First time today (8/25/10, 15 wks 4 days) - I got an unsolicited/uninformed "Are you expecting?" It was a very friendly mother from the kids' school whom I know a little bit, running into us at Meijer. Actually her words were, "And do you have a little bundle in there?" Clearly a bold statement. I don't know this woman well enough to know if she is just unusually bold, or foolhardy, or if I am really showing differentially now. It was about 2 weeks ago at church that I caused an acquaintance to inquire behind my back if I was pregnant (always the safer route, in my opinion), but this was the first time to my face.
Still, it was fun (since I am in fact expecting, as opposed to just gaining weight).
Monday, August 23, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Whose timing?
My OB seems to have settled on a due date of February 10, 2011. I have to pause now and then to marvel at the wonder of God's perfect timing. Christians (myself included) often pay lip service to this, but it is usually in the tone of a platitude, trying to make ourself feel better as we impotently attempt to console a hurting friend. "God's timing is not our own but it is always perfect." Yeah, who ever really wants to hear that when they are still waiting? But it is for just this reason that I think we must note, and treasure up in our hearts, examples of this perfect timing. For we are weak, and need concrete crutches to strengthen our faith.
Would I have ever picked this due date if it were up to me? I can't imagine yes. I have 3 summer babies. Again, not exactly my timing choices, but it did work out well.
With Maggie, I actually was back at work within 2 weeks, but it was okay. In that case, I was ready. And it never occurred to me to try anything different. There was no maternity leave policy in place at work. I was still untenured and nervous about asking for a leave. Plus, with my job-share arrangement, I was pretty sure that the only leave option would be for Jeremy to cover for me. I thought spending more time alone at home post-partum was scarier than a few hours a week at the office teaching a familiar course, with lots of work brought home and done near the kids.
With James and John, I had a summer for maternity leave and was ready for work in the fall. These June births were easy, and an obvious choice. So a mid-winter birth would not have occurred to me if the planning were left to me.
But now I understand all the pieces in retrospect. Back in early spring, as the teaching schedules for the upcoming year were being arranged, I was surprised to see that for the first time ever, I was being heavy-loaded in the fall semester (8.5 credits vs. a full-time load of 9-10) but with almost no duties in the spring (2 credits). I considered asking for a more even distribution, but then decided I liked the assigned courses and it would be workable.
Now I find myself with a due date less than 2 weeks into the spring semester. Obviously not a convenient one to teach. Since John was born, the college has newly adopted a maternity leave policy so I went to look it up. Turns out that based on my position, due date, etc., I get exactly 2 credits of medical leave. So, I can take off the entire spring semester, clean, with no loss of income. That is not a plan I could ever have worked out in advance. (Okay, maybe if I were still 23 and naive enough to think that I could actually "plan" when a baby comes, I might have thought of it. I long ago learned that is out of my control.) This baby wasn't even a glimmer yet when all these plans had to be fixed.
Of course, nothing is ever quite so easy. I still have a research project that needs attention through the spring, particularly with a hoped for grant-application in mid-March. But I have wonderful, understanding collaborators. If it doesn't work, they will forgive me. I still have the prospect of an extremely busy fall semester, in which I will have to juggle the additional time constraints of medical appointments and pregnancy fatigue. There is still the prospect of a late-pregnancy complication (bed-rest? early delivery?) that would interfere with my January term teaching duties.
But I find myself unable to worry about any of this, really. It isn't just a case of pregnancy hormones keeping me relaxed, I think. I finally understand that this baby's timing is all in God's care. My worries are irrelevant - they won't change a thing. For once, I am going to let go, sit back, and enjoy watching God work this one out.
Would I have ever picked this due date if it were up to me? I can't imagine yes. I have 3 summer babies. Again, not exactly my timing choices, but it did work out well.
With Maggie, I actually was back at work within 2 weeks, but it was okay. In that case, I was ready. And it never occurred to me to try anything different. There was no maternity leave policy in place at work. I was still untenured and nervous about asking for a leave. Plus, with my job-share arrangement, I was pretty sure that the only leave option would be for Jeremy to cover for me. I thought spending more time alone at home post-partum was scarier than a few hours a week at the office teaching a familiar course, with lots of work brought home and done near the kids.
With James and John, I had a summer for maternity leave and was ready for work in the fall. These June births were easy, and an obvious choice. So a mid-winter birth would not have occurred to me if the planning were left to me.
But now I understand all the pieces in retrospect. Back in early spring, as the teaching schedules for the upcoming year were being arranged, I was surprised to see that for the first time ever, I was being heavy-loaded in the fall semester (8.5 credits vs. a full-time load of 9-10) but with almost no duties in the spring (2 credits). I considered asking for a more even distribution, but then decided I liked the assigned courses and it would be workable.
