The anniversary of the birth of my sweetheart - a review.

Yesterday was Jimi's birthday.  I wanted to write something to record how special and important he is to me, but I never made it here to do so.  A day late, as usual. 

I bought him a juicer for his birthday.  I wasn't sure what to get him - he really wanted a shotgun, but who's got an extra $700 sitting around for firearm purchases this holiday season?  Not this pregnant girl. If I had that sort of cash to spend, I would've bought a recliner and claimed it was for him while secretly plotting to use it each and every day of my maternity leave.  Instead, I scoured his Amazon Wish List and kept coming back to the juicer he picked out months ago.  Lately, whenever we're browsing in Target or Walmart, he beelines to the housewares section and checks out their juicing offerings, specifically, the Ninja.  The Ninja is not what was in his Wish List, though, so I hope he wasn't secretly pining for one of those.  I don't remember the name of the one he ended up with, and it's in the kitchen and I'm too lazy to get up to go look, but if it turns out to be super awesome, I may come back and talk about it more later.  In anticipation of a night of juicing excitement, I went to the Kroger today and stocked up on produce: kale, spinach, carrots, oranges, apples, bananas, strawberries, blueberries, peaches.  JUICE FOR DAYS!!!  And once all of this produce is gone, I've got five bucks that says we never use the damned thing again, but I could be wrong.  This one makes pasta and nut butters and baby food too, so we'll see.  It could have a longer usable life than I anticipate. 

We had breakfast at the Cracker Barrel (his choice) and sat at a two-top table in front of the fireplace, enjoying the warmth while we played checkers and sipped our coffee, waiting for our meal.  He was really happy about the fire, and the checkerboard table; his bright eyes and sweet smile warmed my heart more than the crackling logs.  After breakfast, he worked on cleaning out his garage to make room for the dresser we're refinishing and turning into a changing table/dresser combo.  (See how thrifty we are?  Saving money left and right, yo!)  While he worked, I baked him a from-scratch devil's food cake.  I used a can of cherry pie filling between the layers, and we frosted it last night with homemade cherry icing - I'll let you know tomorrow how it tastes; somehow we managed to have a cake in the house and not get around to eating any of it.  I'm just as shocked as you. 

His brother stopped by with Christmas gifts for us both, and Momma brought him a card.  Mom was just getting up to leave when Daddy walked in, so she sat back down and we all visited for a while.  Unfortunately, our topic of conversation was awful and heartbreaking (but this is not the post where I can talk about that in detail).  After they left, I tried to maintain the happy-go-lucky mood I'd been in all day, but the sadness was overwhelming, and eventually Jimi said, "Honey, maybe you should just go ahead and cry and let it out," so I did.  I curled up with Finn on the bed and bawled, and Jimi came in and held me, and after a few minutes, I felt better.  I hated to be so down on his day, but I guess sometimes life just works out that way.   

We finished our night with pizza and a zombie movie, in true Nat/Jimi fashion.  I think it was a good day, though I wish I would have done more to make his day extra special.  Of course, he says I did more than enough, but he always says that.  I just want to show him how much he means to me, how much I adore and appreciate him, and I feel like I always fall short of the standard I set in my head for doing that. 

He says I talk him up too much, that I put him on a pedastal and hold him to a standard much higher than that to which I hold others.  He feels like I brag about him here and when in conversation with others.  He says he's not that good, not that special, that he's just a man.  He is just a man.  But he's the man who changed my world; who makes my life complete and full.  He is the man who returns every bit of the love I give to him, without question and without condition.  He comforts me and supports me and encourages me in all things, in all ways.  He makes me feel safe and protected;  I no longer fear the judgment of others, because they don't matter - Jimi loves me, all of me, and that's all that matters.  He's shown me how to be compassionate when I want to be scornful.  He's shown me how to forgive when I want to hold a grudge.  He's just a man, but he's the man who helps to make me a better woman.  And, of course, he's made me a mother.  I didn't think my love for him could grow any more, but these last few months have made my heart grow way more than the Grinch's heart grew on Christmas morning. 

I'm awfully lucky. 

