Fever of 103.5 Argh!
And of course, the very same issues which kept me from taking your run-of-the-mill penicillin to treat the Strep pre-delivery will prevent me taking any antibiotic at home. The alternatives?
a. steroids and pump and dump. Buy formula for 10 days or so. If it works, all's well. If baby never latches on again exceedingly grumpy me commits to pumping for a year. Bother.
b. in-patient to monitor IV antibiotics (with baby! whee! healthy baby enters ICU and ...)
c. nurse, nurse, nurse. Ibuprofen. Suffer. Hope for the best.
Right now we're on option C, but we'll see if that changes in the morning.
The good news is that we did this 3 times with the fusspot (left clogged duct/mastitis/fever of over 105 left untreated 3 times) and it all worked out for the best. The bad news is that 2 of those incidents involved me calling campus police to indicate that:
a. I was too sick to drive my car home
b. not being a student, they could not escort me to the hospital
c. I would be taking the subway home with my darling baby in arms just as soon as I'd finished paying the babysitter and my 3 hour lecture ...
In the meantime, baby is lovely and everything else is going exceedingly well. Even had a newborn photographer come over this morning (I really did splurge! Despite not being able to cough it up for a prenatal massage for the full 9.5 months, I splurged on a photographer! Of course, she showed up at 9 am when we'd said 10 am. Time change, huh? So I'll certainly be looking my very best after a 2 minute shower and no breakfast or even chapstick applied ...)
JD is back to work in the morning and the very relative who stormed out should arrive midday. Whee! Angry relative staying in 600 square foot apartment. Wish us luck ...
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
Much improved
Just a quick note to say that things are going much better here. We all survived the bris (only one relative stormed out of my apartment later in the day, which really isn't all that bad considering) and also made it down to see the occupational therapist and try to work on the dumpling's latch. By the end of an hour appointment his chomping was much improved, and now we hopefully hopefully hopefully just have to figure out how to feed him sans bottles for the next few days while my breasts recover.
In other news, it is simply glorious to have JD home for a week (he took this week as vacation, still saving his leave for later). Not only are he and the fusspot out at a museum now, but he's been cleaning and running interference with relatives (both sides of the family misbehaving at the moment, but I suppose that's to be expected in these situations) and just generally around. He's also learning all sorts of things about everyday life here like where we keep clean socks and stroller raincovers, the type of things that people who work 60 to 80 hours a week somehow don't know. And it makes me so happy to think that we might be leaving the big city in a year or two, and have the type of life where we're both home for dinner at 6 at least a couple of days a week.
Baby photos and such in the next post.
Oh, and a question for my dear readers. I want to get our neighbors a gift for watching the fusspot on no notice when I went into labor, and for coming to crash on our couch so that the fusspot could sleep in her own bed. I'll certainly pay them for the hours of babysitting, but any thoughts on gifts? I'd love to think of something NYC-related. We are thinking of tickets to the top of the Empire State Building, but can you think of anything better? The family has 2 young elementary school-aged kids and just moved to the big city this year.
In other news, it is simply glorious to have JD home for a week (he took this week as vacation, still saving his leave for later). Not only are he and the fusspot out at a museum now, but he's been cleaning and running interference with relatives (both sides of the family misbehaving at the moment, but I suppose that's to be expected in these situations) and just generally around. He's also learning all sorts of things about everyday life here like where we keep clean socks and stroller raincovers, the type of things that people who work 60 to 80 hours a week somehow don't know. And it makes me so happy to think that we might be leaving the big city in a year or two, and have the type of life where we're both home for dinner at 6 at least a couple of days a week.
Baby photos and such in the next post.
Oh, and a question for my dear readers. I want to get our neighbors a gift for watching the fusspot on no notice when I went into labor, and for coming to crash on our couch so that the fusspot could sleep in her own bed. I'll certainly pay them for the hours of babysitting, but any thoughts on gifts? I'd love to think of something NYC-related. We are thinking of tickets to the top of the Empire State Building, but can you think of anything better? The family has 2 young elementary school-aged kids and just moved to the big city this year.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Just hoping
that the worst part of tomorrow is having to squeeze into Spanx at 7 days postpartum (even I have a little pride while hosting a party, and let me assure you that there is no alternative) and has nothing to do with juggling my family.
