Well, peeps, my doctor is HARD CORE.

This is all about the aging placenta and the fact that the abdomen is smaller than the head.  There is no other problem, yet. She said that the NST could be published in a textbook as a perfect example of a good, reactive test.  So, the baby is in no distress.

But man, she allowed for NO wiggle room on the bedrest.  I can get up to go to the bathroom, and take a shower once a day.  Lying down, left or right side, are the extent of my choices here.  She even dissented strongly with the thought of me switching between the couch and the bed.  To which I say bollocks because its not even 30 steps between my bed and the couch.  No stairs, no chores, no sex.  (Poor DH.)

I have to go for a biophysical profile on Thursday, and then TWO NSTs next week while she's on vacation.  I go for the second (or sixth, really) sonogram on the 12th, and if the abdomen catches up, life goes back to normal.  I just have to put my whole frickin' life on hold until then.  Which just seems like such an extreme reaction to me.  But, I just know how to blow S@#t up, I don't have a medical degree, so maybe I should just sit down (or lie down, in this case) and STFU.

I have come up with plans to cope.  I am going to spend at least one hour a day working with my Chinese Rosetta stone program.  I am going to finish the birth sampler I started when DD was in utero, and start one for this baby.  I am going to read some unclassified books from work, and several books on China that I've wanted to read forever.  Who knows, maybe I'll figure out the Cultural Revolution by the end of this.  A girl can dream.  And I will lurk constantly here.  Problem is, lying on your side is not conducive to doing things with your hands.  And my back is killing me already.  Must get more pillows.

So, there we have it.  Unless my NSTs start going south, my doctor won't induce me before 37 weeks.  Hell, I'll be frackin' fluent in Chinese by then.  Skippy.

******

This will not be a very coherent, or particularly well thought out diary.  Honestly, all I want to do is sit here and type "buh, buh, buh..."

I had my fifth sonogram of this pregnancy this morning.  This was triggered by my telling the doctor that this baby is HYPER compared to DD.  This baby can punch me on both sides, and kick my ribcage at the same time for 20 minutes straight.  Since I am hyperthyroid, the doctor immediately said I needed a sonogram.  (I am 33 weeks.)  I was really surprised, totally not expecting to need a sonogram.  Frankly, I thought this was basically CYA medicine on her part, but since all of my sonograms have been completely covered this pregnancy (dear god, its a miracle!) I didn't really care.  I was so completely unconcerned I told DH to go to work and skip it.

Yeah, well, now I'm on strict bedrest.

Here we are, six days after the surgery.  DH is still in a fair amount of pain, a lot of discomfort, and hocking up more phlegm than I ever thought it possible for a single human to produce.  So, obviously, he's still not up for making dinner.  (Not to mention the little niggling fact that today is his birthday, so I should be making dinner today anwyay.)  So I made dinner.  And dear GOD, I'm wiped out.

And just what was this culinary feast that was so taxing?  Breaded pork cutlets with green beans and Minute Rice.

Yes, folks, I am that pathetic.

I am in search of advice, fellow Mothertalkers.

My DH has reached a seriously depressing new milestone in his lifelong battle with his weight.  Just one week shy of his 32nd birthday, he weighed in at 285 pounds at his physical on Thursday.  He's 6' tall.  

I've known DH for 12 years.  He has always been overweight.  From what he's told me, its been all his life.  As a result, he carries some incredibly heavy emotional baggage with regards to his weight, which makes this a ridiculous minefield for me to navigate.

So, Baby #2 is on the way this September.  Which means, come December, approximately, I have to pay two daycare bills.

I finally stopped denying reality the other day and asked what infant care costs at the daycare where DD goes.  I nearly choked.  $310 A WEEK.  DD is $250 a week.  So, my daycare bill is going to be a whopping, insanely painful $560 A WEEK.

Its time for my three year old daughter to experience her first "loss" as an increasingly aware human being.

Luckily, thankfully, no one is dying.  But my wonderful neighbors are moving away to Georgia, which means her beloved friends Laura and Jack will be gone as of next Friday.

Laura is 5 almost 6, and Jack is 4, and DD is just in love with them.  She shrieks with joy when Laura comes up to our door.  We have a great neighborhood situation here:  we live on a pipestem driveway, which is like a cul-de-sac but much less traffic.  There are five houses sharing a big circular driveway.  Every evening and weekend, the kids are out there in the driveway, riding their bikes or playing.  DD can look out the window of the living room and see if Laura and Jack are out there, and as soon as she sees them, out we have to go!

