A Reprieve

Funny, after spending three weeks worrying that our son would arrive early and scrambling to have the apartment ready in case he did, it now looks like he may be late. I went in for another Ultrasound today, after 48 hours of taking it easy and drinking lots of water (about a glass every waking hour--I spent almost as much time in the bathroom as out). This time my Amniotic Fluid Index measured a 7, which is on the low side but not low enough to take action. If it had been 5 or under, they would have admitted and induced me. Instead, they sent me home. The next appointment is scheduled for my due date: Friday. But the docs told me that our son still hasn't "dropped" and shows no signs of being in any rush to get out. He's already 7 pounds though, and I can feel his every movement--and see most of them, since he's pressing right up against my belly now. I sort of hope that they decide to induce me on Friday, just to get this process started already. I'm anxious to meet the little guy I've been carrying around for 9 months!

Oli-what?

Went in for my weekly OB visit yesterday and ended up in the hospital. Turns out my weight, blood pressure and dilation (barely 1 cm.) had hardly changed since last week. But my belly had shrunk a little. So my OB did a sonogram and found that my amniotic fluid had dropped to a 4. At the time, I had no clue what this meant. Now, I know that a 4 means an Amniotic Fluid Index measurement of 4 centimeters on the sonogram--and that an AFI of 5 centimeters or less is an indication that the mom has oligohydramnios, and is a common reason for inducement after 39 weeks. Of course, at the time, all I knew was that I was being sent from the OB's office to "labor/delivery" at the hospital without my pre-packed hospital bag or my husband--or even reading material (I'd finished the NYT Sunday magazine while I was waiting to see my OB since she was running about 45 minutes behind). And that I might end up a mommy before the day was done.
Once I got to the hospital though, the nurses didn't seem to be in any rush to admit me. I sat in the waiting room for more than an hour, while women with more serious conditions--one with high blood pressure and suspected preclampsia, another who was in labor--shuffled past me through the door to the labor/delivery triage center. Finally, my name was called and I was handed the by-now familiar urine sample cup and cotton gowns (one for the front, another for the back to protect my modesty). The nurse hooked me up to an IV and a resident doctor told me that I'd be given fluids for 2 hours and then they'd recheck my amniotic fluid level. Two hours!
And no TV, or even windows, in the triage unit. I was doubly glad I'd made a quick trip to the gift store to pick up a bag of trail mix and a couple magazines. But trying to hold and flip through the magazine with one hand was not easy (my left arm, in which the IV had been inserted, was wrapped in a blanket to try and warm up the fluids being pumped into my vein). I gave up for good after I got a papercut across my palm and couldn't reach the paper towels. Fortunately, my husband showed up about then with half a sandwich, bottled water and some snacks.
The next hour and a half passed more quickly. I was feeling pretty confident that we'd be leaving. I felt fine after all (I still had no idea what the guidelines were for AFI numbers). And, more importantly, the baby's heartbeat and activity levels were fine, according to the doctor. And when the Ultrasound results showed my AFI level had increased to a 5.7, I thought we were home free. But the doctor seemed unsure. We had to wait another 20 minutes while she tried to reach my OB. In the end, I was sent home--at least for now--with instructions to take it easy and drink lots of water. I need to return to the hospital on Wednesday for another Ultrasound and AFI check. But at least this time I'll be better prepared. I'm bringing my pre-packed bag, plus a book and 2 magazines, my iPod, and lots of snacks. If Monday night was any indication, I could be hanging out in triage for a long time. That's the part you don't see in the movies or on TV when a woman gives birth.. the waiting time. The delivery itself might take minutes, but the lead time can last 24 hours or more. I'm glad we got a couple more days to get ready--and to sleep in!--and a preview of what to expect. Today, I'm planning to take full advantage of what may be my last day alone. I'm getting my hair done, and maybe a pedicure, and I'm loading up on all my favorite snacks and magazines--and water, of course.

One More Week...