Of course, it's also a bit frustrating that I lost today's naptime and will inevitably lose tomorrow's only window for a nap to racing around NYC to breastfeeding clinics. Huh? you say. I know, I know. You'd think after 23 months of nursing and after a slightly under 3 month break I'd have this down. And that's basically what I thought. I also remembered that lots of people complain about pain the first week or two.
So it hurt to feed the baby, not a big deal. That is until JD reminded me that I both (apparently) have a high pain tolerance and also have exceedingly little feeling in my breasts (quite standard for women as large as I am, which is to say a G-cup pre-pregnancy). And then I noticed that the baby was spitting out mouthfuls of blood after latching on. So yeah. I went to a breastfeeding support group today because my LC (you remember, the one who got us through 3 weeks of a baby who wouldn't latch without resorting to bottles and who I then checked in with almost every month for the next 2 years) didn't pick up her phone yesterday night and I panicked that she might be on vacation or something else awful just when I needed her. Turns out she's moving, but she was back today and I trust her so much more than the woman I saw today. Basically, we're worried that the baby is some sort of "tongue tied." The LC today said that his latch felt very tight, but she couldn't be sure. So tomorrow hopefully (post-bris) I will run out and catch my LC between her other appointments, and Friday we're off to see the same OT who saw the fusspot for an evaluation.
And then Saturday night my LC will come visit us again if we're still having problems. In the meantime, the glass bowl* is back out on the counter and JD is "topping up" the baby with an eyedropper in order to avoid bottles.
* We have a 'glass bowl' because I feed the baby and pump, and I do not wash pump parts. Except when JD and I are living in separate places, I just pile all of the pump parts into the glass bowl. And there they sit until JD has time to wash them. Often for days. It is so worth the investment in many, many sets of spare parts to me to never have to wash pump parts. Both because of the hassle, and symbolically, it is one little thing we can do to make sure that we are both involved.
Of course, it's also a bit frustrating that I lost today's naptime and will inevitably lose tomorrow's only window for a nap to racing around NYC to breastfeeding clinics. Huh? you say. I know, I know. You'd think after 23 months of nursing and after a slightly under 3 month break I'd have this down. And that's basically what I thought. I also remembered that lots of people complain about pain the first week or two.
So it hurt to feed the baby, not a big deal. That is until JD reminded me that I both (apparently) have a high pain tolerance and also have exceedingly little feeling in my breasts (quite standard for women as large as I am, which is to say a G-cup pre-pregnancy). And then I noticed that the baby was spitting out mouthfuls of blood after latching on. So yeah. I went to a breastfeeding support group today because my LC (you remember, the one who got us through 3 weeks of a baby who wouldn't latch without resorting to bottles and who I then checked in with almost every month for the next 2 years) didn't pick up her phone yesterday night and I panicked that she might be on vacation or something else awful just when I needed her. Turns out she's moving, but she was back today and I trust her so much more than the woman I saw today. Basically, we're worried that the baby is some sort of "tongue tied." The LC today said that his latch felt very tight, but she couldn't be sure. So tomorrow hopefully (post-bris) I will run out and catch my LC between her other appointments, and Friday we're off to see the same OT who saw the fusspot for an evaluation.
And then Saturday night my LC will come visit us again if we're still having problems. In the meantime, the glass bowl* is back out on the counter and JD is "topping up" the baby with an eyedropper in order to avoid bottles.
* We have a 'glass bowl' because I feed the baby and pump, and I do not wash pump parts. Except when JD and I are living in separate places, I just pile all of the pump parts into the glass bowl. And there they sit until JD has time to wash them. Often for days. It is so worth the investment in many, many sets of spare parts to me to never have to wash pump parts. Both because of the hassle, and symbolically, it is one little thing we can do to make sure that we are both involved.