30.5 - A Nightmare

My second appointment with the midwives.  The nurse drew some blood and gave me a long stick with a brush to *ahem* insert, for a culture.  She had me pee on a stick - it looked like a pregnancy test, but tested my beta/hcg numbers.  I watched the numbers go up to 1000, then back down to zero, and I knew something was wrong.  She gave me a pregnancy test to pee on, a square with a little circle in the corner that I was supposed to aim for.  I peed on it and waited for the plus sign to come up in the middle - instead I got a weird line that looked like it may have been a plus sign one time, but the horizontal line was broken and misplaced.  I was starting to panic.  I went to the lobby and got my Mom - "Something's wrong, please come sit with me."  The midwife came in with a doppler and put it to my belly and there was silence.  "Are you sure you're pregnant?" she asked doubtfully.  "Yes!  I'm 30 weeks!" The tears started to fall, and suddenly I was having a hard time drawing breath.  As the midwife readied the probe to do a vaginal ultrasound, I looked at my mom and started to cry.  "The baby's dead, Momma.  Oh Fuck.  How could this happen?  She's been moving!  She was fine!"  I was becoming hysterical.  My world, my life, it was in shambles.

*************

When I woke up, I knew it was just a dream.  Still, it took every ounce of restraint not to panic and become as hysterical as I'd been in my nightmare.  I put my hand to my belly and felt the lump that is my daughter.  I pushed on it, then again on the other side, trying to wake her up, urging her with every ounce of my being to move, just a little kick, sweetheart.  She complied nearly immediately, and relief flooded through me.  I lay there for a moment, trying to slow my racing heart, then got up for another trip to the restroom.  When I made it back to bed, I tried to push the dream out of my mind - "It was just a nightmare, it's not real, she's fine," but I was too shaken to let it go that easily.  I reached over and touched Jimi's shoulder, hoping that he'd already be awake.  He wasn't.  I considered leaving him be, but in the end I couldn't comfort myself.  I spoke softly, "I had a really bad dream."  He was awake immediately, and rolled over to me, asking if I was okay.  I told him that the baby had died in my dream, and he shushed me, told me it was just a dream and it wasn't real and everything is okay.  He pulled me to him as closely as my nest of pillows would allow, and kept his arm around me, kissing my head and whispering sweet words to make the tears go away.  I was asleep again within minutes, onto another dream that was much less emotional and horrid. 

29.4 - A lovely Sunday

We started off straightening and cleaning the house, rearranging living room furniture, making the house liveable again.  Then his brother came over, followed shortly by Momma and Daddy.  The men-folk headed off for an afternoon showing of "Lincoln", leaving Momma and I behind to make a couple of batches of peanut brittle and a few hours of conversation.  It was wonderful to spend the afternoon with her - I don't spend nearly enough time with my Momma, and lately I have a nagging sense of guilt over that fact.  She lives so close, I have no excuse for not making time with her more of a priority.  Lately I feel a sense of urgency, like I NEED to be in her presence more often.  Impending motherhood is to blame, I imagine, and the realization that she's not going to be here forever and I sure as hell better appreciate her while she is. 

After the candy-making, we sorted through a couple boxes of baby clothes passed down to me from Stacy - we oohed and aahed over the tiny pastel outfits, sorting by size and saying over and over again how no one needs to buy us any more, we've got plenty to get us through at least the first six months. 

In between the candy-making and clothes-sorting, I picked apart the beef roast I'd been simmering in the crock-pot all day and turned it into veggie beef soup - it's finishing its cooking on the stove now while I'm lying back on the new chaise and Jimi watches the latest Batman flick. 

It's been a perfect day; I'm happy and content.  Life is good.

29.1 - Nesting with new furniture

I bought a couch this past weekend, and it was delivered today.  This is the first time I've ever purchased a couch - all couches I've had in my homes in my adult life have been hand-me-downs.  (The exception is the one Jimi came with when we moved in together, but we broke it a few months after he bought it and it was never the same after that.  Yes, we broke it exactly how you think we did.)  We got rid of the broken one years ago and have lived without since well before we bought this house.  For the last three years, we've made due with a variety of chairs whose comfort levels range from semi-acceptable to "eh". 

