Puffy Runner

Elliott's first tooth?

2012-01-05T08:59:00.000-08:00

To celebrate her 7-month birthday, Elliott decided to be super cute and maybe show us her new tooth. Or something else white on her gums. It's hard to tell, especially since every time I try to stick my finger in her mouth she clamps down because she thinks her vitamin drops are coming.

Monday paragraph

2011-11-15T07:33:00.000-08:00

Right now I can't think of anything new Elliott's done this week. Unless you count that she's gotten even cuter.

One of my favorite things lately is watching Elliott and Tigger become better friends. She watches and smiles at him all the time, and any time he's close she tries to grab him. When she's done eating she lets him clean her face, and he lets her grab his ears.

We've had a busy week (and things will probably only get busier until the semester is over), so Elliott's been spending more time helping us work. She even spent a few hours with me at my church job when I forgot to bring milk on the day that my mom watches her.

And that's it for today.

Monday paragraph

2011-11-08T02:03:00.001-08:00

There's a lot that I've been wanting to blog about. But since lately I feel like I barely have time to shower once a day, for now I'll stick to a little update on Elliott.

This week Elliott turned into a rolling machine. She's not to the point where she rolls over to get somewhere, but one day she decided that she didn't want to be on her back anymore. It's funny because she'll fuss when she's on her tummy until we roll her back (somehow she forgot that she can do that on her own).

She's also sitting for longer amounts of time, and often she'll hold her arms out (for balance?). It's pretty cute.

I think Elliott might be having a growth spurt because she started drinking more milk - the last few days she's had 30-35 ounces (instead of 25-30). She tried peas this week and liked them (kind of).

And Tigger's still a huge fan of all the food-trying. He and Elliott are really bonding over it.

Monday paragraph

2011-10-31T23:01:00.000-07:00

This week Ellyroo got sick. One day she and I were hanging out and I noticed a red and white spot in the back of her throat. Eric took her to the doctor who said that it was herpangina. Not a huge deal, and she never had a fever, but it was still sad. We had to give her ibuprofen a few times so that she would eat. We're going to be more vigilant about having people wash their hands before they touch her.

She also got a new (to us) toy from one of my coworkers. She's pretty fond of it.

This week Elliott ate avocado and more oatmeal. Tigger watches carefully whenever we're feeding her so that he can have any leftovers.

And for Halloween Elliott was a moose.

Other than that, she's been super smiley (except for when she's fussy) and fun. I really really really really like her.

Monday paragraph

2011-10-25T01:06:00.000-07:00

I guess it's Tuesday now, but since I haven't gone to sleep yet I'm counting this as Monday.

This week we saw a couple of firsts from Elliott. She started sitting up by herself for a few seconds at a time, and Eric and I both saw her roll over from her back to her tummy. She's putting up with tummy time for a lot longer now, and right now her favorite place to hang out is in her bumbo chair. She's a champ at getting things (all things) into her mouth, and she loves chewing on her fingers (we think she's teething?). She likes to keep her tongue out, and she usually has drool all over her face, hands, and chest. Almost every day she has a fussy bit where we can't seem to do anything to make her happy, but overall she's happy and a lot of fun. She still loves her dangly toys, and especially a new bear toy from our neighbors, and she likes to stare at the books on our bookshelves. For the past couple of days she's been making a new sound - kind of like the gasp someone makes when they see something scary. I don't really like it because I think it's weird that she does it while she's breathing in, but Eric thinks it's funny. Elliott's also showing a lot more intentness (really that's a word?); she'll turn toward or reach for things she wants to see or touch (like Tigger), and she really watches us to see what we're doing. I'm excited for her to be able to indicate preferences and have more control over what she sees and does.

Monday paragraph(s)

2011-10-17T19:23:00.000-07:00

The author of a blog I like recently invited her readers to start writing Thursday Paragraphs. I usually have more blogging time on Mondays, so I'm going to try to write a little bit every Monday about what's new with Elliott.*

And everything is new with Elliott! She's growing so much and has the cutest little fat cheeks and thighs (a big change from her tiny newborn self). I try to lift her up in the air a lot so that I'll have the muscles to carry her when she's heavier. Right now she drinks between 25-30 ounces/day of breastmilk, and she doesn't mind tasting the baby oatmeal we've given her a few times. So far she doesn't seem especially interested in food we're eating. She usually poops through 1-4 outfits a day.

Elliott can often grab things on the first try, and she likes to put everything (including her toes and her cousin's hands) in her mouth. She especially loves playing with the dangly toys on her playmat, and she'll grab onto Tigger if he's nearby (and so far he just lets her). She'll do tummy time for sometimes up to about 10 minutes before she cries, and she seems to like the different vantage point propping herself up gives her. She's good at rotating herself around (on her tummy or her back), and sometimes she'll propel herself forward by pushing off with her feet. She rolls over from her tummy, and she's pretty close from her back. I think little crawling babies are the cutest ever, so I help her practice sitting and sometimes try to tuck her knees under her when she's on her belly. I don't know how close she is to sitting by herself, but she'll often stand alone if we prop her up against something.

She has the most perfect and beautiful face, and everyone comments about her big eyes. She's very smiley, and she laughs (more of a heh-heh than a giggle) when we sing to her or tickle her back, neck, tummy, or feet. Sometimes she makes a little squealing piggy noise when she's playing that's sometimes happy, sometimes the precursor to a cry. She falls asleep on car rides, and she likes to be on walks in the stroller or Baby Bjorn. She's been an awesome sleeper for probably about a month and a half - she usually sleeps for at least 8 hours, and we'll even get an extra 2-3 hours if we feed her before she's completely awake. Lately we've been giving her a bath and praying and reading with her before we leave her in her bed (still in our room (my preference), but graduated from her bassinet into a pack-and-play), and usually she goes to sleep within a few minutes of us turning out the lights. She babbles at us and at her toys, and sometimes I think she says "Yes," "Ma," "Da," and "Hi." She's starting to seem more person-like; she looks at people who are talking, and she seems to know her name. She likes to be next to me or Eric, and she likes to watch computer and TV screens.

Pretty much Elliott is the best baby ever. Every day I can't believe how lucky we are to have her. I love her so completely, and I'm excited to get to know her better as she grows up!

*I will probably usually write more than a paragraph, and they'll always be on the same topic, and they won't be on Thursdays. So really these posts won't be Thursday Paragraphs at all. But it's still the prompt that got me started.

Running biography

2011-10-14T18:42:00.000-07:00

Several months ago a running friend posted her running biography. I thought it was a neat idea, so today I'm copying her.*

I don't remember ever running before college. I guess there were a few fitness tests in elementary school, and I had a friend on the cross country team in high school who probably encouraged me to try running once or twice, but it wasn't ever something I thought that someone would do for enjoyment. Or even for exercise - somehow "going running" wasn't something regular people (e.g., people not on a team or in a PE class) did.**

One day my RA in the dorms invited me to run a 5K with her. It was at Liberty Park, and I had kind of a hard time with the distance. I stopped at the drinking fountain on every lap and thought it was weird that no one else seemed to need water. After that I ran occasionally with roommates, and over the next few years would go running a few times a month. For a couple of months before my mission I ran with a group of friends a few times a week, but it was mostly something I did because I wanted to date one of the guys in the group.

On the mission I was afraid of gaining weight, so I would occasionally run in the mornings; we had mandatory exercise time from 6:00 to 6:30, and I would either run with my companions or run around the parking lot of wherever we were living. I met a couple of members who had run several marathons, and I decided that I wanted to run the St. George Marathon. It was a couple of months after I'd be back in Utah, so I started using one of the Runner's World training plans. I got up to about 7 miles before I went home, but I couldn't figure out how to avoid some pretty bad IT band pain so I stopped running for a bit. I got into ballroom dancing for a couple of years after that, so I didn't really start running again until I was about to move to Pennsylvania.

In Pennsylvania I really started to like running. At some point during my second year there I had a kind of hard breakup and I would run around the school track late at night when I was upset because the pounding was therapeutic. I did a few 5Ks but didn't really train, and then I stopped running for a few months after I had to go to the hospital after a half-marathon I wasn't ready to run.*** I ran again during my last year there because I really *had* gained weight, and I remembered again that I like running. I've been running since then with varying consistency (not at all during the last part of my pregnancy when I switched to the elliptical machine because I was afraid of the contractions running gave me, and not so much for the past couple of months because the lingering effects of pregnancy and delivery have been pretty discouraging).

The summer before I got pregnant was really fun because it was the first time I was consistent enough to see improvement. I wish that I would have started running in high school because I think it's something I could have been really good at (but bounded rationality, yo). I wish that I would have ran more through my pregnancy (but I really was worried about the contractions) because I'd like to have not gained so much weight (also there was the thing about how I thought I could help Baby gain more weight if I ate a lot more, but really she came out small and I gained about twice the recommended amount). I wish that I didn't get so bummed out when my body doesn't act like it did before I had a baby.

But running is super darn awesome. It seems to be the perfect exercise (except for maybe swimming, but I'm not really a swimmer). It makes me happier, it makes me want to eat better, and it makes me healthier. I love that it's something I can do with Eric (and now Elliott!). I'm grateful that I can do it, and I hope that it'll always be there for me in the future.

*To be clear, I don't consider myself a "runner." I know runners. I'm a person who sometimes runs.

**This was true of exercise in general; the way I remember things going down is that my mom did Jazzercize back in the day, my dad played church basketball and softball, and my sisters and I rode our bikes or roller skated for fun. We had spurts of dance or gymnastics classes, and a Sweatin' to the Oldies video that would surface every other month or so, and for awhile there was an exercise bike and a home gym that didn't get a ton of use, but that was it. Probably this is pretty typical.

***Sometimes my intestines don't react well to running. People on the Internet call this "runner's trots."

Good people

2011-09-30T08:00:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been thinking about the things I'm grateful for. Many of the blessings I've received lately are because of certain people who are devoted to and good at what they do.