Monday, March 7, 2011
And with no further ado
the Birth Story.
Precis: A short labor without any interventions (and thankfully not at home, Ms. J!). The longer version involves hours of hospital fumble, endless waffling on whether to go home or get the labor started, baby comes out, followed by further hours of hospital fumble. At least you've been warned.
Wednesday was a regular, busy day. Moping in bed (see previous post) followed by work, lunch with a friend, work. Picked the fusspot up from daycare early and took her to art class. Wandered home across campus collecting cigarette butts and chasing pigeons. We got home a few minutes before 5 and I realized that my stomach felt weird. Tingly, funny, no pain at all. But since the midwives had me duly terrified of needing to contact them early and it was so close to closing time, I decided to suck it up and call. The office is supposed to close at 5 pm.
At 5:05 pm I called and my favorite midwife answered. I reiterated that I felt "weird" and had been feeling "weird" for a good half hour, but was in absolutely no pain. She told me that she was waiting in the office anyway, why didn't I just come down and see her? Since it was already after hours and I felt bad keeping her even later, I immediately rushed the fusspot out the door, deposited her at the exceedingly nice neighbors with a set of keys to our apartment and a disposable diaper in her hand and promising to be home in an hour, hopped in a cab ...
5:25 pm arrive at midwives' office. She decides to check me. Another centimeter of progress (putting me at just about 5 cm) but even she couldn't tell if I was in labor. Great. So she suggested I head over to L and D, get some antibiotics (which would be good for 12 hours) and then head home and hope that I went into labor overnight. They'd also do a quick NST to see if the baby was ok, and I should be out of there in a half hour. Fine.
Arrive at hospital at 5:45 pm (it is literally 2 blocks from the midwives, and also conveniently 2 blocks from Jamba Juice). Settle into L and D waiting area. 6 pm my favorite midwife shows up and informs me that even though they have 4 beds available (she'd checked before sending me over) they weren't going to get me through triage for at least an hour.
6:01 pm exit hospital with directions to get a snack, walk, and return around 8 pm to be checked in the birthing center.
Which explains how I waltzed into the birthing center shortly before 8 pm with a large Jamba Juice in one hand and a collection of shopping bags in the other hand (did you know that GAP has been having 40% off coupons on Wednesdays?). Yeah. The nurse and midwife basically cracked up at the thought that I was in early labor for a presumed speedy second delivery. All fine, they decide to do an NST and send me home.
8:15 pm or so I get hooked up to the NST and all 3 of our jaws drop. Real contractions. Huh. Nurse orders antibiotics. I call JD and tell him to go home, put fusspot to bed, and then get ready to head to the hospital when I call. The midwife is still talking about sending me home for a few hours (as per my request, and especially since I had literally run out the door with nothing but wallet, keys and cell phone in my pocked). The same neighbor who has been watching the fusspot all evening agrees to come sleep in our bed once the fusspot and her kids are asleep.
Hospital fumble #1: The antibiotics do not arrive in the birthing center until 9:45 pm. Also, since this is a rather unusual drug choice no one realized that the IV drip would take an hour and a half to empty. Brilliant. IV finishes at 11:15 pm. Labor has 100% stalled at this point. Midwife agrees to send me home, but suggests that I consider just taking a nap at the hospital and waiting to see if labor progresses. I cave and call JD to come join me. He arrives a little before midnight and finding me still in absolutely no pain, promptly exists kindle in hand to the closest diner to finish up some work and get dinner.
12:30 pm - 5 am. I doze, pace the halls, and get increasingly frustrated that I'm not in labor. 3 other women arrive (there is practically no sound proofing in this particular hospital). 2 are 2nd/4th labors which proceed quickly and result in babies. 1 is a 1st labor and the woman exits screaming for pain meds upstairs. Still waiting.
