17 weeks...am I that far along already?

Yep, 17 weeks today.  My midwife decided I needed to do something about my all-day "morning" sickness.  She's been on my about hydration, since every time I come in for I visit I test as dehydrated on the urine dipstick.  So, she put me on a 90 oz hydration regimen that's been really difficult to keep up.  I'm just not used to drinking all that liquid everyday.  More than that, it was 30 oz of water, 30 oz of herbal pregnancy tea (which tasted all right,) and 30 oz of coconut water, a substance I'd never tried before.  She said it was sweet, and that it was "nature's Gatorade," full of electrolytes and other good stuff.  So I went out and bought a ton of it, expensive as it was, only to gag on the first sip.  Ugh, it was awful!  I spent an hour struggling to keep it down.  Later it occurred to me, coconut water tastes like semen!  No wonder I can't stomach more than a sip of it.  Anyway, my midwife said I could drink the flavored coconut water, which has added sugar and fruit puree (and twice the calories) but tastes like juice, so I've been on that.

I have to say, I've been feeling much better.  I still get carsick, and threw up a few days ago, so I'm not totally over it, but it's a world different than the morning dry-heaving-in-the-toilet-for-20-minutes routine I had down for the last few weeks.

I've been feeling a lot more flutters and even a few first kicks, so the baby is becoming more and more real to me.  It's so weird, but most mornings I wake up having forgotten that I'm pregnant.  It's just not as monumental as it  was the first time around.  I'm trying to enjoy it, especially since it will be my last pregnancy if I'm carrying a girl, but it's hard.  This baby's caused me a lot more nausea, fatigue and overall feeling-crappiness than my son did.

I'll probably feel better after I know the gender, too.  for better or for worse, I need to just get it over with and find out.  At week 14 I took an at-home urine gender test.  It's called Best Baby Gender Test, and it boasts 80% accuracy, with more false boy results than false girl results.  I added the little packet, and got an immediate girl result!  I know it's not a good idea to raise my hopes on something like that, but I couldn't help it.  I've also been hearing the same Old Wives' Tale "sick all day means a girl" from everyone and their mom.  I'm excited and really scared to find out, but I'll be finding out the gender in about a week and a half.

In the meantime, my cravings have changed dramatically.  Tuna, that nefarious food that made me vomit with my last pregnancy, is at the top of my craving list.  My poor husband is terrified of me eating too much and endangering the baby's developing brain, and I don't blame him.  It's all I've wanted these past few days.  Ooh, and deviled eggs.  Yum!  What's wrong with me?

7 weeks~ Sleeping for Two

I refuse to buy into the "eating for two mentality."  I think that's an easy way to balloon in early pregnancy, and an excuse that a lot of women, who have been watching their weight their entire lives, use to eat whatever they want in massive quantities.  I understand feeling more hungry, and I also understand that food (that you're craving, not having an aversion to) tastes so much better while pregnant.  It's also important to realize that the embryo only needs about 300 calories a day.  Today, my baby is about the size of a blueberry.  So yes, my baby may need some more salad, or a quarter of a sandwich.  My baby does not need a pint of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food (though you wouldn't know that from the cravings I'm having!)

No, I'm eating for one.  I'm eating for one extremely picky little being who has taken over my body and is controlling it through nausea, food aversions, cravings and fatigue.  This little being demanded a ham sandwich today.  Yes, a ham sandwich, of all things.  I specifically wanted the ham stack sandwich that I ate all the time while I worked at Marie Callendar's.  So I called them to place an order for pick up, and of course, they discontinued this fabulous sandwich just a few months ago.  Sigh.  So I settled on Cheba Hut, which is nearby, and very tasty.  Now, I understand that Cheba Hut proudly employs stoners.  The 420's and pot leaves painted all over the interior (as well as the names of the sandwiches, like Chronic, Panama Red and Griefo) should tip off anyone who was not in the know before walking through the doors.  So knowing that the employees were, in all likelihood, working here because they could come to work high did not bother me at all.  What pissed me off was how slowly they moved making my sandwich.  I was salivating and staring at my sandwich on the assembly line like a starving lunatic.  By the time it was done toasting and they asked me what I wanted on it, everyone behind the counter was giving me funny looks.  The girl shoved the sandwich at me to get me out of there as fast as possible.  But oh, it was heavenly!  The salty delicacy, ham with bacon on white with extra mayo and a pickle, was so good that I ate it in the tiniest bites possible, savoring it.  After 10 minutes I'd only eaten half of my 8 inch sandwich, but I was full and the craving was satisfied.  I know, my sandwich probably sounds gross to you, and I think it might've sounded icky to me a month or so ago, but that's how a craving works.  It's a desperate need, like an addiction.  I think the key to satisfying cravings without getting huge is to eat them slowly, in small portions.  Oh, and satisfy healthy cravings with wild abandon.  Want fruit and salad?  Eat them to your heart's content and don't worry about the portions.  Craving Ben & Jerry's?  Try a quarter cup and then see how you feel.  I managed to make a pint of Phish Food last a week.

So no, not eating for two.  But I am most definitely sleeping and resting for two.  I just can't get enough time in bed and on the couch.  It's getting bad.  The laundry, dishes, and errands are piling up and I feel like I'm getting ill from the lack of energy.  I know that keeping up on my workouts is making this particular symptom worse, but I know that laying around and sleeping all the time, even if that was an option, is only going to make this worse.  So I'm trying to grit my teeth and get through it, and just make it to bed as early as possible every night.  Except for Wednesday and Thursdays.  So You Think You Can Dance is on, and exhaustion be damned, I'm going to watch!