In fact, tonight, when I got home from work, I suggested that we go out and ride her bike.  DD shook her head and said "Not yet.  Laura and Jack not home yet."  

I heard the most beautiful, amazing story of parenting on NPR today.

Did anyone else hear it?

It was a story of two parents, coming to grips with the fact that their 10-year old son is transgendered, and wants to be a girl.  You can read it on the website, but I strongly recommend you LISTEN to it, because the parents sounds so amazingly calm and accepting, it brings you to tears.  It made me tear up, and I never cry at things like this.  The only drawback to listening is that its long--20 minutes.  (Thank god for NPR--show me another news show that would spend 20 minutes on one story during their prime news broadcast.)

The story is here:  Parents consider treatment to delay puberty.

Ok, I'm extremely curious, because I keep seeing other pregnant mommies popping up on the board.  After our little April baby boom, I want to know who else is <del>suffering</del> growing a human along with me!

Post your due date, and any other details you want.  Satisfy my curiosity.

I'm due September 19th, will deliver NLT September 5th, and this is our second child, first son.

Folks, I have lost the battle against the Disney Princesses.

I feel like pre-WWII France:  I focused all my attention on building the Maginot Line against the threats I could see (my MIL, advertising) just to be completely sucker punched by the blitzkrieg of three year olds at day care and the early onset of peer pressure.

I am a tomboy, pure and simple.  I don't wear makeup, I don't wear lots of girly clothes, my hair is a godawful mess.  The only concession to my extra X chromosome is a love of cute but reasonable shoes, and an ability to pick out complimentary colors.  (According to DH, the colors thing is because I'm a girl.  Sure.)  When we found out that we were having a girl the first time around, I cried.  Later I confessed to DH that it was because I was scared about raising a girl, because there was a lot I couldn't teach her about BEING a girl.  I felt that I would be a bad mother for a girly girl.

Yes, we've discussed this before.  But today the "hygiene hypothesis" got the front page treatment from the Washington Post.

Immune systems on the attack

Now, as I've posted before, my brother has ulcerative colitis (UC).  This article was therefore VERY interesting to me.

The basic gist of the article, even though it was buried, is this:

The leading theory to explain the phenomenon holds that as modern medicine beats back bacterial, viral and parasitic diseases that have long plagued humanity, immune systems may fail to learn how to differentiate between real threats and benign invaders, such as ragweed pollen or food. Or perhaps because they are not busy fighting real threats, they overreact or even turn on the body's own tissues.

Great post, Tessa! I, too, wondered the same thing as Ari brought home a batch of HOMEMADE Valentine's Day cards. The school asked us to bring some in, so I BOUGHT mine at Target. I then wrote in Ari's name on all of them, although I noticed that some kids in his class could write their names, which made me feel doubly guilty. Sigh. -Elisa

My DD, who is not yet 3, came home from day care today with a bag full of Valentines.  Eight mothers, bless their souls, spent an admittedly short amount of time writing out Valentines Day cards to their kid's classmates WHO CAN'T EVEN READ.  One mother went seriously overboard and gave each toddler a little Chinese carton full of chocolate, with a little computer printed card with DD's name on it, and her son's.  I'll give her the benefit of the doubt and think she knew I would be eating the chocolate.  Jane's mother, a very nice woman, made homemade cards that she had her daughter scribble all over.  Very sweet.

I am so sorry about your father, Tessa. But we enjoy having discussions about faith on this site. Thank you for bringing it up! -Elisa

Every now and again, it occurs to me that I miss having faith.

Tonight, I was in the hospital, giving my wrung-out mother a break from sitting with my father who is recovering from a stroke.  While the nurses were in his room helping him with something a little more...delicate...than he wanted his daughter helping him with, I stood out in the middle of the stroke unit to wait.  I got overwhelmed, and started to cry a little.

There is this 81 year old man that was admitted to the stroke unit today.  He is very religious, and has been talking about God all day.  He saw me out there, and smiled at me, and said "Little lady, you look very concerned.  Give it up to God, and he'll carry you."

This man was admitted today with a stroke, and he has been the chipperest person on the ward.  And it's all because he has faith in his God.  That faith gives him a peace I haven't known for years.  I do truly envy that.  He's not depressed, or stressed, or sad.  He's accepting.  He's cheery.  He can reach out and comfort someone else when she's crying.  I think that is a gift.