(1) We recently reached the denouement (for now) of the heart problem - after months of thinking about whether to do the ablation procedure, and then weeks of trying to decide which doctor/hospital to go to for it (the doctor who had treated me all along and who I really like and who's responsible for keeping my heart under control while I was growing Elliott, or the doctor with more practical experience but who I don't really know? And the hospital where the "doctors aren't just doctors" or the one with all the heart rhythm billboards?),* I ended up pretty much naked on an operating table surrounded by strangers who tried for two hours to manipulate my heart into a bad rhythm. They kept me awake for the first hour, and I felt incredibly vulnerable and scared. Plus the heart drugs made my whole body feel wacky. There may have been some (or many) tears. But the whole time one of the nurses sat next to me and held my hand and tried to help me think about other things. And I knew that the doctor was going to do everything he could to safely produce the arrhythmia. Even though it didn't end up how I hoped (apparently I *really* wanted them to be able to do the ablation), I'm very grateful to those people for the years of time and effort they put into becoming good at what they do.

(2) Over the past year Eric and I have often talked about how we might choose different majors if we could do college again. I think that we usually mean that we'd pick more lucrative paths, or majors that would lead to more post-college options, but lately I've been wishing that I would have chosen something that would be more useful to other people. After freezergate and our ensuing discovery of the 30-degree fluctuation in our freezer's temperature, I started researching more about what exactly happens to breast milk over time and across storage formats. It was kind of like when I would try to research arrhythmias and pregnancy but didn't understand some things; there's a ton of stuff in breast milk, and without even having had a nutrition class (so what *did* I take in college?) it's not easy to understand why all of it matters. But I found a helpful article and emailed the author with a couple of questions. I'm grateful that she was so generous in her response and that she had put in the time to become an expert on the subject.

Sometimes I think that I'm not ever going to be equipped to similarly help someone else. Being able to tell someone what is the best way to measure religious affiliation isn't at all the same as being able to tell someone what is the best way to store their expressed breast milk, and knowing how to calculate mortality rates isn't the same as being able to save someone's life or keep someone healthy. But I think that helping people can also be about treating them with kindness and influencing them for good.

(3) My undergrad sociological statistics teacher was awesome. He had a difficult job; sociology students don't usually take a lot of math,** and the statistics class is generally thought of as one of the hardest requirements of the major. But Dr. Kentor ended up being one of my favorite teachers. He was funny (most of his examples involved ice cream flavors, and he almost always included coconut (this might not seem funny, but it was)) and approachable, and he taught the material in a way that made it seem easy. His example is a lot of why I went to grad school and sought out the quantitative courses.***

(4) Finally, for the past couple of semesters I've been teaching a sociology of gender class.**** I enjoy it because it's a challenging topic to teach at BYU (for me, at least), and it's fun getting to know the students and their ideas. I'm glad that I get to teach it, but I wish that the students could have the teacher I had when I was at BYU. Dr. Cornwall has had an entire career of researching gender and combining academic ideas with religious ones, and she's able to mentor students in a way that promotes understanding and creativity. Her influence was huge in getting me to where I am now, both in terms of academic choices and how I see the world. Thinking about her makes me want to be good at teaching my class so that my students can have at least a part of what she gave to me.

(5) And of course I'm grateful for Eric and our little Ellyroo. I don't have a paragraph for this that fits with this blog post, so here's a picture.

*We decided on the doctor with more experience. Also he's at the hospital we would be allowed to go to on the student insurance, so if Next Baby comes while neither of us are working full time we'll be able to go back to him. And to the awesome doctor who delivered Elliott - he just happened to be on duty that weekend, but it turns out that he's a really good high-risk OB who works at both hospitals. I'm grateful for him, too.

**I was recently at a dinner with Eric and his siblings and found out that I was the only person who hadn't ever taken calculus. Maybe I also never took trigonometry. In high school or in college. Maybe I'm a little embarrassed about this.

***Another reason I went to grad school is because of a traffic accident I was in during my first semester of college. I was working as a dispatcher for the campus police, and when I finished work one night the police officer I had just started dating gave me a ride home to the dorms. He was fiddling with his radio as we drove down the street, and all of a sudden he hit a pedestrian in a crosswalk. Fortunately the woman survived (unlike the pedestrian in a crosswalk that another campus police officer had hit the year before). The officer told me not to get out of the car, so I just sat there for what seemed like a million hours until another officer came to get me out. In the car I felt like I should be doing something, but I didn't know what. I didn't know CPR or first aid (I took an emergency first aid course the next semester), and the radio was broken so I couldn't call for help. I felt super useless and decided to change my major (from piano) to something where I thought I might be able to help people (I wanted to join the FBI).

****Also an introduction to sociology class for a couple of years, but it's online so it's less salient to me.

Working after baby (post-baby edition)

2011-09-13T10:41:00.000-07:00

Elliott's been here for a few months, I was a stay-at-home mom* for about 8 weeks, I worked full-time for 4 weeks, and I've been working part-time for 2 weeks. It's probably time for the post-baby post on working after baby.

In my last post, largely written pre-baby, I wrote that when a woman/mother works she avoids economic dependence and can participate in something that is challenging and rewarding.*** She can reduce the economic pressure on her husband (but may increase the social pressure - "his wife is working because he can't support the family" (unless the husband has a well-paying job, because then the wife is just working so that they can have more boats)) and allow him to have more occupational freedom and opportunity to participate in childrearing.

I still think those things are mostly true. But making everything work out according to my pre-baby ideals is kind of hard. First, the idea that a working mother helps to alleviate pressure on the husband is nice, but so far it doesn't seem to quite work that way. When I was just working full-time and Eric was staying home, it was a pretty nice feeling to go to work knowing that Elliott was going to be taken care of and to come home to a clean apartment and not much to worry about. Providing that for a spouse would alleviate pressure. It does *not* alleviate pressure if both people are worried about work (or school or work and school), who's going to take care of the child, and who's going to do the dishes/laundry/cleaning/cooking.

Second, our economy is built around *someone* working full-time. Part-time jobs don't usually come with health insurance and retirement benefits, and families need those things. So then, as Cathie commented on my last post, "we need more jobs where they trust you telecommute, flex schedules, job shares, part time with benefits, etc. so that people have the flexibility to find the arrangement that works for their family." But we don't have that stuff right now. So when that two parents opt to forgo the simplicity of a strict division of labor in favor of allowing both partners to experience both working and childrearing, job options are limited.****

Third, it's hard to do everything. Or to do everything really well. This is a huge bummer.

So what's the answer? For better or worse, we don't really have to decide right now. Maybe it's a cop-out, but I'm kind of glad for the situation we're in (I'm a big fan of anything that gives me an excuse to put off a major life decision, I guess). Eric and I don't want to increase our debt or be un-self-sufficient (un-selfs-sufficient? Since there are two of us?), so for now I get to keep the job that pays for my student loans, the job that I like and that might help me in the future, and the job that helps pay for our living expenses (I'll leave it to the reader to guess which job is which) without worrying about whether I should work if I don't "have" to work (remember how I hate that expression?), and Eric can score us some good-enough student health insurance. And it's sometimes complicated and stressful, but we'll probably never be able to have such an equal taking-care-of-Elliott arrangement as we have now.

As for not being able to do everything, I think this is always going to be okay. For example, I think that I would really enjoy a time-intensive, challenging job where I could excel at what I do. But it's okay to have a job that I like enough and that meets our family's needs. I would probably enjoy spending every waking hour with my adorable daughter, reading to her and taking her for walks and watching her discover her toes and learn about her world, but it's okay if I share these experiences with other people who love her. It would be nice if Eric could be a super fancy lawyer***** and I could be a world-famous demographer****** and Eric could win all of the trail ultramarathons and I could win all of the sewing, concerto, ballroom dance, writing, and 5K competitions and Elliott could enter kindergarten fluent in Latin and Japanese, with track and viola and physics scholarships to somewhere cool, and able to teach sign-language to monkeys (gorillas?). But it's okay if Eric and I have jobs we like, and Eric can run every day and I can get un-fat in between babies,******* and Elliott grows up safe and smart, feeling secure and loved.

I'll probably have to make a post-baby (babies?), post-school edition in a couple of years. Stay tuned, I guess.

*I say "stay-at-home mom" instead of "full-time mom" because working parents are totally full-time parents. I'd say that saying that someone isn't a full-time parent just because they work is stupid, but that wouldn't demonstrate an open mind and a willingness to understand.**

**This is funny because last week I had to explain this to a student who called someone's ideas stupid (he actually used the words "silly," "insanity," and "ridiculous," but I'm pretty sure he meant stupid). And when I say "funny," I probably mean "mildly amusing to me and Eric." [And is there some rule about footnotes on footnotes that I'm not adhering to here?]

***Given the right job, and this isn't to say that being a stay-at-home parent isn't challenging and rewarding. It's probably more challenging and more rewarding than anything else, but in different ways.

****Which brings us to why I quit my full-time job. Unfortunately (and maybe ironically), I wasn't persuasive (or valued) enough to encourage my employer to "[create] an environment in the workplace that is more receptive and accommodating to both women and men in their responsibilities as parents."

*****Except that really I think he'd rather be like this guy.

******Except that it's hardly a lack of time that keeps me from this.

*******A woman on the elevator today said, basically, "You're expecting a baby, right?" My most honest coworker assured me that I don't look pregnant and the elevator person probably only thought I was pregnant because my tummy is a little puffy and my boobs are so big. Either way, it wasn't great for my self-image. (But I just realized that this might be karma for the time I asked my hair stylist the same question. She wasn't pregnant, either.)

(Not) Breastfeeding

2011-08-16T06:40:00.000-07:00

I didn’t get to have Elliott with me for a few hours after she was born. Right away she needed to go to the intermediate nursery, and shortly after that she had to be monitored for 4 hours because of some brachycardia. Later that day we tried nursing several times, and we got help and advice from the lactation consultant. Though she was too sleepy to eat, we were assured that babies aren’t usually hungry right after being born.

