I Miss Carbs

I’m having a hard time adjusting to the lack of carbohydrates in my diet. I’m a carb kind of gal and I’m noticing an increase in dizziness, floaters in my vision, headaches, and other things like that. Things that I’ve long associated with low blood sugar. That I used to be able to take care of by just eating a granola bar or some peanut butter toast. Now I’m filling myself with cheap carbs like soda and potato chips. Just to try to feel full for a minute. But it never lasts. No matter how much protein I try to add. My meeting with the medical nutritionist is tomorrow.

Yes, the celiac diagnosis is official. I briefly met with the GI docs again last week. Basically the diagnosis is two-fold: outright celiac disease and a bunch of medical bullshit that boils down to “manifestation of celiac disease”. I’ve been doing the gluten-free thing, more or less, for two weeks now and I’ve definitely noticed a difference…in my poop. I’m very excited that I’m no longer having daily diarrhea. I keep joking that the only time you’re excited about poop is with your infant, or if you’ve had diarrhea for four months.

I haven’t noticed any other differences yet. I’m exhausted but that’s likely from a non-stop weekend of Kirk’s birthday party, my dad’s BBQ reunion, and blowing shit up with neighbors in the alley. I’m supposed to keep taking my daily iron supplement for the next couple of months before trying to cut that off and see if I still need it. Other than that, I don’t know what else to look for.

I’m trying to keep track of what I’m eating so I can tell what makes me sick. Apparently very small amounts of gluten will have a big effect once I’ve fully transitioned. I had icky poo again two mornings in a row, once after Red Lobster and once after homemade gluten-free macaroni and cheese. Initially I thought maybe there was cross-contamination in my steak and baked potato. I tried to be careful with what I ordered at the restaurant. But then when I felt icky the second morning I looked to rum as the potential culprit – I had a Bahama Mama while out and a glass of homemade rum punch the following night. Mr. b told me to try rum a third time before cutting it out and sure enough, that wasn’t a problem. So now I’m back to wondering about cross-contamination and reviewing my food log to see what might have been the issue the second time.

Meanwhile, I’m not sure I like gluten-free bread. We bought a loaf of Schär multi-grain last week and I made us some grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. Both Mr. b and I liked them a lot. But when I made myself a grilled cheese this weekend, it wasn’t very good. The bread has to be used very quickly or else frozen so I’m thinking the defrosting and then grilling was the problem. We’ll see if I can come up with another method of cooking it. I found a double corn tortilla to be a very excellent substitute for a hot dog bun!

Celiac

Last week I had my first appointment with the GI specialist. The doctor was handsome, very smart, and eager. He put together my history, like the flu in February and unexplained anemia since I was a teenager. The senior fellow came in (it’s the University so it’s a teaching hospital; I just thought it was funny that the “learner” himself is a full-fledged MD) and praised handsome doc for the job he did with the background analysis. Essentially they think I’ve pretty much always been celiac. In 10-15% of cases the only symptom that ever manifests is anemia so if I hadn’t had the triggering event of the viral infection, I possibly would never have known. Senior doc thought it was irresponsible of my past doctors to not look deeper but hey, it was over 20 years ago and they assumed it was puberty and starting to menstruate and all that and I’ve been taking iron for so long I just never think about it. He thinks that the mal-absorption of iron will go away with the other dietary changes, so that’ll be interesting. I wasn’t supposed to eliminate gluten yet though; they wanted me to wait until after the endoscopy. They expect that I’ll notice improvement in things I never noticed were affecting me before, like energy levels. When he asked if I’m often tired I joked that I have young kids, of course I’m tired!

I had my endoscopy yesterday. Because of a series of stupid events, I was over two hours early. (And hungry. I couldn’t eat anything after 7am.) I was fine in the waiting room but when they took me in to the prep room I started to freak out. The prep nurse explained to me step by step everything they were going to do and when she left to let me change into my hospital gown, I started crying. Yes, it’s PMS week so my emotions are nuts but I was still in tears. She came in and tried to help soothe me a bit and put in the IV shunt, which never felt right the entire time. I don’t remember it being so uncomfortable when I had them in for labor. But then again, I was in labor so a bit distracted. I had some time to read and text so that helped to keep my mind off of it but not completely.

Then they came to get me to the procedure room. There was a different nurse for that one and she was amazing. She tried to re-settle my IV and wrapped me up in hot blankets and did a fantastic job of helping to calm me. But I was still on the verge of bawling the whole time. They had warned me that the same senior doctor was always 15 minutes late. He ended up being an hour late. I just tried to close my eyes and doze off. It’s hard to actually sleep when there’s so much hustling and bustling in the hall outside and when your nerves are so on edge. Doctor finally got there and he’s a Tasmanian devil of humor and activity so I didn’t have time to freak out. He went through what they were going to do again and then he sprayed the back of my throat with basically just that lidocaine stuff the dentist uses; I had to swallow it though to get it down as far as possible. Meanwhile the nurse was injecting the narcotics and something else into my IV shunt. They hit me so fast. I felt woozy, like that spot *just before* you get the spins when you’re lying down after too many drinks. But it never got to the spins thankfully. I got another dose of the spray and another dose of the hippie drugs and they had me lying on my left side. Then I had to bite onto this circular bite guard thing and the doctor stuck the hose in my mouth. I had my eyes closed so I wouldn’t accidentally see it or the view screens from the camera. I had to swallow it and that was the hardest part. My gag reflex was tamed from the numbing spray but I still had to swallow three times to get it past. Then it was basically like being at the dentist, with the doctor giving the nurse instructions that meant nothing to me and she was doing stuff I couldn’t see and also rubbing my back and telling me how good I was doing and reminding me to breathe through my nose. Then the doctor said he was done and pulled the thing out. It took about 4 minutes. Then I had to spit out all the collected spittle (which obviously I couldn’t swallow with the thing down my throat) and they wheeled me to the recovery area to come down from the drugs.

My sister came in and I could barely follow along with her usual pace of things. The recovery nurse had me drink some water to make sure I could swallow. I was super loopy from the “conscious sedation”, which they do because otherwise they’d have to have you on the breathing machine if you were knocked out fully. All I cared about was getting the dang IV thing removed because it was so uncomfortable. I can definitely understand why they don’t want you driving but I would have been able to take the bus by myself. But they don’t have any way of knowing that I’m an expert bus taker. So. I was mostly down from the drugs by the time we got home and then I was just starving and tired. I went to bed at 8:30 last night.

