Voodoo Child v. 16: it doesn't have to be eternal to be immortal.

Husbandido and I went up to Sacramento this weekend for a Childbirth class. Seems that all the classes here were booked beyond belief, so after work on Friday we went up to the 916. What killed me is that I didn't get out of work until 1130, and we didn't arrive in Sac until 3AM, due to a major car accident that took us more than an hour to get over the )(*$# bridge.

It was hard to drive. Admittedly, I don't think I should have driven, but Husbandido had some back problems due to working on the nursery (it looks nice, really), but I was both exhausted and hungry. I didn't eat dinner and I was emotionally drained from a program graduation. I had to force Husbandido to talk me through the trip. He couldn't sleep, nor could I keep in one lane. I'm glad we made it safely.

I didn't know what to expect from a childbirth class: the Apostle gave me a quick rundown, and that was nice, but if bringing two pillows and a blanket made me nervous about what kinda gymnastics we were going to do. In truth, the course was very light, and thankfully the trainer was very energetic and funny, so that helped a LOT. 

It was interesting, honestly, to see other pregnant women, and in different states of being. Some were freakin' ginormous, others were tiny, some were wobbly, and others were just there. I observed the dads/partners/random dudes just taking it all in, and noticed some of them breaking into a cold sweat. Interesting.

Husbandido started falling asleep at the end of the class...which is typical if he's in mass. Go figure. Cute thing is that at the end, the trainer played a Jamie Foxx song, U Still Got It. Pretty sweet song. Cute. Anyways, 37 weeks. Here we go, kids.

Voodoo

Posted by Voodoo Child at 09:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I have been meaning to write. Part of the reason for the delay is largely because I've been really busy, and there's been a lot of things going on in life that have given me reason to pause and just think. I'd rather do that than vent. Other than that, my computer has been packed away, I can't find my laptop and it's just impossible to do anything at work (I remember those days when I could whip out an entry during work. Today? not so much).

I have been blessed with three showers, one by my girlfriends (who I love love love), one by my coworkers (who surprised me with their outright generosity and wonderfulness), and one by my family (which was a surprise yet wasn't, but it was still cute, so thanks ladies). As a result, we have SO much stuff around our house that it's making cleaning up the baby room a MESS. I'm just glad that my parents are out of town and we can put all the stuff in the living room. It's crazy.

I'm winding up my last week at work, and what's exciting about it is that I'm going to be changing jobs from my directorship (which I loved, but it's time to move on, if you know what I mean) to running Freshman Programs. I'm really excited about it, but I know it's going to be a pain because the work is so heavy with details and drama that I'm going to need to learn how to round up the kitties. I'm excited. In a way it's a sort of demotion yet it's going to be easier for me, it's going to mean I keep my salary, but I can do MORE with MORE people. I'm also thinking long term when it comes to work with other schools when it's time to move on that this position has more versatility to it and will allow me to be a more attractive candidate. who knows.

I've had to redo my CV, and it's  nice to be able to see how much my life has changed over the years. I am excited about the future, not just because of the job, but because having Bambina will give me some opportunity to put meaningfulness in my work.

Al Trautwig, who does color commentary for the Tour de France, does the commentary for gymnastics. It's kinda wierd.

I have a bad crush on Michael Phelps and Jim Krasinski. I had a dream with both of them in it. I won't say anything else, but the last time I had a dream like that it was with Vince Vaughn (and he was brand new and skinny). Every time I look at Vince Vaughn now (the chubby version), I get a little embarassed about the situation. That kinda dream, yo.

I already packed my hospital bag (and Husbandido's). I figure he might ask me to do it when we're getting ready to leave, so might as well do it now cause the only thing I'm doing when we're headed to the hospital is to sit there and not freak out.

The baby seat and stroller aren't here yet. Crap. 

Made a grown up decision to not have a Filipino fiesta at the hospital when I give birth. You heard me, people? We're going to do this nice and quiet, have a few days rest, and then tell everyone to come by when we're at home. And it's going to be nice and orderly. No 20 million people over the house. Just a handful at a time. Shit, maybe we'll do appointments.

Anyways, Husbandido's doing a great job with the room. We did get into it because I do have a lot of crap and it's just time to get rid of all of it. It's hard parting with things from my life, but it's gotta be done, right? No, I don't have things to give you all, trust me, if I had things worth selling I'd have a garage sale by now.