5 am midwife arrives for a consult. We now have a little less than 5 hours until the 1.5 hour IV drip has to be repeated, not a contraction in sight on the NST strip, and very little sign that labor is going to start soon. Enter long protracted debate about what to do. We all agree that the most "natural" thing would be for me to go home and wait for real labor to start. Of course, that means repeating antibiotics (which are Class C in pregnancy. lovely) and potentially rushing back to find our room taken at the birthing center (see above, 2 moms and babies resting comfortably in the 2 other rooms). Option 2 is breaking my water and wait for labor. The risks are a harder, speedier labor and finding meconium in the water (which would necessitate continuous monitoring as it can be a sign of fetal distress). Blah, blah, blah we waffle.
Sometime around 5:30 am we decide to break my water. Also call the doula at this point.
6 am doula arrives and JD bolts out the door to Starbucks for coffee. No noticeable contractions and we all enjoy a relaxed breakfast.
Sometime shortly after breakfast we move from the happy/chatting/shopping/snacking phase of my unusual labor to intense labor (see, it was bound to happen eventually). The rest is a bit of a blur. Back and foot massage lying on the bed. Walking in the hall. And as soon as I reached 6 cm the midwife suggested that I get in the jacuzzi. I thought they might be a bit daft since most people save the jacuzzi for transition, but apparently 6 centimeters and transition were much the same for me. I remember distinctly telling everyone that I didn't feel well, that I wanted to get out of the water, that I wanted to talk about pain meds, and being told that instead I should just push the baby out. 3 pushes later and there was a loud, angry, lobster red baby on my chest. And while this baby was a good 1.5 lbs heavier than the fusspot, it turns out that while her head circumference has always been near 99th percentile, the dumpling's is closer to 25th percentile, meaning a lot less tearing. Since JD yet again had no interest in cutting the placenta, I did it myself this time.
8:47 am baby born.
One of the coolest things is that I had remembered to tell everyone that I wanted to see the placenta this time around. Since our doula was still in training (helping with the whole budget issue) the midwives (2 at this point, we were close to a shift change) and nurse (same one as with the fusspot) spent a long time showing off the placenta. They picked it up, they showed where they had broken my water, they turned it inside out. It was pretty neat. And JD was cognizant enough to focus on holding the baby so he didn't have any "issues" like the ones which had him removed from the room post-delivery with the fusspot.
And while the labor was much faster and the pushing SO much better than labor #1 (3 pushes vs. 3 hours) the afterbirth pains were much, much worse this time around. Which leads us to Hospital Fumble #2: Midwife orders up some top-quality-hard-to-get ibuprofen for me. It takes a full six hours to arrive (by which point I had of course sent JD scurrying to the drug store and surreptitiously doped myself).
We were all settled on a 5 pm discharge so that we could pick the fusspot up from daycare (8 hours postpartum) but since I was in rather a significant amount of pain from cramping at that point I decided to stay for another couple of hours and sent JD home to pick the fusspot up, feed her dinner, put her to bed, find a babysitter, and then come back for me. In total her schedule was disrupted only so much as she woke up to find our neighbor at our apartment and was promptly rushed off to daycare an hour early. Otherwise JD tucked her into bed and waited until she was asleep to sneak out both nights.
9:30 pm JD returns to the hospital. Hospital Fumble #3: It takes until 1 am to complete discharge and more frustratingly to find someone to escort us out through the ER (since of course the front door was closed by 1 am). I really do think that our "hospital escort" must have just finished her shift on the janitorial staff. Not only was she not at all careful with the baby, but she tried to take us out of the locked front door and asked us 4 or 5 times where we'd parked our car (uh ... still going to go stand outside the ER at 1 am and try to hail a cab, thanks dear).
1:30 am arrive home to JD's very enthusiastic friend who is thrilled to be the first to meet the dumpling in person. 2 am in bed at last.
In summary, very glad that we were seriously given all of the options relating to the labor. Also exceedingly glad that the midwives took our concerns seriously and that we decided to go ahead and start labor when it had stalled. Still puzzled as to how I could be having real contractions without feeling them, and increasingly convinced that my not feeling contractions/not feeling the baby move is a result of some missing nerve endings.