The doctor came in while I was in recovery to talk about what he saw. He took biopsies of a couple different spots, in my stomach and duodenum, and will call me tomorrow with the results. But he said that if it’s not positive for celiac then he’s a liar. Which is why I have to start my new diet right away. I have to make an appointment with the nutritionist, too. We haven’t done any gluten-free shopping yet, and can’t until pay day, so I’m making due with what’s on hand. Which is mainly corn tortillas.

Butt Update

Last week Ronnie started wearing underpants. Now, this does not mean she is fully potty trained. In fact, I would say instead that she is merely in the process of potty training. She still has accidents. Lots and lots of accidents. But for her, just wearing panties is enough to make her remember to use the potty and she really, really hates having to wear a diaper at all now.

It’s amazing how different the potty training experience is with Veronica compared to her brother. Kirk was just uninterested in it at all. Pure laziness. He would have kept going in a diaper forever if we would have let him. Which is why we started the sticker charts. Potty candy was all well and good but ultimately, he needed a bigger reward. Earning stickers to save up for a toy prize mattered a whole lot more to him than the personal pride of a pair of underpants. I guess that’s why Ronnie’s moving forward so much quicker and at such a younger age. I’m not sure if it’s the younger sibling thing or the girls-train-earlier-than-boys thing or personality differences or some combination of all of that. But it’s definitely been unique.

Kirk always used the actual potty chair. He didn’t switch to the potty ring until he had been using the little chair for quite some time. We’d always have to clean it out and it was gross. Ronnie has never used anything but the toilet seat ring insert. When she was first showing interest many months ago, I pulled the potty chair out and she would sit on it but it was basically just a toy. She didn’t start actually going until I set her on the ring. That’s what she uses at daycare, too.

So now I make sure she goes every morning when she first gets up. She’s really good at morning pee. The rest of the day is hit or miss. She’s been going to daycare in underpants but always ends up coming home in a diaper. She still needs one while sleeping so she needs one while taking a nap. Miss Ronica likes to then have her panties on top of her diaper, so she’s still wearing them. Sort of. I must say, size 2T Hello Kitty panties are just about the cutest thing ever.

Mama’s also been having increased potty focus the past few months. The entire family got hit with a nasty bout of stomach flu back in February. All four of us were down for several days with repeated puking and diarrhea. It was not fun. But after we all got well, my butt never went back to normal. Essentially, I’ve had intermittent diarrhea for months now. I thought maybe it was red meat so cut that out. I cut out alcohol and caffeine and dairy. None of that made any difference. I tried adding lactobacillus to my water. Nope. So I finally went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago and had blood taken and had to provide a stool sample. That was a real joy to collect.

Last week I got the results of the tests back. “Your blood tests for Celiac disease (gluten sensitivity) were both quite elevated. This makes the diagnosis quite likely.” Awesome. I have an appointment with a gastrointestinal specialist set up for next month. But in the meantime, I get to speculate on life with a possible celiac diagnosis. There is no cure. The only way to fix my butt issues would be to change my diet. Radically change my diet. Wheat gluten is in *everything*. Seriously. It’s used to thicken even ice cream! I love pasta and bread and crackers and cereal. Sure, my favorite grains have long been corn and oats but there’s wheat flour in corn bread and dieticians are divided on whether or not oat gluten is also bad. Basically it’s at the point now where every time I eat a sandwich or a plate of spaghetti I find myself thinking, “Is this the last time I’ll ever be able to eat it?” I’m not supposed to modify my diet on my own before additional testing or else I’d have to eat a bunch of gluten specifically for tests. So in the meantime, I’m keeping on keeping on.

But what will this mean for my family? I already have a massively picky eater in Kirk. Dinner is a fight more often than not. I don’t want to have to make special meals for myself but I also don’t want to have to force them to eat weird grains and bizarre recipes when they don’t have to. There are just so many factors and such a potential for ripple effects. I’m trying not to worry. But being celiac would certainly help to make sense of certain things my whole life so part of me would be happy just to have the answers. Even if that means knowing that I’ll pay later for that sandwich on delicious whole grain bread.

Hear Me Moan

Extreme TMI and Whining Warning: Continue Reading At Your Own Peril



This has been a very bad week for belsum’s nethers. It started off with just a bump. I found a bump on my delicate girl parts last week. Figured it was just a zit. Last weekend was the big Ronnie’s Naming Ceremony weekend with my in-laws flying up from Texas and lots of evening fires in our backyard with family and good friends. So I figured if the bump wasn’t gone by Monday, I’d go have it checked out just to be sure. Got the results yesterday from the culture they took: staph. Great. But it so far doesn’t seem to be as virulent as the staph infections Mr. b was dealing with in succession a few years ago. They just prescribed me a topical ointment to apply to the affected area. So far so good.

Monday evening I started feeling all rumbly in my tumbly. Lord knows I ate like a madwoman during all the festivities of the weekend so I didn’t give it much thought. I slept fitfully when I went to bed and then woke up about 1:30 am and spent the next two hours in the bathroom. And then made return trips at far too frequent intervals. Obviously frequent wiping, causing chafing and chapping, is just the thing to help prevent the spread of a staph infection! Oh wait, no it’s not. I was completely wrecked all day Tuesday and still extremely weak Wednesday. Started to come out of it Thursday but still tired. And yeah, when you’re averaging 900 calories on top of violently excreting every shred of food from your bowels, that’s gonna take its toll.

I really thought that was the end of it. But instead…my period has come back. For the first time since I got knocked up with Ronnie I’m menstruating. I spotted a little bit when I went on the nursing pill. And there was the lochia flow after giving birth. But those don’t count. This is actual monthly visitor action. It started out spotty on Monday but was really dark. Like my body was cleaning everything out after not being used for a long time. Which, come to think of it, was probably exactly what was happening. But by yesterday the flow became normal. Everything else? Is so not what I’m used to. Granted I’m out of practice. But I never had bloating this bad. I never had PMS this harsh. I was never ready to call it a sick day just for my stupid period before. And I’m just ridiculous amounts of uncomfortable. Food makes me ill. I’m scared to frickin’ fart. Nothing I’ve tried has brought me any relief. This had better just be part of the system overload of all this happening at once. As my friend put it, a bug sneaking in while PMS had my shields down. I just don’t know how I’m going to adapt if this will be my new monthly reality. Oh, I know there are plenty of women out there that are used to big-time horrible symptoms. But I never used to be one of them. Then again, I do remember a slight worsening after I had Kirk. That’s when the day of icky poo as a late PMS indicator started happening. Well great. So I guess this is the thanks I get for having another baby. It’s like it’s exponentially getting more extreme. Blerg.