I wanted to post a belly shot for this week, but there's really no point since there's been no change yet.  In fact, I've lost half a pound so far in this pregnancy.  My bloodwork came back from my midwife, and she says that I'm one of the healthiest clients, according to my labs, that she's ever seen.  Yay me!  I'm glad to know that all this effort and working on my nutrition hasn't been for nothing.  We'll see how those numbers change with all these unhealthy cravings, but hopefully they'll stay good.

In fact, the only number she said was a little off was the salt in my blood.  That was low, which is good. But it really got me to thinking about something my father in law said to me.  He honestly thinks that I have some disorder that prevents me from properly absorbing salt like a normal person.  I'm the butt of my husband's family's jokes for the way I dump salt on everything set before me, and I was even given my own personal salt shaker last Christmas at dinner, so that there would be a shaker for everyone else to pass around.  My father-in-law has observed my eating habits for almost 10 years now, and he's an MD. After these bloodwork results, I'm pretty inclined to believe him.  I also know that I tend to get light-headed if I cut the salt in my diet even to levels considered high for normal people.  So maybe I'll have to investigate this.  I think it's hereditary, if there is something, because all the women in my mom's lineage have low blood pressure (like me) and eat tons of salt.

Man, I wrote a novel this week!  Anyway, here's a picture of what my baby should look like by now.  It's looking more like a baby than a seahorse, finally!

Chalk this one up to "Every pregnancy is different"

I can't believe it.   My food aversions have begun for this pregnancy.  And the winner is...chicken!  Yes, innocuous chicken.  Last time it was eggs and fish, and no one seemed surprised that the smell of those two foods made me gag.  But chicken?  Boneless, skinless chicken breasts have become a staple in our house, and we have them at least once a week.  But the idea of chicken, raw or cooked, is seriously grossing me out now.

This is so lame.  I've been really trying to eat better, and this baby really isn't interested in fruits or veggies, can't stand to be around lean chicken, and wants starches, sweets and greasy salted meats.  Ugh!

On the other hand, so far eggs and seafood haven't been an issue thus far.  I'm not going to jinx it and assume that I won't have any problems with those later on, but I have to say I've actually been craving shrimp and omelettes recently.  I had a three-egg omelette at brunch, and it really hit the spot.  Yum!

So, we'll have to see how this one goes.  I'm going to try really hard to only indulge one unhealthy craving a day.  Today wasn't great.  I had bacon and half a Sprinkles chocolate cupcake.  Tomorrow will be better though.  I'm resolved to make it so!

It's official.

I'm pregnant.  Yep, finally pregnant.  Today is the day my period was due, making me 4 weeks along.  It's so exciting!

I took my first pregnancy test at about 7 and a half days post-ovulation, and the line on the test was so faint that I couldn't have possibly assumed that test was conclusive.  I thought it might have been a trick of the light, or that I was seeing something that wasn't really there.  In fact, I had to hold it up to the light and change the angle back and forth before I saw a thin, pinkish shadow.  Either way, I took another test the next morning that was a conclusive, if faint (but darker than the last) positive result.  It was kind of hard knowing that it was way too early to shout my joy to the world.  Since I was in vacation in San Diego with my family, it was really hard not to share with my sisters and mom, especially.

My husband and I have agreed no to tell everyone until I'm 5 weeks along, or one week late for my period.  That way, if it's another chemical pregnancy/spontaneous abortion, I don't have to deal with calling everyone and telling them it was a false alarm, while dealing with my own emotions.

My starting pregnancy weight is 143.  Not too bad!  I'm pretty proud of myself that I was able to drop all my baby weight plus 25 lbs.  I've also gained a much higher level of fitness that I intend to maintain throughout this pregnancy.  I'll do CrossFit as much as I can, at least through the first and second trimesters, and I intend to do prenatal yoga and belly dance the entire time.  I vow that I will end up bouncing back from this pregnancy a HELL of a lot faster than last time.

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Everything above that line was written last week.  I just didn't want to post anything before my official announcement.

Since then, I've seen my midwife, Shell Walker.  She is awesome!  She's pagan and understands my desires for a natural birth with ritual and cleansing as part of the process.  She said I can smudge the room and have as many people (or as few) as I want in the room or in the living room area.

Oh, and the birth center looks amazing.  I'll admit, it's not the gorgeous villa that the previous birth center site was, but that didn't work out and I need to look forward, rather than glancing backwards at what could have been.  Anyhow, the new center is homey and cozy, and I'm sure it will be a very comforting environment while laboring.  I can have my waterbirth, if I want, and there is a major hospital about 2 minutes away if anything scary happens.

I'm ecstatic to be pregnant, but in some ways I'm still in shock and disbelief.  I was actually disappointed that my midwife couldn't feel my uterus at my 5 week appointment.  I mean, I have the positive pregnancy tests, but I guess I'll be in denial until I see an ultrasound or hear a heartbeat.  Now that I think about it, I was in denial with my son, too.  I was almost expecting them to find nothing at that 8 week ultrasound, and to tell me I actually wasn't pregnant after all.  That's probably how this pregnancy will play out too.

I haven't had any nausea or weight gain, but it's still so early that I'm not counting my chickens just yet.  I have had the same implantation/uterine expansion cramping that I did with my first pregnancy, although those just feel like period cramps.  Oh, and no bleeding or spotting, so I guess that's good.  I am completely exhausted though.  The fatigue hit me a lot harder and earlier this time around.  Or maybe it's just that at this point in my pregnancy last time, my new husband and I were galavanting around Ireland for our honeymoon.  That could be it.