The theme? Green and yellow. Her colors. Not pink. But you know, it really didn't stop people from getting us all pink stuff. It's just the way of the baby girl.

Okay, well that's enough blah blah for now. It's nice to be able to touch base with you all, and hope you're all doing well. Take care and much love!

Voodoo

Posted by Voodoo Child at 09:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

As my summer starts to fade into fall, I realize more and more each day that it's time for me to switch gears and start letting go of things. Not just work, as many of you know that I'm ready to peace the hell out of my job in less than 3 weeks. But there are some things eating at my brain that have been affecting me in deeper ways that I cared to realize.

I recently started feeling certain things that I haven't felt for three years, more specifically, since I got married: you know who your friends are, and you know who really gives a shit about you when things start to hit the fan. And BTW, someone said, "It's just hormones, don't take this stuff too seriously." Get the hell out of here. Hormones are one thing. Bitchassness is another.

I think it's been interesting to watch the ebb and flow of people both at work and in my personal life, so see what comes in and more specifically when it does.

I guess there's a question too I've been asking myself, and that is, how the hell do I contribute to the funk that I've been experiencing with people? It makes me want to lock myself away from certain individuals, yet I'm drawn to others in ways that make me want to keep it all separated. I wish I could go into more detail, but I'll keep those to myself. 

Maybe it's just me, but it's harder to repair damage than to keep putting it on thick. I'd rather hear the truth than be led on to believe other things, and what sucks is that I ALREADY KNOW THE TRUTH and I'm just watching certain people lay it on. God I feel bad.

****

So on a happier note, I was reading Wolf's post the other day, and I was feeling where he was coming from. I know I can relate to watching babies in another way, watching how parents interact, what stroller they bought. It's interesting, but I also do that to the new 1st years at my job: how the parents interact, what the first years do, how we all interact with them. But when it comes to being a new mother, it comes down to feelings of "okaaaay. that's going to be me soon enough."

Parents now tell me to enjoy this time because there's no time like the present. Soon enough there are changes ahead that are going to impact not only me, but others around me. The soccer player in my tummy makes me laugh, but has deprived me of the best of the best EVAR: thin mint ice cream. Rude. JK. I'm excited about it, but as always I have a very guarded excitedness about all of my projects, so this isn't any different. Maybe it's my guardedness that is offputting? I don't know. Bitchassness.

Let me tell you guys a story. I probably have mentioned this before in this blog (Side Note: did you know I've been blogging for at least 8 years now?). Anyways, it's really personal, but I'll tell you anyways. I never saw myself with kids. No lie. I was one of those women who could see themselves single forever, doing lunch, hanging out with other old biddies, shopping and having tea. No kids. Travelling. Seriously. I wanted nothing but handling my business, come what may. This is how I went through life, even with boyfriends through high school and college and even through grad school, this was how I was vibing my life. I'd be with some guy, he'd be talking marriage, I'd be nodding, thinking to myself, I wonder how he's going to take me heading off to Paris for months at a go. Hope he doesn't mind being second place. What a Leo.

All of this changed during one day when I was working on some homework at my apartment. I was 32, bent on single up until this point. I had a boyfriend at the time, a long distance deal that didn't keep me tied down. I was home alone, the day was nice, and on a Saturday working on my papers it hit me.

What is all of this for if I can't pass this down to someone else?

It was a simple, innocuous question. I thought about it for a few minutes, and the next thing you know, I'm bawling my eyes out because I couldn't find the answer anywhere save for one place: kids. It was literally like a light in a dark room: life now had more meaning, and it all made sense. Who literally gives a ickypoo about a dissertation and an education, goals and material things if it's not meant to be passed down to someone. I could easily give all my riches to my parrot, the Green Rock, but you know.

It turned out that bf at the time had a feeling that something changed, and I really couldn't tell a brother because how the hell do you tell someone that you felt The Call without making homeboy feel like you are talking about his donation in the matter? I wasn't about to tell him; it was too important to me to just share with anyone. I don't think I really told anyone about that revelation for a very long time. I just told him that I realized something. He thought I was cheating on him I was so giddy, and you know, now that I think about it, we broke up not too far afterwards, and well, that's life for you. Maybe he couldn't handle it. Oh well on that.

