?  6-6:30 AM I think.  Called the doctor.  Luckily I had already done all the registration work at the hospital the day before since the c-section was to be the next week.  By 7:30 we were in the car, and I could finally time my contractions -- sort of -- watching the time on my phone: 3 within a five-minute period.  This was going really, really fast.  The hospital is only ten minutes from home, less than that on a Saturday morning.  I could barely walk myself to the front door.  I was shaking, and once I got inside there were people to wheel me around everywhere.  By 8:00 I was being prepped for surgery.  IV.  Medicine to settle my stomach since I had been vomiting.  (I promptly threw up the medicine.  I'd had eight months of throwing up: why stop now?  And yes, I predicted this months ago!)  Wheeled into the OR while Ken got scrubbed up.  Epidural.  Everything was seriously happening really fast. 

So at least I got to experience a bit of what labor is like.  I know I was yelling and moaning a lot.  Trying to keep with the breathing.  I can say that I was glad to get the epidural when I did -- I had had enough of labor pains already!  I'm still curious if I could have lasted longer with non-medical pain relief techniques, but there just wasn't time or opportunity to try.  The c-section was already planned.  I don't know: things were proceding so quickly that there might have been some rupture-type risks anyway, had I tried to give birth vaginally.  At that point I felt so helpless, I didn't even care.  Just having the babies suddenly became a lot more important than how they came out.

OR.  Screen went up.  Oxygen mask on my face.  Feeling a lot more relaxed.  Everything from my chest down was numb.  I could feel pressure on my abdomen as they maneuvered Anna out.  A little yelp.  I'll never forget that.  Then one minute later, a full-throated hearty cry as Moira emerged.  After that, apparently I blanked out and started vomiting again.  They tried to show me the babies; Ken says I told them I'd see them later.  So Ken followed the girls to the nursery while I got sewn up.  He got to see them bathed and measured.  He got to hold them and have that moment of recognition when they heard his voice.  I'm glad one of us got to experience that.

I vaguely remember getting wheeled to our post-partum room.  It was around noon that they finally brought the babies in.  First awkward attempts at feeding.  Beautiful, healthy little girls.

So the next few days were about getting me back on my feet (literally), learning to nurse (which is still very much a work in progress), and getting used to frequent wakings (also a work in progress).  Although I'm happy to say we've successfully done the double breast feed a few times!  We went home last Tuesday, with all the grandparents at the house to greet us.  Just putting babies in car seats for the first time was its own little adventure.  Moira screamed most of the trip home.

And now it's getting used to life at home... 

The verdict is... c-section.  Evidently the placenta is still low enough that the doctors don't want to take the chance of tearing and bleeding.  It's been low-lying from the get-go, so it's not a total surprise, but it looked like it was clearing out of the way just in time.  Definitely disappointed.  I will get over it, but right now still disappointed.  Of course, all the important things are still fine -- the babies are still healthy, I'm healthy and won't have to hobble around much longer.  And of course there's the fact that this miracle is happening at all, which was still very dubious nine months ago, and that's a whole subject on its own.

First, til maternity leave.  One more week.  And none too soon.  Getting through a work day is tiring enough already.  Since the school year started back up, I've dealt with a few weird blood sugar issues, muscle cramps, and swollen feet.  Now I'm dealing with a strained groin.  My mom was up here for the afternoon yesterday, we were working on clearing out our now former office, I got down to and up off the floor too many times, and now I'm really hurting.  As in, I can barely walk.  Somehow I'm still going to go to work this week, even if I have to get someone else to park my car for me!  Because I really need to get my substitute trained, and time is running out.

Fortunately, that's about it for the Aches and Pains category.  Except to say that I don't care how much I'm hurting: puking everyday was worse.  And I'm happy to say I haven't thrown up in over a month!  I'm not even taking the anti-nausea meds everyday.  Just every now and then when I feel a little queasy.  As for other news:

 

Endless Entertainment

I still don't get tired of watching the kids wiggle around in my belly.  It's pretty hilarious sometimes.  I don't even know how they have room to move at this point, but they do it quite frequently.  It's fun poking at their feet or knees or whatever it is that protrudes from time to time.  Except when they get particularly active when I'm trying to go to sleep.