I just really want some more confirmation that I'm pregnant.  I'll be going in for bloodwork on Monday morning to get a full metabolic and gynecologic panel, just to make sure everything's copacetic between the pregnancy and my intense workouts.

My emotions are different this time around.  I'm excited, but it doesn't consume my every thought.  I'm not rushing out to buy maternity clothes (like I did the day I found out I was pregnant last time!) and I don't have that weird, overriding fear that the pregnancy would cease to be if I concentrated on anything else.  I know, I know, that was a totally crazy thing to be convinced of.  I cannot explain the strange logic of the pregnant mind.

So the information is out there for the world to see now.  I am pregnant.  Thank goddess, finally pregnant!

Getting Excited

I don't want to jinx it, but I'm pretty excited for this month.  I'm ovulating on the 20th, and so far, everything is going according to plans.  It actually doesn't feel like it's been a year, but we have, indeed, been trying for a year now.  I'm so happy to have finally figured ot what was going on with my body, that I guess I'm almost expecting it to happen this time.

My 31st birthday is coming up, too.  I was really hoping everything could work out so that I could take my pregnancy test on the morning of my birthday, but that will only be 7 days post-ovulation, and therefore highly unlikely to come up positive, even if I was pregnant.  On the other hand, this might be a blessing in disguise.  If I end up not getting pregnant this month, I don't need to start my birthday out with a big, fat negative staring at me.

I read my cards last week.  I asked just a general question about my future baby, and the Reincarnation card came up, in my Druid Tarot deck.  It got me to thinking, this baby could be someone from my past, or my husband's.  Could one of our grandfathers be ready to come back already?  They've only been gone a few years, but they would be welcome in our home.  All of them were wonderful men.  I just wonder how they'll feel about coming back with a uterus?  Haha....

Or, perhaps this little soul is someone who was important to me in a past life, and is coming to reunite with me.  A past sibling, mother, father, friend or lover?  Anything's possible.

It's hard not to get excited about meeting someone who will be so important in your life.  After all, one's children should be some of the most prominent figures in one's life.  I thought about it a lot with my son. I wondered how we would relate.  What tensions would exist in our relationship?  What would we have in common?  He's not even 3, so I don't know the answers to these questions yet.  Funny, but I thought about them more while he was living inside of me than I do now, and I'm closer to knowing the outcome.  I wonder why that is?

Either way, I think I need to plan something fun on the day I test, so that I can't dwell on it if I'm not knocked up this month.  I don't know why this month seems so urgent.  Maybe because I think having an Aquarius would be awesome?  Or maybe because giving birth in late January/early February would give me some cool spring weather to get back in shape before summertime, and only the early part of my pregnancy would be in the hellish heat?  I need to calm down.   It would be just as cool to have a Pisces, and one month later wouldn't make a whole lot of difference, in the scheme of things.  Yeah, that's what I have to tell myself.  :)

Okay, NOW I'm ready

I've been ready to be pregnant with my little girl for some time now, but I'm wondering if she was waiting for ideal circumstances to show up.  If that's the case, this is the time!  My loving, but reluctant, hubby just added out-of-network coverage to our medical insurance, so that I can go to my midwife instead of the lame nurse-midwives (who all work out of hospitals) or the OB-GYN's covered by our old insurance.  I also just got word last week that Babymoon Inn, the only birth center in Phoenix, has found a building and should be up and running in 9 months or less.  Yay!  Those were the things I really wanted for my birth, and now I'm ready. I'm also super excite that my man is finally on board with a non-hospital birth.  It took a hell of a lot of convincing, but now we're ready to roll.

I don't think it'll happen this month, but you never know.  At least now I have a bunch of extra reasons to celebrate when I get that big fat positive!

Mourning

Aunt Flo came to visit this morning.  Right after my intense morning workout, it came in a gush and smothered my hopes for the month.  This happened right after I took another pregnancy test this morning and got an ambiguous answer.  There was just enough of a hint of line to make me want to go out and get another test for the next morning.  After seeing that, I was pretty sure in my mind that I was probably pregnant.  Any line at all in a pregnancy test is supposed to be taken as a positive result, and, adding that in with my weird symptoms, I figured this was the month for us.

Then my period came.  I didn't cry.  I wasn't even really disappointed when I first saw it.  It was more than twice as much blood as I normally have on my first day, and I've never cramped for four days before I began bleeding either.  Adding it all up, I figure I probably just had a spontaneous abortion.  My body rejected the zygote, or it died on its own.  Either way, I think I had been pregnant momentarily, and now I wasn't.  It was for the best though.  A spontaneous abortion most often happens when there is a serious problem, and I would not have wanted to carry the pregnancy out any further.  It was all very logical at the moment.

Then, the crying happened.  I realized that even though I understand scientifically what happened, and I know beyond a doubt that this was the better outcome, I still have a flood of hormones and emotions associated with it to deal with.  I still have to let myself mourn the baby I really wanted, and have been waiting for.  It's okay to be upset that this journey, which is becoming a bit stressful, isn't over yet.  It's understandable that I'm upset that the Thanksgiving baby that I thought I'd have isn't going to be here.

I hate crying.  It's just not something I often feel okay doing.  But it's okay today.  Today I will mourn, and tomorrow I will start preparing to try again.

