I'm Bitter...Just a Little...

I'm sorry to leave you all hanging! My cervix measured well on Wednesday, so the bedrest seems to be doing something. I'm kind of, eh, pissy about this whole thing. Not the bedrest, necessarily. I'm pissed about the fact that I've been so 'good' this whole pregnancy, not allowing myself to tempt fate and get too excited, and I just don't understand why I have to go through this shit. I told my Dad, the night before the Big Ultrasound, the scary one, that after that appointment I was thinking about finally letting myself be happy. And now this. So I went 21 weeks keeping a low profile, and now 2 1/2 more doing the same. I haven't bought one single baby related thing. I think at six months pregnant, other women are finishing up nurseries, so they don't have to worry about doing it when they're all big and round. Then there's me, who's sifting through the shit ton of Baby and Parenting magazines at the doctor's office to read some TV Guide or AARP crap because I just can't bring myself to read magazines having to do with babies. Bleh.

I'm feeling sorry for myself, and it's not pretty.

I'd like to share a photo with you. If you can find the kid, you win my admiration and respect. Because it took me quite a while. Like an hour or so. Here 'tis...



I'm hanging in, sustained by some brownies Painting Chef sent me and wearing the most adorable pair of PJs she and Bonanza sent my way upon hearing that I had no maternity pajamas, just Zube Boy's pajama bottoms. Physically, I'm doing pretty okay. Mentally, sometimes, not so much.

Ah! PS- From now on, I have to approve your comments. It's a pain in the ass, but I'm sick to death of deleting 10 spam comments on 10 different entries a day. Seriously, it's that ridiculous. And I figure I'm on the computer most of the time anyway, so I'll approve them quickly. You don't have to agree with me. EVER. You can piss me off even. Just don't try to direct me to some website that sells girl on girl BDSM porn or some shit like that.

Edited to add:

Does this help with the interpretation of the ultrasound photo?

Because Nothing Compares...

To you and how much you all rock. PaintingChef and I are nothing if not collaborating bitches. How to drive our husbands crazy. How to make stupid people see the error of their ways. Which, in case you were wondering, is impossible. But fun to try, nonetheless. And most recently, we've figured out just how to fucking rock. I'm stealing her words and posting them here because, frankly, I've spent all day cajoling my dynamic cervix into, hopefully, submission in preparation for an appointment to check just how long she's decided to be this time. Very long I hope. And I don't see this conversation ending until around 3:30PM or so. When I have a date with the dildo-cam. Transvaginal ultrasound wand. Whatever. You get the picture. Wish us luck. The cervix, the Turtle, and I. Without further ado, in the words of Painting Chef...

There are certain songs that, as soon as I hear them, I’m instantly taken back to a very specific time and place. Driving with the windows down, age 16, never knowing what freedom and independence felt like until I was able to just get my damn self somewhere all own my own, thank you very much. Sitting with friends in a basement or a living room, sipping the beer we’d persuaded someone’s older brother to buy and trading gossip. Riding home in the middle of the night after a post-concert Vic & Bill’s run spent scarfing cheese fries and swapping hair and makeup tips with the drag queens from the club next door.

Somehow, while I was getting ready this morning, five or six of these songs played in a row on my iPod and I started wondering what songs did this same little time travel number on other people. My accidental playlist happened to place me squarely in the middle of my senior year in high school. 1994-95. So from this and a few conversations with Zube Girl sprang forth the idea for “Senior Year Soundtrack.” What are your senior year songs? Are they from high school or college? What are the stories behind them? And most of all…could you be persuaded to share them with the internet?

Here are the rules…

1. Pick a senior year.
2. Comment here or email me (paintingchef at gmail dot com) and let me know you’d like to participate. This is going to be a CD swapping situation…
3. Choose your songs (they don’t strictly have to be from that year only, just something that you listened to that year), burn an as yet to be determined number of copies.
4. Send them, along with the address where you would like your set of CDs sent, to me.
5. I will make everyone a set of CDs and send them back out. If you’re really sweet you can send me a few bucks to go towards postage… I tend to send sweet people cookies and puppies and rainbows and unicorns.
6. Put this little graphic on your blog if you want. But save it and post it your damn self. Don’t link to it here. That’s just mean. And mean people suck. So don’t suck.