And I plan to savor every minute of unscheduled time until he arrives.
For the first week of my generous maternity leave, I was so nervous that our son would arrive early (a common occurrence among my colleagues, many of whom delivered 2-3 weeks before their due date) that I spent my days, and my paycheck, stocking up on dozens of essentials I was sure we needed before he was born. I picked up more than three-dozen items at Babies R Us, I scheduled a long overdue teeth cleaning, I signed up for another package of prenatal yoga classes. I took a 2-hour CPR and child safety class with my husband. We completed the last of five 3-hour classes on childbirth. I bought nursing bras, shirts and assorted paraphernalia. I bought extra bottles of shampoo, lotion, body gel, and 3 tubes of my favorite lipstick. I picked up a new robe and pajama set for the hospital stay. I scheduled one last hair appointment.
You'd think I had just been sentenced to house arrest, or was preparing to embark on a six-month sojourn to Siberia.
But as the days passed, and our son gave no indication that he planned to make an early appearance, I finally started to relax and to relish this time. It has been years since I had more than 2 weeks off from work. And this time seems even more precious because I know how limited it is--and how quickly the concept of free time or "me time" will disappear after our son is born.
Still, once I'd checked off all the items on my to-do lists, I didn't know what to do with all that time. I struggled with sudden feelings or irrelevancy. I checked my work emails and realized that they were doing just fine without me. I stopped by the office one afternoon, ostensibly to take a friend to lunch at the upscale cafe at my husband's office. But he was too busy to take a lunch break. And my friend was obviously busy too. The first time the phone rang, she brushed it off with a flick of her wrist. But by the third or fourth interruption, I saw her eying the phone worriedly and I urged her to pick it up. I left a few minutes later, vowing not to visit the office again until I was ready to come back. I didn't belong there now.
Still, I felt such pressure not to "waste" this time off that I spent several hours brainstorming about freelance projects I could take on while I was out on maternity leave. I sent emails to my agent, pitching book projects I couldn't take on for several weeks (or months) if ever. I sent emails to my colleagues at work about stories I knew I may not ever write. They humored me, but they were noncommital. Who could blame them? I' not supposed to be working now. And they were parents themselves. They knew better than I did how little time I would have to think about work, much less do it, once our baby was born.
I have one more week before our son is due. Maybe I'll read a book or 2. Maybe I'll write. Maybe I'll sit at home on the couch and eat bowls of popcorn and watch silly movies. Maybe I'll meet friends for dinner. Maybe I'll sleep in. Maybe I'll just do nothing at all.
The one thing I vow not to do is feel guilty about how I spend this last week.

And they're out!

After six years and countless calls for his resignation, Donald Rumsfeld finally quit today--less than a week after President Bush declared that Rummy would remain at the Pentagon through the end of his term. Funny how things change when your party loses control of the House of Representatives and, quite likely, the Senate too (as of 1:30 p.m. ET on Wednesday, it appeared that Jon Tester had enough of a lead to declare victory over Republican incumbent Sen. Conrad Burns in Montana and in Virginia, Democratic challenger Jim Webb led GOP Senator George Allen--the incumbent best known outside the state for calling a Webb volunteer of Indian descent "macaca" on camera--by about 6,700 votes out of more than 2.3 million cast. That Virginia margin is small enough (less than 1 percent) though, that a recount is likely. And, according to the NY Times, the results may not come for several weeks.
In the meantime, though, the Democrats can enjoy the first majority they've held in Congress--and in gubernatorial races--in a dozen years. Whether they'll be able to do much with it, under a Republican president (even an unpopular one), is another question.

It's All Over Now But the Voting...

No more negative campaign ads--well, at least, for the next several months. No more mailings. No more pre-recorded pleas from politicians on our voicemail (apparently campaign calls are excempt from the "No Call" lists).
Now it's just a waiting game to find out who won. Although, in New York, at least--if the polls are any indication--there's not much suspense. Hillary Clinton, Eliot Spitzer, and Andrew Cuomo (Democratic candidates for Senate, governor, and attorney general respectively) are leading the polls by wide margins. Even Alan Hevesi was still leading his Republican opponent Christopher Callaghan by more than 10 points after admitting that he not only misused taxpayer money to pay a state staffer to chauffer his wife around but covered it up and then underestimated the amount he owed in retribution.
But the expected results in other states are less clear. Democrats need to gain 15 seats to end 12 years of Republican control of the House, and six seats for the majority in the Senate. And, while initial polls indicate that the House majority is likely to shift after today's vote, the race for those half-dozen Senate seats is much closer.
My vote won't make much difference here, but I'm still planning to cast it. Good habit to get into. And what excuse do I have? I live 2 blocks from the polling station and this may well be my only major excursion today. I'm on day 12 of my maternity leave and I've completed all my to-do lists in preparation for our son's arrival. At this point, a trip to the gym feels like an accomplishment. While I still make plans with friends at night, by the time most of them are free to meet, I'm already beginning to fade. (My only friend who's not working is 25 weeks pregnant with twins and on strict bed rest). In the past two weeks, I've watched a dozen movies, read 3 novels and the newborn section of "What to Expect," and spent way too much money on baby and breastfeeding paraphernalia. My days have begun to revolve around meals and cable TV movies. I've made the occasional stab at something work-related, emailing colleagues so I don't feel completely out of the loop and compiling a growing list of potential freelance projects. But my motivation has been waning the closer I get to my due date since I know I may not have much time to follow up on any of them once our son arrives. At the least, voting is one activity I know I can complete, and it's free. (Has it come to that??)