And just in case you were wondering how JD is holding up, I sent him off to goodwill this morning to clean out a few bags of stuff from our closet (a lovely errand I'd been stalling on for weeks). He quickly poked through the bags and pulled out a book and said "Do you really want to get rid of this?" Me, "Yes, dear." The book in his hand was "What to Eat When You're Expecting" (which is awful and outdated and was given me by someone. You should definitely avoid it), but JD thought it was the far more common "What to Expect ..." So yeah, I think we're doing ok for 5 days postpartum.
Precis: A short labor without any interventions (and thankfully not at home, Ms. J!). The longer version involves hours of hospital fumble, endless waffling on whether to go home or get the labor started, baby comes out, followed by further hours of hospital fumble. At least you've been warned.
Wednesday was a regular, busy day. Moping in bed (see previous post) followed by work, lunch with a friend, work. Picked the fusspot up from daycare early and took her to art class. Wandered home across campus collecting cigarette butts and chasing pigeons. We got home a few minutes before 5 and I realized that my stomach felt weird. Tingly, funny, no pain at all. But since the midwives had me duly terrified of needing to contact them early and it was so close to closing time, I decided to suck it up and call. The office is supposed to close at 5 pm.
At 5:05 pm I called and my favorite midwife answered. I reiterated that I felt "weird" and had been feeling "weird" for a good half hour, but was in absolutely no pain. She told me that she was waiting in the office anyway, why didn't I just come down and see her? Since it was already after hours and I felt bad keeping her even later, I immediately rushed the fusspot out the door, deposited her at the exceedingly nice neighbors with a set of keys to our apartment and a disposable diaper in her hand and promising to be home in an hour, hopped in a cab ...
5:25 pm arrive at midwives' office. She decides to check me. Another centimeter of progress (putting me at just about 5 cm) but even she couldn't tell if I was in labor. Great. So she suggested I head over to L and D, get some antibiotics (which would be good for 12 hours) and then head home and hope that I went into labor overnight. They'd also do a quick NST to see if the baby was ok, and I should be out of there in a half hour. Fine.
Arrive at hospital at 5:45 pm (it is literally 2 blocks from the midwives, and also conveniently 2 blocks from Jamba Juice). Settle into L and D waiting area. 6 pm my favorite midwife shows up and informs me that even though they have 4 beds available (she'd checked before sending me over) they weren't going to get me through triage for at least an hour.
6:01 pm exit hospital with directions to get a snack, walk, and return around 8 pm to be checked in the birthing center.
Which explains how I waltzed into the birthing center shortly before 8 pm with a large Jamba Juice in one hand and a collection of shopping bags in the other hand (did you know that GAP has been having 40% off coupons on Wednesdays?). Yeah. The nurse and midwife basically cracked up at the thought that I was in early labor for a presumed speedy second delivery. All fine, they decide to do an NST and send me home.
8:15 pm or so I get hooked up to the NST and all 3 of our jaws drop. Real contractions. Huh. Nurse orders antibiotics. I call JD and tell him to go home, put fusspot to bed, and then get ready to head to the hospital when I call. The midwife is still talking about sending me home for a few hours (as per my request, and especially since I had literally run out the door with nothing but wallet, keys and cell phone in my pocked). The same neighbor who has been watching the fusspot all evening agrees to come sleep in our bed once the fusspot and her kids are asleep.
Hospital fumble #1: The antibiotics do not arrive in the birthing center until 9:45 pm. Also, since this is a rather unusual drug choice no one realized that the IV drip would take an hour and a half to empty. Brilliant. IV finishes at 11:15 pm. Labor has 100% stalled at this point. Midwife agrees to send me home, but suggests that I consider just taking a nap at the hospital and waiting to see if labor progresses. I cave and call JD to come join me. He arrives a little before midnight and finding me still in absolutely no pain, promptly exists kindle in hand to the closest diner to finish up some work and get dinner.