 

Closets of Clothes

Not that I'm complaining.  If it means we only have to do laundry every other week, fine by me!  Really, they have tons of clothes.  Probably more than I have.  They might only get to wear everything once or twice, which is kind of a shame since there's some really cute outfits.  Unless they spit up or otherwise mess up their clothes often, which is a possibility.  I'd certainly rather have too much clothing than too little.

 

Medieval Moccasins

They rock.  They're the only shoes I can still wear.  Comfortable.  Snug enough to stay on my feet, but with enough give and stretch that they still accommodate even when my feet look like footballs.  I can lace them up with a foot crossed on top of my knee with little difficulty.

 

Cooperative Kids

I'm tempting fate by speaking too soon on this, but the last ultrasound was about as good as it could be.  My placenta (or at least one of the two) has been low for the entire pregnancy so far, but it finally rose out of the low range.  The first baby is securely ensconced with her head in my pelvis (and right on top of my bladder... hello, bathroom trips), ready to come out whenever.  Her sister has been flipping around over and over for the past few months, but she's head down now, and hopefully it's too late for her to flip over again.  As far as the sonogram measurements can tell, they're about 5 1/2 pounds each -- good size.

 

Odd Autumn

It's really weird having neither Revels nor Ren Faire going on in my life, for the first time in... ten years, I think.  I'm pretty well too preoccupied to think about it, but it definitely doesn't feel like fall exactly.  I'm in that weird space of missing my usual activities, but without having time or energy to miss them.  I notice the absence, even though life is extremely full. 

 

So with one month to go (exactly one month, if they were to come on schedule), that's the state of things.

 

I just read this for a class I'm taking on disabilities and assistive technology.  I had to share this.  Many issues come up, political, philosophical, and personal. 

www.racematters.org/harrietmcbrydejohnson.htm

 

Ah, Summer again. Fireflies, pretty June nights leading to sweltering July 4th parades and the Dog Days of August (named after Sirius, by the way). So it must be time to make more beer. This Spring was crazy, but we always had some beer in the house. I entitled my latest adaptation of a Maryland Homebrew recipe, “Don't Worry, Be Hoppy,” which should give you a clue about its flavor. So far, rave reviews, which probably explains why its about half gone. I'll be taking some of that up to Canada this Friday. (is that illegal? Never ask ahead of time! Always beg for forgiveness! Then there's the air of plausible deniability.)

For those of you who might follow these things, here's the list of what TMM Brewery is making this summer. Note the crazy dates that are this past Sunday and Monday (5/31 and 6/1)! Again, I've donated a case to the Capital City Symphony gala auction, won by KJ who requested the Citrus Blast.

Beer	Brew Date	Rack Date	Bottle Date	Earliest Date Drinkable	OG (estimate italics)	FG	ABV
Don't Worry, Be Hoppy	04/20/09	04/27/09	05/12/09	05/19/09	1.05	1.02	4
Barmaid Debbie's Reward (porter)	05/13/09	05/20/09	06/01/09	06/07/09	1.066	1.019	6.4
Summer Peaches	05/31/09	06/08/09	06/22/09	07/01/09	1.044	?	?
Citrus Blast	06/01/09	06/08/09	06/22/09	07/01/09	1.046	?	?
Peel's Pale	06/01/09	06/08/09	06/22/09	07/01/09	1.046	?	?

Later this Summer, I plan to brew a Cherry Wheat (Sorry, Nick) and for those evenings when you really want something with that Chocolate Italian Torte, another batch of Chocolate Delight Stout. Stay tuned!

And the world breathed a collective sigh of relief as the whirling helicopter took the ex-President and ex-Vice President off to a secure penal colony where they will serve out their lives making elephant tchotchkes while listening to endless Kenny G. piped in on tinny speakers.