Now I find myself with a due date less than 2 weeks into the spring semester. Obviously not a convenient one to teach. Since John was born, the college has newly adopted a maternity leave policy so I went to look it up. Turns out that based on my position, due date, etc., I get exactly 2 credits of medical leave. So, I can take off the entire spring semester, clean, with no loss of income. That is not a plan I could ever have worked out in advance. (Okay, maybe if I were still 23 and naive enough to think that I could actually "plan" when a baby comes, I might have thought of it. I long ago learned that is out of my control.) This baby wasn't even a glimmer yet when all these plans had to be fixed.
Of course, nothing is ever quite so easy. I still have a research project that needs attention through the spring, particularly with a hoped for grant-application in mid-March. But I have wonderful, understanding collaborators. If it doesn't work, they will forgive me. I still have the prospect of an extremely busy fall semester, in which I will have to juggle the additional time constraints of medical appointments and pregnancy fatigue. There is still the prospect of a late-pregnancy complication (bed-rest? early delivery?) that would interfere with my January term teaching duties.
But I find myself unable to worry about any of this, really. It isn't just a case of pregnancy hormones keeping me relaxed, I think. I finally understand that this baby's timing is all in God's care. My worries are irrelevant - they won't change a thing. For once, I am going to let go, sit back, and enjoy watching God work this one out.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
What is in a sound?
I heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time this week. There is something indescribably magic about hearing that strong, rapid rhythm filling the small examining room. Sure, I saw the heartbeat on ultrasound weeks ago, and loved that, too.
But now, for weeks, I have been caught in pregnancy limbo. I feel pregnant (sick, tired, etc.) but there is no concrete evidence that all is well. I can't feel the baby move. I am not growing noticably bigger (that all happened up front this time). I know that worry is unproductive and unneccesary, but still...
At 10 weeks, the doctor went looking for the heartbeat. The whole gang - all 5 of us - were there hoping to hear. But Dr. Rinzler couldn't find it for us. She played it cool. "No big deal. I can't reliably pick it up on the microphone until 12 weeks, when some more parts (intestines) move around and get out of the way." Still, she is the queen of "no big deal," I have learned through many years of visits. So, I am not necessarily reassured by her. She worries lots (one of the reasons I think she makes such a good doctor) but she never shares that worry with me.
So, I wasn't exactly concerned, but still, to hear that loud, strong sound was truly a balm to my soul. John and Maggie were along this time, and seemed unimpressed, but they were busy arguing over the one chair in the room, looking at books, and generally causing a bit of trouble.
Dr. Rinzler called out her usual insincere predictions. After listening for just a moment, she announced, "I'll say...148 [beats per minute] so I will say, it's a boy." Then, as usual, she laughed and assured me that she can't really tell that way. "I can't actually hear the penis waving around in there." Well, thanks for that clarification, Doc. I suppose a lifetime as an OB/GYN would lead to a ceratin earthy sense of humor.
But now, for weeks, I have been caught in pregnancy limbo. I feel pregnant (sick, tired, etc.) but there is no concrete evidence that all is well. I can't feel the baby move. I am not growing noticably bigger (that all happened up front this time). I know that worry is unproductive and unneccesary, but still...
At 10 weeks, the doctor went looking for the heartbeat. The whole gang - all 5 of us - were there hoping to hear. But Dr. Rinzler couldn't find it for us. She played it cool. "No big deal. I can't reliably pick it up on the microphone until 12 weeks, when some more parts (intestines) move around and get out of the way." Still, she is the queen of "no big deal," I have learned through many years of visits. So, I am not necessarily reassured by her. She worries lots (one of the reasons I think she makes such a good doctor) but she never shares that worry with me.
So, I wasn't exactly concerned, but still, to hear that loud, strong sound was truly a balm to my soul. John and Maggie were along this time, and seemed unimpressed, but they were busy arguing over the one chair in the room, looking at books, and generally causing a bit of trouble.
Dr. Rinzler called out her usual insincere predictions. After listening for just a moment, she announced, "I'll say...148 [beats per minute] so I will say, it's a boy." Then, as usual, she laughed and assured me that she can't really tell that way. "I can't actually hear the penis waving around in there." Well, thanks for that clarification, Doc. I suppose a lifetime as an OB/GYN would lead to a ceratin earthy sense of humor.
Obsessed with food
I am again, in this pregnancy, struck by how completely obsessed I become with food.