12:30 pm - 5 am. I doze, pace the halls, and get increasingly frustrated that I'm not in labor. 3 other women arrive (there is practically no sound proofing in this particular hospital). 2 are 2nd/4th labors which proceed quickly and result in babies. 1 is a 1st labor and the woman exits screaming for pain meds upstairs. Still waiting.
5 am midwife arrives for a consult. We now have a little less than 5 hours until the 1.5 hour IV drip has to be repeated, not a contraction in sight on the NST strip, and very little sign that labor is going to start soon. Enter long protracted debate about what to do. We all agree that the most "natural" thing would be for me to go home and wait for real labor to start. Of course, that means repeating antibiotics (which are Class C in pregnancy. lovely) and potentially rushing back to find our room taken at the birthing center (see above, 2 moms and babies resting comfortably in the 2 other rooms). Option 2 is breaking my water and wait for labor. The risks are a harder, speedier labor and finding meconium in the water (which would necessitate continuous monitoring as it can be a sign of fetal distress). Blah, blah, blah we waffle.
Sometime around 5:30 am we decide to break my water. Also call the doula at this point.
6 am doula arrives and JD bolts out the door to Starbucks for coffee. No noticeable contractions and we all enjoy a relaxed breakfast.
Sometime shortly after breakfast we move from the happy/chatting/shopping/snacking phase of my unusual labor to intense labor (see, it was bound to happen eventually). The rest is a bit of a blur. Back and foot massage lying on the bed. Walking in the hall. And as soon as I reached 6 cm the midwife suggested that I get in the jacuzzi. I thought they might be a bit daft since most people save the jacuzzi for transition, but apparently 6 centimeters and transition were much the same for me. I remember distinctly telling everyone that I didn't feel well, that I wanted to get out of the water, that I wanted to talk about pain meds, and being told that instead I should just push the baby out. 3 pushes later and there was a loud, angry, lobster red baby on my chest. And while this baby was a good 1.5 lbs heavier than the fusspot, it turns out that while her head circumference has always been near 99th percentile, the dumpling's is closer to 25th percentile, meaning a lot less tearing. Since JD yet again had no interest in cutting the placenta, I did it myself this time.
8:47 am baby born.
One of the coolest things is that I had remembered to tell everyone that I wanted to see the placenta this time around. Since our doula was still in training (helping with the whole budget issue) the midwives (2 at this point, we were close to a shift change) and nurse (same one as with the fusspot) spent a long time showing off the placenta. They picked it up, they showed where they had broken my water, they turned it inside out. It was pretty neat. And JD was cognizant enough to focus on holding the baby so he didn't have any "issues" like the ones which had him removed from the room post-delivery with the fusspot.
And while the labor was much faster and the pushing SO much better than labor #1 (3 pushes vs. 3 hours) the afterbirth pains were much, much worse this time around. Which leads us to Hospital Fumble #2: Midwife orders up some top-quality-hard-to-get ibuprofen for me. It takes a full six hours to arrive (by which point I had of course sent JD scurrying to the drug store and surreptitiously doped myself).
We were all settled on a 5 pm discharge so that we could pick the fusspot up from daycare (8 hours postpartum) but since I was in rather a significant amount of pain from cramping at that point I decided to stay for another couple of hours and sent JD home to pick the fusspot up, feed her dinner, put her to bed, find a babysitter, and then come back for me. In total her schedule was disrupted only so much as she woke up to find our neighbor at our apartment and was promptly rushed off to daycare an hour early. Otherwise JD tucked her into bed and waited until she was asleep to sneak out both nights.
9:30 pm JD returns to the hospital. Hospital Fumble #3: It takes until 1 am to complete discharge and more frustratingly to find someone to escort us out through the ER (since of course the front door was closed by 1 am). I really do think that our "hospital escort" must have just finished her shift on the janitorial staff. Not only was she not at all careful with the baby, but she tried to take us out of the locked front door and asked us 4 or 5 times where we'd parked our car (uh ... still going to go stand outside the ER at 1 am and try to hail a cab, thanks dear).