But she wouldn’t eat the next day, either. We met with the lactation consultant several more times, and since Elliott was in danger of losing too much weight to go home, the LC helped set us up with a supplemental nursing system and some formula to help get Elliott started. She just wouldn’t do it, though. She *would* take a bottle, so the nurses had us give her that. She ate enough that we were able to take her home with us when I was discharged.

Two days later she still wasn’t nursing. I’d try to feed her using the techniques I had learned in the hospital, and when she wouldn’t breastfeed we would feed her formula or pumped breastmilk in a bottle. We met with the lactation consultant at her pediatrician’s office, and she gave us instructions to try breastfeeding for 20 minutes before giving a bottle. She also suggested that we use a nipple shield, and she helped me understand more about how to maintain my milk supply even if Elliott wouldn’t nurse. Though the try-breastfeeding/pump/feed-from-a-bottle process was time consuming, it was a plan that made me feel hopeful.

Eventually we were giving Elliott mostly expressed breastmilk instead of formula, but she still wouldn’t breastfeed. She’d latch and seem to be feeding, but each time she'd fall asleep or grow frustrated and scream until we gave her a bottle. When I tried denying her the bottles and only giving the breastfeeding option, she lost weight. We met with another lactation consultant I found on the ILCA website, and she suggested starting with the bottle and switching to the breast. When that didn’t work, I went back to the lactation consultant at the hospital who suggested simultaneous pumping on the other side, compressions, and the SNS again. I read about finger-feeding on the Internet, and we tried that a few times (but it, too, made her scream). I met with another lactation consultant who said I was doing everything right and it was just up to Elliott. I called the local La Leche League leader, and she said that we shouldn’t have given Elliott an artificial nipple before 6 weeks (thanks, lady, but it was my first baby and we did what the nurses (in the only Baby-Friendly hospital in Utah) told us to do – how about if you lay off and go nurse your 4-year-old?). A 5th lactation consultant suggested trying to only offer breastfeeding for 24 hours, but Eric and I worried that that would only make Elliott upset and hungry.

I was glad I could at least give her breast milk. That was the point, right? I wished I felt like it didn’t matter how she got it. But I cared a lot. I felt like breastfeeding was something I was supposed to do – something I was supposed to be *able* to do as a woman, and something I was supposed to do as her mother. But I couldn’t do it. It just didn’t work. And I was sitting home, not able to feed my baby and also not going to work, so I was losing money for our family and failing as a mother every day.

I appreciated being able to talk to people who had had problems breastfeeding. I was glad I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t do it (or whose baby couldn’t do it), and it was comforting to hear that other people had cried as much as I did. I talked to someone who had pumped every two hours for six weeks when her baby wouldn’t nurse, someone whose babies had been so allergic to breast milk that they had pooped blood, and someone who had pumped for two months with a hand pump when she didn’t make enough milk for her baby. But the support from people with similar experiences didn’t quite balance out the frustration and sadness I felt when I saw someone breastfeeding their baby without a problem. Once, when I was talking to another new mom whose baby had had to be on formula at first, I asked how long the transition had taken. She said, “Oh, a long time…like a week.” It was all I could do to wait to cry until I was away from people. I didn’t understand what was wrong with me that I couldn’t feed my baby. I felt broken – I couldn’t do the one thing I was supposed to be able to do naturally.

Every legitimate website talks about how it’s rare for a mother to not be able to breastfeed, and all a person who thinks she’s in that situation has to do is contact a lactation consultant. I wished it was easier for us. I wished I knew what to do to fix it. I wished I didn’t feel so ashamed. I wished I didn’t cry every time I pumped or every time my baby rejected me. I decided to keep trying until we hit the six week mark, but I was pretty sure that we’d just have more failed attempts ahead of us. I thought I would only solidify myself in Elliott’s mind as the person who wouldn’t feed her when she wanted to eat and that I’d have to accept that I couldn’t be the mother she deserved.

Occasionally Elliott would nurse, and it was amazing. I would feel so grateful, and I’d think about how much easier things were going to be. But the next time we tried things would be back to the horrible normal. It’s pretty much the worst feeling in the world to be holding a tiny baby who’s screaming because you won’t feed her. She was so helpless and didn’t understand why I was shoving what she didn’t want into her mouth over and over again, so she would scrunch up her face and cry until she was hyperventilating. I hated that I was the person causing her tiny tears. Knowing that I was the reason she was miserable and hungry made me feel like she’d be better off without me. I knew that being upset about it wouldn’t make it better, but I didn’t know how else to deal with making my tiny daughter suffer.

By the time 6 weeks came, it was a relief to stop trying at every feeding. I kept praying that we’d be able to breastfeed, but I also prayed that I’d be okay with it if we weren’t. And I think that those prayers helped. I still mourn the loss of the breastfeeding relationship we can’t have, but I don’t cry about it as much. I wasn’t willing to completely give up, so even now I try to breastfeed Elliott about once a day. Sometimes she’ll do it, but most of the time she won’t. And for the most part, I’ve decided it’s okay.

I still have some regrets. Maybe things would have turned out differently if I had been able to try to nurse Elliott right after she was born. Maybe we should have held off on the bottles – she might have lost more weight, but she might have eventually breastfed enough to start gaining. Maybe we should have stuck with the syringe and tried finger-feeding in the hospital. But a lot of what happened wasn’t under our control, and we did the best we could with the information we had at the time.

Mostly I wish I hadn’t gotten so upset about not being able to breastfeed. I picked this one element of mothering and decided that if it didn’t work, I wasn’t a good mother. Sure I was hormonal and in flux and I’m not good with change, but I wasted *so* much time being sad about something that, as hard as I tried, wasn’t under my control. And that is only a snippet of Elliott’s life. And that probably doesn’t matter *that* much. Now I agree with the awesome woman who rents me breast pumps who says, “You just have to feed your baby.” Other people say that the most important thing for a child is that she has happy parents. Even Stephen Colbert was formula-fed. (That link, by the way, can be considered a preview to a future blog post.)

I can even find things in our situation to be grateful for. After meeting with all the lactation consultants and researching things on the Internet, I know way more about breastfeeding than I would if it had just come easily. Because I rented a hospital-grade pump early on, I was able to build a big enough milk supply that some days I make almost twice what Elliott needs and it wasn’t a problem to go back to work. Eric’s been able to be an equal partner in feeding her, and I never had to deal with being the only one who could feed a baby who wants to spread out her feedings over an entire day. And I’m sure this is just the first of many, many things in Elliott’s life that won’t go how I think they should, so I guess I’m glad that I get some early practice at learning to let go and be happy with how things are.

Working after baby (pre-baby edition)

2011-07-06T17:14:00.000-07:00

[I wrote this blog entry about a month before I had Baby. I’ve thought more about it since I’ve been on maternity leave, so I’ll write a follow-up post sometime in the next few days.]

Even though I get cranky about a lot of stuff these days, there are a few things that especially frustrate me. Like when strangers touch my belly (only happened twice, but it was pretty uncomfortable) or people tell me how big (or small) they think I am (I prefer pretending that people don’t notice or think about what I look like).

And then there’s the question about whether I’m still going to work after Baby comes. Usually it’s something like, “Do you have to work after you have the baby?” Sometimes it’s “What are you planning on doing after you deliver?”

It’s a tricky question, and probably more angsty than frustrating. It’s a little annoying that people don’t ask Eric the same question (though I get why they don’t), and it bugs me that people assume that my job is just something I’m doing because I have to or don’t have anything else to do. But the angst comes in because I feel like it’s a bigger question with an answer that takes some explaining.

About a month ago I read a book about why women should return to work after birthing their children. I didn’t completely love the book, but there were a few things that I appreciated. First, I agree that women sometimes don’t think about the consequences of economic dependence. A strict division of labor can be very efficient, but if things don’t go as planned there are huge losses in occupational opportunity and earning potential for someone who has been out of the workforce for even a year,* and women who opted out of working could find themselves in a scary economic situation. I also agree that, given the right job, work can be challenging and rewarding. For working moms, “there are few experiences more exhilarating than living up to every bit of your potential…it gives you amazing opportunities to live life to the fullest and utilize all your abilities, not to mention discovering new ones you never even knew you possessed” (p. 169).

The point I liked the most, though, was that it’s a lot of pressure to be responsible for earning enough for a family, for college, and for retirement. “Supporting a family is an incredible burden to put on one person. If marriage is supposed to be a partnership, it’s not really fair to say, ‘This is your job.’ When you’re out working, you realize how hard it is, particularly the pressure of keeping a job over the long run and performing satisfactorily. It makes you more sympathetic when your partner is stressed to know what that stress is like” (pp. 187-188).

In addition to the economic pressure, there’s a great deal of social pressure for men to be able to provide for a family. Last week I was in another office and I asked about one of the administrative professionals who had been pregnant the last time I was there. The other administrative professionals told me that she had had her baby. And even though she had returned to work after her first two children, her husband had been able to find a job that would support the family so that she could stay home.

The way they talked about the situation made me feel kind of sad. I felt bad for the woman who had been stuck in a job she left the moment she had another option. And I felt horrible for the husband who had “finally” been able to step up and act like a man. Sure, that’s not exactly how they put it, but that’s how it was explained – that some deficiency had been corrected.

I don’t think I can do much about the social pressure, but it’s comforting to think that the person I married has options. I don’t want to be the one who always gets to say, “I am really blessed not to HAVE to work to support my family and so I have the freedom to pursue the things that I love.”** I’ve asked a couple of male coworkers my age what they would do if they had to do *something* but didn’t have the pressure of supporting a family. Neither of them would be doing what they’re doing. If it were ever applicable, I’d want to be able to say to my life partner, “Hey – maybe it turns out you don’t like being a lawyer. So how about if you take some time to pursue something you think you might like better?”

And having flexibility in work responsibilities allows both people in a marriage to play a meaningful role in childrearing. Creating and raising children may be the thing that most helps us become like our Heavenly Father as we follow “the example of a nurturing, loving, training, nourishing, and highly involved Father in Heaven…who exhibits both fatherly and motherly attributes” (this article). Seems like a good goal to me.

