Baby Week, Conclusion

Continuing from last time...

Tuesday 14 July 2009
Tuesday was our 8th anniversary, which would have been a lot more enjoyable without the nausea. Most of the day I felt so terrible that I could barely work, and late in the afternoon, I had to lay down to try to sleep off the nausea a little bit. I never felt too much better, but eventually Rob and I ended up riding our bikes over to a place on campus for falafel (for him) and a hummus pita (for me).

Wednesday 15 July 2009
Baby Week continued with our Infant CPR class. Again with the nausea. In fact, I felt so terrible that I really was not sure how I would make it through the class, and thought I might have to send Rob without me, but somehow I managed. The class was pretty useful, I guess, even though it was hard to stay focused through the nausea (you would think I would have gotten used to this in the past 7 or 8 months, but I guess not). At least there was no food in the classroom, so nothing to make the nausea worse. They started the whole thing out by having us watch this video that showed a grandma and grandpa babysitting their little granddaughter, who stopped breathing, and the grandma had to perform CPR on her. “Come on, Maria, breathe!” the grandma kept saying, and I wondered if I was the only person in the classroom who had become somewhat hysterical just from watching this. I kept hoping that by the end of class, we would go back to the video and it would show baby Maria breathing and recovered again, but it never did, so I am left just kind of wondering. But at least now I know the pattern—2 breaths, 30 chest compressions, and repeat—even though it is something I hope I never have to use.

Thursday 16 July 2009
It was another day of relentless nausea, but at this point, what’s new. I also felt a different kind of terrible that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I thought maybe my blood pressure was wonky, so I dug out our blood pressure cuff and took it. I kept getting readings somewhere in the neighborhood of 80/60, which is low I suppose, but I didn’t know if it was low enough to be making me feel all sorts of terrible. I tried my best to proceed with revising chapter 8 of my dissertation and actually made some progress in spite of things. In the afternoon, my mom, dad, sister, and little nephew came for a little visit, and even though I had felt so terrible earlier in the day, it really perked me up to get a chance to see them. Nonetheless, by the time they left, I had to curl up in the fetal position, clutching a plastic bowl (in case of vomit), and I ended up deciding to call off pre-natal yoga. You know it’s bad when you can’t even handle pre-natal yoga. I just couldn’t deal with the possibility of doing the downward dog pose. Not to mention the smell of Crane Alley (the restaurant/bar next door).

Saturday 18 July 2009
We watched the Tour de France and nested. Mainly, Rob nested, which made me wonder if it might be him preparing to go into labor instead of me. He did some cleaning out of the garage, and he also helped me clean out the freezer. This latter part, especially, was a major accomplishment I had wanted to get taken care of. The freezer is definitely food purgatory… stocked with random Tupperware containers full of things I had once attempted to eat but that made me sick, so I put them in the freezer in hopes that they would someday seem palatable again. But seriously, it made me sick just to even open the freezer and see these things. The worst was this giant batch of kale I had been making for Christmas Eve dinner, when all of a sudden, the very first wave of nausea came over me and I was like, “I don’t think I can eat this.” Much less look at it. I put it in the freezer, and there it has stayed for these many months. That same wave of nausea washes over me every time I open the freezer now. After all this time, it’s not like I’d consider eating that ancient batch of kale, even if it suddenly sounded good. But the thought of actually touching that container… thawing it, running it down the garbage disposal… blecccccccccchhhhhhh. It was too overwhelming. I stood across the room with my hand over my face while Rob went through the freezer and I told him what to save (almost nothing) and what to throw out (practically everything). I went into our room and shut the door while he ran it down the garbage disposal. When it was finally over, the freezer was amazing. Plenty of room to store breast milk for Fig (assuming that I can figure out how to use the breast pump). The only drawback is that the whole kitchen smelled like ancient kale, among other things. I frantically poured baking soda down the garbage disposal and then lit a candle—momentarily forgetting that the smell of a lit match also makes me sick. But eventually it passed, and I must say I am super thrilled to have all that junk out of the freezer.

Sunday 19 July 2009
It was the first big stage in the Alps of the Tour de France this year, and Rob and I got up early to watch it. I tried to rally myself into feeling better. It didn’t work too well, but I powered through.

Some girl-friends here in town were throwing me a baby shower brunch at the Courier Café. It was fabulous! It was really, really great to see everybody and have such a good time. Even though I didn’t feel so great before the shower, I felt pretty good while it was going on. It really helps to be around friends who tell you that you look great and not that you look huge ☺. Everybody had brought something for Fig, even though I had requested “No gifts please,” so now Fig has even more cute, tiny things. So thank you to everybody who came to the shower—especially those who came from out of state!—and especially thank you to Cara for putting it together!!

After the shower I kind of crashed for a while, but eventually rallied myself for some more nesting. Rob and I washed the windows, both indoors and out. It actually took a lot of effort, because I’m not sure if we had ever washed the windows since we’ve lived here. But now they are so clean and clear that I fully expect birds to crash into them.

In the evening, it was time for our second and final childbirth class. The effort of the baby shower and window-washing had left me feeling pretty wretched, and it didn’t help that inside the classroom, there was a big bowl of popcorn everybody was helping themselves to. Another long 3 hours I had to breathe into my sleeve because I couldn’t stand the smell. Probably because of the popcorn and nausea, I didn’t care for this class as well as I had the first one. Plus it was more medically oriented and even included a tour of the hospital (which is not the hospital I will be giving birth in). I was pleased that they at least paid lip service to some of the risks involved with many of the routine medical interventions used, and we watched another video of a natural childbirth—this one even more graphic than the first—and I was proud of Rob for not passing out. We practiced slow breathing and fast breathing again—the latter, I still can’t figure out why on earth I would use it. I didn’t do it nearly as fast as I was supposed to, and I still managed to drive myself into the initial stages of hyperventilating—you know, when your hands start to curl under and everything starts going black and fuzzy. After that I stuck to slow breathing.

But at any rate, it’s done. The nurse who taught the class proudly proclaimed us all graduates. Maybe I would have felt more triumphant if the room didn’t reek of popcorn. In all, I feel like the childbirth class was another one of those “cover your ass” things… you take it just to say that you’ve taken it, and everybody can feel like you have at least pretended to get prepared. There wasn’t really anything new that I learned in the class (aside from the fact that it’s okay to breathe through your mouth if your nose is stuffy), and like I said after last time, simply reading Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth was infinitely more helpful.

So Baby Week draws to a close at Casa de Ragfield. Will sign off now for a long day of nausea and revising Chapter 8 of my dissertation. Thanks for reading.