He Loves Me...He Loves Me Not...

Z-Boy: How was your day, honey?

Z-Girl: Lame. How was work?

Z-Boy: Busy. What'd you do?

Z-Girl: Laid around missing you and wishing you were here to entertain me.

Z-Boy: Aw, I missed you, too.

Z-Girl: Well, honey, you know, you could set up a couch at your work and take me with you everyday and I could lay there and we could hang out together.

Z-Boy: I could also smash my nuts in a drawer over and over again for fun.

Z-Girl: Heh.

It Might Be Incompetent...

But at least it's dynamic. Though I prefer sparkly just a little bit. But, potayto, potahto. They both significantly describe my personality. And my girly bits.

My cervical length has changed three times since last Saturday when it was less than 2cm. Yesterday it was over 3cm, which is considered normal. I did a little happy dance, naturally nothing too strenuous given the activity restrictions I'm currently on. Which is probably a good thing because then today it was 2.2cm. Which is below normal. The specialist is thinking that I have a dynamic incompetent cervix. I blushed a little when he said it. I mean, he could have been hitting on me, ya know? Between the dildo-cam and calling my dynamic, this guy was pulling out all the stops.

Anywho, I get it checked again next week.

He definitely thinks there was some sort of small placental abruption, but looked for evidence of bleeding via ultrasound and could find nothing.

We're in a holding pattern for now. Though it's one that's a little less fraught with terror than the holding pattern over the past few days.

Thank you ALL for your love and support. I really got all comfy-cozy thinking that I'd earned myself some Normal Pregnant Person street cred what with all the miscarriages. But I guess it's just not in the cards for me to be a Normal Pregnant Person. Which is fine. So long as I get the poopy diapers and sleepless nights at the end.

Because...

...Typing while laying down sucks.

...I can only tell the tale so many times without losing my shit.

...You all are like family to me anyway...

I am posting a message here that I e-mailed to my family so you all know what we're up to. It's not as peppered with foul language as some of my posts are, but that's about the only difference between what I want to share with the people I love like family and the people I love just as much on the internets. Please keep us in your thoughts.


Hey all!

Sorry for the mass e-mail! I just wanted to let you know how we're doing. You might have heard through the family grapevine that I was in the hospital Saturday night showing signs of preterm labor. I'm 21 weeks along and had a routine ultrasound where they check the baby to make sure everything is measuring okay and all the essential organs are present. The good news is that the baby looks perfect. Sucking his or her thumb and somersaulting all over the place. The bad news is that my body has prematurely decided to get a little lazy with this business of cooking up a human. For any of my fellow Google-aholics out there, what I have is called an incompetent cervix. In any future pregnancies I'll be given a cerclage at 14 weeks as a preventative measure.

They were going to give me a cerclage on Saturday but in pre-op I was hooked up to a moniter which said that I was having minor contractions and unfortunately, once contractions have started, a cerclage is a bad idea. For now they've prescribed bedrest. I'm allowed to get up and go to the bathroom. And that's it. It is SO not fun. Especially given that I'm not a big fan of soap operas or those annoying injury lawyer commercials. But, hopefully, it will all be worth it in the end.

Incompetent cervix and contractions aren't the only things we have going on. They did a blood test which shows that I have a small amount of fetal cells in my blood. This can signify a placental abruption (another Google-worthy phrase). If that is the case, it is only a minor one. Women do stay pregnant with partial abruptions, we just have to moniter the growth of the baby closely to make sure the placenta is still doing it's job of nourishing him/her.

In addition I'm awaiting several cultures which will tell us if there is some kind of infection. A very, very bad thing would be if I have an infection in my blood. If that is the case, I'll have to have an immediate amniocintesis. If that shows the infection is in my uterus, things are dire. I'd rather not think about it, but you all can feel free to hope and pray like hell that that's not what's going on here. The doctor did say that she doesn't think this is the case as my white blood cell counts have been okay and I haven't had a fever. But it is a possibility.

If you wouldn't mind sending us some thoughts and prayers they would be greatly appreciated. Heck, we'll take voodoo and naked dances under the full moon if that's what you're into. We certainly don't discriminate against well wishes and whatever form they might take.