*This assumes, though, that someone isn’t perpetually looking for entry-level jobs. And this brings up a problem with the book – it pretty much only applies to women middle-class and above. And, unfortunately, one of her solutions for working mothers is for them to find a child care provider that they trust. This works, but it also perpetuates the idea that childcare is something relegated to people in a lower status.

**I really like this person’s blogs even though I’m criticizing this statement a bit.

Baby (the long version)

2011-07-03T00:00:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time I was pregnant. And one day, about 37 weeks in, my feet got super swollen. My sister and the doctor said it was normal, but then my calves and knees got swollen too. After a couple of days I decided to check my blood pressure, so Eric helped me find a blood pressure machine at a Wal-Mart on the way home from our Sunday family dinner.

Faithful readers will remember that I had decided that I didn't want to have Baby before 39 weeks. So when we called the doctor to ask about my 140/90ish blood pressure and she said to go to the OB emergency room, I was kind of concerned. But after a few hours at the hospital (and 24 hours of peeing in a bucket) they said that everything was fine. And things were still fine at my regular appointment a few days later.

On Friday Eric had a going-away cake-fest at his externship at the church office building. I was a little early getting there, so I stopped in the health unit for a quick blood pressure check to see if things were as awesomely normal as they had been a few days ago. They weren't, so after Eric's party I had him check with me again. Then we had the nurse check in case the machine was wrong.

Eric and I had planned a date night for that night, so I felt bad that we had to go back up to the hospital. I thought it was dumb that I had checked my blood pressure (why did I have to be so neurotic?), and I didn't want to waste another two hours to find out that my blood pressure was just up because of anxiety or something.

But at the hospital we were told that I had the preeclampsia and that they needed to induce labor. We were both really surprised, and I was kind of frustrated. I didn't feel like anything was wrong, and I didn't feel like Baby was ready to come out. And my doctor (the doctor I had kept after we had moved to Utah County because I wanted her to deliver our baby) was out of town for 3 more days. And we hadn't written down our birth plan, and I hadn't made my playlist of labor songs, and we didn't have a hospital bag, and we were still in our work clothes, and Tigger was in the car, and we didn't like the car seat we had, and...we just weren't ready. But people were talking about seizures and placenta problems and stuff, so we had to trust that staying and having Baby was the right thing to do.

I felt pretty panicked about my complete lack of control over the situation, but then the hospital people let Tigger come in for a bit (the other reason we had stayed at the U of U hospital) and the doctors okayed some food (normally preggos aren't allowed to eat anything except for clear liquids once they're admitted because of the tiny chance that general anesthesia will be needed for an emergency c-section) and I felt better. Eric left after a bit to take Tigger to his sister and to get the things we'd need until Baby came. My sister (my boon) and her life partner came to keep me company until Eric came back. I think the visit made her super baby-hungry (just kidding, Marcus).

That first night was okay. I was able to get some sleep between doses of cytotec and cervix checks every few hours despite the tough-love nurse and the blood pressure cuff going off every 15 minutes, but by the early morning I was feeling pretty darn crampy. Eric was tired too - I don't think he got much sleep in the little fake bed he pulled over next to mine.

I tried to focus on other things, but I felt incredibly guilty about forcing Baby out before she was ready. The pain was also getting to me, and I wasn't able to implement any of my pain-handling strategies - we couldn't be in a room with a tub because I had to have telemetry monitoring for the stupid heart thing, and because of the monitoring and the constant blood pressure checks I couldn't sit on the exercise ball or even really move around. Pretty much I just sat and cried. That part was probably pretty hard on Eric too. But he was great about trying to comfort me. I can't believe how well he kept it together while I was such a mess.

A couple of hours after they started the pitocin I caved and got an epidural. I had wanted to deliver Elliott without drugs; I thought that there wasn't something that my body would do naturally that I wouldn't be able to handle, and I wanted to experience what it felt like when my daughter came into the world. But the way she was coming *wasn't* natural, and there were hours and hours of pain ahead. I had a lot of anxiety and fear about the epidural, and it felt a little freaky, but the nurse and anesthesiologist were fantastic.

Things were a *ton* better after that (for Eric too), and I was able to immediately relax. And about 15 minutes later my water broke - I felt a little popping feeling, and then kind of a gurgling sensation in the nether region, and then there was a huge gush. Super weird. And then I probably took a nap.

I'm not really sure what else happened on Saturday. I napped, I got cervix checks, I worked on grading for my online class, I read my book (The Fountainhead (that I'm reading because it's interesting and not because I agree with it)), we decided on the double-t spelling of Elliott, and we came to the 24-hour mark. I'm pretty sure someone had told me that it would probably take about 24 hours for Baby to come out, but by Saturday evening there was still nothing. I was in some pain from the contractions, and several times I asked if we could just do a c-section and get it over with. After a while there was some concern about Baby's heart rate, so we agreed to a scalp monitor for Baby and I had to lie on my side (sometimes left, sometimes right) with the oxygen mask.

I guess I was worried about how Baby was doing, but Eric seemed to think everything was going to be okay and I knew that people were keeping a close watch on what was going on. At some point Saturday night when they told me I was almost completely dilated I got kind of scared, but Eric's mom talked to me on the phone and I felt better. Things got sketchier early Sunday morning, though. At some point they decided to do an amnioinfusion (putting fluid back into the uterus to take pressure off the cord), and at probably around 3:00 am they decided it was time to start pushing. I went back into panic mode; I couldn't stop shaking because I was afraid of what it would feel like to push Baby out, and I was scared that she wasn't really going to be okay. I was pretty reluctant for the first 15 minutes or so. But then I started trying and we played the pushing game (me, Eric, the doctor, and the nurse) for about 45 more minutes. I remember being super thirsty and afraid of passing out.

And then there was more concern about Baby. We took a break and I went back on the oxygen, and people started talking about doing a c-section. They even had us sign the consent form. All of a sudden, even though I had been asking for it hours earlier, I did *not* want a c-section. I felt like I had gone through 99% of the labor and didn't want it to be for nothing, and I knew that a vaginal birth would be better for me and Baby. Fortunately, another (super awesome) doctor came in and checked things out and said that we'd have a baby soon. We powered through and got our sweet baby out about an hour later.

It was wild pushing her out. Eric and I slept between contractions (yay epidurals) until the end when I just wanted to keep pushing all the time. My heart rate went crazy on the telemetry thing, and I kept thinking that she was never going to get there. Then as it felt like she was coming out, the doctors said to stop pushing because the cord was around her neck. It was too tight to remove, so they cut it before she came the rest of the way out (but one of the doctors told me that they tried to squeeze the blood into her or something...I think this was because I had said that I wanted the cord to stop pulsing before we cut it). After that, all of a sudden this tiny purple thing plopped out, and they moved her up to my chest. I said to the doctors, "She's too small" (she was 5 pounds 6 ounces and 19 inches long), and to Eric, "It's Eight-Eight" (referencing a dream I had had last fall). Eric had tears in his eyes and was telling Baby to cry (she didn't right away). And then he watched while Baby was measured and analyzed. I hung out and got stitches and stuff. Then I got to spend some time with Baby before she had to go with Eric to the intermediate nursery for further checking (Eric would know better what the problems were, but I heard things about heart rate and breathing and body temperature and muscle tone).

So that's how we got Baby.

I think that having a baby helped me grow up a bit. I think I can handle things like blood tests, shots, and IVs better now (except for the IV debacle of last Wednesday, but hey - I held it together for the first three attempts), and trips to the down-there-doctor no longer make me anxious (thought I still don't like them). But having Baby was the first time I've really had to do something that I completely didn't want to do. Several times over the weekend I felt like I didn't want to go through with the labor/delivery, I didn't want to stay at the hospital, and I didn't want to have the induction drugs. It's very scary to me to not feel like I have control and options. I felt kind of like the toys at the end of Toy Story 3 when (spoiler kind of) they're headed toward the incinerator* and they realize that there's nothing they can do to stop what's happening. There was nothing I could do to get out of the situation; Baby was coming, and it was happening how it was happening. Praying helped. So did Eric. And I got through to the other side, and now I know I can do something that's pretty hard.

I still feel some remorse about how things went down. I'm mostly over it, but I wish things could have been more natural and calm and non-intervention-y. It's hard to know how much of what the doctors did really needed to be done (reason #19,478 that I should have gone to medical school, or at least taken anatomy or something). And maybe I would have gotten to spend more time with her right after the birth if things had been different. But in the end we have our sweet baby. She got to go home with us, and she's healthy.

I also feel incredible gratitude for the people who supported me over the weekend. My sister, the only person other than Eric who I wish could have been there, was sympathetic and comforting every time I talked to her even though I think I said some crazy things in many of my panicked states. A couple of the nurses and the anesthesiologist (the one who did my epidural - not the cranky one who did my IV (though I am glad that he got it in after the first nurse failed (stupid small, rolling veins))) made everything better. The doctors who delivered Elliott were angels - they gave me confidence and peace when I thought I couldn't push her out, and they did everything they thought they needed to do to keep her safe (and they let me have milk after the tough-love nurse said no).

And Eric was the best birth partner there could be. Like every day since we've been together, he did everything he could to make things easier for me and to make sure I was okay. He showed immense love and patience no matter what was going on, and he was able to help me feel like things were going to be okay when I was sure they weren't. I don't know how to explain how grateful I am for him.

*Having Baby is not at all like being burned in a trash incinerator.

Elliott Isabella

2011-06-05T11:37:00.000-07:00

Our sweet little (very little) baby came a little sooner than expected, but she's with us and doing well. I'll write more after I get some sleep.

Almost done (kind of)

2011-05-27T08:00:00.000-07:00

It’s been a month since I last posted. Baby is still fine. We had our final ultrasound last week, and she’s even getting fatter. You can see from the chart below that her abdomen is filling out in relation to the rest of her body. And she’s somewhere around 6 pounds. Ultrasounds at this point aren’t super accurate, though, so who knows.