So since that day, this is the seed that's been growing: to be able to share this with someone(s) else. And 32 weeks into this journey (after 70 something weeks of trying and oh lord I mean trying) it's all coming together for me. And despite the earlier funktitude of people trying to step on my game, I won't let it break me down. I've waited too long for trifling people to get in my way.

Ready or not, here she comes.

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 06:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

First off, happy father's day to all the father's out there: Father MC, Father Guido Sarducci, Father of the Bride, Papa Smurf, and all the unawares Baby Daddies. Also mad love to all the real Baby Daddy: Husbandido, Apostle, Voodoo Dad, and all the others who have unassigned names (yet).

Secondly, in honor of Father's Day, I got to do all the laundry that Husbandido started (but didn't finish), wash all the dishes that he used (but didn't wash), and clean up the room (that he occupies), and take him out to see a movie of his choice (when is it ever my choice, I mean really...we don't go running off to French movies. Only really actiony movies).

Anyways, he chose The Hulk, since Husbandido fancies himself to be the hulk in stressful situatiosn because rather than deal with it, he'd like to turn big and green and smash things. Funny thing is that when we went off to see the movie, there is a loud explosion at the beginning that made Bambina jump which made me laugh, but also made me feel bad because apparently we're waking up the homegirl. Husbandido asked me if we should not be going to loud movies like that because it might affect her personality. Little does he know that I drive the car, the car that goes boom, and maybe she likes the loud noise already. ;-)

So other news I might have to share is that Indiana Jones for the Wii is possibly the most awesome game ever. EVAR.

Also, I had my second rough night last week; my first one was early in the first trimester where I started to feel things loosen up and tweak. It was my hips causing me problems, and I couldn't sleep to save my life. Last week I enjoyed a SWEET salad and it kicked my ass literally. I had gas so bad that I had crazy stomachaches most of the day and couldn't find a comfortable position to lay down in. I got up at 1:30 and didn't go back to sleep until after 4AM. I wound up getting up and walking around in hopes of dislodging the goods. Didn't work, but I wound up going to work all groggy and tired, and I made myself walk around outside of the office, and that, well, did the job. I felt much better. Tonight I feel the same hard belly thing kicking in, so I'll be doing laps around the house tonight.

There are two more babies headed down the way in my family, and I went ahead and sent them gifts. I feel wierd that I don't have enough toy-ish kind of things on my registry. Should I? Nah, I figure people are already giving me enough toyish things already! Now if only I could get the so-called baby room up and running.

I feel like I might need to get a dumpster just to throw all the shit that I have in there in it. Seriously. It's our office. I was thinking the other day that I used to share that room with my brother, and wow, we didn't have half as much crap as we do now. Go figure.

Anyways, enough about silly things. Oh yah, my test results. So here's how it all came down. Any advice is welcome, but I'm sure my doc will have something to say about the situation. Anyways, my fasting test: 91. The normal levels are below 94. Sweet. Then I took my lovely flat soda. It wasn't so lovely because that shit wasn't cold like I had it the first time! I was kinda mad. anyway, my 2nd test was booyah: 192...normal level? below 172. Ew. Okay 3rd test: 162...normal level 154. Still high but not ohshet. Last test: 143..normal level 139. 'snot so bad. But yah, elevated levels all around. Guess that means I gotta do what I gotta do and do some serious cutting down.

Wierd thing is that I have all kinds of moms coming up to me lately and saying, "Seriously? You're tiny compared to where I was." Give me some time. Apparently inflating is in the near future. I can't wait to have someone drive me to work cause I'm so close to the steering wheel as it is! LOL

Okay. that was a long blog. You guys take care...and I'll get back to you later! Ciao for now.

27 weeks!

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 09:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Ding! Get email. Test results in. Scroll. 186. Normal value? 140. Less than 140. Aw crap. Glucose tolerance test this saturday! SCHWEET.    MORE FLAT ORANGE SODA! LOL

VOODOO 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 08:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

So today was my Glucose screening for gestational diabetes. Don't you just love the word gestation? I like to tell people instead of being pregnant, I'm gestating. They always look at me funny, but then again, who doesn't?