Epicurion Queries

There’s been a minor rash of milk related food poisoning incidents in the Midwest lately. From drinking unpasteurized milk. And I just think, who drinks that? I mean, if you aren’t a dairy farmer, how would you even have access to it? Isn’t that illegal?

But of course Veronica drinks unpasteurized milk. It’s just mama milk, not cow milk. And it’s not homogenized so it separates as it sits in the fridge, waiting to be used. It’s easy enough to recombine the milk fats with the rest of the milk. Generally just the shaking and sloshing that gets done while heating the milk up under the faucet will do the trick. But it’s got me wondering: can you make cheese or butter from breast milk?

I’m not going to try. Don’t you worry your pretty little head. Mainly because I’m way too lazy for that kind of thing. But the scientist that lives in my head is definitely curious. I mean, it’s milk. You should be able to make milk products. But then who would use them? Ronnie’s not up to cottage cheese or even yogurt yet since she’s under a year. But would those things be OK for her to have since they wouldn’t be cow milk, which as I understand is the reason you need to wait a year before switching to whole milk from breast or formula? And if you have other kids, would they be fine eating breast milk ice cream? Or is the whole thing just too squicky and overly hippie dippie freaky to even consider?

People do some freaky-ass shit with their maternal by-products. Of course there’s the whole eating the placenta deal, which while fascinating is just far too gross to even consider. I don’t care if placenta pills ward off post-partum depression. I’m not living in the wild, nursing my litter of babies in a cave for weeks on end, needing the iron richness of my placenta to provide the only nourishment I’m going to get until they’re old enough for me to leave them and go hunting again. Therefore I’m not eating my placenta. End of story.

I did remember to ask to see it this time though. I can’t remember why I didn’t after I had Kirk. I know I was worried that birthing the afterbirth would somehow hurt which…yeah right. You can’t feel that after a whole damn baby just went through there! And I don’t remember watching while Mr. b cut the cord. I still didn’t see the cord be cut this time but I did ask to see the stuff before it got sent to disposal. It was all dark and weird and organy (duh) and there was a tiny little hole in the sack the nurse pointed out which would have accounted for the slow leak that was my water breaking. The umbilical cord is sort of whitish grey. Again, interesting from a scientific perspective, but I don’t need to save it for posterity.

Frankly I was far too jittery, literally, after having Ronnie to even consider anything more than satisfying intellectual curiosity. Apparently it was the pitocin. I had the shakes big time once she was out. They put her freshly born unwashed bundleness on my chest and I held her and loved her and tried not to vibrate her off of me I was shivering so hard. It took quite a while to get back to normal.

Boobies

I was looking through my old posts about Kirk at about the same age as Ronnie is now. The nursing ones especially. It’s truly amazing to me just how much effort I put into getting that boy to eat boobie. And I kept it up, too! There were so many setbacks, from him not latching on to not having a pump once I had to return the hospital rental. Sweet Bundle got it figured out before we even left the delivery room at the hospital!

I managed to keep up the attempt for a good four months before calling it quits. Kirk was definitely ready since he didn’t really care in the first place. Ronnie is five months and I am only just now starting to even contemplate weaning eventually, much less make plans for it. Neither of us are anywhere near ready for it. Kirk was formula fed with breast milk supplement and Ronnie is breast fed with formula supplement. Completely opposite situations. Plus, I can pump at work easily thanks to my sister passing on her Medela.

I’ve developed a pumping routine that seems to work nicely. I go twice a day and pump for 15 minutes each time. It takes about 25 minutes total because of set-up and clean-up. I tried going three times a day but it didn’t make any difference to my milk supply and was too hard to fit into my work schedule. I’ve definitely had days where a meeting gets scheduled during one of my usual pumping times, generally about 10am and 2pm, and I have fidgeted and watched the clock, waiting to get out so I could release the pressure. I guess it’s sort of like having to pee really badly. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s certainly uncomfortable. I had a programming class a few weeks ago and had to ask the guard at the building if there was a lactation room. That was an interesting experience.

The milk I pump generally gets used within a day or two at home. I was freezing it if the bag hit the one week mark but all of the frozen milk has since been used. There seems to be a sort of macho competition between women about how much milk they produce. The more and you “win”. Well, I loose apparently. I bring home about 7 ounces of milk a day, combined after two pumpings. Sometimes maybe a half ounce more and sometimes maybe a half ounce less but it’s really been pretty consistent. That’s not enough to feed the world and definitely not enough to feed chowhound Bundle at daycare so I never bothered even trying to send milk with her each morning. It’s easier to use it at home.

Now that Miss V is eating rice cereal the milk gets mixed into that and then she finishes whatever was left as a post-cereal bottle. That seems to be working for both of us as it gives me a chance to fill up again after the usual just-got-home-from-daycare feeding. Even if she just had a bottle before I picked her up, she still wants to nurse and that’s fine with me. It’s cuddling, bonding time for us. Same with co-sleeping. Veronica hasn’t really settled into a new schedule yet since the introduction of cereal into her diet. I think she’s also undergoing a pre-new-development regression, causing her to sleep fewer hours in a row at night. I remember Kirk doing that before each new trick. So I bring the girl into bed with me to sleep-nurse when she wakes up and since I fall back to sleep, she never makes it back into her crib.

I did read that Kirk got the go-ahead for apple juice, cut with water, after his four-month well-baby visit. I hadn’t even thought of that for his sister. She hasn’t had anything since the prune juice lattes of her constipated early weeks. I’m going to have to ask about that at her six-month well-baby. It seems the rules change all the time and vary from doctor to doctor. One thing at a time I guess. We’re still getting used to balancing Daddy playing with Brother while Mama feeds Sister.

Recovery

Well, now I can go back to work. I don't want to but I have my doctor's OK. How the hell did I afford such a long leave with Kirk?