First, during the all-the-time nausea food is all I can think about. "What will be the least likely to make me feel worse? How much should I eat to not get too hungry and cause more nausea? When can I eat again?"
Now, I have moved on to the next stage. I am not nearly so delicate. I can eat a greater variety of foods. (I even managed to politely eat mussels for the first time in my life when served them by a kind host.) But, I am left with a constant feeling of being on the edge of being too full or too hungry. I feel that I need a constant samll stream of food input. Too little, and the queasiness returns; too much and I feel bloated, crampy, uncomfortable.
Now, I am beginning to recall the next stages from previous pregnancies. The heartburn should be here soon. I really didn't experience this the first time, but by number 3, I must have pre-loosened the muscles in my digestive tract, because I was using Tums (to only moderate effect) multilple times a week.
The last stage that I recall was strangely frustrating. Nothing tasted right. Perhaps it was a change in smell or taste. Perhaps it was the looming aura of heartburn or bloatedness. Whatever it was, I could never just sit down and enjoy a meal. I didn't really even like my favorite foods. I was so desperate for the birth by the end, but not for the reasons most women cite. I just wanted to enjoy food again!
But, oh, what a recovery! I still recall my first three glorious post-partum meals - breakfasts at the hospital. Yes, I did just use "glorious" in the same sentence with "hospital breakfast." Like a light switch turned, everything tasted right again, instantly. And, I could eat with gusto (I was famished!) with no discomfort to follow. Nausea? Never heard of it.
And so, my food obsession for the next 6 months will undoubtedly continue, but become more and more forward-focused as I look forward to the certain cure.
First, during the all-the-time nausea food is all I can think about. "What will be the least likely to make me feel worse? How much should I eat to not get too hungry and cause more nausea? When can I eat again?"
Now, I have moved on to the next stage. I am not nearly so delicate. I can eat a greater variety of foods. (I even managed to politely eat mussels for the first time in my life when served them by a kind host.) But, I am left with a constant feeling of being on the edge of being too full or too hungry. I feel that I need a constant samll stream of food input. Too little, and the queasiness returns; too much and I feel bloated, crampy, uncomfortable.
Now, I am beginning to recall the next stages from previous pregnancies. The heartburn should be here soon. I really didn't experience this the first time, but by number 3, I must have pre-loosened the muscles in my digestive tract, because I was using Tums (to only moderate effect) multilple times a week.
The last stage that I recall was strangely frustrating. Nothing tasted right. Perhaps it was a change in smell or taste. Perhaps it was the looming aura of heartburn or bloatedness. Whatever it was, I could never just sit down and enjoy a meal. I didn't really even like my favorite foods. I was so desperate for the birth by the end, but not for the reasons most women cite. I just wanted to enjoy food again!
But, oh, what a recovery! I still recall my first three glorious post-partum meals - breakfasts at the hospital. Yes, I did just use "glorious" in the same sentence with "hospital breakfast." Like a light switch turned, everything tasted right again, instantly. And, I could eat with gusto (I was famished!) with no discomfort to follow. Nausea? Never heard of it.
And so, my food obsession for the next 6 months will undoubtedly continue, but become more and more forward-focused as I look forward to the certain cure.
Turned a corner!
I reached 15 weeks on Thursday. I think I am really over the nausea, now! I still have moments of queasiness, but the all-the-time-miserably-sick seems to be really gone. I haven't even vomited in well over a week. All is good.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
My little lemon?
My Babycenter update tells me that at 14 weeks (reached 5 days ago) my baby should be about 3.5 inches long, "the size of a large lemon." That suddenly seems substantial. But not quite substantial enough to explain the cantaloupe sized bump on my front that has been there for 8 weeks. LOL.
Threatening baby
Had a new experience while traveling to Seattle this week for work. On the way home, security at Seattle's airport was fierce. I got all my items through. I got through the scanner. Then, I was waved aside into a plexiglass booth. The walls kept me confined but certainly provided no privacy as I was informed by a gloved woman that she would need to "pat down my belly" and then my legs, which were "obscured" by my dress. Seriously? At least she looked as embarassed about it as I did. What if I in fact had NOT been 14 weeks pregnant? How would I feel about the implication that my belly was big enough to be harboring hazardous substances? And it did make me wonder, after seeing this website a few days later (men's sympathy baby bumps Man Bumps) - how often do they pat down a man with a paunch?
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
God of the night watch
An opportunity to practice my faith.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.
This verse came to me in the middle of the night. Pregnancy hormones apparently give me insomnia (though Jeremy would claim astonishment at this news, since I sleep all the time when he is observing - I only lie awake from about 3-6 AM, then can drowse happily all day long). Thus, I get a lot of my deep thoughts (and meaningful prayer time) in the middle of the night now.