 Anyways, so today I had an appt with my OB and beforehand, I go to take my glucose test. I check in at the lab, and the lab tech points me over to a podium where Homegirl is standing. She gives me a paper cup then cracks open a bottle of orange fluid. Looks like Sunkist (or any orange soda for that matter). I happen to LOVE LOVE LOVE (nom nom nom) orange soda so I'm just thrilled to down it. I ask her, "Do I have to drink it in front of you?" It feels like being in jail. Nice. Take your meds. Show me your tongue. Under tongue. A ha! You swallow that damn pill. While I'm downing it like a shot (really, I love orange soda), she explains to me that some women just don't want to take it, don't get diagnosed with gestational diabetes and then bad things happen. Gulp. I can't believe there are people like that. Oh wait, I take it back. There are some really mad folks out there.

I put the cup down and she gives me a second shot. I down that as well. I feel like I should get a prize for being a willing patient. I didn't find it all nasty iike some of my friends have told me it would be like, although I can readily see how it could be all bad; it does taste of flat orange soda, and me being me, lover of orange soda, I've had my share of flat orange soda and it's still all good to me. One of the things she said to me was "If you throw up..." If I throw up? WTF! What do you mean if? I could? I think one of my biggest fears is yakking in public view...not that it's stopped me before, come on  I know some of you were around for my three count 'em three yakitudes.

I head off to my appt with my OB that lasts all of 2 seconds. She listens to Bambina's heart beat (it's slower, but apparently that's normal, I hope). She measures the belly. Weight is good (ack I weigh that much), blood pressure is good, and we chop it up for a bit. I bring my notebook full of questions, and we're good to go!

I have to go downstairs back to the lab to get my blood drawn. I for one am not scared of needles. I used to get blood tests once a week, and it doesn't bother me in the least. I hang out, read some of the literature sitting around and get my needle stick and I'm on my way.

Blood test came back okay, but I'm still waiting for the results of the glucose Orange Soda dream drink. I'll keep you posted!

Voodoo

PS: 25.6 weeks! 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 05:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

A few weeks ago, I walked you through the amniocentisis that I went through. I explained before the actual procedure there was the counseling appointment that I needed to go through; all couples who have an amnio go through this counseling, but most likely in a group rather than in a small individual setting. I couldn't make the group, so I opted for a private session.

As she flipped through her data, I kept thinking to myself that there was a 1 in 300 chance. There was a 1 in 250 chance. The only thing I remembered rattling through my head was "In a room full of 300 women, one of us is going to be affected by the condition." I visualized the group of women and randomly pausing in front of one woman. Would that camera shot pause in front of me? I didn't know if I should have started praying that it wasn't me, or if I should start praying for someone else. Either way, there was prayer involved.

As many of you know I got the all clear and after I got off the phone, I was ecstatic. For a week, I walked around gingerly, pausing every now and then to pat the front of my belly and make sure Bambino/a (we didn't know at the time, right?) was doing well. I played over and over the conversation on my brain that the genetic counselor and I had. "These are the chances. It all depends on when the baby is born, not how old you are now." Thirty-something. I felt screwed. Like I waited too long, and this was my punishment for waiting.

I thought long and hard about the woman who got the call urging her to come in. What tipped me off right away was that the counselor wanted to go over the results with me over the phone. Whenever it's over the phone, it's usually good news. Whenever they want you to come in, it's never a good thing. Someone out there got the call. Somewhere, there are 298 other women, other than myself, who are heaving a sigh of relief. Somewhere, there is someone who is devastated.

It turns out, I know someone who got that phone call. Chromosome deformity. Likelihood of birth, low. Worse than Down's Syndrome if baby survived birth. I felt my heart sink when I got the news. She herself has been carrying this news for a few weeks now. The joys of motherhood dashed? I don't know what my heart would be like if I were here. The person who told me gave me a big hug, and said, you're so lucky. I guess I am.

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 02:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I am sitting on the floor of my living room, sipping white tea with some honey. I have gone through my first box of tissue...and just cracked open my second one.  I slept fairly decently last night, but I woke up at 0530. I couldn't go back to sleep because I was coughing so hard.

As a matter of fact, I'm coughing so hard these days that my rib cage feels like crap and I think I can feel my abs coming in. I need some drugs, DRUGS I say, but there's a moratorium on the good stuff until Bambina comes in. Same goes for my sweet sweet beer.