1:30 am arrive home to JD's very enthusiastic friend who is thrilled to be the first to meet the dumpling in person. 2 am in bed at last.
In summary, very glad that we were seriously given all of the options relating to the labor. Also exceedingly glad that the midwives took our concerns seriously and that we decided to go ahead and start labor when it had stalled. Still puzzled as to how I could be having real contractions without feeling them, and increasingly convinced that my not feeling contractions/not feeling the baby move is a result of some missing nerve endings.
And just in case you were wondering how JD is holding up, I sent him off to goodwill this morning to clean out a few bags of stuff from our closet (a lovely errand I'd been stalling on for weeks). He quickly poked through the bags and pulled out a book and said "Do you really want to get rid of this?" Me, "Yes, dear." The book in his hand was "What to Eat When You're Expecting" (which is awful and outdated and was given me by someone. You should definitely avoid it), but JD thought it was the far more common "What to Expect ..." So yeah, I think we're doing ok for 5 days postpartum.
Friday, March 4, 2011
In brief
The fusspot was quite excited to find a baby in our bed this morning. A real, live bright lobster red baby whose toes she could tickle, whose nose she could wipe when he goes sneezies, and whose diaper she helped change.
And since I'm just about 24 hours postpartum I'll leave it there for now.
The dumpling baby (8 lbs 2 oz, 21 inches long) arrived yesterday morning around 8:30 am and we are all doing very well.
And since I'm just about 24 hours postpartum I'll leave it there for now.
The dumpling baby (8 lbs 2 oz, 21 inches long) arrived yesterday morning around 8:30 am and we are all doing very well.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Least productive use of daycare hours
I spent the morning in bed moping. Yeah, super-mature.
Just what everyone likes the day or two before they are about to have a baby, it looks like I'm probably not going to have funding for school next year. The life of a graduate student is always uncertain and we waste way too much time obsessing about grants/funding/letters of recommendation/conference applications/rankings but the news yesterday night and this morning was not good. And while in the big picture scheme of things I do in fact have a decent amount of money stashed away to help pay for next year, I need to piece something together to cover my health insurance (JD's work very sweetly charges about $1,500 a month if the spouse is "employed and has the option of health insurance from their employer." Luckily NY State makes available their insurance for impoverished children to all children on a sliding scale basis, and even at the top of the sliding scale it's a bargain and much better than what we could get through our employers) and some finagling to wave any related fees of staying a student (including, possibly and quite humorously filing for "extended maternity leave without any benefits" two semesters after the bargain baby's arrival. I.e. I will be a full-time fully active student this entire spring and summer, and then suddenly need "an unpaid leave of absence without any benefits" come fall ... although I would also then lose access to my office and have to work at home (wherever that might be given that we have to move this spring)).
So yeah, no funding for next year.
And then on his way out the door this morning JD innocently asks "So, if you don't have this baby by tomorrow at sunset, it's a shabbos bris, right?" Just the type of pressure I need. Needless to say I spent a rather awkward hour or so on the phone yesterday trying to figure out what in the world we would do in the case of a shabbos bris. Not only could we not then use the friend's apartment which we've been offered (too far) or the mohel we'd chosen (too far) or the food options we'd chosen (not ok on shabbos) but a significant number of friends wouldn't be able to make it (too far). And while our rabbi of course would find a mohel, given our "unusual" family circumstance I'm worried that the whole thing will be unnecessarily awkward and uncomfortable. So when I'm done moping I'm going to go head off on another long forced march to see if a "stroll" will help get the baby out. Just one more pointless thing I can't really plan around.
At least the huge bouquet of tulips from our friendly Swedish tourist still look incredible and cheer me up every time I walk past.