One busy month

I haven't blogged in a while, but this has been an eventful month in my quest to conceive my little girl.  First, the lameness: we only had sex once during my fertile time.  Yep, once.  And even getting that in was difficult.  he was tired, he didn't want to, and it was late.  I admit, I was so not in the mood.  But making a baby on purpose isn't fun... making one on accident is!  I knew that going in, so I figured this month would be a total wash since we only did it the once.  Oh, and my dear loving husband spent about 30 minutes in a scalding hot tub earlier that day.  Yep, he's out to wound his little soldiers before sending them off to battle. I was not pleased.

So, I definitely thought this could not even possibly be the month.  Then the cramping started.  About three days after ovulation, I had cramps.  They felt just like the cramps I had when I got pregnant with my son.  It was just like getting period cramps way too early.  Hope filled me, and I've been paying super-close attention to my body ever since.  The cramping has been off and on ever since, and I had two days of nausea about 10 days post-ovulation.  My skin has been breaking out (I rarely get adult acne now,) I've been a bit over-emotional (crying over the death of my grandfather a year and a half past while showering,) and once my husband's kiss tasted like copper to me.  All these things make me really think this could be the month.

But I got a negative pregnancy test two mornings ago, 12 days past ovulation.  My period was due today, and it hasn't come yet, but that one negative test was enough to make me want to wait until Saturday morning to test again.  I know that some women don't show up pregnant on the pee-stick until 19 days past ovulation, but with my son 14 days was enough.  So I figure 16 days should do it. We'll see!

Tomorrow morning

Okay, it's been about 9 months of trying and I'm hoping that tomorrow will be the day I find out that I'm pregnant.  Timing was perfect this month, with our last attempt to conceive at 2 1/2 days before ovulation, so I'm feeling good about my chances.

When you're trying to get pregnant, it's so easy to try to interpret every twinge and irregularity in your body as a signal of conception.  My stomach has been a little odd the last few days,  I had a little cramping yesterday and I saw a little pink that may have been implantation bleeding 3 days ago.  But all of that might have been nothing, too.

I meditate on conceiving my daughter most of the month, right before bedtime.  I close my eyes, with my hands over my lower belly, and envision my womb as a nursery, being decorated and prepared for her.  When I'm not successful and I'm having my period, I picture each cramp as a "cleaning out" of my uterus, making room for baby.  Then, after I know I've ovulated, I concentrate on inviting my daughter to come and join our family.  I tell her that we're all waiting for her, and that she is wanted more than she'll ever know.

I sleep with a fertility charm under the mattress.  Sometimes I wonder if I'm a little obsessed, but then I think about how much I freaked out about conceiving my son as fast as possible.  Compared to that experience, this one is relaxed and casual.  Sure, there's disappointment when I pee on the stick and it confirms that this month isn't the one, but I don't cry about it.  I don't panic or get depressed.  I just shrug and think about how next month I'll try again, with renewed hope.

Little girl of mine, your brother has been asking about you.  He wants to know where you are.  I've told him that your father and I are trying to bring you here as fast as we can, but in the end, you'll arrive when you're ready.  We're ready for you.  We think about you a lot, and I hope I'll get a message from you that you'll be coming tomorrow.

19...isn't enough?

Really?  The Duggars are still leaving the size of their family "up to God," according to their interview in People magazine.  What possible justification could they have for this after 19 children, 2 cases of preeclampsia, 4 cesarean sections, a micropreemie whose future is still uncertain, and gallstones?  Oh, that they put their faith in God, of course!

In my previous post, I mentioned (okay, raved about) No Longer Qivering, a blog about the Quiverfull movement and patriarchy.  After reading so much insider information about the lifestyle and the destruction it causes, I can no longer just shrug and smile sadly about Michelle and Jim Bob's decisions regarding birth control.  It's not cute, or sweet or even adorably naive.  It's sad.  It's crazy.  It just goes to show how brainwashed they are by their extreme religion and the recommendations of some of the authors and pastors within it.

I once just figured that they were truly a "what you see is what you get" kind of family, but that was just wishful thinking on my part.  I love babies and for much of my life, all I could think about was having babies and becoming a mother.  I never imagined that my first baby would be born when I was 28.  My goddess, my own mother had 5 children by that age!  I'm 30 now, trying for #2, when my mom had #6 and was done adding to her family.  So I compulsively watched shows like A Baby Story, Maternity Ward, House of Babies, and later Kids by the Dozen and the Duggar family specials.  I was obsessed with the latter two.  Even though my conscious self never wanted more than 4 children, I watched these shows in envy.  I had wanted to have my first baby by 25, and some of these people had 4 by then.  They ran their homes like clockwork, had as many babies as they wanted, and seemed to have the family closeness that I had as a child and want for my own family.  It was more than addictive.  It was seductive.  The religion I rejected as a small child contained the possibility of so much that I wanted...and yet it was never enough for more than just a daydream.

I've said before that I would love the certainty of Christianity.  Knowing that the world is so black and white must be so reassuring.  And though I was raised Catholic (and not even strictly Catholic) rather than in a more conservative sect of Christianity, I knew even at 8 years old that the Christian religion demanded too much.  I saw it, even then, as unfair and too restrictive.  As soon as I found out what sex was I knew I wasn't waiting for marriage.  I had no intention of ever going to church again the moment I was no longer being forced to.  I thought the mythology was boring and that many of the lessons were ridiculous.  I hated the authoritative nature of it, and I scoffed at the idea of someone making a sacrifice for such ideology.  I thought you would have to be stupid to give up family life for service as a priest or a nun, and that only those who were gluttons for punishment would bother to "save themselves for marriage" or fast for Lent.  Why bother?  There was so much freedom to be had outside of religion, so much unrestricted fun to be had guilt-free.  So I willfully left, dragging my family with me, by the age of 15.  Mom just couldn't take the fighting about it anymore, since dad would ground me for a week for misbehaving in church.  I was supposed to "prove myself" the next Sunday by being a proper young lady during services.  Instead I was perpetually grounded.  Dad, being a big kid himself, hated grounding me that much, and mom started to feel like it wasn't worth the effort to drag all 6 kids (my minions who I'd turned against church, as well) through a boring hour of church where we all did our best to amuse ourselves to our parents' embarrassment.  It was dumb.  Mom was a real martyr for carrying it on as long as she did.