Anyways, a lot of tea, a lot of cough drops, a lot of tisues (my god, so many tissues)...a lot of sympathy from Husbandido (thanks babe!). But it's been rough. I want to take a nap, I'm so exhausted from not sleeping and all this coughing, but it's nearly impossible. I just hope I can pass out tonight to see if I need to go to work or not.

Speaking of work, I have a new coworker, thank god, who is very helpful, and so much better than the previous one. He's made such a huge impact already, and I'm happy for it. I wish I was going to be here in the Fall to see him do his thing.

Oh I woke up this morning at 0530, right? So guess what I did...I thought I was just going to watch some TV, which I did for a bit, but then I decided to play some video games. Pathetic sight, me, with bleary eyes, sore abs and boogers galore. Supposedly this happens a lot to pregnant women, this post-nasal drip and cold thing. SUCKS. I can handle a cold, but not without a little help!

I hope things will be better tonight. In a meanwhile, where's my blankie!

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 08:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I got an email a few days ago from Slipper and she said that we all had to go to a meeting. The Merit Awards, actually. I thought we were getting some team award. Pretty fresh. I put it on my calendar. The day comes (yesterday), and I get down to the meeting a little late. True to form, I spend a few minutes wrapping up stuff and then heading to the gathering.

Sitting there by myself (see what happens when I come in late), the ceremony goes as planned. I feel wierd sitting there by myself, but that's life. They announce service awards. I wonder why we were all asked to come. We normally go anyways, right? I wait for the Team Award. We don't get it. Hrm. Service Award. Don't get that either. I wonder where my group was. And then they start talking about the Technology Award, and mentioning that the winner used it in tutoring.

In my infinite wisdom, I'm thinking, "Who else does tutoring on campus?" Wait...I'm the only one on campus that really does that. Then they keep talking about the person. My ears start to get red. Hot red. Oh shit. That's me.

There are over 200 people sitting there, a lot of people far more talented than I, and of course, natch, a lot of people who I'm far more foxier than. I joke. Not really.

They call my name and I go up to get the award. I feel strange. I should have dressed up, I told myself. I should have fixed my mop head. Oh well. I get a plaque. And surprise, a check. W00t.

Pretty cool for just doing my job.

So here we are at 23 weeks. Intriguing. Moving and stuff. I debated about telling people only because I thought it was going to be a  neat little secret to keep to myself, but nah, it's all over the place. My appointment went well yesterday, and the doc said, "Halfway there!" Yikes. She's right.

Can I introduce you to my best friend? Here she is. The pillow, not the lady, you dork. Anyways, see how happy the lady is? That's how happy I am when I get to sleep with El Snoogle! Even Husbandido loves the Snoogle. Did I get paid to do this commercial? Of course not, but if LeachCo wants to kick down some endorsement funds, I'd be happy to accept them. If you have a gnarly acting pregnant lady around you get her this pillow. Seriously.

I'm looking forward to summer coming down the pipeline. It's been nice to enjoy such good weather these last few days, but it's going to be even mo betta when it's quiet, I can get work done, and I can have my ass  handed to me by Buff Bagwell, my brother, in Scrabulous. Jerk.

Anyways, back to work. Where's that student who went to get lunch? She's taking forever. Better bring me a snack.

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 12:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Yes, I added a ticker. I'm a dork. So sue me.

I'm at home tonight, and I'm a little tired. I wanted to go out to see the crew at Bacio's but I wasn't feeling it, so I'm really sorry.

Vdc

Posted by Voodoo Child at 09:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I was teaching class today, hobbling back and forth while delivering the lecture. The last few nights I've been struggling with my ligament in my hip...it's been causing me insane sharp pains shooting into my hip making me weak. Walking up stairs? Sucks. GOing down stairs, sweet. Useless.

Sitting in a hard chair kills. But then all of a sudden, it's all gone! WTF. Seriously? I can't figure that out. I bug one of my favorite nursing students who assures me that it's just ligament stuff stretching and oh so painful but that's pregnancy for ya. Geez. I emailed my doctor then it feels better. Whateva. I anticipate waking up tonight again at 2:45 and staying up until 4 watching Aqua Teen Hunger Force like last night. Shet.

