Monthly Archives: December 2005

Androgynous

You scored 60 masculinity and 56 femininity!

You scored high on both masculinity and femininity. You have a strong
personality exhibiting characteristics of both traditional sex roles.

My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
You scored higher than 45% on masculinity
You scored higher than 39% on femininity

Link: The Bem Sex Role Inventory Test written by weirdscience on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

Yeah, so I’m not saying it doesn’t suck to have GD and hypertension and all, but hey: at least I’m not pregnant in Iraq:

The war in Iraq is forcing fearful choices on expectant mothers. Relatively well-off women are opting for Caesarean delivery to avoid the roads at night. After curfew there’s even less assurance than there is during the day that Iraqis, who are ordered to stay in their homes after 11 p.m., won’t be killed by mistake. The roads are rife with checkpoints, insurgents and jumpy Iraqi and U.S. soldiers. […]

Most women who can’t afford Caesareans opt to spend nights in the hospital waiting for their babies to push out of their wombs, or they induce labor a few days before their due dates. Some wait for the contractions, then call the police. Ambulances stop running at night.

Police Capt. Sabah Ahmed has risked his life for pregnant women who go into labor in the dark.

“Most of the women who call me have limited income,” he said, and can’t afford operations.

Sometimes he’s refused the calls, fearing an insurgent trap. “We are targeted,” he said. But he feels guilty, and he always wonders if he left a woman stranded.

Once, as he approached a woman’s home in Doura, an insurgent-infested neighborhood in Baghdad, he was stopped at an Iraqi National Guard checkpoint. Beyond the soldiers, the sounds of a gunfight filled the air.

He turned around and called the woman’s home to tell her he wouldn’t come.

But an 8-year-old girl answered the phone in tears.

“My mother’s in pain,” she told him.

He changed out of his uniform, got into a civilian car with his partner and took a different route.

As the pregnant woman screamed in pain and fear, he maneuvered through the roads, steering away from the sound of bullets being fired. By 2 a.m. she was at the hospital.

“I risked my life and the life of my colleagues,” he said, explaining why he was disciplined afterward. “But the little girl answered” when he’d called.

This is a way of existing that I can’t imagine and hope I never experience. What kind of life is that to bring a child into? Or to be a parent in? Funny, but I think if the Bush twins were in similar circumstances there’d be a lot more uproar.

Operation Level II Ultrasound was a success. All limbs and appendages accounted for; no unecessary holes, and everything seems to be working a-ok. Hoss was officially dubbed “one active baby” by the perinatologist, and was highly uncooperative with the sonogram technician, because he/she preferred to stay balled up in what they apparently correctly term the “fetal position.” Hoss also likes to box his/her feet; has the flexibility of an experienced yogi; and enjoys hiccuping in his/her spare time. Most enjoyable. I must admit, even though we’ve had three ultrasounds before, it’s always kind of trippy to see this other living being inside your body. Mr. Squab was equally affected – when I looked over at one point and asked “how you doing, hon?” he mouthed back “this is fucked up” and summed the whole episode up afterwards as “CSI meets Fantastic Voyage,” which is as accurate a description as any.

Even more enjoyable was our interaction with the perinatologist, who came in at the end of the appointment to go over the results and review the work of the sonogram tech. We were waiting in the ultrasound room, me with my pants still unzipped and belly exposed in case the doc wanted to re-scan me (which he did), and suddenly in pops this small, stocky doctor with a shock of black hair and a thick southern accent. He shakes both of our hands and says “how ya doin’? I’m Dr. Bill Wagner, pleestameecha, pleestameecha – how tall are you?” I stuttered out, “uh, 5’4” and he bopped back out, saying “great, great, I’ll be right back!” Mr. Squab and I immediately got the giggles, which were not alleviated when the doctor came back and whipped us through the baby’s various parts. His two favorite phrases were “if you will” and “M’Kay,” as in “Now, here, if you will, is the baby’s heart, M’Kay?” He was super rapid and SUPER enthusiastic and we were a little breathless when he left, but highly amused. It was like being examined by Rod Roddy + Mr. Mackey / Bill Brasky. In other words, awesome.

But enough about us – I know you’re really here for the pictures! We got a bunch, but here are the three best ones (click each picture for a bigger version):

1. Here’s Hoss’ profile, looking to the right.

2. Here’s one of Hoss’ feet – if you kind of squint your eyes, you can see the toes and all.

3. Here’s the one we call “Yogi Hoss” – Hoss is lying on his/her back with one long leg stretched waaaay over his/her head.

So there you go!

I’m at 20 weeks as of today – halfway there, assuming I go to full term. According to the BabyCenter.com email I just got:

By now your baby is about the size of a large sweet potato, and a creamy, whitish substance called vernix caseosa is starting to cover his skin. This coating will protect his skin from weeks of bathing in amniotic fluid but will most likely disappear by the time he’s born. Your baby is swallowing more these days, which is good practice for his digestive system.

