2004-12-22 - 6:10 p.m.
Today's been a shitty day.
I have spent pretty much all day in bed, sick with a cold. I want to be sure I'm feeling much better by the time Christmas Eve rolls around. My throat hurts, but it's most likely from postnasal drip. I'm boogery and very tired and I needed a day of complete bedrest.
Of course, no day would be complete without the puppy being up to no-good. This is what she did. When I went into the kitchen to heat up a quesadilla from last night, the dogs were staring at me, hinting that I give them some of whatever smelled so good to them. As I was eating my quesadilla, the puppy decided to bark at me (her way of telling me I better share). The older dog just stared at me, as usual, but wasn't being obtrusive. Well, after I yelled at the puppy and told her she wasn't getting anything, she proceeded to leave the room in a huff. She came back into the kitchen with my glasses and dropped them at my feet, missing lens and all. In a matter of four or five seconds, she popped the lens out and chewed on the arm. My first instinct was to find the missing lens. I screamed at her, scaring the older dog into the basement in the process. And then I smacked the shit out of her, about a half dozen good hard whacks.
And then I got a hard contraction. I knew that punishing her had to be over because the baby wasn't liking it.
Then, I proceeded to call ForEyes to see about a replacement, since I couldn't find the lens. As I was on hold with them, I found the lens in the bed. Initially, I thought she had swallowed it. Well, I popped the lens back into place. Thankfully, she didn't scratch it up too bad. My glasses are only $70, so replacing them isn't a problem. Getting to the eyeglasses place in this bitter cold is a problem. And considering I'm sick, I didn't even think to venture out of the house today. Replacing the glasses isn't urgent right now, since I fixed the lens. They're still under warranty since I've only had them for six months. I can visit ForEyes tomorrow and have them look at them to see if they can just replace the cover on the arm of the glasses, as it is abrasive and sticks in my hair when I try to take my glasses off. I may just order another pair anyway, and make these my spare pair. Since I only get glasses every couple of years, I'm not going to wear glasses that are chewed on for the next two years!
So, after I beat the puppy, I stayed in bed. I feel like shit; I'm still upset about my doctor visit from yesterday; and I just don't want to move any muscle in my body at all. I just want my cold to go away so I can enjoy the rest of my winter break. If I'd had to go to work this week, so far I wouldn't have been in at all. So, I guess I'm lucky that I'm off anyway.
Tomorrow is another day. It'll be hectic for this sick-as-a-dog mom-to-be. I'll pick up the referral for my next (yet again) ultrasound, which I'll try to schedule for next week Tuesday or Wednesday, since I'm off and so is Hubby. Then I'll stop at ForEyes and have them look at my glasses. From there, maybe I'll pick up some pies for Christmas Eve. Once I get home, I'll have to finish cleaning the house, which I haven't really done. It's not dirty, though. There's just a lot of dog hair that needs to be picked up and the floors need to be mopped. Other than that, Hubby and I don't really create much of a mess. It's our dogs that do that for us.
The presents were all wrapped at 7:30 this morning; the baking was finished yesterday; the bedroom crawlspace got insulated by Hubby last night; the beef tenderloin is in the fridge; and all the last-minute gifts have been taken care of. All I needed to do today was rest, and I've done that pretty well, aside from the puppy incident that made my blood boil. There's nothing urgent I need to get done. Hubby will buy potatoes and garlic tonight or tomorrow on his way home. He likes to cook the tenderloin with that stuff in the roaster. He loves to cook, so I'm off the hook as far as Christmas Eve is concerned.
I had a terrible night's sleep last night. I kept waking up. I didn't even feel rested when I woke up at seven. The baby kept me up, or maybe I just noticed that he was up, having fun inside my womb. He kept tumbling around inside me and I just couldn't get any sleep. I guess he was pissed about the doctor visit, as well. I was probably stressed out about it anyway. They suggested another ultrasound, so it looks like I'm going to have to steal a bunch more hospital robes while I'm there. (I came home with five last time. They'll be good for nursing and hanging out with my son once he's born.) The more they piss me off, the more I steal from them. It makes me feel better, I guess. They suggested a fourth ultrasound because, according to the doctor's calculations of my due date, the baby's abdomen is slightly below normal size. Last time, it was his femur that was slightly below normal size, but this last ultrasound proved that it's just fine. I know EXACTLY when I conceived, so I know EXACTLY how long this baby should gestate. Doctors like to count the two weeks prior to conception as part of your pregnancy, so, of course, the measurements will have a discrepancy. Even my doctor said that, according to MY calculations, the baby is normal. However, when the radiologists compared my first and third ultrasounds, they suggested I get another one. My Mom thinks they have a quota they have to meet. She says to go with my gut, as does my sister. No pun intended.