This is the time of the year when we have to do our self-evals to present to our bosses, and I'm no different. I cranked it out and put it up to god and hoped for the best. To make a long story short, it's been a good experience for me to be the only person in my office. I had to deal with my coworker leaving me in January, and I've had to cover his job as well as another job that I didn't anticipate picking up until June. I was doing well in the beginning, but there came a point where I literally couldn't take it. My doctors telling me to quit my job. My life becoming someone else's was terrible, and if I wasn't pregnant, I suppose it would have been easier for me to take.

But because I am, it's even more different. I put it in my eval that I was close to quitting. I included that to do two jobs was terrible; the person who is taking over for me while I'm on leave is going to get an assistant. Fancy that. I got NOTHING. 

Competency is one thing; to be told to "hang in there" when I needed "what can I do to help" is another thing. It has been a tough ride for me, but I couldn't be prouder of myself for making it this far. I wonder what the costs are though in the long run. I know, though, that I anticipate not being in the office to be one of the best fucking times I've ever hard. Can't wait. I deserve it after all I went through for this office. She apologized, and I appreciated that. But still.

Asides: my boss came in today and gave me a box of oranges. I can't help but look at the olive branch with a smirk. Thanks.

Voodoo 

PS: New maternity pants? No, those are my old pants, being held up with rubber bands! Genious! 

PS2: We have a friend (1/2 of a couple) who recently faked a pregancy before we were pregnant...they told us they were pregnant, etc., but weren't. What kind of shit is that. They said, "Oh, we wanted to tell you that to motivate you guys." Go fuck yourselves. We took that pregnancy seriously because they were our friends. Not anymore. Dicks. Don't worry, Voodoo Kids, you don't know them. Not worth it anyways. 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 09:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I put the wedding pics in a link over on my personal page. But here's the pics you're all waiting for. Please note, Husbandido and his bros put the comments on the pics. Typical.

And then this:

Funny, 

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 09:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

This morning I had a meeting with a genetic counselor because of my age (I'm thirty-hella). Although I pretty much knew of what the whole procedure was about, and what to expect, it was informative nevertheless. Extra chromosomes. Trisomy 18. The counselor had a well-used binder that she flipped through while explaining things to me.

Because I am thirty-hella, there are things to consider: the likelihood of an "accident" as she called it happening increases with age. Fine. I accept that. But to see the hard numbers was trippy. 1:312 (I'm making numbers up here, I didn't commit them to memory). 1:52. But even then, those numbers become percents: .4% chance of something happening. As all of this is happening, I'm thinking, what if I'm that one? Great. I need more anxiety.

Afterwards, it was a quick walk over to the ambulatory to get the amnio done. Fill out some paperwork, and two nurses come out to get me. I've never had two nurses come out to get me. WTF. I feel like 1) a criminal or a special case and 2) a rockstar. The procedure itself was short enough that I think I spent more time in the bathroom doing my bidness than the whole procedure.

The trippy thing about the amnio was that there are four people in the room with me. Thing 1 and Thing 2 Nurses, the ultrasound tech, and the Dr. Bad Haircut. I greet everyone. Smiles all around. It seems like they're having a good day. I ask if it's normal to have that many people in the room, and it was. Okay so I'm not a criminal or a rockstar. Great. They put me on a table, ask me to pull up my shirt and pull down my pants to my hips.Um, okay.

They do an ultrasound (a sonogram is a picture, whereas the ultrasound is the real-time video feed of the baby), and that baby has a big ol' head. Looks like Dad/Husbandido. Hey, there's the face. Looks like a mexican wrestling mask. Get to listen to the heartbeat. Get to see a little spine. Get to see little hands. This is all happening in a darkened room, with only natural light to see us through. I almost prefer it that way. Fluorescent light makes one look...sallow. Anyways, five minutes of watch the baby go by. It's not long enough. Oh and warm ultrasound gel. So much better than cold ass room temperature shizz. Another intriguing factor? I didn't know the Ute (my name of affection for the uterus) is up to my belly button. No wonder I feel like my guts are moving up in the world.