My post-partum check-up went smoothly. Everything's healing as it should be. I guess there are still some stitches that haven't fully dissolved but they're the inner most ones. I'm pretty sure I tore during delivery - 5 minutes of pushing goes extremely fast and I don't remember them making me pause for an episiotomy like last time. I noticed that Doc was referring to some notes in my file throughout my visit and I finally got a glimpse: it was a summary from the on-call doctor at the maternity ward! I don't know that I even said a single word to her. Doc showed up about 10 minutes after Ronnie was born and while he checked her over, basically all he did was congratulate Mr. b and I and shake our hands.

Since we're absolutely determined not to have an "oops" I definitely wanted to get on birth control right away. Supposedly nursing is about 90% effective, at least until your first period. And the no estrogen mini pill is also about 90% (and won't dry up your milk supply), but combined the two are as good as the regular pill. Doc said I should give the pill a couple of weeks to get into my system and double up on contraception until then. As much as we'd like to get back to normal marital relations, Mr. b and I are both a bit hesitant. I don't remember how long after Kirk's birth we waited.

It seems I had gained a total of 15 pounds from the time of my first ob visit until my final one. And now I'm officially 16 pounds less than that final weigh in. Doc was worried that such rapid weight loss might mean I was too busy taking care of the kids first and forgetting about myself. I assured him I'm eatin' like an eatin' fool. I actually need to make sure I don't go overboard with that. I gained weight after Kirk's birth because while I was nursing some, I wasn't nursing much. But I was ingesting enough calories for full time milk production. I suppose for the moment (the barnacle is attached to my boob as I type this one-handed) I don't really need to be concerned. Everything will change when I go back to work.

What's On My Mind

Ronnie continues to be a champ at nursing. The only position we don't seem to have mastered is laying down in bed; it's good enough that I can catch an hour of sleep before returning her to her bassinet if I'm desperate. She does, however, go through these periods of feeding frenzy every few days where she's chomping at my nipples and demanding boob like every 30 minutes. Usually in the evenings. When I get to the point where I can't take her squirming anymore then I pass her on to her dad. Mr. b has been working on bottle training her. It's slow going but he reminded me that it was hard work with Kirk, too. And she's obviously got to learn.

I'm still not getting much via pumping but I guess I don't care. We can have Ronnie on formula at daycare and I'll continue to pump when I go back to work and that's what we'll have for everything in between.

Kirk continues to be absolutely smitten with his sister. He takes his big brother duties very seriously. If I ask him to watch her for a minute, he'll literally watch her. He loves announcing that she "wants boobie" when she starts to fuss. He's very patient and understanding about the fact that she doesn't do anything yet. He talks about how she's growing and will learn things. It's darling and sweet.

I think we've finally discovered his reversion though. Kirk wants to sleep in our bed a lot again. It's been quite some time since he's done that. If Mr. b happens to be crashed on the couch or downstairs I don't mind because there's enough room, even if Ronnie is next to me instead of in her bundle bin. But all four of us gets crowded! Last night Kirk just brought himself to our bed; I have a vague memory of him showing up and Mr. b just woke up and he was there. The problem was that Kirk apparently thought that if I was awake at 4 am nursing his sister then he could be up and jumping around and telling stories. His father got him put back into his own bed after that.

I took the bundle in for the obligatory visit at work yesterday. I can't believe my leave is already half over.

I'm so ready to start the allowed-to-have-sex-again countdown.

I think I've already lost the miniscule amount of baby weight I gained this time. My pants all fit already. And I haven't even started exercising yet. I plan to start that next week. I can feel the laziness in my muscles. Or at least, I can feel it during those rare moments when I'm well rested. I'm eating like a maniac, however, so I think milk production must be helping. The lactation nurse at the hospital said you need an extra 300 calories a day when you're pregnant but an extra 500 when you're nursing. Damn. I can tell.

I need to investigate the rules for drinking. I've heard that beer can help with milk let down and I'm presuming that means one drink in general and not beer specifically. I figure one drink won't affect the milk. Mr. b has bought me a couple of those flavored Smirnoff thingies and I haven't been able to finish one the two times I've had one. (Of course he bought me tall boys both times and then got to finish them himself so there may have been an ulterior motive there.) I know the phrase "pump and dump" but I don't know the details. At what point does the alcohol hit the milk ducts? Is the milk that's in there when you start drinking fine? What if you can't drain it all or how can you tell it's safe again?

There's a subtle difference to how I view us as a unit now that we have two kids. Before we were a couple that had a son. Now we're a family.

Here's What Happened: Part 2

I think it was about 2:30 pm when we got to the hospital. They decided to conservatively estimate my water breakage as happening at midnight the night before. Therefore I was given a scant two hours to go into labor on my own.

My folks had already been on their way down when we called them from the delivery room so it didn't take them the full hour to arrive. Mr. b and Kirk went back home with Papa to prepare two overnight bags: one for Kirk and one for me. My mom stayed with me. Not that I was worried about having the baby on my own. I just was bored and didn't have so much as a magazine to read! We decided that since I still had another half hour before my deadline that we would walk the halls of the maternity ward and see if that could kick start things. It was weird reminiscing about how things had been laid out when I had Kirk (they were undergoing major remodeling then). I was actually sort of creeped out by the floor. I didn't want to have to hear anyone screaming during their deliveries. Thankfully it was pretty empty then. But every time we passed the doors to the caesarian surgery theater I had to suppress a shudder. I've never been knocked out for anything - heck, I even have all my wisdom teeth - and I've certainly never been cut open. I suppose if it was an emergency I'd get over my hang-up in a hurry but it definitely weirded me out.

I was also a bit freaked out by the prospect of having pitocin. I had never heard anything but horror stories about how it makes everything hurt so much more. So at about 4:30 my time was up and I was going to have to get an IV, thereby tying me to the bed for the rest of the ordeal. I asked the nurse about pitocin as she was trying valiantly to find a vein for the IV (she ended up with the back of my right hand - same spot as for Kirk's delivery). Apparently it's not that it makes labor hurt more. It's that it makes the contractions come on faster and stronger. Seems like a pretty fine distinction to me. But she also assured me that they administer the hormone in stages and that often it doesn't take much to kick start the body into action on its own.

They also put me on antibiotics again. With Kirk it was because I hadn't had the Strep B test yet. Well, we did that early this time and I knew I was negative. But since it had been 18 hours since the presumptive breaking of my sack of waters they wanted to just be on the safe side. Not that it mattered to me; I already had the IV in so just adding something else to it really didn't make any difference.