This verse convicted me last week. I have definitely been busy feeling sorry for myself. It is going on 6 weeks now of nearly constant nausea, punctuated only by brief interludes of violent vomiting. Now, I am not a person who typically stops for illness. I never missed school or work for colds, fevers, bronchitis. I have even worked through pneumonia several times.
But vomiting was the one thing that could stop me dead in my tracks. I used to dread the idea of contracting stomach flu because I knew it would "ground me" for the duration. I prefer to pass through nausea in a completely inanimate state. Fortunately, I seem to have a fairly impervious gut and rarely do contract contagious vomiting. This past spring, our family passed vomiting and diarrhea with a seemingly indestructible bug - James had it once; Jeremy, John and Maggie each had it twice; it dragged out over a month. And yet, I escaped this illness completely.
So, I find myself singularly unprepared to deal with nausea that seems unending. It doesn't take me long to turtle into my shell and just hang out feeling sorry for myself. Perhaps most disturbingly, I have found it difficult to even consider others. I can't remember to ask others how they are doing. I lose all sympathy for the aches and pains of the kids. I have been fully aware of my self-obsession, though seemingly helpless to change it.
So, this verse was a welcome breath of fresh air as it popped into my head early one morning. I tried it out. I rejoiced for my nausea, and gave thanks for the circumstances of my discomfort. After all, I was miserable for a purpose - a joyful purpose. And I was certainly thankful for that purpose. We are commanded to give thanks in all circumstances - certainly these are not the hardest circumstances faced by many believers, including myself?
I sometimes wonder if I am one of the children who most frustrates God. No matter how many times I learn the lesson, I always need it again. Scripture is true. Even as I prayed the prayer, giving thanks for my circumstances, I felt a lightening of my load. No, my nausea didn't actually subside at all. But my sense of despair certainly did. This verse has become my lifeline since then. I will make it through this, and knowing that lifts the cloud and gets me through each moment.
We serve a living God, a God of great mysteries and of quiet companionship. Nothing is too big for God, and yet nothing is too small for God, either. Praise to God!
Philippians 4:11-13
I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.
This verse came to me in the middle of the night. Pregnancy hormones apparently give me insomnia (though Jeremy would claim astonishment at this news, since I sleep all the time when he is observing - I only lie awake from about 3-6 AM, then can drowse happily all day long). Thus, I get a lot of my deep thoughts (and meaningful prayer time) in the middle of the night now.
This verse convicted me last week. I have definitely been busy feeling sorry for myself. It is going on 6 weeks now of nearly constant nausea, punctuated only by brief interludes of violent vomiting. Now, I am not a person who typically stops for illness. I never missed school or work for colds, fevers, bronchitis. I have even worked through pneumonia several times.
But vomiting was the one thing that could stop me dead in my tracks. I used to dread the idea of contracting stomach flu because I knew it would "ground me" for the duration. I prefer to pass through nausea in a completely inanimate state. Fortunately, I seem to have a fairly impervious gut and rarely do contract contagious vomiting. This past spring, our family passed vomiting and diarrhea with a seemingly indestructible bug - James had it once; Jeremy, John and Maggie each had it twice; it dragged out over a month. And yet, I escaped this illness completely.
So, I find myself singularly unprepared to deal with nausea that seems unending. It doesn't take me long to turtle into my shell and just hang out feeling sorry for myself. Perhaps most disturbingly, I have found it difficult to even consider others. I can't remember to ask others how they are doing. I lose all sympathy for the aches and pains of the kids. I have been fully aware of my self-obsession, though seemingly helpless to change it.
So, this verse was a welcome breath of fresh air as it popped into my head early one morning. I tried it out. I rejoiced for my nausea, and gave thanks for the circumstances of my discomfort. After all, I was miserable for a purpose - a joyful purpose. And I was certainly thankful for that purpose. We are commanded to give thanks in all circumstances - certainly these are not the hardest circumstances faced by many believers, including myself?
I sometimes wonder if I am one of the children who most frustrates God. No matter how many times I learn the lesson, I always need it again. Scripture is true. Even as I prayed the prayer, giving thanks for my circumstances, I felt a lightening of my load. No, my nausea didn't actually subside at all. But my sense of despair certainly did. This verse has become my lifeline since then. I will make it through this, and knowing that lifts the cloud and gets me through each moment.
We serve a living God, a God of great mysteries and of quiet companionship. Nothing is too big for God, and yet nothing is too small for God, either. Praise to God!
Philippians 4:11-13
I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.
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