The procedure itself is fairly straightforward. Iodine swab over belly. Then I hear some rustling of paper/plastic that I know to be the needle being unfurled. NO, I don't pick my head up to see it. Here's why. That's a seven inch needle. The ultrasound is going again to help guide the needle. The doctor comments, "You have a busy baby." I think in my head that homegirl/homeboy exhibits parental traits of fidgetyness. So anyways, I get the "you'll feel a prick, that's the needle." Sure enough, there's the prick and what feels like 3-5 seconds of descent (it feels like pressure, no real pain) and then the extraction of amniotic fluid. After the needle gets removed, the nurse shows me the 2 tubes of fluid that were removed with my name on it. it looks like chicken broth, and about 2 tablespoons were removed. Okidokes.

More ultrasound action: heartbeat (get to see the heart beating too, crazy), and make sure baby is still there doing whatever babies need to do. I get a warm towel wipeoff (because they like me, they said), and clothes get pulled up/down. I get helped off the table, and in retrospect maybe I should have gotten up slower. I tend to want to get up and running right away. I wobbled a bit. The doctor and I meet down the hall after some kind goodbyes from the nurses, and I get a picture of El Fetus to take with me.

Summary: Amnio wasn't that difficult. It does feel crampy afterwards, but nothing that you will get upset about. Yes there was a poke, but that was minor. I think blood draws are more annoying. I also think going into it with a positive mindset helps a lot. I could have been all freaked out and bitchy, but being friendly made things easier. When you're at ease, so are they. Just a word of advice.

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 10:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

So I went to Hawaii last week to get some conference action on. It was a short trip, only 4 days. I admit that I needed the trip more as a means to get out of town than for the educational purposes, but it was a productive trip.

I had some mixed feelings, with my dad in the hospital, albeit he was appearing healthy and comfortable. My mom assured me that it was okay and that I should go. I was prepared to send someone else, but luckily I got the green light.

At any rate, he was sent home while I was in Hawaii, and thank god for that. He's fine now, although he coughed earlier and it sort of freaked me out. But he says he's okay. I'll have to take his word on it.

I managed to go to Lanikai and get some sun. It was only a few hours, but it was nice. At least I have tan lines to show for it, right?

Babychase sent me to the maternity department at Old Navy. Now I am the proud owner of what Husbandido calls "Buffet Pants." He now wants to wear them when we go to Vegas next. I'm trying not to lose my mind over the blob my body has become, insisting that it's just padding for El Fetus. Anyone else come up with a better name for the baby?

Tomorrow, Buff Bagwell takes his trip down the isle with Tweety Bird. It'll be nice to see them get all squared away. All this living in sin is killing me! ;-) I'll be sure to share pics with those who care. Off to the hotel to do some bridesmaid duties. Fun.

Kisses,

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 06:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

So, yah.

Let's start with last night. Last night, my father was washing dishes, when he started coughing. I was in the office, getting my ass handed to me by a computer at a game of scrabble. Husbandido was in the living room watching television, and my mother was with him. I hear a feeble, "Help," from my dad. It didn't sound normal at first, and I stopped what I was doing. Husbandido, closer to my father, got up to check on him. Holding a towel to his mouth, he was coughing blood. A lot of blood. Husbandid, just having gone through traumatic events with his father, met me in the kitchen where I saw my mother helping Dad wipe up the blood. There was a lot. Husbandido said, "he's coughing blood, let's go to the hospital."

Quickly gathering ourselves out of our downtime clothes and quietly making sure we're all okay, we are out of the house in five minutes. The drive to the hospital is a blur of speed, and a quiet lecture by Mom to my Dad who I can hear wheezing behind me. Shit.

We get to the hospital, and my mom is clutching a just opened roll of paper towels, just in case. Just in case. I drop them off, and walk quickly back to the ED, and on the way run into a couple fighting, "Why you gotta bring that shit up agaaaaaaaain." Uh, I'd really like to watch this, btw, but I head up the hill to the hospital. It's fucking cold.

Text messages to and from my brother and his fiancee help keep them abreast, and we wait in the ED lobby for my dad to be called. He goes in, and my mom follows. The next hour or so that follows involves a hearty discussion on the germs that are all over the lobby, the magazines, and the crappy Hillary Duff movie that is playing on the television. It is a nice television. Must be nice to be "for profit."