I definitely started to feel contractions by 5:30pm but they weren't really anything major yet. By this point the boys had returned and I was still able to actively converse. And I was hungry, having missed lunch, but they wouldn't let me eat much of anything. I had some jell-o and some graham crackers, some 7-Up and some water. I had a fetal monitor as well as a contraction monitor strapped to me and I had a button to push every time I felt the girl move. She was pushing her butt out against my right ribs with each contraction. I could actually sense her moving lower by where her butt was hitting!

My parents left with Kirk at about 6:15 pm. I was starting to have to actually focus as each contraction came, though I was still fine in between. They were definitely picking up speed though. The nurse had only turned the pitocin up once so I guess my body had picked up the slack on its own. My cervix had been checked back when I first was admitted and I was only dilated to like 3 cm and barely effaced at all. Since my amniotic sack had been broken they didn't want to check again for a while and so waited until 7 pm. By then the labor hurt. A lot. So I was beyond dismayed to learn that I was only at frickin' 4 cm. I couldn't believe that shit. The news that I was also 100% effaced didn't make me feel better at all. The nurse asked if I wanted to have nubain and I quickly agreed. Frankly I didn't see how it was going to do me any good if I still had six centimeters to go!

I felt very tripped out when the nubain hit my system. I don't remember there being such an obvious drug effect when I had it during Kirk's labor. But it helped. Instead of the pain of each contraction being stabby, it was more rounded. Most definitely still there but somehow less intense. I was able to relax somewhat. Mr. b asked what he could do and I just had him pet me: rub my back, rub my head and neck, smooth my hair. He crawled up onto the bed and snuggled against my back. Because by this point the girl was low enough they couldn't pick her up via the fetal monitor with me laying on my back. I was laying on my left side and Mr. b was spooning me.

And then something happened. I can only describe it as feeling the way that a snapped rubber band sounds. And then I was bearing down. I jabbed frantically at the bedside call button and shouted, "Something changed!"

My theory is that I went from 4 cm to the full 10 cm in an instant.

My own memory is hazy here. Mr. b says there were millions of nurses suddenly in the room, all discussing what was happening. They helped me roll onto my back and got my legs up into pushing position. There was no chance of finding the girl's heartbeat so I just pushed. And pushed. And pushed. I didn't think I could keep going. I had no strength left for another push until I heard Mr. b assure me that she was almost out. One more push and I felt her head come through and the rest of her body slide out. I heard her cry. It had been maybe five minutes, if that.

My doctor didn't make it.

Silver Lining

OK, I've just been bitching non-stop of late so now here are some positives. Last night I didn't have a single contraction! Of course I still woke up to pee...but it was nice to not have to deal with any pains before falling back to sleep. In fact, since Monday afternoon I've really been feeling pretty darn good. Nothing at all like late last week or this weekend. That was truly miserable. I have zero clue what changed though. Was it psychological after my check-up? Did it take that long to "recover" from the barometric pressure shift? I know I've been told by women that have gone overdue that they hit a point late in their pregnancy where they stop feeling like hell and just sort of become resigned to their fate or something. Maybe my body went past its own internal due date and that's what happened to me? Honestly, anybody's guess is as good. I got nuthin'.

I do suspect that next week *could* be it since there's another weather system moving in and it's a full moon on the 11th. We'll see. Every day the little girl keeps cooking is a better chance that we'll avoid the Level II nursery this time.

I've also been blessed with the absence of two common pregnancy plagues: swelling and stretch marks. My legs have just the slightest bit of swelling but its really only enough to give me sock marks. I haven't had to deal with my shoes not fitting or my rings getting stuck on my fingers or anything like that. And I continue to be free of stretches on my belly. I escaped them with Kirk, too. Of course that could just be karma since I got plenty of nasty ones on the tops of my thighs when I put on considerable post-college weight thanks to an unexpected metabolism change. But I'll take it!

Timing

Thursday night Mr. b asked me if he thought I was going to make it through the weekend. I replied, "I honestly don't know."

We got a rather decent sized snow storm on Thursday afternoon. All evening I felt just shitty. Extra contraction-y and lethargic and weird. I figured it must be due to the barometric pressure change. I know a full moon can trigger labor so it made sense that the air pressure would, too. And then it would fit in with family mythology perfectly: when I was little I would ask "why" and "how come" questions of my uncle unendingly. Legend has it that one day he got sick of actually explaining things and exasperatedly responded, "It's the air pressure, [belsum]!" My parents have never let me live that down.

Yesterday morning I felt fine so it really seemed that it was, indeed, the air pressure.

But last night it started in again. Early evening and into the night the contractions started up. I wasn't timing them or anything but there was certainly a repetitive feeling. Almost a rhythm. They're lasting longer, though they still don't truly hurt. Very uncomfortable, yes. Obviously my body is preparing for birth. If I make it to my next appointment Monday morning I'm betting I'll have dilated considerably more. However, my new theory is gravity. Because I've been feeling this way late in the day I have to wonder if it's just because I've been upright all day. I've been joking that I don't need to be on bedrest because I just work at a computer. But I honestly felt a lot better last night once I stretched out on the couch.

And this morning I feel fine.

Other similarities that I'm going to keep my eye on include serious hunger in the evening, craving for protein (especially red meat), and insomnia for an hour from about 3:30am to 4:30am.

I wonder how long this pattern can keep up?

The End is Nigh?

Yesterday morning was my latest ob check-up. I’m at 34 and a half weeks and am already 2cm dilated. Now, New Doc made sure to mention that it’s really quite common for a non-first timer to be that dilated already but he’s also finally fully onboard the this-baby’s-comin’-early train. That’s the whole reason he did the internal exam in the first place. After talking through all the usual stuff (weight gain 1 pound, belly measures 35cm, baby heartbeat normal, blah blah blah) he decided that we’d better go ahead and do the Strep B test. I never had it last time so it was all new to me. Hell, I’ve never had my cervix checked when I wasn’t in labor so that was a new one, too!

New Doc explained how they measure the centimeters by the size of their finger tips. That actually made sense to me. When I used to work in the field we all knew the length of our stride so we could easily count off the correct number of paces for 10 meters. You just need that initial baseline and then go with it. But what freaked me out a little was when he said that he could actually feel the head through my cervix. Whoa. So does that mean she’s dropped? Not sure the actual definition of “dropping”. My hips are sore pretty much all the time so obviously my pelvis is spreading. I can feel a strange sort of pressure on my labia that must be from everything above starting to come downward. I didn’t pay much attention to these kinds of details last time because, well, I wasn’t expecting to have a baby a month ahead of schedule!