I'm beginning to realize one valuable purpose of blogging. My memory is terrible, and as the years pass by (I'm now allowed to use that expression as I've passed the 40 mark), this may be the most likely way I'll get around to trying to preserve events important to me and my family. I will certainly never self-publish anything resembling a memoir (what on earth would a stranger care about my life?), and I'm a dreadful photographer.

I dearly wish my ol' Da had done something similar. He could tell a good story about the things that happened to him in WWII, or on the stage, or in Hollywood, or in college, or back in Windsor and Maidenhead where he grew up, or how he ran off to join Franco's fight for Spain (yes, he was on the “wrong” side of that one). But he didn't write them down. And when he died in an airport 20 years ago at the age of 65, I lost a connection to those stories. Yes, I loved him and carry that still, and the mystical links that are father-son through all the generations are still there, I lost a crucial link in the story. Makes me think that quantum mechanics has it right about the transient nature of information at ALL scales.

And while I doubt my life has even half the ring to it that his did, I'm sure at some point my daughters, grown to older women Goddess-willing, will want to know a little bit about me and even just be reminded of the events they partook in as kids. Such as Obama's inauguration.

In the sum of all, it was worth it. The four of us bundled up and braved the (impressive!) crowds. Metro lied to us when they said L'Enfant Plaza would be an exit only station; it was announced “closed” by the time we got to Gallery Place/Chinatown at 8:15ish, so we had to get out with the throng and spend about 30 minutes just trying to get out to the street. Intimidated by the security lines, we walked up to K Street and over to 19^th Street NW to skirt them, getting to the lawn between WW II Memorial and the Washington Monument around 9:45ish.

We grabbed a spot in some trees where we could see the (mini?) jumbotron on 17^th. While the other three chilled (both figuratively and literally), I scouted up around the Monument itself to see if there was a better spot, but even by then, the Mall was basically full all the way back to that obeliskoid. The kids whined a little about the cold, but I think Rowyn understood why we were there, and Naomi got into the chanting (“O-ba-ma! O-ba-ma!”) once the festivities actually started. Debbie took a few pics and managed to get the swearing in on video.

Every time the jumbotron showed that smirking asshole, EX-President Bush, the crowd booed or broke out into, “Nah-nah-nah-nah, Hey, Hey, Hey, Good-Bye.”

At any rate, we enjoyed it for what it was. Brilliant speech (of course, even if it was written by a 27 year old...or maybe because it was?), and brilliantly delivered. And when the poet started giving a painful rendition of her poem (extraordinary rendition?), we headed straight up 17^th to Farragut North and caught a nearly empty redline Metro back home to watch the parade on the tellie. A day marked by a near-permanent grin and constant sense of relief...

Hope that vox.com lasts long enough for these words not to disappear...

I am now trying to kill a sinus infection.  It's a low-grade fever (hovering around 100 most of today, starting to go down now), but any fever at all is not a good thing.  So this is my third illness in 60 days -- first the UTI back in March, the cold earlier this month (which thankfully was short-lived), and now this.  That's more than I get in a typical year.  Bleh!  They're not kidding when they say your immune system goes down during pregnancy.

It seems that women who have been pregnant and given birth have this universal urge to talk about pregnancy experiences and are just waiting for an excuse.  Enter newly pregnant woman, and mothers swarm like bees around a hive!  Not that I mind -- it's all good.  But funny all the same and remarkably consistent no matter where I go -- church, Revels rehearsals, last night at my return trip to contra dance.  Funny.

By the way, unless anyone's lost track, I'm at 13 weeks and 4 days.  Which means the first trimester is officially over.  (And it's an experience I really don't care to repeat, thank you very much!)  And I'm up to five foods: crackers (saltines, graham and plain goldfish -- so is that really three foods?), pretzels, potato chips (plain, lightly salted), applesauce, and whole fat vanilla yogurt.