So why did I even think for two seconds that an even stricter version of this religion had any appeal?  That's crazy!  Well, it helped that I wasn't living it, so all I saw was the pretty package presented on TV of a large, close, happy family.  I had a boyfriend (now my husband) who wanted only two children and wouldn't let me start our family until we were done with college (which was taking forever) and married.  Through all of the ridiculousness, all I saw was a woman who was allowed to have as many children as she wanted, when she wanted them.  Ultimately, I think that's where my obsession stemmed from.

I have to wonder if, after I have my second child, would I even want any more children if my husband gave in and let me have as many babies as I want?  I don't know.  I'll probably never know, since he's pretty staunch about only wanting two.  I wish I could know in my heart if I'm just fighting him and clinging to my dream of having (what I think of as a) medium-sized family, or if I really truly won't feel complete until I have birthed a fourth child.

Either way, I'm happy that I'll never know the back-to-back pregnancies, multiple cesarean sections, complete exhaustion of keeping up with so many children, and submission to patriarchy that these women in the Quiverfull movement are subjected to.  The multitude of miscarriages that they often face toward the end of their childbearing years is heartbreaking, and the lack of support and empathy is horrific.

No, I can't be angry at the Duggars for their conviction of faith.  They are sheep.  They have been conditioned to blindly follow, without thought, where their religion leads.  Sheep are dumb creatures.  They'll walk off a cliff if that's where they're led.  And it's now clear to me that one doesn't just decide to become a sheep.  It's a slow process of taking away independent thought and chipping away at self-identity.  I can't be angry at them when they're doing only what they've been told is right and good.

Nope, it's the fundamentalist Christian religious movements that are so destructive.  It makes promises it can't deliver, sets impossible goals and ideals, demands more than one can give, and still makes good people determined to stick with it to their deaths.  Sad.

What about now?

We've been trying for 6 months (with two months off for me to lose some weight) to get pregnant, and it may finally have happened....maybe. I'm waiting until tomorrow to try for an early pregnancy test. I felt some discomfort like light cramping this morning, and my uterine area has been a tiny bit tender. That cramping is what happens when the fertilized egg implants into the uterine wall, and sometimes has a little bleeding that comes along with it. One woman described it as "my little one making room." I was definitely cramping when I got pregnant with my son before the pregnancy test, but I tested on the morning I was supposed to get my period. So I want to make sure to give it enough time and not test too soon. A false result would be sucky.

I'm excited, and I certainly have metaphysical reasons to believe it might happen this month. When I got pregnant with my son, it was right after our wedding. I calculated my ovulation to about 2 weeks after my wedding, so I got pregnant the first opportunity I had as a married woman. Yay! Anyway, I think this happened in part because my mom rubbed my palms with hers and pushed some of her fertility into me. She'd done this three other times before, always to women who had fertility problems and who had been trying for years to concieve. Guess what? All three of them ended up pregnant. One of them even told my mom that she wasn't sure if she was pregnant or not at the time, and mom said she'd rub her hands anyway, just in case. It couldn't hurt, after all. That women had twins.

So mom rubbed my palms again during my last trip to California. I did have my period since then, but I had already ovulated at that point and the hubby and I had missed out on some of our best conceiving days in my cycle, so I figure this month would be my best bet for mom's magick to take effect. We'll see!

I'm really excited too, because the last time we had sex was three and a half days before ovulation, which isn't the best for conceiving, but it's the best way to hedge our bets into getting a little girl. So, if I am pregnant this month, I can be almost certain it's a girl. And if it's not, I'm really meant to have another boy.

My birth story

I just submitted my birth story to a blog called "The Unnecesarean."  Hopefully it will get posted.  I detailed my son's birth and everything I hated about it.  Here it is, for anyone who doesn't know what happened:

I stumbled across this website because of a link from the upcoming new (and only) birth center in Phoenix, AZ, Babymoon Inn.  I was so happy to see that this information was being put out there to help women understand, before their hospital birth, what might happen to them, and to help those who experienced an unnecesarean to heal and feel whole again.

I will preface my little story by saying that I did not have a cesarean.  I had a typical hospital birth, delivering a healthy, 6 lb 13 oz baby boy.  But I narrowly missed having an unnecesarean.  I mean really narrowly.  My epidural was turned all the way up, and my belly was prepped with that yellow cleanser.

Anyway, here the story goes.  You can decide for yourself if it's worth posting for all to read.