We are brought back with my mom to see my dad. Stripped down and in a sexy gown, He's strapped up to a machine, oxygen tank, wires here and there. He smiled. I feel better. Mom, unsure of what to do next, wants to send us home to rest; she'll stay overnight. THe room is small, and I noticed right away he's in isolation. In my mind, this means he could possibly have something going on that is not exactly a good thing...something that's passable. The isolation unit sticks with us for the next day as well. And we are forced to wear face masks during our visits as well.

EKG. EEG. CT. XYZ. LMNOP. He gets all the tests. His BP is high, too high, really, and he has an irregular heartbeat. He is in good spirits. Hates hospitals, and hates even more being in a hospital as a patient. My brother is texting me back and forth and I know he's not taking this too seriously. Part of that stems from my dad, him not liking the whole hospital thing. I can't blame him, but it can infuriate me.

We are sent home, and I want to come back to bring a change of clothes for my mom, but she brushes me off. She wants us to get rest. It's amazing how much they put themselves aside; as we're leaving, my father tells me where the keys are, and to not forget this and that...all from behind his mask. It's okay, I tell him. I'll take care of everything.

In short, we were there today, and he is still in good spirits, he's hating his confines and being doted over, but we're all glad he's slowing down to get rest. I couldn't sleep at all last night, but seeing him in a good way helped me be okay. I feel like I can sleep tonight.

So thanks to everyone who called, everyone who texted, everyone who emailed. I really appreciate it, and I'm sorry I couldn't get back to all of you, but you're in my thoughts for reals.

There's one more thing: I was reading a horoscope that said, stop hiding out. It makes people more suspicious than they already are about what's up your sleeve. SO here's what's up that silky sleeve: I'm pregnant, 15 weeks pregnant, big ol' pregnant. The morning sickness never really was (except when I smell shrimp, and I HATE that smell anyway). I crave fruit. Fruit fruit fruit! Things that taste like FRUIT. 7-up. Gummi Bears. Sorbet.

I've been debating for weeks on how to tell you all, but this is the most bang boom way to tell you. Just say so. I'm thrilled, Husbandido and Mom and Dad are thrilled. Bros thrilled. Bird still unawares. He'll figure it out eventually.

We have an amniocentesis scheduled next month, and that's largely been stressin' me out, but I'll go into it like I do any other test. With a smile, and some chocolate to get me through afterwards. We don't know if it's a boy or girl yet, but we'll find out next month as well. This is a big month for us coming up, so I'll keep you posted.

So there you have it. Dad is doing good. I am doing good. Hope you are doing good too.

Peas,

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 09:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Good morning all.

I certainly now understand what The Enforcer said...there comes a point when you're trying to figure out what your blog is all about, and there are days when you wonder what you're about to write. It's been one of those days.

I have had the last few weeks thinking. There are some changes at work (my coworker quit, leaving me with his projects), Husbandido and I have settled into our third year of marriage. I'm not getting any younger (geez). My brother, Buff, is getting married. I look around at my friends, many of whom you already know, and we're all gleefully moving on with our lives and well, instead of heading to the club, our gatherings are brunches. I'm not complaining. It's just cute to see where our lives have gone.

The latest project I've been working on is the Babychase. Over the last year, we've been trying to start our family. One little tyke to get us up and running. Husbandido is getting pestered by moms. It's hilarious (to an extent): "When you go to Hawaii, you should have a baby!" Great. No Pressure. Just multiply this by every time we go away somewhere. Make a baby! Have some sex!

When you're programmed your whole life to not have sex, the day people start pushing you to do it is a very strange one indeed.

Part of my process at this time is watching what I'm eating...and that alone is interesting. My food journal (yes I have one, shut up), is comedy. I'm currently obsessed with fruit. Go figure. I've considered even going back to meat (no go) because I'd love to have some protein. But nah, no meat for me. I'll figure it out. At any rate, that's been interesting.

Doctor's appointments have been fun: poking, prodding, lubing, and chatting. I had a notebook full of questions, and she took it from my hand and shot back all the answers. Nice. No nonsense, and that's how business is done in fertilityland. I can't complain about my doctor, though, she's cool. Smart too. And yes, Husbandido knows her from work. Great.

More details from the Babychase when we get to it. Hopefully it won't take that long to update you all, but you know how that goes. I'll be in touch!

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 10:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)