Upon New Doc’s request, I actually rescheduled my next appointment for earlier in the week. Since Sunday is my day for the week count to reset, having the 36 week one on Thursday would put me at 36 weeks and 4 days. Well, I had Kirk at 36 weeks and 5 days. So. Now it’s set for Monday instead. We’ll see if I actually make it or not. Ideally it would be good to make it over that 37 week line but I’m finding that less and less likely.

The Braxton Hicks have started to come more frequently. They used to be at night only and now show up whenever the hell they feel like it. There’s no pattern still but the intensity has certainly increased. It’s often a much sharper feeling, verging just on the edge of pain, instead of the general sort of squeezing tightness they’ve been causing previously. And sometimes they definitely last longer than just for a brief moment. On top of that, my first trimester constipation issues have returned with a vengeance. Only now that I know I’m already dilated, I’m sort of paranoid that pushing out a turd will be bad for the baby! Plus the poo cramps mix in with the BH and make my entire abdominal region just a festive mélange of uncomfortable annoyances. Oh and the back aches. Let’s not forget those. General pregnancy posture issues? Precursor to back labor? Who knows. But I totally have old man back and I grunt and sigh when standing. It’s kind of ridiculous.

Mr. b’s workmates have started a baby pool. I’ve been trying to make sure all my work items are squared away. What I really need to do is buy some frickin’ Dreft and wash the few non-spit-up stained, non-gender specific items I pulled out of Kirk’s old bin and the adorable prezzies sent by last year’s Best Original Screenplay Academy Award Winner so they’re ready to go. Everything else we’ll figure out as it’s needed.

Preoccupied Planning

Nothing much to report after my ob appointment on Thursday morning. I gained another 2 pounds, which brings my cumulative total so far up to 10. The ultimate total will of course depend upon how early this girl arrives. I remain about 2 cm bigger than my gestational weeks. Because Kirk was so early and I told New Doc I’m expecting something similar to happen this time around, he decided to move my Strep B test up. Now I’ll be having it at my next appointment, instead of waiting for the one at 36 weeks which is a bit more typical. We also briefly discussed pain management options. I still don’t like the idea of an epidural and since I was fine with just Nubain added to my IV last time I figure we’ll simply wait and see how it goes. Birth plans are a load of hooey anyways; it’s not like the kid cares what you’re planning!

Basically all my time is now being spent freaking out about daycare and preschool. I have no idea what I’m going to do with either kid. All the places I’ve talked to so far that have both programs are way too expensive. Hell, even just preschool for Kirk is turning out to be close to twice what I’m currently paying for daycare for him. I wish we didn’t have to do dual drop-off but that’s looking increasingly unlikely. Kirk is really just plain ready for preschool but since his best friend is K’s son it’s not like he’d be upset to stay there or anything. Frankly it looks like we’re getting to the point where it *almost* makes better sense for one of us to stay home. Almost. Because even with the savings in child care we’d still need that extra couple hundred. Right now Mr. b is actually able to earn overtime, which is unheard of in the current state of the economy, so we can’t ignore that opportunity. And all our benefits are through me so I can’t be the one home either. Still researching options but my sense of optimism is dwindling fast.

Make eye appointment for Kirk

Make interview appointment for preschool for Kirk

Research daycare options if same location won’t also take infants

Talk to HR about maternity leave bureaucracy

Fill out and mail pre-admission form for hospital

Make 32, 34, and 36 week ob appointments

Make Kindergarten pre-screening appointment for Kirk

Register for baby stuff

Write letter to Grandma

Figure out SSN/Name issue with IRS

Research life insurance options

Defer student loans

Belly of the Beast

So this morning I couldn’t get out of the car. I literally couldn’t fit. Now, the spaces in that section of the ramp are incredibly tight and the car on the right was over the line but still. I couldn’t manage to squeeze out. Mr. b had to climb back in to the car, back it up, let me get out, and then re-park. Theoretically there’s enough room for me to get in when I leave for my doctor’s appointment this afternoon. But still. That was a helluva thing.

I’ve definitely moved past the point where fetal movements are charming and only occasionally annoying. They now are nearly always uncomfortable, if not downright hurty. But one good thing is that the girl hasn’t had the hiccups. I remember that was a pretty frequent occurrence for Kirk. However, after taking some time off, the Braxton Hicks returned in the wee hours this morning, keeping me awake.

We’ve also gotten to the point where sex is becoming extremely complicated. I just can’t figure out what tricks we learned last time. Or else maybe they don’t work this time? Of course then we didn’t have to also contend with shouts of “I’ve gotta go poop!” from down the hall to thoroughly break the mood.

I’ve noticed that when I change my weight between sitting and standing or get up from laying down that I suddenly feel like I have to pee. So there’s definite pressure happening on the ol’ bladder. And my stomach continues to be squeezed into a tinier space, making me fuller quicker but then ready to snack soon afterwards. That’s got to be why I put on 6 pounds last time.

I’m sort of shocked to realize that there’s really only about 2 months left. That’s gonna go faster than we notice. I’ll be switching to every-two-weeks for appointments after today. Hopefully my weight gain is in check. I’ve only been to the gym once in the past 3 weeks. I still have so many Responsible Adult things to get done before the baby comes. And if she decides to be nearly a month early like her brother, well, then I’m fraked.

Make eye appointment for Kirk (My dad always starts a list with something that’s already done.)

Make interview appointment for preschool for Kirk

Research daycare options if same location won’t also take infants

Talk to HR about maternity leave bureaucracy

Fill out and mail pre-admission form for hospital

Fa La La La La

Being pregnant during choir season has been a considerably different experience this time than last. In 2004 I had only just found out I was knocked up and by the time we finished our holiday concerts I was still in the first trimester. Sure, the ladies all fussed over me and I didn’t feel 100% the whole time but it was relatively easy to get through.

I didn’t notice how much more difficult it has been this year during our three months of rehearsals. We sit down at practice. We go over trouble spots and have announcements and there’s fuckery between songs and it’s just not that intensive. Being in a concert? You’re standing and singing, nonstop, for an hour. I was fine during our charity concert two weekends ago because that’s a total of 7 songs, broken into two sets. I was mostly OK during the concert at my corporate campus last week but I definitely felt a bit woozy by the end. And then of course I missed the next one when I was recovering from being violently ill.

