Last Tuesday (before Christmas), we had the best Christmas present come unexpectedly. We went in for the last ultrasound, and did the routine checkup: spine? check; heart with four ventricules? check; kidneys, femur, feet? check; brain, ombilical cord, placenta? check, check, check.
then... WOW ! With the push of a button my OB switched to 3D to get us a portrait of her face (after much pushing her around since she was hiding her face deep inside). UN-BE-LIE-VA-BLE. I no longer have a little black and white skeleton in me, I have a golden-coloured 3D angel with a pout, a little nose and some chubby cheeks. WOWWW... We've pretty much been on a cloud ever since. And if you want to see the face of an angel (nothing less!), let me know, I'll forward it along.
So that's a major victory for France: this is still uncommon in the US (and I was not in some fancy private clinic).
Where the US score though is on practicality: I have received a Moutain of baby clothes. mountain with a capital M, as in Mount Rainier, or Mont Blanc - a tall mountain! a cute, adorable mountain, of course - but tall nonetheless. You know that in the old days people used to put their babies face down; them SIDS research came along and now babies sleep on their back. Well, in France, they 'forgot' to update clothing: all the buttons are still on the back. Talk about a pain in the back side ;) ... My plan? when it's not obvious, to have her wear clothes front-side back. I don't like laying flat on some half-inch thick bumps, why should she?
So that's about it for now. Had a wonderful Christmas with almost-all of my family (my sister's in Ethiopia with her boyfriend). Am planning on doing a quiet New Year celebration with just P, the little one inside, and one of my very best friends who's just back from the Darfur (Sudan).
Most days, I sleep fine and a little short nap in the day is all I need. Last night, was up from 3 to 5, and am up again at 8. The little one's been both restless and cramping my digestive system. Oh well, it's for a good cause. Although I have to admit, I'm right in the middle of the anxiety phase (I'm also right on schedule, or so I hear, as it seems to hit all pregnant women at this stage): my god, we're going to be our little girl's parents for-ever. not just through pregnancy, and not just through newborn-ness and childhood. but ever. dear...
wishing you a delightful, inspiring, memorable New Year.
Friday, December 30, 2005
Saturday, December 10, 2005
the nine months myth
There is a wild and insane belief out there that pregnancy is a single nine-month stretch. Let me dispel that myth for you.
First of all, it's not nine months. Having gone through three countries' medical systems during this pregnancy, I can testify that its length is not even universally agreed upon.
Some count it as 10 times a 28 day cycle. Others as 40 weeks. Others as 40 plus 3 days. Others as 9 months. some start with the last periods, others with the guestimated date of the baby's beginning.
Isn't it insane that by driving up north in France for 6 hours I would be expected to give birth a whooping 4 days earlier than here in the South? You can always try telling a woman in her third trimester that she's in for 11 days longer than she'd planned on. Ouch. You get denial. I still tell people the baby's due in early February even though according to local calculations the expected date is the 17th - technically, that's mid or end of, not beginning of Feb... But the UK and US systems had me schedule for the 6th.
I now hang my hopes on the notion that more women give birth on the full moon (which is another myth, I know). and the full moon is the 7th of Feb. so there: I'm giving the French calculators one extra day, that counts as a compromise, doesn't it?
Second of all, pregnancy is not a single stretch of time. It's not even three trimesters; it's more like 40 (41? 42?) weeks of experiment-experiences. Believe me, I waited for weeks on end for the supposed burst of energy that comes at the onset of the 14th week (second trimester) - week 15, still exhausted. 16? ditto. 17, 18, 19... I had to wait till just about week 26 and my 'glow' lasted all of two weeks, if that.
Now it is one way to keep things from getting boring, I'll grant you that. there's the week where you can't get out of bed until at least two naps have been taken. the week where the bathroom is your new best friend, especially in the middle of the night. the week(s) where you MUST eat every two hours or else the world falls apart and you scramble for any old breadcrumbs.
Different body parts start having voices of their own - the breasts that feel they'll just about fall off, or explode, or both simultaneously. the calves that cramp up right as you set into deep sleep. the zits that we hadn't seen in such glorious eruption since high school. the week-of-the-salty-protein-cravings (eggs, chicken, ham); the week-of-the-raw-grated-carrots, the week-of-the-mint-syrup-with-sparkling-water; the week-of-the-cheese (actually, never mind that last one is a constant).