False Alarm

There is nothing like pregnancy, and impending parenthood, to remind you of how little control you really have over your life.
I brought home my day planner from work, and keep it opened up to the current date on my desk at home, and fill it with daily to-do lists and OB appointments and social plans. All the while, in the back of my mind, I'm keenly aware that I may not actually carry any of them out. Should our son decide to make an early appearance--and now that I'm more than 38 weeks along, that's a daily consideration--all those carefully laid-out plans and lists will fall by the wayside. I was reminded of that last night. I woke up yesterday feeling fine. After a friend had to cancel some afternoon plans, I decided to go to the gym (I usually take Sundays off, but since I'm going to be taking weeks off soon, I figured - why not?). Back home and feeling refreshed from an hour on the elliptical and the walk from the subway in the brisk autumn air, I suggested to my husband that we walk to one of our favorite neighborhood stores, The Bedford Cheese Shop, and pick up one of our favorite meal combos: cheese, charcuterie and chocolate.
We bundled up (it's been in the 40s at night) and headed off on the 15-minute walk. But we had barely made it a block before I started feeling shooting pains in my lower belly and pelvic area. That's happened before, usually when I am walking quickly to catch a subway. But the pains typically subside after a few seconds. Not this time. I slowed down and instinctively reached for my belly. But the sharp pains continued. Even at the snail's pace I had now assumed, it hurt to walk. Suddenly, the thought occurred to me: what if I went into labor at the cheese shop? That was followed by a rapid succession of increasingly scary thoughts. I haven't packed a bag for the hospital! I haven't washed my hair in 3 days! My mom isn't planning to fly up from Florida for another week and a half! What if my water breaks in the store??
The pain I probably could have weathered, but the thought of going into labor even 15 minutes from home was enough to convince me to turn right around and head home--that and the sudden tightening on my belly (was this labor?). That's the thing about first-time pregnancies. If you've never had contractions before, it's hard to know when you are actually going into labor, and when it's just 1. Braxton-Hicks contractions (a.k.a. "false labor"), 2. the weight of your every-growing baby, compounded by any shift in postion that puts more pressure on your nerves , or 3. gas (which would be a really embarrassing discovery should you act on your fears and head to the hospital prematurely).
Once home, I called my sister--who's a doc and a mother of 2--for a diagnosis. She assured me that she'd had the same pains in the weeks before she delivered and that it was most likely caused by our son "dropping" into launch mode. This, fortunately, did not mean that he was planning to launch himself into the world that night. But it did give me an excuse to plant myself on the couch for the rest of the night, while my husband ran out to pick up dinner (heroes and pastries--a fine alternative), and enough incentive to pack an overnight bag. Just in case.

Pregnant? Take this off your movie list.

So, a couple months ago, I was home alone on a Wednesday night while my husband grabbed a beer (ahh...beer - I'm looking forward to having one of those again soon) with a friend of his. I was flipping through the cable channels and "Jersey Girl" was just starting. I read the brief description: know-it-all publicist (Ben Affleck) ends up as single dad, meets young woman (Liv Tyler) who changes his life for the better. Great. I popped some corn and settled in for a relaxing night at home. It never occurred to me that (*spoiler alert*) Affleck's character became a single dad because his wife died of a previously undetected aneurysm while giving birth. I'd just figured he was such a prick (and he was--at the beginning, at least) that she left him.
Of course, rationally, I know the chances of having an aneurysm--much less an aneurysm that bursts during labor and kills the mother, even though she is in a hospital at the time--are slim. But that didn't keep me from rushing to the computer to Google "aneurysm and child birth." (There weren't a whole lot of entries, which provided some relief. But the fact that there were any at all made me a little nervous.) And it sure didn't help me sleep that night.
After that, I started rigorously screening all movies to ensure that they didn't involve any pregnancy or delivery mishaps or tragedies. Just to be safe, I stuck mostly to sappy romantic comedies (in the past few days alone I've seen "Casanova , "Must Love Dogs," "Shopgirl" and "Prime"--none of which involved pregnancies or babies, just a lot of baby-making activity). I'd wholeheartedly recommend them to anyone who's pregnant--or trying to get pregnant.
But my streak ended tonight, an hour and a half into a really good movie: Junebug. I probably should have been a little more wary when one of the main characters announced she was ready to give birth "any day now" (in my defense, the plot description didn't even mention her), but I was too involved in the film by then. I don't want to spoil the movie (so don't read the next line if you're planning to see it). But I really wish there'd be some sort of warning label on movies that depict unfortunate outcomes for any pregnant characters. If you're pregnant, I'd highly recommend waiting until after you've delivered to watch this one.
And from now until my son arrives, I'm sticking with silly slapstick and romantic comedies.