First of all, I have always wanted to have kids, and I had conflicting feelings about birth.  My mom had 6 kids, 5 naturally and one with an epidural.  All were vaginal hospital births, even the one set of twins.  She raved and smiled when she spoke of her epidural birth, but said that all the other were awful.  So I figured I definitely wanted an epidural, but I wanted a lot of other things that didn't go with an epidural.  I wanted a Leboyer birth, with low lights, a body temperature bath for the baby following birth, a quiet room, and no cord cutting until the cord stopped pulsing.  I thought a waterbirth sounded wonderful, and I really liked the idea of a birth center.  But the lure of a pain free delivery was too much for me.  I figured that I wanted at least two kids, so I'd have the first with an epidural, and the second in a birth center. Besides, I could give my doctor my birth plan and make it the best hospital birth ever, right?  I didn't even think about the fact that, if I ended up with an unnecesarean with the first child, my dream birth with the second would never be.

I also really wanted to have my first baby with my OB/GYN.  I had had a scare with cervical cancer that was very emotional for me, and ended in me having a LEEP procedure done to remove the abnormal cells.  I was a wreck.  I thought I'd never have babies, or that if I became pregnant I'd have an incompetent cervix that would cause me to go into labor early and miscarry or have a preemie.  My doctor was wonderful, though.  She hugged me, gave me a shoulder to cry on and told me everything would be fine.  It was.  She assured me that she was up on the latest procedures with the least amounts of damage to my reproductive organs, and that I'd be having babies whenever I wanted.  She was right, and I loved and trusted her for it.  I wished I had known that her bedside manner as a gynocologist was not the same as her bedside manner as an obstetrician.

I became pregnant with my son within two weeks of getting married, at age 28.  I was ecstatic, my husband was scared.  It was still a planned pregnancy, though with no fertility treatments necessary.  I had about 4 weeks of morning sickness during the end of the first trimester, but only threw up twice.  Overall, I had a really healthy pregnancy.  I bellydanced throughout each trimester, did yoga 3 times a week, took my prenatals, ate a ton of fruits and veggies, and only gained 27 lbs.  I still could have gained less, since I started out overweight at 5'1" and 168 lbs, but overall I'm pretty proud that I kept the weight gain to a minimum.  Especially since I gave birth in Phoenix in July, and no one wants to move at all in that weather, even when they're not pregnant.

I also have another issue that made my OB/GYN decide to induce me.  I had 1/2 a herrington rod attached to my spine, and the upper half of my spinal column fused together when I was 13.  This was to correct my scoliosis.  I had a severe, double 45 degree S curve.  It was bad.  It's not totally straight now, but I'm not in pain and it's straighter than it was.  So the OB/GYN wanted to induce me on a day that the head anesthesiologist would be in, so he could be sure to numb me well.  She also cautioned that, if something went wrong, I would be a candidate for a cesarean section under general anesthesia, since they couldn't guarantee that the epidural would have full coverage on my abdomen.  Scary.  But I figured that I'd kept up dancing, did my prenatal yoga and was in decent shape, and no one in my family has ever needed a c-section.  I'd be fine delivering vaginally.

My son was due on July 27th, I was scheduled to be induced on the 23rd, but my water broke at about 11:30 pm on the 9th.  I later found out that what had happened was called a forebag break.  That's when the main bag of amniotic fluid does not break, but the thin bag around the main bag does  So, instead of a big gush of water, I had an annoying trickle.  A sanitary napkin took care of it, and I decided to get some sleep, eat and clean a little, since once I checked into the hospital, none of these things would happen.  I napped.  I ate a huge breakfast and packed a ton of snacks and water since I disagreed with the hospital policy of no food and only ice chips once you got into active labor.  I did a load of laundry, picked up the house, and woke up my husband to go in around 7:30 am.

I should have lied about when my water broke.  The hospital attendants were furious with me.  They said that the clock starts ticking for infection to set in once the water breaks (which I later found out isn't exactly true) and that I'd just wasted 8 of my 24 hours before I was in danger of infection.  The hooked me up to an IV right away (which I really wanted to delay!) to start me on Pitocin, since I wasn't really contracting.  The anesthesiologist wanted to know where my pain was on a scale of 0 to 10.  I said maybe a 1.  So no epidural yet.  The nurses checked me when I came in at 4 cm, and twice more without any progress a couple of hours later.  Finally I got to see my doctor at 3 pm.  By then, all our friends had shown up to keep us company, about 10 people all told, including my parents.  None of our friends had had babies yet, so this was a big deal in our circle of friends.  I had a regular party going on in my personal birthing suite.  We had a few board games going on and about then my doctor walked in and looked totally annoyed that I wasn't taking the whole birth process seriously.  She said she'd come back when we kicked everyone out.  I felt deflated.  I was able to overlook my annoyances at being hooked up like a Borg because I was happily anticipating the birth of my son with my comrades.  No, they had to go.  So the doctor came back and, realizing I had a forebag, broke my real water.  Then I had contractions.  Wow, did I ever.  I'd been on Pitocin since 8 am, and they'd been turning it up every 20 minutes since I wasn't contracting.  All that Pitocin hit me at once.  Suddenly, I was in pain!  I was checked an hour later at 6 cm, and then I got my epidural.

That whole experience was awful.  The head anesthesiologist wasn't in.  So I got the other one.  She was nice, but it took her over half an hour to get the epidural catheter in place, and everytime she missed the sweet spot by a hair, I felt something akin to electric shocks up my spine.  My husband had to hold me down to keep me from jumping each time that happened since she needed me to be absolutely still to get it in right.  Yuck.

The pain relief was almost immediate, but my request for a walking epidural was laughed at.  I was so tied down with tubes and monitors that I could never have gotten up anyway.  I had the epidural, IV, catheter, blood pressure cuff (the most annoying thing EVER,) external fetal monitor, and that thing on my finger to take my pulse.  I was pretty pissed.  This was not what I envisioned, but I wasn't in pain.  I had to give them that.

