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Buying the nursery chair

Published December 26, 2011 baby stuff 11 Comments

I’m breaking my own rule here by writing a new post before any one has commented on the last boring one, but I think it’s time to move on. As I’m now in the midst of week 29 (or, I suppose, really week 30 because I have completed 29 weeks, just as I have completed 36 years — zoinks!), I’m starting to get a little panicky about all of the things that we have to do and would like to get done before Baby Girl Sweet Potato arrives. We are really not ready. I know a lot of people say that — and I have even heard more experienced parents talk with pride about how the crib wasn’t put together until mom’s water broke — but I am pretty serious about it and starting to get stressed. I would like the crib together well before I am calling triage at the hospital to tell them I’m on my way. I would like the changing table/dresser ready to go before I’m making sure the camera battery is charged. So, this week is a big week for us. AO has taken the week off (because he always seems to have more vacation time than I) and is going to put together a bunch of things we bought at Ikea a few weeks ago. Among these items are the crib and aforementioned changing table/dresser but are also two bookshelves we hope are going to work magic in our living room. You see, Dear Reader, we live in a one-bedroom condo. So, and I’ll do the math for you here, we are soon going to have three humans and a dog in a one-bedroom condo. I’m really not too worried about this — we have plenty of space — but it’s going to take some creativity and — and I’m mentally preparing for this — some serious trial and error.

Ok, that aside, this week I’m also trying to focus on a chair for our nursery-area. For the most part, I am convinced that we would really like a glider chair. I have read a bit of info suggesting a glider isn’t really necessary and instead we can just rock the baby in our arms in a regular chair, but I think a glider — I’ll take the extra help with rocking, thank you — is the way to go for us. I started my search weeks ago, but have amped up my efforts in the last week. I have looked at Overstock.com, Target, Ikea, Room & Board, Land of Nod, Pottery Barn Kids, Rosenberry Rooms, Babies ‘R’ Us, Hayneedle, and more. I have even looked into how to add a glider mechanism to any old chair and emailed a local upholster to ask him if he could do that for us. I have alternated between the mindset that I am willing to spend a lot of money (telling myself chairs are expensive and it will nicely balance out the frugality we exhibited when we bought our $99 crib) and heeding the call of the thrifty siren (telling myself there are a million other things we need to buy and a chair is not the place to spend any extra dough). There is also the issue of space and design. I would like something fairly compact — nothing oversized — and with simple lines; something upholstered without any bells and whistles. I’m drawn to designs like this chair from West Elm (priced at $599, but 20% off for the next few days):

Ryder Rocking Chair

I also very much like this more expensive sweetheart from Room & Board ($999):

An example of one that I am not at all interested in? This chair from Babies ‘R’ Us looks quite comfortable and is nicely affordable at $199, but is a bit too busy for my eye:

There is an additional issue. I would really like to buy something made in the US or, at least, Canada. But I have not decided how committed I am to this. What I mean is, I have not ruled out buying something made elsewhere. I recognize I have already bought a million things that are made in countries other than ours, so why put my foot down on this one? On the other hand, furniture — and good furniture — is something that is still made here in this country and perhaps I should have the moral and ethical code to insist that at least something in the nursery is made in these parts. And if not the chair, then what? Narrowing my purchase choice down to one made in the USA has the added advantage of, well, narrowing my choices down.

Hmm. Ok, this has been helpful. Writing things down really helps me make decisions! Thank you, Dear Reader, for I think I will indeed refocus my glider search on a made-in-this-country option. Any suggestions you have, though, would be more than appreciated.

Elderly multigravida with a side of antepartum condition

Published December 23, 2011 baby stuff 5 Comments

The title of this post is composed of words that were used on the “after visit summary” I received at the doctor’s office yesterday. I believe multigravida means there is more than one baby inside that uterus of mine, which I’m pretty sure is 100% false.* I don’t know what my “antepartum condition” is, other than my elderly gravida, but I thought I should share this enigmatic summary with you.

Given my abnormal results from the first-trimester screening (my hormone levels weren’t what the medical establishment would like them to be), we had yet another ultrasound yesterday! This time, we were told, the tech was looking for growth and not so much, say, multiple heads or not enough kidneys. I was a little nervous before hand because, as much as it is wonderful to get another look at the little sweet potato, I was scared that something would be wrong. Alas, we are again blessed and lucky because Little Girl appears to be coming along just fine. She weighs just under three pounds, has an adequate amount of amniotic fluid to move around in, and even looked as though she were sucking her thumb. This time, the 3D image the tech created looked a lot less like an extra from the C-horror film Baby Aliens from the Womb and more like a little munchkin you’d love to cuddle with. I breathed another deep sigh of relief.

After the appointment, we returned to the lab so that I could have my blood drawn. I had ingested a lovely cocktail that tastes nostalgically reminiscent of McDonald’s Orange Drink (what a clever name!) before the doctor’s appointment and had to wait an hour before the blood could be taken. Fingers crossed that gestational diabetes is not an issue.

*UPDATE (April 2013): I guess I was mistaken and misinformed. Multigravida means the woman has been pregnant before, so this is her second or third or fourth, etc., pregnancy. This, too, was not a correct diagnosis for me, as this was my first – and only – pregger-nancy.

