Confessions of an Irregular Blogger

In case you haven't realized it by now, I seem to be an irregular blogger prone to fits and starts.  Clearly, I have been fitting lately, but I plead the fact I am teaching too many courses and am always marking, marking, marking to the point I am developing issues from my left wrist up to my shoulder.  Just when I think I'll get a day or two off from marking, I realize there are late assignments, or I forgot about an assignment (I have 6 classes and it's hard to keep track).  In fact, I should be marking now, but am considering it unfair to students to continue if all I want to do is put their papers tidily in a stack on a train track.  Conveniently, we have a trainyards just up the street. 

It has been the kind of semester in which I am grateful I am unable, for the sake of the babe, to drink or smoke (although an older male colleague of mine suggested a shot of whisky here or there wouldn't hurt).  Certainly, I ate all of Anja's Halloween candy and leftovers from trick-or-treaters, and I am feeling duly ashamed that my pants are ALREADY beginning to not fit, and the baby has not risen up to my abdomen yet.  I do not want to become the whale I was with Anja.  Today, I haven't eaten a spoonful of sugar. 

Not eating sugar, of course, is not that difficult to do when, as the medical people put it, progesterone is slowing down the smooth muscle tissue in your innards, and making you the most heinous bloated and gassy creature imaginable.  At least some degree of vomiting in pregnancy is considered socially acceptable.  Gassiness hardly fits in with the glowing image of smooth-skinned and vibrant earth goddess.

Speaking of earth goddess, I did meet with the midwife a few weeks ago.  I did like her; she was British trained and is thus very practical.  Another midwife in her practice just put together an international conference on breach birth and changed some very old assumptions on the part of OBGYNs.  In any case, my midwife assured me that, as in most second pregnancies, I would not become so fluid filled as I was with Anja that I would begin to gush if someone stuck a pin in me.  She also assured me that I would not need an epidural as chances are I will only push for 30 minutes with this one.  Assurances, assurances.  I am still fearful, but must keep in mind that labour does not last an actual lifetime despite all pain receptors to the contrary.

Still, what do I want from this birth?  Kirk told a neonatologist at his hospital that I was pregnant, and she "suggested" that I have the baby at one hospital over the other for better neonatal intensive care.  The midwife "suggests" I avoid an epidural.  Kirk "suggests" I take whatever the neonatologist says as law.  Hello?  Hello?  Is there an informed mother in the room?  Check. Have I done this before?  Check.  Am I willing to do what is takes to have a safe birth?  Check.  Do I want a nice birth suite with a bathtub in a low-key hospital with more than adequate neonatal intensive care especially considering the perhaps-not-so-pro epidural route in an effort to minimize intervention?  Check. 

I did forget how many (unsolicited) opinions there are out there about how a pregnancy and birth should be handled.  I am not saying it is all about "my" experience, but I think my informed opinion should factor in a smidge. 

Anja is very excited about the baby and says "Hello Baby, I love you" to my tummy all the time.  I am working on posting a very cute video of her singing her own tune to some guitar strumming.  She has an awesome Janis Joplin move.  It seems that she had the dreaded H1N1 two weekends or so ago, but because she was in the window between vaccine and immunity, it wasn't terrible.  I am glad I am now immune as people at work are dropping like flies.

Speaking of apocalypses, I just finished reading Cormac McCarthy's "The Road," and I can't get it out of my mind.  This is the exact kind of event I fear for my children, and I know I would be totally inadequate to the task of protecting them.  It is a minimalist, yet totally evocative and scary book that is already up on my top ten list, neck and neck with Jose Saramego's "Blindness."  I don't even know if I want to see the movie as the book's images are seared into my head and I kind of like it that way.  The book is always better.

And so, again, to sleep.