Monday was when our official, downtown-at-the-big-location shows started. And it was tough to make it to the end. I powered through and was relieved when we were done. I lip-synched through quite a few of the high and sustained spots but still made it. Yesterday? I had to sit down. I just crouched down on the risers and sat during an entire song, figuring that would be good enough. I couldn’t even finish the very next song, even with lip-synching. I left the risers and sat behind the group for the remaining 10 or 15 minutes. It wasn’t just weakness, though I definitely felt like I was going to pass out. I think it was a number of factors. I was hungry (our shows start at Noon). I was tired. It was frickin’ hot as hell in there. My choir clothes are ill-fitting because I don’t have any suitable maternity substitutes. But mostly I think it was the breathing. Being pregnant means you have reduced lung capacity. Physically your lungs are squished up and you can’t take in as much oxygen as you normally would. Before singing, most people start yawning as an unconscious way to sort of “fill up” on oxygen. I was trying to suppress yawns in the middle of the songs, especially when I was lip-synching. Essentially, it’s an hour of rhythmic hyperventilation.

And on top of that, I started getting foot cramps. Both feet, in the arches, at the same time. The entire time I was sitting down, trying to catch my breath and recuperate, I was fighting off foot cramps. I suppose I could have dealt with one thing or the other but not both issues at the same time. I vaguely remember hearing about the cramping being a preggo thing. I’ve gotten them off and on my entire life (thanks dance!) but I can rub or stretch them out. That didn’t work yesterday. Tenacious little pains they were. So now I’m getting ready to head downtown for our last concert of the season and I’m totally paranoid. I guess I’ll stand on the edge of the risers so if I need to make a quick getaway it won’t be as disruptive. But frankly I’m kind freaked out about the whole thing.

Abdominal Adjustments

I think I’m crossing some sort of belly line. I’ve definitely felt in transition or in flux for the past couple of weeks. There were times when I thought that my stomach was just unmistakable and yet other times where it was easily camouflaged by my clothing. I would look hugely pregnant to myself from the vantage of looking straight down upon my own roundness but in profile it wasn’t always obvious. And sometimes I would find myself sitting for a while and didn’t actually feel like I had a pregnant belly. It felt normal, except for the movement inside to remind me of reality.

Something subtle has changed though. Just this week my pants are finally starting to show signs of being tighter. Sure, most of them are still my regular pants but I no longer need to wear my belt on the last notch. No belt is fine. Jeans are no longer possible. I wore a pair last Friday and was so uncomfortable all day. I have a vague memory of needing maternity jeans before other maternity bottoms last time around so it must be something to do with denim. I’m wearing maternity jeans right now – just the kind with the elastic waistband, I hate the belly panel ones – and it’s a definite improvement. I’m also getting good use out of the clothes I bought for returning to work after maternity leave. Pants and suit jackets that were so big I should have had them taken in and tailored after loosing weight but was too lazy are now starting to fit quite nicely. So hey, more use out of that forgotten corner of my wardrobe!

My belly is just plain *feeling* bigger now, too. I’m starting to feel the pull of gravity. I can make a noticeable difference simply by holding my stomach up, whether I’m sitting or standing. I don’t think my posture has changed much, yet I’m definitely feeling joint aches that would go along with my center shifting to adjust for this new front load. I am still able to sleep on my front, well maybe 7/8 on my front, but that’s still better than nothing and I know it won’t last. I suppose this is all just natural as I move closer to the end of the second trimester.

It is a little ridiculous that I’m already having trouble reaching my feet. Since this is a winter pregnancy, I’m not going to be able to get away with simply sliding into some sandals. Pulling on boots is increasingly tough. And when stretching at the gym I have to physically move my stomach out of the way when I bend over and it smooshes against my leg.

It’s also strange to use the phrase “my eyes are bigger than my stomach”. But the reduced eating capacity is continuing along unabated. I’m saddened to know that I physically won’t be able to pig out at Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. But since pork and poultry are the two proteins I’ve been craving most frequently, it’s convenient that we’ve got the ham and turkey holidays coming up!

Compare and Contrast

I need to do some research and review my blog entries from last time. Some things I remember very clearly. I know I had the greasy hair at the roots issue. It drove me nuts. Stupid hormones. Well, it happened again this time and I took action. I cut it all off! Yay for short hair! It’s been since like 9th or 10th grade that I’ve had it this short. I’m 90% used to it now and I’m having fun with accessories.

Stomach holding: Oh wow. I didn’t think about this one but I’m totally doing it already and have been for quite a while.

Weakness: Yep. That’s back. Several weeks ago, Mr. b caught me taking a break from cutting up a watermelon by sitting on the floor and freaked out. I didn’t want to give up in the middle of the project but I just couldn’t stand anymore and figured that wasn’t safe considering the fact I was using a sharp chef’s knife.

Weird nipples: Mr. b called me on that one. Naturally. I remember being a little kid and seeing naked woman boobs at campground showers or wherever and being freaked out about their giant nipples. Some of it was just size perspective, like the house you grew up in seeming smaller if you go back there as an adult. But thinking back on it I have to wonder if there wasn’t some pregnancy and/or breast feeding going on as well.

Lost weight: Five pounds. That is exactly the same amount for the first trimester of both pregnancies.

Fetal movement: Here’s a difference. Apparently it wasn’t until week 16 last time. I know for a fact I’ve been feeling it for several weeks already this time. And I’m not at 16 weeks until Sunday. I know that you feel it earlier for your subsequent pregnancies than you do for your first. But I’m pretty sure that’s still sooner than typical for most women.

Showing: I guess that’s about the same timing, maybe a week earlier this time. It really became evident to me earlier this week. And not just while naked. Some of my clothes still disguise my belly but anything even slightly tightish and you can really see that either I have a major beer gut or else there’s a parasite growing in there.

Taste buds: Interesting. I didn’t remember my distaste for Chinese food last time. Currently I’m having issues with breakfast. All the foods that I normally love (OK cereal mainly, both cold and hot) just don’t sound good to me at all in the morning. And don’t really taste that good to me either. I need to figure out what I do want to eat, and soon, because I need to eat first thing in the morning, pregnant or not.

Well, I’ll stop my review there for now. I don’t want to get too far ahead of where I’m actually at. I do wonder how long I continued wearing regular clothes before switching over to maternity. I’m planning to pull the ‘ternity stuff I saved out of storage this weekend and take inventory. My shirts are just becoming noticeably short and even though my pants still fit, I think it’s time to start integrating some of those items into my closet.