The ultrasound technician also gave us some 3D pictures and we got to see Baby’s smooshed face and a foot. I hope she gets un-smooshed once she comes out.

My sisters who live out of state have requested updated belly shots. I love you, sisters, but in every picture I’ve taken I look super tubby. Eric tries to be sweet and say that it’s an artifact of the photography, but that doesn’t make sense. Why would cameras all of a sudden not reflect reality? Anyway, no belly shots for now.

I guess at this point she can come out any time, but I'm thinking it'll probably be later rather than sooner. I won't get checked for effacement/dilation until 38 weeks, so we won't know about that for a bit, but I don't *feel* like Baby's about to come out (even though I'm really really looking forward to the pregnancy being done (or to having Baby out...I try to not think about the getting-Baby-out part)). My doctor said I wouldn't have to go more than a week over, and at our last appointment she said that I could possibly get induced at 39 weeks, but after reading and seeing some things on the Internet I'm happy (at least for now) to wait things out.

Despite all the warnings I got about how awful the last month was going to be, so far it’s not *that* bad. After a stretch of 15-20 Tums a day, I switched over to Zantac and the heartburn problem was solved. The being-up-for-hours-at-night-for-no-reason problem went away when I realized that I would go to sleep if I moved out to our new comfy chair (though it’s still annoying to have to make the transition at 2:30 in the morning). Eric helped me figure out that the solution to the crazy annoying antsy feeling at work was walking up and down the stairs, and my awesome physical therapist makes the wild back pain (most recently caused by Baby pushing out on one of my back ribs) better. I still complain all the time about being tired or Baby crowding me or not being prepared or being worried that something will go wrong, but Eric is endlessly patient and does his best to be supportive. And really I only feel uncomfortable and/or stressed maybe a little more than half of the time.

I still think that trying to stay physically active has helped a lot. Right now I make it to the elliptical machine at the gym maybe only three times a week, but when I do I feel almost normal. I went to a prenatal yoga class last night (my first yoga class ever), and even though it was harder than I expected (who knew yoga isn’t just about stretching/being flexible? Probably people who do yoga) it helped me to relax and I slept better than usual. I wish I had been better prepared physically before getting pregnant, and I wish that I had been more consistent over the last few months, but at least now I have something else to add to my list about what to do differently next time.

Four pounds (ish)

2011-04-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

We had our monthly ultrasound yesterday, and as always it was fun to see Baby bopping around and reassuring to see her strong little heart. She entertained us by sucking her thumb and sticking out her tongue. Eric thought it was gross that she was tasting the amniotic fluid, but I think she was happy that I had just eaten some Skittles.

We had a different sonographer than we've had at the last 3 or 4 visits (usually we get the one who, according to our OB, may have saved my life). Even though the pictures weren't great (though that might be more because Baby's getting bigger and more solid) and we didn't get a video, I really liked how much information the new person gave us. She helpfully explained what she was looking at and why, and she even printed out some nice charts at the end of the appointment.

The two lines on each chart represent the 10%-90% range according to the gestational age (GA). Biparietal diameter (BPD; ear-to-ear) and head circumference (HC) are the head measurements. These have always been where they're supposed to be. Femur length (FL), too, has always been about in the middle (sometimes a little lower). Abdominal circumference (AC) is the one we've worried about, but it's holding steady at low but not super scary low. The HC/AC ratio can be an indicator of IUGR if it's higher, but the doctors aren't concerned because everything else seems to be on track.

Right now Baby weighs about 4 pounds, 2 ounces (plus or minus some), which is pretty much right where she should be for this week. I, too, have been gaining all sorts of weight. I might have to start setting some limits or something if I'm going to stay within the recommended range.

Oh - and if you commented on my last post and your comment got lost, I'm sorry. I think I broke the comments for a bit, but they should be fixed now.

What it's like

2011-04-14T16:00:00.000-07:00

Several weeks ago a friend made a post about what it's like waiting to adopt. Since then I've been wanting to write my own post about what it's like being pregnant. I think I've been putting it off because it keeps changing; my feelings about it now are completely different from what they were a few months ago, and they might be different again by the time everything's almost over.

At first being pregnant didn't seem real. I was surprised that it had been so easy for us, and I was worried that we weren't really ready. I probably picked some fights with Eric about whether he was taking it seriously (he was). I didn't want to tell very many people in case it didn't stick, and the complete absence of any symptoms for awhile made it seem unlikely that we were really going to have a baby. At the first couple of doctor visits I was probably 70% sure that there wasn't going to be a heartbeat or something.

Then there was the time I think of as the Poor Catherine time. My hormones and my body started changing and I felt really sorry for myself. It was most often a combination of the feeling when you're injured that your body's betraying you and a suspicion that God likes women less than men. I struggled to feel grateful about being pregnant while I hated pregnancy so much. I didn't understand why Eric couldn't take just a part of the pregnancy, and I hoped we weren't having a girl because I didn't want a child of mine to have to go through the experience. I missed having control over my body. And when I wasn't convinced that the whole women-are-special-so-they-have-the-most-special-role-of-bearing-children thing was a bunch of rhetoric designed to trick women into wanting to have children, I felt guilty for not buying into it. I was glad that we were starting our family, but I wished there was some easier way to make it happen.

Talking to my awesome sister helped a lot with the negative/self-centered feelings, mostly because she's super wise. Plus it's hard to feel cranky about having something that someone else is praying every day for. But I think that the thing that made the biggest difference was the heart problem. All of a sudden I couldn't take having a normal, healthy pregnancy for granted. Things like having to stay in the hospital and listening to doctors talk about sudden death made my discomfort, embarrassment about my physical changes, and fear of birthing a person seem less important.

After that it was easier to appreciate being pregnant. I even embraced the weight gain for awhile because I wanted Baby to grow, and it was fun knowing that people around me could tell I was pregnant. I felt comfort and said a prayer of gratitude every time I felt Baby move. Except for some occasional heartburn and tiredness and a once-a-week crying jag, I wasn't uncomfortable. I was even feeling confident enough in the efficacy of the pregnancy to get excited about buying baby things.

Unfortunately, the relative lack of discomfort didn't last. Being more pregnant for me means a lot more heartburn, frequent trips to the bathroom, some wild pains, a lot of tiredness, and less mobility. I stopped running (or trying to run) 2-3 months ago because of abdominal pressure and an SI joint problem, and exercise now is pretty discouraging because of how much fitness I've lost (and the effort of lugging around almost 30 extra pounds). I think I waddle more often than I walk normally. But I'm still so very glad to be pregnant. Even when Baby's punching me in the cervix, rolling around in my pelvis, or jamming herself up around my ribs, I'm grateful that she's alive and active. When I don't want to see myself in a mirror and I feel like I should just sequester myself somewhere for the next 9 weeks, I'm glad I can provide a home for Baby. And when I'm stressing myself to tears about cord accidents, stillbirths, and amniotic fluid problems (don't read the Internet!), I'm grateful to be so attached to her.

I don't know what will happen next. People seem to like telling me how hard the last two months are going to be (kind of like the people who, when they see my dog, seem to need to tell me about how their dog died). Maybe I won't be able to sleep at night, maybe I'll be so tired that work will become unbearable, maybe I won't be able to dress myself or fit my shoes onto my swollen feet. Maybe I'll poop in front of strangers during labor (my biggest fear right now, aside from something happening to Baby). Maybe I'll gain 20 more pounds. But it will be okay. I don't think I'm mature enough yet to feel how I'd like to feel, but I'm glad I've gotten to where I am now. Everyone says pregnancy is worth it, and of course it will be.

Our cute baby

2011-03-29T21:00:00.000-07:00

We had another ultrasound today. Baby was super boppy for the camera. It's especially fun to see her opening and closing her mouth. Her abdomen was still small, but it was the same amount of small as before, so that's good. Now she weighs about 2 pounds 9 ounces, up about a pound from the first of this month.

I'm also posting a picture of Eric and me from the Barrister's Ball last week that was actually a little awkward because we were late. It was neat to meet his friends and professors, though. It's weird to see myself in pictures because I really do look pregnant. I forget sometimes. Like last night in our spin class when the teacher kept talking about a pregnant person and I didn't immediately realize that she was talking about me.

Also also, congratulations to Amy and Paul! (Amy was one of my mission companions.) They're going to be fabulous parents. Their little girl is very lucky.

The video (abridged)

2011-03-18T17:02:00.000-07:00

Last study visit

2011-03-17T11:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the last visit for the NuMoM2B study. Here are the pictures we got. They're not great because they were printed on shiny paper and so didn't scan well. There's a video, but it's 16 minutes long. I'll post it after I edit it down.

The third picture is supposed to be a 3D image of her face. She was covering her face with her hand and was smooshed up into the placenta, though.

And happy third trimester!

Better

2011-03-09T06:00:00.000-08:00

We met with a maternal-fetal medicine/perinatology/high-risk pregnancy doctor yesterday, and oh my gosh I wish we would have talked to him instead of (or right after) the sonographer who thought thought there was a problem and the radiologist who thought there might be a problem. He said that he doesn't see any reason to worry, that there's no reason to think that the heart medicine would be hurting Baby, and if a problem *does* come up, they're going to catch it really early since we're doing everything we're supposed to do. Yay!

I also got the results of the heart tests from last week. I'm posting highlights from the holter test to show a comparison between before and after (during) the medicine (and yes, the medicine lowers my heart rate). As faithful readers will remember, it's not super normal to have a ton of ectopic beats/PVCs, and it's the couplets and runs (but especially the runs) that were the most worrisome. I'm also posting the text from the echocardiogram because it's just so great to read about how normal my heart is structurally even though it acts wacky sometimes (plus, I think it's interesting).

Thanks again for all of your prayers. I know that they help.

P.S. Happy 99 days left!