By 9 pm, an apologetic looking nurse came in to tell me I needed a c-section.  I wasn't progressing (even though I had not been checked for further dilation since my epidural was put in) and I was starting to run a low grade fever.   I had still only seen my doctor once.  They put her on the phone to talk to me, but she had to deliver 6 babies that day, and clearly I wasn't a priority.  She'd be there in time for my c-section, though!

I was ready to cry.  General anesthesia sounded awful.  I wouldn't be awake for my son's birth, I couldn't give him his first breast milk until the anesthesia was out of my system, and I'd end up with a c-section to boot.  The anesthesiologist came in to try to turn up my epidural so that we could avoid this scenario.  She turned it up so high that my entire lower half could have been removed and I never would have known.  The doctor happily told me on the phone that we could proceed with the c-section without general anesthesia.  The nurses would prep me so that I'd be ready by the time she drove in.

They scrubbed my tummy with the yellow soapy stuff and got out all the clamps and scalpels and stuff, and I finally demanded that everyone hold on a second.  I hadn't been checked for dilation in forever and I though it was weird that everyone thought I need a section for "failure to progress" when no one (including me) knew if I'd progressed or not.

The nurse rolled her eyes and checked me.  She was shocked that I was at a full 10 cm.  No rim, no nothing.  Just ready to push.  And Goddess knows how long I'd been there, too.  Everyone was surprised, but honestly, I wasn't.  I had known all along that I could do this without an unnecesarean.  My son wasn't breech.  He wasn't twins.  He wasn't huge.  He wasn't in distress.

But now we had another problem: I was too numb to push.  They turned the epidural down and put me on more Pitocin.  It took an hour to wear off enough that I could push, and then another hour of pushing something I couldn't feel.  The doctor only appeared in the last 15 minutes of the birth.  She was there long enough to tell me that my son was in distress and that she needed to give me an episiotomy, something I'd told her I did not want unless the baby was definitely going to die.  I still don't believe my 6 lb 13 oz baby needed more room to get out.  Anyway, he was born blue, with the cord wrapped around his neck and not breathing.  I'd expressly asked before the birth that my baby be put on my bare stomach first, but they took him to the other side of the room and gave him heat and oxygen, something they could have easily done on my tummy while we bonded and cuddled.  The strangest part was the detached feeling I had the whole time.  I remember thinking, I could give him up right now and not care.  It horrified me.  I've seen videos of moms bursting into tears from the rush of emotion at seeing their baby for the first time, and had no way to relate to it.  I know now that this is sometimes a side effect of the epidural.  No one bothered to tell me.

My son was born at 12:12 am on July 11, 2007.  He weight 6 lb, 13 oz and was 20 inches long.  I can't remember his head circumference, but I was told he was in the 50th percentile.  He nursed right away, as soon as the doctor grabbed the umbilical cord and yanked out my placenta.  The nurse offered to let my mother hold him before she ever offered him to me.  I was feeling too detached to care a whole lot at the time, but now I wish her dead.  I hate that she was so pissed off about my refusal of the Hep B vaccine that she unnecessarily kept my baby from me in those precious moments after birth.  Those can't be replaced.  I hope she dies painfully.  And slowly.  In a fire.

They all gave me crap about refusing the Hep B vaccine, but I informed them that I was Hep B negative, and they could worry about giving my child a Hep B vaccine when he was likely to start having sex or using IV drugs, which is how it's spread.  I was adamant, but if I'd been weak for a second they would have given my baby an an unnecessary and useless vaccine.  The one given at birth wears off by age 15, the age when these behaviors are more likely to occur.

Anyhow, since my son was born at midnight, and the hospital's policy stated that the baby had to be checked out by a pediatrician when he was 24 hours old, we had to stay an extra day.  The entire time I was there, I hated it.  The bed was uncomfortable, my husband had to sleep in a cot that was worse, the "lactation consultant" was either not on staff or was quick to be there with bottles of formula "just in case."  I started feeling more attached to him about 6 hours after his birth, but it still felt weird.  I knew something was wrong with me emotionally.

The first month sucked.  I was tired and sore.  I felt like a horse had kicked me where the epidural had been inserted.  That took over a month to go away.  I felt like it took me longer than normal to really bond with my son, though I nursed him around the clock on demand, coslept with him and held him all the time.  I wore him in a sling whenever possible and I only left his side to nap twice once my in-laws came to help with him when he was 3 weeks old.

I breastfed throughout my hospital stay and am still breastfeeding my son today, three months after his second birthday.  To this day he has never had a drop of formula.  He coslept with us until last week, and is vaccine free.  I started him on the "Your Baby Can Read" program, and he recognizes over 75 words.  The pediatrician says he's one of the most active, talkative, and physically fit children she's ever seen.  He's a little accident-prone, but no one's perfect.  He's still skinny, at about the tenth percentile for weight and the 50th for height.

Immediately after my son was born, I felt violated by the process of a hospital birth.  I can't imagine how I'd feel if I had ended up with an unnecesarean.  To this day, I am bitter and angry about the entire thing, from start to finish.  I am determined to have my next baby at home or in a birthing center, with a midwife and a doula.  No amount of money can compensate me for the way I was made to feel, and still feel about having decisions made for me about my body and my baby.  I hate the idea of another hospital birth, and I don't know what I'll do if the next baby is transverse, breech or twins.  I guess I'll have to hope that doesn't happen.  Because I won't birth in a hospital again.  I'll have an unattended home birth before I'll put myself through that hell a second time.