First Trimester Blues

I haven’t posted in far too long. Normally I have several topics floating around in my head and I have to space them out. I had intended to put up my travelogue from our North Carolina trip but it’s been over a month now and that seems kinda dumb at this point. Obviously some stuff has happened in the meantime to distract me. Heh. I’ve been pretty much useless by the time I get home from work each day. The exhaustion continues but at least the queasiness after eating has lessened considerably. However, in its place, I now feel beyond bloated after I eat anything. It hasn’t moved into the heartburn phase yet either, which is good because yay no heartburn but bad because antacids don’t actually help. I need to buy a new Boppy pillow for sleeping. Mr. b says I should just take the old one from Kirk but it’s Kirk’s! And besides, why should Child Person Mark II have to begin in vitro with hand-me-downs? Lord knows that’s gonna happen plenty as it is just being a younger sibling. I can feel the expansion tension in my stomach. In fact, I can feel all sorts of uterine movements. Not fetal fluttering yet but there are still familiarities. Unfamiliar, however, is constipation. That was not an issue last time. It actually hurts to poop and I feel like I’m tearing open scabs, which must be the case due to the occasional blood. Guess I’ll have to ask if stool softeners are on the list of OK meds for preggos. Not that I want more drugs. I’m already on antibiotics for this frickin’ sweat gland infection in my arm pit. Which in turn forces me to use anti-fungal cream (externally thank you very much) to keep any yeast infection at bay since antibiotics apparently make women prone to that fun side-effect. And as long as I’m complaining about the functions between my legs, why has the middle of the night peeing already begun? Dammit. I need sleep! My bladder can’t possibly be operating under that much real estate reduction yet. I’m only like 9 weeks fercrissakes! And if I don’t wake up to pee then I wake up to let the damn cat in when I hear her yeowling outside because she wouldn’t frickin’ come in before I went to bed. And if it’s not the cat then it’s the boy and he really sucks these days. He is just mean and a total jerk to both his mama and his daddy. The hitting and the spitting and the screaming and the crying fits and jeez, it’s like he’s three or something. Time outs are ineffectual and we haven’t figured out what to do next. Taking away toys seems to work somewhat. I can’t believe we’re having another one. We are clearly insane.

Weekend Observations

While spending the night at my folks’ house on Friday I gave Kirk a choice of sleeping arrangements: he could either sleep in the bed with me or by himself on the floor in his sleeping bag. He chose the floor. I guess it’s a sign of his continuing independence but it sort of threw me. Since when has he turned down a chance to sleep in the bed with either or both of his parents?! But it was Nana and Papa’s house and the guest room we usually stay in so it was all familiar. And he slept in his sleeping bag on the floor the whole time we were on vacation last month so that was familiar, too.

I truly don’t think I’m showing yet. I mean, I’m like 6 weeks along so the idea I could be is kind of ridiculous. I remember a girlfriend telling me that she popped right out for her second kid but I’m still at least a good couple of months away from even that. However, I had some real difficulty zipping up my dress for the wedding we went to on Saturday. Sure, it’s a snug fit normally, but not in a too-tight kind of way, rather a proper sizing kind of way. And it was definitely smaller. Or rather, I seem to be thicker. Or something.

We seem to be getting the most excitement from friends and acquaintances that have more than one child. Like we’re entering the secret fraternity of Real Parents. Bill Cosby had that old bit about how you don’t know what parenting is like until you have more than one kid. And Mr. b has certainly riffed on how people ask if you have kids, plural, or if you have children, plural, so I guess we’re supposed to have more than one. But I felt…something indefinable yet real from some of the wedding guests Saturday night. It’s definitely been easier to come out as preggo. I was so freaked about that last time.

Physically things are mostly the same. However, I don’t remember having sore boobs last time. It’s not like a constant irritation or anything. But there’s a recurring ache that is definitely new.

Side-Effects

Warning: The following post contains Too Much Information. Turn back now. This is your only warning.

I’ve been off the pill for two and a half weeks now and things are weird. I haven’t been able to tell if I’m experiencing side-effects from the sudden lack of hormones in my body or if there are just a plethora of coincidences going on.

I spent most of my trip to Georgia this last weekend running to and from the bathroom. Ever since France I tend to have butt issues if I drink either too much in one sitting or just a little bit, too many days in a row. So my initial guess was that the copious amount of red wine I drank at the rehearsal dinner, coupled with the two margaritas I had the night before, was coming back to haunt me. After all, I had been awakened in the middle of the night with the worst heartburn I’ve ever had. At least since I was pregnant. And naturally I couldn’t find any antacids while quietly ransacking my aunt and uncle’s house in the dark.

But unlike previous visits from José Nus after drinking too much, this wouldn’t go away. And if it wasn’t actual diarrhea, then it was ridiculous amounts of gas. And if it wasn’t gas, then it was painful cramps. What the hell was going on? I had a mere two glasses of wine at the wedding reception, and that was spread out over the course of many hours, much not-up-to-par wedding food, and not a little bit of dancing.

My mother, evil creature that she is, suggested that perhaps I was not experiencing a hormone level adjustment. She thought it was hilarious to imply that perhaps I had already gotten knocked up. Har dee har har. Not funny. Too fast! Too fast! Maybe it’s just pre-PMS. After all, I have no idea what my cycle is like without the regulation of the pill. I believe I sped up a little last time, though a pattern is obviously not made by a mere two periods. And since intestinal issues are a semi-regular early indicator for me, maybe that’s all they’re a harbinger of?

The other strange thing that happened when I went off the pill is an inability to come. I’ve always been a believer that a woman is in charge of her own orgasm. So that’s got to be psychological, right? But why? I mean, it’s not like I haven’t been preggers before. Thankfully it’s only been twice, at the beginning of the month, and seems to have stopped since then.

I don’t know how I feel about possibly being up the spout again. Already. I mean, obviously I should be grateful to be so ridiculously fertile, especially when there are so many people that have had trouble conceiving even once. And I admit that it would be kind of fun to tell my whole extended family in one fell swoop next month at the reunion. How does due date math go? February? It would be winter for sure. Gah! I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Even though I’m really not ready. And they always say you need to wait three full months after going off the pill to clear out your system, or else you’re at increased risk for miscarriage. Which I don’t know how I’d be able to handle, not to mention Mr. b.