Can someone explain to me why all the pregnancy resources compare fetus size to edible objects? I want to have the baby, not eat it. Sheesh.

Ultrasound tomorrow, about which I am irrationally trepidatious. I’m sort of afraid they’ll look in there and see something with horns or only half a head. Like I said, irrational. But hopefully we’ll have a picture or two to share!

Scene: a malt shop. The Nephew is sucking down a chocolate malt with his usual focus and absorption. As the brain freeze sets in, the Nephew pauses, looks up, and says,

“Man, that really hurts me in my solar plexus.”

(And the sick part is that he can actually tell you where and what your solar plexus is.)

Scene: later that night, the Nephew is showing off his spelling skills, and challenges Mr. Squab to spell “metamorphosis” (this is the Nephew’s spelling word par excellence). Mr. Squab, who is more of a creative type than a speller, flubs the word. The Nephew has two responses to this:

First response: “It’s a good thing you’re good at video games, because you sure aren’t good at spelling.” (This results in a conversation about different people being good at different things, along with some discussion of what the Nephew isn’t good at.)

Second response: “Uncle Squab, I’m going to give you a goal.” (I swear to god, that’s verbatim. He really talks like this.) “I want you to know how to spell metamorphosis in three months. I’ll help you!”

Can anyone be more condescending than a seven-year-old? The little snot – I sure do get a kick out of him.

Scene. Coffee shop, this morning.

NICE COFFEE SHOP GIRL: Would you like a muffin or anything with your coffee?

ME: Mmmmm …. I’d really love a muffin, but (leaning forward conspiratorially) I have gestational diabetes and I think there’s too much sugar in those … (looking around for other options, seeing none) Yeah, I think just the coffee.

NICE COFFEE SHOP GIRL: (Blink. Pause. Blink blink.) OK, that’ll be $3.19.

Honestly. Why do I feel compelled to share that stuff with salespeople? Why?!?!

I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday, just a regular check-in. I love my doctors, as I’ve mentioned before, but my check-ups are always a little roller-coasterish just because of the various complications fate has seen fit to send my way. This one was no exception. Here’s the rundown:

– I’m still losing weight – over 15 lbs since I first got knocked up. Who knew pregancy could be such a successful diet plan? While this isn’t ideal, my doctor says she’s not going to worry about it too much as long as my belly is growing, which it is.

– My blood pressure was down some. Normally, it gets taken two times: once sitting up, like normal, and then when that reading is so high it’s stupid, they have me lie down on my side and take it again that way. The last appointment I had, my sitting-up reading was something like 165/105 (normal is 120/80, for context), and even my lying down reading was 130/95 or something. NOT GOOD. This time, however, my sitting-up reading was 140/74, and my lying-down reading was 115/56. This made my doctor very happy. If it stays in that range, I won’t have to go on blood pressure medication, which would be nice. The (slightly) ominous bit: when my second reading was so low, my doc joked, “can you just lie down for the next 20 weeks?” To which I joked back, “if you’ll write me a note to get out of work, SURE!” To which she responded, seriously, “That may happen.” Erk. I’m pretty good at amusing myself, but bedrest for any longer than a week sounds sort of really awful. We’ll hope it doesn’t come to that.

– The docs are still quite worried about the possibility of me developing preeclampsia. Actually, I believe my doctor’s exact words were, “you’re pretty much set up for it.” Preeclampsia, for those of you who aren’t undergoing a stupid high-risk pregnancy, is a serious medical condition where your blood pressure goes out of control, your kidneys get overwhelmed and you start leaking protein in your urine, you swell up like a balloon and rapidly gain weight. If it advances it can even be fatal, although this is rare. The only “cure” for it is to deliver the baby, so the tricky bit is if it sets in too early for the kid to survive outside the womb. Now here’s the fun part: some of the risk factors for preeclampsia include first-time pregnancy, obesity, elevated blood pressure, and diabetes! Check, check, check, and check! So you can see where they’d want to keep an eye on me for that. Frankly, preeclampsia scares the bloody bejeezus out of me, so I’m just trying to forget I even know what it is. Keeping the blood pressure down will help a lot, so I’m doing all I can to make that happen. Now if I can just convince Mr. Squab that this is a legitimate reason to get weekly massages …

– Interesting tidbit: gestational diabetes has a tendency to make the fetus grow too big (the baby gets fat from all the extra sugar in your blood), but hypertension can have the effect of making the baby small. So … here’s hoping for a happy medium?

– And finally, we’re going in for a level II ultrasound next week. Should be fun to see Hoss again, and hopefully we’ll get to take home some pictures. If we do, I’ll post them for you all to see.