I'll get this next ultrasound, but they're not taking this baby out of me against my wishes. I've had a beautiful pregnancy. I've stayed active; I feel great; I have no diabetes or hypertension; I'm not retaining water; my BP was 110/60 yesterday (in both arms), as it usually is in that range. I've gained thirty-seven pounds and I don't care about it. What more could I ask for other than a healthy baby? Why must hospitals scare me so much and so often? It just doesn't seem like they give pregnant women much of a choice in any matter anymore.
So I ask you...what the hell did people do before there were all these tests? What happened when a woman gave birth at home? What happened before hospitals deemed it necessary to control every aspect of the birth? Oh, that's right. It must be a money issue. Someone's got to make money and pregnant women are cash cows. That's gotta be it.
All I know is that if my baby weren't fine and in the proper environment right now, he'd let me know. I would know if something were wrong, wouldn't I?
Wouldn't I?
I don't like that my body is going to be invaded by strangers. I don't like people touching me, pregnant or not. If I love you, you can touch me. If I don't know you, stay the fuck away. I don't even like massages, so I most certainly won't like strangers staring up my twat, putting probes on my baby's head because "the monitoring is more accurate that way." I don't want my waters broken with a crochet hook. I don't want my husband to be so "impressed" with all the technology that he forgets about what I want. I just have absolutely no control over anything once I get to the hospital, so I've made a decision.
I'm going to stay home as long as I possibly can. I don't care. I don't want to be invaded. I don't want things attached to my baby's head while he's still inside me. I don't want to be just another birth for them that day. I want to be able to trust my instincts and I can't do that in a hospital, with everyone and their grandmothers sticking their hands up me. I don't care what "normal procedure" is. I don't want to go there at all anymore, really. I just want to have my baby, go home, and be the mother I'm destined to be. I'm afraid they'll scare the wits out of my husband and he'll just sign on any dotted line they give him.
My baby is fine. I am fine. I just don't feel I have to lose all control over everything just to have my baby. I don't want to be "handled." I just want to be Mommy. And I don't want to be scared by them anymore. And I don't want the first thing my baby sees to be a masked person with a voice he doesn't recognize. Since the hospital doesn't "do" or recognize birth plans, mine is totally out the fucking window. I can say goodbye to any wishes I had on there, which really sucks.
Funny...it wasn't my doctor that pissed me off this time. It was two radiologists that suggested another ultrasound, even though she told them I was positive about the date of conception. She usually pisses me off, but this time, she didn't. It wasn't her that suggested another test; it was the stupid people reading the last one that did. Doctors and radiologists have to cover their asses, I guess.
Can you sue people for being assholes? Or stressing you out? Let me know. If it's possible, I have a very long list of people I'm going to get rich from.
This leaves me with one dilemma: how do I convince my Hubby not to let them do whatever they want to do to me? Do I develop some kind of code word, so that he knows when bad is bad and my gut is telling me that I need help? Or do I just let him get overwhelmed by the doctors and sign whatever papers out of fear? He isn't going to know, nor will he understand my instincts. So, how do I get him to understand that I won't be dying in labor, even if it sounds like I am? Believe me, I'm fully prepared for it to hurt like hell and be like nothing I've ever felt before. But how will he know that this is normal? How will he know that I'm going to be fine? I don't want doctors scaring him into thinking that "this" has to be done, or "if we don't do this..." I'm not a science experiment. And I don't want to be "practice" for a student.
I wasn't impressed with the birthing classes. They only told me what the hospital procedure is, not how to go with my instincts. They only let me know what is standard procedure. They didn't help me feel that I had any control over anything that they did to me or my body. I feel like a lab rat. I feel like my baby and I are just a science experiment. And I feel like crying.
The only recourse I have is to stay at home for as long as I can so that by the time we get to the hospital, the baby will arrive shortly and I won't have to put up with all the shit they'll want to dish out on me. But how will I know when to go? How will I know when?
Please help. How will I know when I have to go to the hospital? Are there any mothers out there that can give me advice on this one? How will I know when it's time to go if my waters haven't broken yet?
Will my instincts tell me? What will they sound like when they do?