Echocardiogram stuff:

Measurements:

LVIDd: 4.2 cm, LVIDs: 3.0 cm, FS: 28%, IVSd: 0.6 cm, LVPWd: 0.5 cm, AO: 2.3 cm, LA: 2.8 cm, EF: 65%

Exam Description:

Two dimensional echocardiographic imaging in multiple planes was performed.

Chambers:

Left ventricular size is normal. Left ventricular wall thickness is normal (< 1.1 cm). The right ventricle is normal in size. Global left ventricular systolic function is normal (measured EF: 65%). Left ventricular segmental wall motion is normal. The Doppler LV filling pattern is normal. Right ventricular systolic function is normal. Right ventricular wall thickness is normal.

Valves:

The mitral valve had normal excursion with no abnormalities. There is no mitral valve prolapse. No mitral regurgitation seen. Doppler mean mitral valve gradient is within the normal range. No aortic insufficiency is seen. There is no significant aortic transvalvular pressure gradient. The tricuspid valve is normal. There is No tricuspid regurgitation.

Miscellaneous:

The inferior vena cava is normal. No pericardial effusion is seen. The aortic root is normal in size.

Summary:

Normal LV systolic function (EF: 65%). Echocardiogram is within normal limits. There is no change from the previous exam.

Belly pictures

2011-03-08T06:00:00.000-08:00

We haven't been remembering to take pictures as often as I'd like. I wanted to be able to do something like this. Oh well.

Pictures are from January 16 (about 18 weeks), February 2 (about 21 weeks), February 13 (about 22 weeks), and March 7 (about 25 weeks). The green thing in the last pictures is something Eric put on to help this weird stretchy/tight spot at the bottom of my ribs feel better.

The limit does not exist

2011-03-04T21:00:00.000-08:00

There's a scene near the end of Mean Girls (Eric's favorite movie) where Cady is at a math tournament and she has to answer something about functions and limits. Her answer is that "the limit does not exist."*

We've been reading our mission journals together over the past few weeks. It's been a really fun way to get to know each other better, but it's also been really interesting to look at my experiences from the point of view of my 10-years-later self. For example, I get that I've never really been good with change, but it's a little embarrassing that I so completely wigged out for a few days when I got to New Jersey and found that things were different/harder than I thought they'd be. Now I think, "Seriously? I was that upset over that?" But in the moment, I thought I had reached the limit (and beyond) of what I could deal with.

Some days now I feel that feeling again. Things were tight with monthly doctor appointments, Eric's school, being pregnant, my three jobs, and our commutes. But we dealt with it. Then there was the heart thing and the hospital. There were hours when I would just sit and cry because I didn't know what was going to happen or what choices to make, but we got past it and I could imagine that things were going to work out.

Then we had our ultrasound on Tuesday, and Baby's abdomen hadn't grown as much as it should have according to her age and the growth of the rest of her body. In the moment, it was the absolute worst thing that could have happened (yes, I know I have a very all-or-nothing way of looking at some things). I felt like there was no hope, that Baby was going to die, that I was poisoning her against the very slim possibility of something happening to me, that I was going to have to have a stillbirth, that Eric was going to lose his daughter. I pictured Baby struggling to survive, wondering why I wasn't giving her what she needed.

Throughout the rest of the day I couldn't really keep it together. I fought off tears during a meeting at work (and lost it at the end when someone asked how the baby is doing) and then just went home (yeah, that unpaid leave time is looming). I couldn't imagine how I would be able to cope, and it seemed completely out of the realm of possibility that things would ever be okay.

Fortunately I was able to talk to my awesome sister, and she reminded me (again) that rough times can be an opportunity to learn to rely more on the Lord. Just like on the mission, I can't change the circumstances. I can talk to more doctors and look stuff up on the Internet all day, but really I don't have any control over what happens. I can't make my heart be better, and I can't do anything to keep Baby alive (other than going to appointments and doing the normal stuff like not smoking/drinking). But I can pray, and I can feel peace. I can have faith that everything will be fine (though that part's still pretty hard for me right now), and I can have faith that Heavenly Father will help us get through it if it's not.

It brings a lot of hope to know that that's how I got through the mission. Every time I thought I couldn't make it, Heavenly Father would give me comfort and strength until I saw blessings instead of problems. And in the hospital, I was eventually able to feel peace from knowing that people loved us and were fasting/praying for us. I knew that we were doing what we could, and that Heavenly Father wasn't going to leave us alone to deal with things that were out of our control.

So when I feel like my head is bumping against the ceiling of what I can handle, I just need to remember that part of the Atonement is to help us see outside of the now. Things might not turn out how I want them to, but it'll be okay.

*I don't know (or remember) exactly what this means. Maybe someday I'll look it up. Not today.

For Molly

2011-03-01T21:19:00.000-08:00

Bigger

2011-02-25T21:00:00.000-08:00

All day I've been wishing that people would write on their blogs so that I'd have something interesting to read (thanks for the raccoon story, Amy). Maybe I just need to find more blogs to read. Or maybe I should just be satisfied with work stuff.

Before I was pregnant I used to watch my weight and get concerned if it seemed like I was getting fatter. Eric encouraged me to keep track of it over time so that I wouldn't get frustrated about daily fluctuations (it was a great suggestion). These days I'm happy about every gain and concerned about every loss because it's the only indication I have of whether Baby's growing (until our next ultrasound). So it's comforting to see that, taking into account the last several months, we're still on an upward trend.

(The dip near the end of the first trimester is from when I got sick.)

A tiny complaint

2011-02-21T21:00:00.000-08:00

I have a lot to be grateful for. My heart seems to be getting better, Baby seems to be doing fine, we have good insurance and enough in our flex spending account to pay our medical bills, we can buy food and pay for our living expenses (remember the time in grad school when I had to sell some of my clothes to have money to bring a vegetable tray to a department potluck?), and there are lots of people around who are loving and supportive. Too, there are people around who are experiencing big challenges - in my own family there are several people who are working through serious health problems, and in the world people are struggling to have shelter, nutrition, and clean water and stuff.

So I know that I'm about to complain about a really tiny problem.

But I've *so* had it with not being able to find maternity jeans. I don't think it's so much to ask that there be maternity jeans for someone who fit into a normally-available size before pregnancy. If I had had a problem finding jeans before, I'd understand. But why is it out of the scope of clothing companies' imaginations that someone would not all of a sudden be a size 4-6 just because they're pregnant? Or that someone would not all of a sudden have a ginormous (bigger than normal, maybe, but not ginormous) caboose? Or that perhaps the best way to keep jeans up would be to actually make them fit, instead of using a piece of tourniquet-like elastic?

Anyway, I know that clothing companies can't please everyone. When I went to post my most recent negative jean reviews I noticed that maybe a third of the complaints are from people who want the company to recognize that women's hips and thighs get bigger as pregnancy progresses (I don't understand why those people don't just go up a size, but whatever). So I don't know what would be a good solution, because fixing the problem for some people would just make more of a problem for other people.

Maybe my expectations *are* unreasonable. Maybe *no one* fits into maternity clothes well. Maybe pregnancy is just a frumpy, dumpy time.

The heart stuff

2011-02-14T21:00:00.000-08:00

It's been kind of a scary week. At our 20-week ultrasound the sonographer told us that I have an arrhythmia, so later that day my OB ordered a Holter test. We dropped off the monitor at about 9:00 pm Friday night, and at about 11:00 the next day a cardiologist from the hospital called. She said there was a problem and asked me a bunch of questions and said that people would follow up about it on Monday.

On Monday I went in for an appointment and they showed me what the problem was. I still don't completely get it, but apparently it has to do with the wrong part of my heart making wrong beats too much of the time.

This is a normal heartbeat:

In my heart, sometimes there's an extra beat that comes from the ventricles instead of where it's supposed to come from. This is the ventricular ectopic beat or premature ventricular
contraction.

Sometimes it happens twice in a row.

Sometimes it happens three times in a row.

When it happens a bunch, like when there are three in a row, it's ventricular tachycardia. And since sometimes it happens for longer than 30 seconds, it's sustained ventricular tachycardia (it sounds way scary on the Internet, so maybe don't look it up).

So since that was happening, and since I'm pregnant, I had to stay in the hospital for a couple of days.

They monitored my heart and tried to get the PVCs to go away. First they tried verapamil, and then they settled on diltiazem. I cried a lot while I was there because I was worried about how the medicine would affect the baby, but the cardiologists and a couple of OBs told us that it would probably be fine and that it would be worse to not do anything.

We had a follow-up appointment today, and the EP we've been working with said that I've been having fewer runs (the two and three beats in a row (I have to wear a monitor for 30 days and send recordings in every day)) and it seems like the medicine is working.

So...now we're just hoping everything's going to be okay. Probably it will be. It sounds like it's pretty unlikely that my heart's going to stop or something, and we get to check on Baby again on the 1st.

Thank you for praying for us.

Happy birthday, best future dad!

2011-02-04T21:00:00.000-08:00

I'm glad that, if I have to be pregnant, I get to be pregnant with Eric as the baby daddy. He is more supportive than I would have thought possible. He makes my breakfast every morning. He'll go from store to store to find the right cold medicine. He'll miss class to attend prenatal appointments. He's endlessly patient with my mood swings. He walks me to my class every day, is home when I get home every night, and tucks me into bed when I go to sleep even though it all means he has to stay up later studying. He fits his workouts into when I feel like going to the gym. He makes sure we read our scriptures and pray together every day. He takes Tigger out more often than I do. He puts up with my three or four pillows (and Tigger) in our queen-sized bed. He works hard so that he'll be able to help provide for our family. He does dishes and laundry before I notice they need to be done. He encourages me to be better and never makes me feel bad about my faults. He talks to Baby and helps me feel her moving. He calms my fears and worries and never complains about the things he's stressed about. He does a million other things that I can only hope to be able to thank him for. Our baby is the luckiest baby in the world because Eric is already the best daddy ever. Eric, you rock. :) Happy birthday.

More pictures

2011-02-01T21:00:00.000-08:00

We had our 20-week ultrasound today, and Baby gave us lots of cute poses.