Just what everyone likes the day or two before they are about to have a baby, it looks like I'm probably not going to have funding for school next year. The life of a graduate student is always uncertain and we waste way too much time obsessing about grants/funding/letters of recommendation/conference applications/rankings but the news yesterday night and this morning was not good. And while in the big picture scheme of things I do in fact have a decent amount of money stashed away to help pay for next year, I need to piece something together to cover my health insurance (JD's work very sweetly charges about $1,500 a month if the spouse is "employed and has the option of health insurance from their employer." Luckily NY State makes available their insurance for impoverished children to all children on a sliding scale basis, and even at the top of the sliding scale it's a bargain and much better than what we could get through our employers) and some finagling to wave any related fees of staying a student (including, possibly and quite humorously filing for "extended maternity leave without any benefits" two semesters after the bargain baby's arrival. I.e. I will be a full-time fully active student this entire spring and summer, and then suddenly need "an unpaid leave of absence without any benefits" come fall ... although I would also then lose access to my office and have to work at home (wherever that might be given that we have to move this spring)).
So yeah, no funding for next year.
And then on his way out the door this morning JD innocently asks "So, if you don't have this baby by tomorrow at sunset, it's a shabbos bris, right?" Just the type of pressure I need. Needless to say I spent a rather awkward hour or so on the phone yesterday trying to figure out what in the world we would do in the case of a shabbos bris. Not only could we not then use the friend's apartment which we've been offered (too far) or the mohel we'd chosen (too far) or the food options we'd chosen (not ok on shabbos) but a significant number of friends wouldn't be able to make it (too far). And while our rabbi of course would find a mohel, given our "unusual" family circumstance I'm worried that the whole thing will be unnecessarily awkward and uncomfortable. So when I'm done moping I'm going to go head off on another long forced march to see if a "stroll" will help get the baby out. Just one more pointless thing I can't really plan around.
At least the huge bouquet of tulips from our friendly Swedish tourist still look incredible and cheer me up every time I walk past.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Another tale to pass the time, this time about Buzz
Buzz Lightyear, if the reference isn't precise enough for you. Yes, despite our ostensible crunchiness the fusspot has a loud, plastic buzz lightyear which she adores. It was in fact given to me by a high school boyfriend as a joke, and I like that she also likes it (and am truly amazed that the batteries still work after all these years).
This morning the fusspot was snuggling Buzz and patting his back very gently. I asked if something was wrong and she gave me that my-mother-must-be-daft look before pointing very clearly at Buzz and noting his "Ouchy hands." I've had carpal tunnel braces on round-the-clock for the past couple of weeks, and the fusspot has finally got the idea that tugging on my wrists is not a good idea. I just didn't realize that Buzz also has pregnancy-related-carpal tunnel.
He also apparently has a rain cover on his head, just like her stroller has a rain cover. She assured me that he didn't need it this morning because "No rain. No snow."
And then, like the good role-playing-toddler that she is she spent a good 10 minutes delicately wiping Buzz's rear end with a kleenex while holding her own nose and remarking loudly "POO! Stinky! POO! Stinky!"
In other news, I'm 3 cm and partially dilated, and it actually looks like I may go into labor in the next few days. As has become a tradition this pregnancy, I celebrated the good news alone at Jamb.a Juice.
This morning the fusspot was snuggling Buzz and patting his back very gently. I asked if something was wrong and she gave me that my-mother-must-be-daft look before pointing very clearly at Buzz and noting his "Ouchy hands." I've had carpal tunnel braces on round-the-clock for the past couple of weeks, and the fusspot has finally got the idea that tugging on my wrists is not a good idea. I just didn't realize that Buzz also has pregnancy-related-carpal tunnel.
He also apparently has a rain cover on his head, just like her stroller has a rain cover. She assured me that he didn't need it this morning because "No rain. No snow."
And then, like the good role-playing-toddler that she is she spent a good 10 minutes delicately wiping Buzz's rear end with a kleenex while holding her own nose and remarking loudly "POO! Stinky! POO! Stinky!"
In other news, I'm 3 cm and partially dilated, and it actually looks like I may go into labor in the next few days. As has become a tradition this pregnancy, I celebrated the good news alone at Jamb.a Juice.
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