It's for a great cause. I'm not complaining. I'm fully aware that so far I've avoided the most terrible of ailments of pregnancy (and if you don't know what they are, I won't be the one to tell). I just want to take a stab at the conspiracy of silence over pregnancy and the so-called radiance that occurs during nine months, without any mention of the squeeshage that occurs with your internal organs (digestive and bladder of course, but you also get a glimpse of what half a lung capacity and no diaphragm can do to you).
Now I rest my peace.
First of all, it's not nine months. Having gone through three countries' medical systems during this pregnancy, I can testify that its length is not even universally agreed upon.
Some count it as 10 times a 28 day cycle. Others as 40 weeks. Others as 40 plus 3 days. Others as 9 months. some start with the last periods, others with the guestimated date of the baby's beginning.
Isn't it insane that by driving up north in France for 6 hours I would be expected to give birth a whooping 4 days earlier than here in the South? You can always try telling a woman in her third trimester that she's in for 11 days longer than she'd planned on. Ouch. You get denial. I still tell people the baby's due in early February even though according to local calculations the expected date is the 17th - technically, that's mid or end of, not beginning of Feb... But the UK and US systems had me schedule for the 6th.
I now hang my hopes on the notion that more women give birth on the full moon (which is another myth, I know). and the full moon is the 7th of Feb. so there: I'm giving the French calculators one extra day, that counts as a compromise, doesn't it?
Second of all, pregnancy is not a single stretch of time. It's not even three trimesters; it's more like 40 (41? 42?) weeks of experiment-experiences. Believe me, I waited for weeks on end for the supposed burst of energy that comes at the onset of the 14th week (second trimester) - week 15, still exhausted. 16? ditto. 17, 18, 19... I had to wait till just about week 26 and my 'glow' lasted all of two weeks, if that.
Now it is one way to keep things from getting boring, I'll grant you that. there's the week where you can't get out of bed until at least two naps have been taken. the week where the bathroom is your new best friend, especially in the middle of the night. the week(s) where you MUST eat every two hours or else the world falls apart and you scramble for any old breadcrumbs.
Different body parts start having voices of their own - the breasts that feel they'll just about fall off, or explode, or both simultaneously. the calves that cramp up right as you set into deep sleep. the zits that we hadn't seen in such glorious eruption since high school. the week-of-the-salty-protein-cravings (eggs, chicken, ham); the week-of-the-raw-grated-carrots, the week-of-the-mint-syrup-with-sparkling-water; the week-of-the-cheese (actually, never mind that last one is a constant).
It's for a great cause. I'm not complaining. I'm fully aware that so far I've avoided the most terrible of ailments of pregnancy (and if you don't know what they are, I won't be the one to tell). I just want to take a stab at the conspiracy of silence over pregnancy and the so-called radiance that occurs during nine months, without any mention of the squeeshage that occurs with your internal organs (digestive and bladder of course, but you also get a glimpse of what half a lung capacity and no diaphragm can do to you).
Now I rest my peace.
anti-laziness
I was brought up to believe that the worst flaw I could possibly have was laziness. An inability to saw, a lack of interest in chess playing, a difficulty with the geography of French rivers - all that was forgiveable as long as I was hard-working. The brainwashing has been so successful that whenever I am in bed, sick, with a fever, and shivering uncontrollably, the first thought that always comes to my mind is - well, what if I'm just being lazy and am trying to find a way out of school/work/some other obligation?
Pregnancy is a stretch in the non-laziness department. I have to stop long before I'm fully exhausted. I have to choose resting over nesting sometimes. I keep saying, 'but I'm not sick, I'm not disabled, I'm just... well, pregnant." The truth remains: my body is going at an entirely different pace than my mind or my will. much slo-o-o-ower. And I am learning to accept that. And I am struggling with letting those around me do more, and do things I could very well do, just not all at once and right this minute.
Pregnancy is a stretch in the non-laziness department. I have to stop long before I'm fully exhausted. I have to choose resting over nesting sometimes. I keep saying, 'but I'm not sick, I'm not disabled, I'm just... well, pregnant." The truth remains: my body is going at an entirely different pace than my mind or my will. much slo-o-o-ower. And I am learning to accept that. And I am struggling with letting those around me do more, and do things I could very well do, just not all at once and right this minute.
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