During the ultrasound Baby was in kind of a pike position with her legs straight up in front of her face (you can kind of see her head in the background in the second picture from the left on the top). We saw her cute little hands and feet, her mouth open as she yawned, her brain and heart (everything looks good), and lots of wiggly movements. It's fun to see how much she's changed over the past few months (the "jelly bean" picture is in the lower right corner for comparison).

New pictures, and maybe not a boy

2010-12-30T21:00:00.000-08:00

First I was sick. So I thought I'd wait until I didn't feel like I was dying and then make a post about being sick. But then we moved, and I thought I'd post about moving, and then we went on a trip, and by then it had been so long since my last post that it was almost time for our next study visit, and I thought I'd better wait and make sure there was still a baby in there before I blogged about being pregnant.

There it is. An arm, its head and stuff, and a foot.

It was all sorts of scrunched up, so the ultrasound person couldn't say for sure, but she thinks it's not a boy. We'll probably find out for sure at the 20-week ultrasound (4-ish more weeks). Eric says I want a girl, but I liked the idea of it being a boy because then we could just go with Leif and not have to think of any girl names. Plus I don't want to feel pressured to put a great huge flower on its head.

Everything else is going okay. I'm nervous for next semester because Eric and I both have a lot going on, but our new place seems to be working out and I'm coming to terms with my job (it was easier once I stopped wanting it to be something it's not). I've been able to run every day since we came back from our trip, and our next regular appointment is next week so I can ask about all the random pains I've been having (though apparently I was having little contractions during the ultrasound and it's totally normal, so maybe it's just that).

Questions and answers

2010-12-06T21:00:00.000-08:00

We had our regular appointment this morning, and since Husband's done with classes for the semester he spent the rest of the day in Salt Lake. It's nice to have his company on the drive. (And it's nice that he drives.) He even studied in my office for awhile.

The appointment went well. I brought all the questions I've been saving up. Afterward I wondered if my doctor thinks I'm weird when I come in with my little 3x5 card full of things to ask about. Maybe she does. Oh well.

Things we found out today:
- There's no reason to think that just because it's a little small it's going to be a little person. And it doesn't mean I need to eat more.
- We can find out if it's a boy or a girl after 20 weeks.
- DHA, fish oil, extra vitamin C, and something I'm not going to post here are all fine. Melatonin, sleeping on my stomach, and ab exercises are not fine.
- It's normal to wake up several times during the night, and there's nothing I can do about it.
- Running really hard downhill, dancing, and stretching aren't going to hurt anything.
- It's going to be really really expensive to have a baby, and maybe Eric or I should have become a doctor. (I don't mean to be one of those "Rocket science, huh? I should have gone into that" people. I'm just saying it seems to be a lot more lucrative than our current paths are going to turn out to be. But then there's all the money and time we don't so much want to put in at the beginning...)

We also got to hear the heartbeat for the first time. It was kind of cool. I'm glad Baby's still alive in there.

On the running stuff - I think this week is going to be better. I decided to slow down from about 8:30 miles to about 9:00, and this morning's run felt wonderfully easy. I even threw in a half mile at 6:00 to remind myself that I'm slowing down by choice (so far, at least), and it felt really good. Best of all, I'm excited to go back tomorrow, so maybe slower miles is the solution to the running aversion I've been feeling.

12 weeks!

2010-12-02T21:00:00.000-08:00

Today's the 12-week mark! Too bad the first trimester ends after 13 weeks.

I'm a tiny bit worried because fitpregnancy.com says Baby should be 2.5 inches, and according to yesterday's ultrasound it's only 4 centimeters (is that only a little over 1.5 inches?), but probably everything's fine. Or should I eat more? Maybe the extra ultrasounds *aren't* reassuring. I'm glad our next appointment's on Monday.

At least I'm feeling better. Now I'm only queasy for a few hours a day, and I'm feeling like I have a lot more energy.

Bummer deal

2010-12-01T21:00:00.000-08:00

I recently decided to participate in the NuMoM2B study mentioned in this article. Mostly because I like the idea of three extra ultrasounds (it's always nice to see the heart beating (even though it seems to be harder for me than for other people to see)), but also because I believe in science. We used this study all the time when I was in grad school, and at the conference I went to in October some of the most interesting papers looked at relationships between biological characteristics and religious behavior. Wouldn't it be great to give back to the community by participating in a study like the ones I've benefited from?

Not so, tender reader. At least, not so far.

The biggest hurdle to my participation was the blood tests. I hate needles. One time I gave blood because I thought I should suck it up and do my part for society and stuff, and it was a horrible experience (apparently a cookie wasn't enough nutritional preparation (see previous post where I explain that I haven't always had healthy eating habits)). Since then, the desire to stay below the 110 pounds required to donate has been at least a small motivator toward diet and exercise. Selfish? Maybe. Or maybe I'm helping America by keeping my health care costs down. Anyway, I decided that blood tests really aren't that bad, so my first appointment was this morning.

Sure, blood tests aren't that bad. As long as you're only getting poked once. Even after I requested the smallest needle (I was rejected when I tried to donate plasma because my veins were the same size as the needle) and warned the phlebotomist that my veins might roll, it took her three tries. I requested someone new after the second poke, but she just kept on drilling. Sure, it could happen with anyone, but it hasn't happened the last three times I've had blood tests. But I really did try to be strong. I figure the IV at delivery time is going to be way worse, and they probably won't be able to give me the nitrous oxide for it like they did when I had my nose surgery. ("Can I have some laughing gas?" "Well, we usually only do that for children." "I'm really nervous.")

But then there was the pelvic exam. This hadn't even been a concern for me. I don't love that kind of thing, but who does? Plus, if Baby's coming out of there, I'd better get used to all sorts of foreign-ness going on. Had I known what it would be like, this part probably would have precluded my participation in the study. I don't want to get too graphic, so I'll just say that there were a couple of key differences that made this no ordinarily uncomfortable pelvic exam. I cried (probably because I was tired and had already gotten keyed up from the blood test) and for a few minutes harbored some pretty strong, maybe-not-so-secret dislike for the nurse, the study, and the hospital. ("This would be easier if you hadn't never given birth." Good thing they're doing it that way for a study of first-time pregnants, then. Super lame.)

Fortunately, the last two visits won't be anything like the first one. And Husband got to see Baby moving around (it definitely has runner legs). And now we have a picture of its zombie face.

The more things change, the fatter I get

2010-11-30T21:00:00.000-08:00

I've never been a super healthy eater. I like snacks, and I often wait to eat until I'm at the point of making unwise food choices. I've had phases of healthiness, like last summer when I went several months without dessert, and I probably eat more fruits and veggies now than I have in years past. But overall, it's a maybe-faster-than-normal metabolism and get-full-quick appetite that's kept me relatively thin. (Except for the year I was a fat. I don't like to talk about that. Okay, here's a picture of then and now.)

My exercise, though, has become more consistent over the past couple of years, and especially since I've been married to "Sexy Six-Pack" Husband. Yeah, I want a six-pack too. I kind of thought I saw one the week before we found out I was pregnant. Probably not, though. I think it's a good six months of *really* healthy eating and consistent cardio (and maybe 8-10% body fat) away. But still, I was happy with my progress.

That's part of why it's been discouraging to see my body changing. Sure, there was the whole making-a-baby thing, and I haven't been able to push through the tired enough to keep my mileage as high as I'd like, but Baby's like 4 centimeters tall. Why does that mean I have to have a tubby tummy? I don't mean to be a TAMN; it's just a hard adjustment. Maybe it'll be easier once I look pregnant instead of just fatter. Maybe I need to change my attitude. Maybe this is just how things are going to be forever now. Maybe it's not that bad and I should get over myself.

Arms and legs

2010-11-22T21:00:00.000-08:00

I went to sleep late Sunday night and thought that I'd probably stay home today because I already wasn't feeling well. Mostly I knew I'd be super tired, but I had also been having those lower-abdomen pains again. I slept in a little this morning and then took Husband to school, and when I came home I saw that I had had some spotting over the night. I called the doctor's office just in case, and they said to come in for an ultrasound to make sure things were okay. Husband was in class, so I asked my awesome sister (who was off work for her birthday) to come with me. I was pretty sure everything would be fine, but I didn't really want to be alone if something was wrong.

But, of course, everything was fine. We even got to see the little fetus moving around. I think it was one of the first times I could wrap my head around the idea that there's something alive inside of me. My favorite part was when the technician got a bum shot and we could see its cute little legs. And the technician reminded me that the pain and bleeding are because things are expanding, so hopefully I'll feel like things are okay if (when) it happens again.

Yay exercise

2010-11-11T21:00:00.000-08:00

I really love this list of reasons to exercise while pregnant. Obviously I don't know for sure, since I've never been pregnant before, but it seems like I'm having an easier time of it because of the exercise. True, I've about had it with the tired and the queasy, but I bet I'd be even more so (and more cranky about it) if I didn't get to run every day.

P.S. Spin classes are super hard.

Lots to report

2010-11-10T13:31:00.000-08:00

It's been awhile since my last post. I apologize to my two faithful readers. Thanks for your patience. :)

First, oh my gosh I hated the rest of my trip. Really it wasn't so bad, but I got very tired of being away from home and driving all around to do interviews and just being out of my comfort zone. I was completely exhausted by the time Husband picked me up from the airport on Friday morning, and I didn't feel recovered until Monday. I learned a lot of great things on the trip, especially during the academic conference, and I feel like my work helped the project I'm on, but I think I'm done traveling for awhile. I wouldn't wish being pregnant and away from home on anyone.

Speaking of being tired, it seems like I'm tired most of the time. But I tended toward being tired before, so it's hard to know how much of it is pregnancy-related. I've also had an uptick on the nausea/food-aversion front, but still no vomiting. I guess this is good, but sometimes I wish I *would* throw up if it would put an end to the queasiness.