We're doing pretty well considering. I'm bored out of my skull but trying to keep my chin up. Friends have offered to help with the shopping and have already started bringing us dinners to help Zube Boy out since I'm pretty well incapacitated. Zube Boy is just incredible. Though he did daresay, I think buoyed by the fact that I'm unable to leap off of the couch and bitchslap him, "So, honey, I've done the dishes, the laundry, vacuumed, fed the animals, and made dinner. What do you do around here that takes up so much time anyway?" Hee. He'll be lucky if he survives this, I think. But really, he's handling being the only mobile human in the house fabulously.

My boss is going to get me set up to work from home, so fortunately we'll be able to endure this without losing my paycheck. She's also offered to send one of the hotel housekeepers over once a week to clean up because she rocks like that. I'm really lucky to work where I do.

Despite keeping up my general good spiritedness, I'm pretty damn sad. To be honest, it's entirely possible that this just might not work. I have an appointment on Thursday and I promise to keep you updated, but in the meantime I could use all the encouragement you can muster. I'm not really good at asking for stuff like that, but I'm a little desparate. Being stuck laying down 24 hours a day makes it really difficult to distract myself from worry.

I hope you're all doing well. Let me know! I have plenty of time to read your updates, both mundane and life-altering.

Thanks for reading my novella,

Love,
Zube Girl

Kind of like a party being busted by the cops...but the complete opposite.

Hey! Its PaintingChef, I've hacked Zube's blog so don't tell her because she would probably beat me up. Well, you know, except for the part where she sort of told me to post this.

So. Update on the Turtle...

Zube had a doctors appointment and an ultrasound and first thing first, the baby looks great. Everything is fine, it is measuring just right and hosting quite the kegger up in Zube's inner sanctum. The fetal football team are all congregating around the bar doing flaming shots while ogling the chicks and there are a couple of drunk sorority fetuses (fetii?) passed out in one corner but nobody is paying them any attention because those bitches can't hold their liquor anyway. Although I do think that someone drew a moustache on one of them

The not so great news, however, is that the party is quite full and threatening to be busted by the cops a little earlier than expected so Zube is having to have a small procedure called a cerclage to make sure everyone stays all tucked up in the house until the party has run its course.

So Zube and family are living it up at the hospital for a night while things get all squared away. She wanted me to let you all know what was going. And now I have.

~PaintingChef

This and That

-I am fine. The Turtle is fine. So far everything, save a few bumps in the road, looks okay.

-Work is really working me over. How appropriate. So, on top of the utter exhaustion I've been feeling as the Turtle sucks every spare and non-spare ounce of energy out of me, I've been working six days a week here and there. Fun stuff.

-The Episcopalians returned. I still love them as much as ever.

-I've been spotting for the past five weeks. It's kind of shut me up about this whole pregnancy thing. It is disconcerting to say the least, but totally explainable, so try not to worry. I've got worrying covered. I have a 'marginal anterior' placenta. 'Marginal' apparently means that my placenta is low and partially covering my cervix. This, I'm told, usually corrects itself as the pregnancy continues. But before it corrects itself, spotting is bound to occur. 'Anterior' means that instead of attaching itself to the back of my uterus, the Turtle implanted in the front. Which doesn't mean much at all except that, unfortunately, I won't feel those reassuring kicks and such until later in pregnancy because the placenta adds yet another buffer between the Turtle and my nerve endings.

-Yesterday Zube Boy and I went to dinner.

Z-Girl: Honey, do you know what's coming up?

Z-Boy: What?

Z-Girl: Well, January 8th is our six year dating anniversary.

Z-Boy: Ooooh. Six of the best years of my life.

Z-Girl: Aw.

Z-Boy: Down the drain.

Z-Girl: Bastard.

-I'm 19 weeks and 6 days today. You know what that means? I'll be 20 weeks tomorrow. And do you know what that means? I'll be about halfway there. That's been astounding the shit out of me, to be honest.

-I really want a brownie.

-With ice cream.

-And chocolate syrup.

-And whipped cream.

-I'm going to go have one.

-Now.

Sorry I left y'all hanging, YET AGAIN. I've just been plodding along trying not to count days, and that's meant I've kept myself really busy in both totally meaningful and totally meaningless ways.