I hope that anyone who reads this understands that I really tried to make the hospital birth process work for me.  I did everything I could, and I was vocal about my preferences.  No one cared.  That's how it is.  Educate yourself.  Consider home birth and look for birth centers near you.  If you are stuck with a hospital birth, look for a midwife who does them.  Try to steer clear of OB/GYN's.  They'll be there to catch the baby or do your c-section, and that's it.  Know that this experience is one you'll never forget and don't let anyone else taint it with hospital policies that override your desires for a memorable and wonderful birth.  Realize that red flags are waving in your face the first time your doctor or midwife says that what you want in your birth might not happen.  And realize that you can refuse any procedure at any time.  I should have.  And I regret not doing it.

My husband thinks I'm crazy

Yep, he thinks I'm insane to try to get pregnant while trying to lose weight. I would agree with him if I was trying some fad diet or something unhealthy, but my weight loss techniques are really common sense and healthy. More fruits and veggies, take a prenatal vitamin and get some kind of exercise in every day (i.e. yoga, a 30 minute walk, gardening,) drink lots of water, and eat only when I'm hungry. Actually, there's more to it than just eating when I'm hungry. I'm following a hybrid of Paul McKenna's I Can Make You Thin techniques, advice from The Fat Fallacy by Will Clower and some non-diet weight loss tips from the internet. Here are the Four Golden Rules from I Can Make You Thin:

1. Eat only when you're hungry

2. Eat only what you really want

3. Stop eating when you're full

4. Eat slowly, putting the fork down between bites and really taste what you're eating

In addition to that, I've adopted The Fat Fallacy Diet which is all about eating whole foods and cutting out preservatives. So, if I read the ingredients on a food and there's something I can't pronounce, I won't eat it. Mostly, because of my corn-free diet, I make my own food anyway, so this isn't a big deal. I also eat organically as often as possible. I certainly buy everything organic from the "Dirty Dozen" list. This includes:

1. Peaches

2. Apples

3. Bell Peppers

4. Celery

5. Nectarines

6. Strawberries

7. Cherries

8. Kale

9. Lettuce

10. Grapes

11. Carrots

12. Pears

Really, anything with a thin, edible skin should be organic, since the pesticides can't really be washed off or peeled away on these types of fruits and veggies. Anything produce with a thick skin that I throw away is typically safe (i.e. avocados, bananas, mangoes, citrus fruit) although I still try to buy as many organic items as I can to support organic farming. I also buy only rBST free dairy products and cage free eggs and try to buy organic when they go on sale.

I've done this type of weight loss before, and I was successful as long as I kept it up, but I fell off the wagon. Why? Because school and a wedding and having a baby constantly put you in situations where you are shoving your dinner down so you can get on with whatever needs to be done next. I ate in the car, in front of the TV, and yes, even over the sink because I was in a hurry to finish. I thought of it as multi-tasking, but really it was just lazy. I didn't want to take the time to sit at the table and eat slowly, tasting every bite so that I knew exactly when I was full. So I overate, I tended to wait until I was starving before I served myself, and I actually started backsliding into eating foods laden with preservatives. It's also hard to guage how much you'll need to eat when you first start breastfeeding. I've never been so ravenous in my life (including during my pregnancy) as I was when my son was born. I ate like a fiend all week, and it tapered off a little as my son grew, but not nearly as much as it should have. In addition, I think a crying, anxious, or upset child makes me eat faster than I ever have before. I just want him to be calm, so I bolt my food down to tend to him. It's an awful cycle, because I'm not paying attention to (and therefore enjoying) my food as I'm feeding and fussing over him. He's done long before I stop eating, and I eat feeling angry/frustrated/anxious.

Knowing what I know now, I've decided to eat either before or after my son when he's being like this. I can eat while he plays or sleeps, for the most part. And when I can't, it's time to put him in the high chair with his food and learn to tune him out while I concentrate on eating at a more leisurely pace. I think it will be good for him, as well as my next child, to grow up in a house where everyone eats at the table and actually tastes their food over the course of 20 minutes or more. It's a healthy way to be. Come to think of it, that's how I grew up. I started gaining weight right around the time when this practice stopped being a regular thing. I also had half my spine fused, due to scoliosis, at that time, so it was probably a double weight whammy that caused me to balloon. Sigh...I have a lot of years of habit to break.

There is one thing I no longer miss: preservative laden foods. I thought I would truly miss Ho-hos, which were my ultimate favorite treat through middle and high school. So I had one about a year ago. Wow. It was bad. It tasted like plastic and chemicals, so I threw the whole package out after one bite. It's amazing how your taste buds can change after eating really good food and stopping to taste what you're putting in your mouth. I've had similar experiences with other foods that I thought I missed, but the Ho-hos were by far the most striking. Ew.

So, back to the whole"losing weight while trying to get pregnant" deal.... I see nothing wrong with it. I'm just trying to get healthy, really. Besides, if it takes me 7 or 8 months to get pregnant (not an unrealistic estimate) I have 7 or 8 months of getting in shape that I could be missing out on. Also, I love that I lost 10 lbs before getting pregnant with my so. Since I only gained 27 lbs total, I figured I really jut put on about 17 additional pounds. I only had 17 pounds to lose to get back to my weight from a couple of months before the wedding. It was a nice feeling, and I'd liek to do that again with this pregnancy.

When I do spellwork for this pregnancy, I'll have to be careful though. I'll only do spells under the waxing moon asking to bring in health and new life. I do want to be healthier, after all.