Running, though, seems to help with everything. Somehow it helps me not feel as tired, and it helps me feel less queasy and more hungry. I struggled a little last week getting 30 miles; I only ran a mile on Thursday and I didn't run at all on Friday, so I only ended up with 22 miles for the week. I was on track this week with 5 miles on Monday, but we had our 8-week OB appointment yesterday and didn't get home/finished with everything until about 7:30, and by then I was just too tired to make myself go to the gym. I should have remembered that about myself - that if I don't go early in the day, I'll feel too tired by the end. So this morning I got up with Husband and went to the gym for three miles before catching my 6:30 bus. I'll go back after I get home to do another 2 or 3 miles before Husband and I go to our first spin class at 6:30.

I'm looking forward to the class because I feel like I haven't been getting enough exercise. Maybe part of it is that I'm definitely getting puffier. My fears that everyone is noticing my extra fat were assuaged by a coworker joking yesterday about my getting pregnant (to get the maternity leave (he wouldn't joke if he thought it might be true, right?)), but I don't like the more-of-me feeling. Remember how I was afraid I'd come back from my trip and weigh less than I did when I left? Really I gained a pound or two, making my weight gain 3-4 pounds over the past 8 weeks. I know this isn't excessive, but I kind of thought that maybe I'd be one of the women who doesn't gain anything during the first trimester.

No such luck, though, and yesterday at our appointment my doctor said that I'll probably gain 25-35 pounds since I started out smaller (I was 106-107 before getting pregnant, so it's like I'll be twice as big (okay, not really)). She said the weight gain is a hard idea for a lot of women to get used to. I think it'll take me some more time. *But* we got to see the heartbeat, so now the risk of miscarriage is about 5%. Baby definitely still has a tail, though. We must be behind Ticker Baby.

The doctor also said it's okay to run as much as I want and that I don't need to worry about my heart rate. Great news! Maybe I'll start thinking about trying to get a new 5K PR sometime soon.

Five-a-day

2010-10-29T17:33:00.000-07:00

So far I've been able to keep the 5-miles-a-day goal. It's been a little harder the last couple of days, though, because I'm on a work trip to the East coast. I forget when I'm home how calming it is to be around my husband and dog. It's easy to let my fears run away from me when I'm off by myself. I'm going to be really glad to go home to them.

I'm back to feeling extra tired, though, and I feel nauseous for parts of every day. My appetite has decreased. It's hard to find things that I feel like eating, and once I start eating something I get sick of it pretty quickly. I'm a little worried (when am I not worried?) because I gained a couple of pounds and then leveled off, so I hope that I don't go home next week and weigh less than I did when I left. And is it weird that the things I usually crave are either raw fruits and vegetables or greasy/fatty things like milkshakes and french fries?

P.S. It looks like Ticker Baby's losing its tail.

Speedy friends

2010-10-23T08:43:00.000-07:00

I ran with a few other girls this morning for about 8 miles, 8:15 average pace. It was an out-and-back with a gradual hill. I was nervous about the run because they're all a *lot* faster than me - their marathon PRs are around 2:50-3:07. I've never run a marathon, but my dream time right now would be 3:30. Just a different league...so it was intimidating, but I also worried that they'd feel like they had to go at my pace. The only thing that made me feel okay about being there was that one of them is the girl who's 5ish months pregnant, and I know she's been slowing down to an 8+ min/mile pace. I also felt a little lame that I had brought my handheld water bottle (who needs water for 8 miles in the early morning? Even the more pregnant person didn't have one). But I wanted to keep up on the fluids.

I felt really good the whole time. It was faster than I would have gone by myself, but it was probably a perfect pace for the day. I wasn't ever too out of breath, and I didn't have any pains or cramps. When I got home I saw that there hadn't been any spotting. I'm a little tired (I got to sleep about an hour late last night), so maybe I'll take a nap after I eat some breakfast. Then sometime later today I'll probably go to the gym to do 4 more miles so I can get 30 for the week. I love running.

Not white or yellow

2010-10-22T16:29:00.001-07:00

After a weekend of more lower-abdominal pangs and some very light spotting after my 5-mile run on Monday morning, I called my doctor's office again and the nurse asked me to come in for an ultrasound. So husband and I trekked out to the hospital a couple of mornings later for the first view of Embryo (to rule out ectopic pregnancy or cysts). They couldn't really see anything, though - the gestational sac was there (in the right place), and inside that was the yolk sac (so weird), but based on the size of everything they couldn't see anything else (which, according to the internets, would have been a fetal pole). Of course I was worried that it was the blighted ovum thing (maybe I look too much stuff up), but the ultrasound doctor person said that it was completely reasonable to not be able to see anything based on the size of the sacs. No cysts, either, so she said not to worry about pains or light spotting. Now I'm determined not to call or see the doctor again until my "real" appointment in two-and-a-half weeks (unless I'm passing out from pain or bleeding profusely or something).

It's kind of a frustrating feeling to realize that whether the pregnancy persists or not is almost completely out of my control. The doctor I had talked to after Saturday's race said that running wouldn't cause a miscarriage, and I've heard that from another doctor, and I heard from someone else that it's almost impossible to *cause* a miscarriage, so I feel okay on those fronts. But what about the 20% that just happen? What if my body doesn't actually grow a fetus?

Husband made an excellent point - people stop running because of their pregnancies; not because the running keeps them from being pregnant. I'm glad that I've been running so that I can keep running. Either way, it helps me be happier than I'd otherwise be.

Happy trails

2010-10-16T16:10:00.000-07:00

The half-marathon went okay. I went out way too fast and then tried to slow it down. I was in a good place until the first aid station, but I was so worried about getting enough fluids that I stopped for longer than normal to drink every chance I got. That's where I kept getting passed. I was also worried about pushing too hard, so for awhile in the middle I was going more at my "easy long run" pace. By the last few miles I was ready for it to be over, so I picked it up and passed a few of the girls who had passed me before the finish.

After the race, though, I kind of freaked out. I had a really upset GI system from the banana, water, and Cliff Shots I had been eating all morning (I usually don't eat at all before/during a race), and I was worried about getting dehydrated. I was also having weird pangs of pain in my lower abdomen, so we called the doctor. She said it was okay to feel that way after exercise - that the uterus is jostled easily - and to only be worried if the pain was *really* bad or I started bleeding. That didn't happen, so I was able to relax after a bit. Plus, it was just comforting to know that the doctor wasn't concerned. I was also a little disappointed that we ended up telling husband's sister - she had come to the race with us, and since I was calling the doctor and waiting for a call back it made more sense to tell her instead of making her get out of the car every time. It's not that I didn't want her to know; it just that every time we tell someone that's one more person we'd have to un-tell if something went wrong, and it eats away at the planned telling if everything goes okay.

And I was a little bit bummed at not having done my "best" at the race. I came in 5th, but I think I could have come in at least in 3rd (and gotten some prize money) if I wouldn't have been nervous about pushing harder. But who knows? Maybe I was just using the pregnancy as an excuse and I wouldn't have pushed harder anyway.

The same

2010-10-15T09:06:00.000-07:00

Aww. Look at the little tadpole.

I've been putting in fewer miles to taper, but I'm still on track for a 30-mile week because of the half-marathon tomorrow. Wednesday my husband and I went on a short (3.5) trail run. It was rocky and hilly, but I felt fine (except that I picked a fight with him midway through and started crying, so maybe that's that mood swing stuff). Then we went out for a quick 1.5 miles to round out the day to 5. Thursday I put in 4 treadmill miles in the morning, and this morning I did 2 miles with 3 x .10 at 6:00 min/mile to get ready for tomorrow. So far I have absolutely no queasiness or dizziness, and I haven't even been feeling tired for the past couple of days. The absence of any symptoms kind of worries me, but there's nothing I can do about it right now. My first appointment still isn't for about three weeks.

I'm looking forward to hitting the 12-week mark. About 80% of miscarriages happen before then.

So far okay

2010-10-12T18:39:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I only had time for 2 miles before work, and I didn't make it outside or back to the gym for the rest of the day. This morning I ran with a faster friend (she's 4-5 months pregnant) and her faster running group for a little over 5 miles. The average pace was 7:42, a little out of my happy zone (I was happy with last week's 7:50 average for 6, and most of my runs are between about 8:50-9:10). But the pregnant friend assured me that I can do ab exercises and race the half-marathon this Saturday that I've been looking forward to.

That made me feel a *ton* better. My two most salient fears right now are that I'll have an early miscarriage and that I'll get fat, and my friend and the Internet and my doctor all say that running is fine (especially since I ran before). As for the weight, it seems like pregnancy is where the wheels fall off for a lot of women, and I'm not sure how to stop that from happening. The Internet says that pregnant women really only require 300 extra calories per day, so I feel like I'll be okay if I stick to that and regular exercise, but I already feel puffier in the midsection. I've been drinking a lot more water, so maybe it's just water retention?

Other than the worries and the maybe-fake fatigue, so far being pregnant feels a lot like being not pregnant. We told my sister and my husband's parents over the weekend, and I told my manager and my mentor at work today to explain why I couldn't go to South Africa for a project (I don't want to get all the vaccinations, and I don't want to go without them, and plus it'd be a long trip right after a shorter domestic trip).

Fake tired?

2010-10-12T18:12:00.000-07:00

I took the pregnancy test near the end of my biggest week ever by about a half a mile - 34.74. (Weeks in the previous two months had been mostly in the 20s and low 30s.) Thursday after I got home from a work trip the test showed a very faint second line. Saturday the digital test said pregnant. I was trying to PR at a 5K that day, and I lost the mental game during the last mile (miles were 6:48, 6:23, 7:28) in part because I was afraid to be too out of breath. I had heard from other pregnant runners about keeping the heart rate down, so I was afraid of pushing myself too hard (plus the last mile was a gradual uphill and I was tired). I was more tired later that day trying to do a 6-mile trail run and only ended up with a little over 3 miles. I couldn't tell if I was *extra* tired, or if it was just the regular tired and I was looking for an excuse. The Internet said I was 4 weeks and 2 days along - that's too early to feel pregnant, right?