I love our new sitting space.  LOVE.  It's dark brown leather, long enough for Jimi to stretch out on, with low arms that work as excellent pillows and an extra-wide chaise that fits my legs and a curled-up Finnegan.  It's perfect.  I can see myself happily existing here while nursing our little girl for the six to eight weeks I'll be home on leave - good thing, too, since that was my motivating factor in making this purchase.   

If Kimmie still read my blog, she'd read this post and say, with an extra dose of sarcasm, "Wow.  What a great story, Natalie."

29 is a good number.

29 weeks today - baby girl is two and a half pounds and just over 15 inches long.  She's flipping and flopping and kicking up a storm.  I can't believe she's going to be here in less than 3 months - it's happening so fast! 

I've switched medical providers.  At 29 weeks.  Whoa.  Here's the story:

At my last OB appointment, I attempted to have a conversation with my doctor about my desire for a natural unmedicated birth.  She cut me off and said, "That's great.  I'm going to put down that you would prefer a natural delivery but you're open to an epidural."  Um, that's not what I said.  I tried to correct her, but she wouldn't let me get my words out, instead telling me how if I want to deliver naturally, I need to make sure I don't gain too much weight, because she'd wanted natural childbirth but gained 50 pounds and ended up begging for an epidural at 3 cm.  My efforts to steer the discussion back to me, to my birth preferences, were futile, and she breezed out of the exam room when I was still mid-sentence.  I left feeling extremely uncomfortable and very nervous about my chances of labor and delivery going the way I want.  I'd already had reservations about this particular doctor and practice, so this treatment was a tipping point for me.  I'd heard of a group of doctors and midwives across the river, and decided to look into my options.  Imagine my surprise and excitement when I learned they're considered "in network" through my insurance!  I called their office, and the phone was answered by a live person, rather than an answering machine.  Yes, they're accepting new patients.  Yes, they'll take a new patient at 28 weeks pregnant - there's an appointment available on December 5th, would I like to schedule?  Yes.  Yes I would. 

I picked up my medical records from the old OB and cancelled my future appointments with their office, and today I had my first appointment with a licensed nurse midwife.  My impression after the first visit is this:  I feel like I've made the best medical decision I've ever made for myself, and I'm thrilled.  The intake staff, the nurse who weighed me and checked my blood pressure, the midwife herself - they all made me feel so incredibly comfortable and at ease.  They gave me a welcome bag full of healthy pregnancy literature and prenatal vitamin samples and information on the hospital where I'll deliver.  They have signs all over their office encouraging patients to file a birth plan with the office by 36 weeks, and provided a form for mothers-to-be who may need a little help figuring out what info should be included in a birth plan.  They strongly encourage allowing labor to begin on its own and for women to be active during labor.  They encourage women to make the birth experience their own and promise to do everything possible to support each woman's requests when it comes to pain managment and delivery.  In other words, they are exactly what I'd hoped I'd be able to have in a medical team during labor and delivery.  Reading their birth plan form, I was so overwhelmed with relief, I started to cry; sitting in the exam room, waiting for the midwife, crying tears of happiness that I will be able to have the birth experience I'd hoped for without having to beg and fight for it.  The hospital where I'll deliver has an excellent record for non-intervention, and the nurses are very familiar and comfortable with unmedicated deliveries.  They have garden tubs to soak in during labor (can't deliver in the tub, but I can live with that). I can't explain how thrilled I am. 

Assuming I don't get a partial refund of the money I've paid to my former OB's office, I'm looking at this switch costing me an extra $40 over what I'd planned to spend.  $40.  Best money I've ever spent. 

Today, I feel more confident than I have in weeks.  I feel like I've made a choice that will guarantee I've done everything in my power to get this baby here in a natural way - it still may not end up that way, but I can rest assured knowing if interventions become necessary, it won't be because I didn't make the right choice when it came to my medical providers.  I can move forward without fear of regret.  I'm so relieved.  I'm so happy.