Naming names

Published November 29, 2011 baby stuff , life and pups 24 Comments

So, as you know, Dear Reader, I am with child. Among the many responsibilities that come with bringing a child into this world is the task of choosing for her a moniker. I thought this job would be easier and much more fun than it is proving to be. I also thought that the world had now gotten the memo that it is inappropriate, if not downright gauche, to comment negatively on potential selections parents-to-be are sharing with you for their little sweet potato. Or, at least, to do so to their face. I suppose, though, that if people feel free to voice their opinions on how much weight a pregnant woman should gain, how much effort she should put into breastfeeding, how much caffeine she should (or should not) consume, how that glass of champagne at New Year’s is going to scar the child for life, I should have known that people would feel free to voice their thoughts on names. I mean, I thought that choosing a name is a pretty personal choice. At the same time, I thought, you know, it’s just a name, and a name is a name is a name and whatnot. Once again, I was oh-so-wrong. People have opinions. And they have opinions they like to share with you.

The inquisition into a name started early and occurs often. In fact, I would say it is one of the first questions people ask me upon learning there is a bun in the oven. It doesn’t bother me, of course, because it’s a natural question to ask and feels, I’m sure, far less intrusive and fun than asking about uncomfortable bodily functions or disfunctions. I’ve asked the question of other gestating women a million times and I have no plans to delete the query from my arsenal. Beyond the initial and universal inquiry, though, there appear to be many different approaches to the follow-up. Let me back up here for a minute.

I have had several friends and friends of friends who have cut the name conversation off at the knee. They will say, politely of course, something like, “We aren’t comfortable discussing names with you.” Usually it’s even more tactful than that, but that’s the gist of it. Well, actually, the gist of it is, “We don’t care to hear your thoughts so we will not be engaging in this conversation.” Rationally, I completely understand this approach. What’s the point of hearing other folks’ opinions on your choices when, inevitably, someone will say something negative — usually in an intentionally benign manner — and it’ll cause you to fret and worry and question those choices all over again? In practice, though, I cannot get myself to say anything that may even resemble a sentiment like, “I’m not telling you!”

So instead of the mum’s-the-word approach, I have experimented with a different variety of response. It’s something I like to call Midwestern Nonchalance. The response varies, depending on to whom I’m speaking, but the response is all a variation on the theme of Midwestern Nonchalance. The key components of this theme are simple: (1) feigning a laid-back approach while simultaneously furrowing one’s brow and saying something like, “Picking a name is hard!;” (2) turning the question back on the inquirer with questions like, “What did you name your kids?” and “Oh! That’s so cute; how did you decide on that?;” and (3) throwing a bone out there by tossing a few potential names into the conversation and letting the reactions fall where they may. This last component is, admittedly, the most dangerous. In my opinion, it is to be reserved only for the very pushy, slightly inappropriate (usually) coworker. For example, just this morning, AO and I encountered an ordinarily very polite, kind and funny coworker in the office kitchen who congratulated us on our baby-to-be. She quickly moved to the topic of names, glossing over the news baby is a girl sweet potato. After I pulled out all the stops on components one and two, she hit me with, “Well, just tell me some of the names on your list.” Oh boy. She was good. So, I tossed out three. The first two were met, seemingly, with approval while the third was met with silence. Penelope seems to do that to some people. Even when we tell them we’d call her ‘Penny.’ Actually, now that I think about it, the ‘Penny’ part doesn’t seem to change any of the facial expressions I’ve seen after I dared to utter the name ‘Penelope.’ Anyway, I thought, “That’ll teach her to ask us for our list!.” Though I quickly realized it probably wouldn’t. As I then hurried back to my desk, I pictured the office gossip engine circulating with the news that we were going to name our child — God forbid! — Penelope. Oy.

I try a more robust version of Midwestern Nonchalance with my family and close friends, as well. I’ve had varying degrees of success. When I told my dad we liked the name Mabel, which happens to be his mother’s name, he told me he thought it was a “truly ugly name.” No sugarcoating that one, I guess. We have told several family members that we like the name — and I hope, Dear Reader, that you’re sitting down for this one — Gertrude. We like Gertie & Trudy as nicknames and think Gertrude is retro-cute. Like, really cute. Our affection for Gertrude, though, apparently does not rub off on others as we have heard varied, but consistent responses all ending with a resounding, “You cannot name her Gertrude.”* Well, actually, as it turns out, we can.

I tell myself (and AO) that maybe it’s good to know these reactions in advance. I know people argue that not revealing your choices will mean that your friends and family *have* to like the name you have chosen once the sweet potato has arrived and her name is in ink on the birth certificate but, of course, that’s not true. People will continue to have their opinions, whether they voice them to you or not. And I’m not really convinced that people who think it’s ok to tell you a name is forbidden and ugly before you have officially opted for it will be people that are tactful enough to keep their opinions to themselves when the little tyke is on the other side of the womb. In any event, while family and friends’ dislike of names I like is not dispositive for me when it comes to our choice, it’s a factor that I (pretend) I appreciate knowing.

It’s interesting to me that people have such negative reactions, but seem to have so few positive ones. I know, I know – you’re thinking, “Well, you’ve given them Penelope and Gertrude. What’s to be positive about?” I feel, though, that I’ve thrown out quite a few names and that among them, someone would have been bound to really like something — Emma, Molly, Hannah, Annie, Sadie, Charlotte, Abigail, Beatrice, Adelaide, Matilda. What I have learned, albeit very slowly, is that while there have been several names that have made people visibly shudder, there has not been one name that I have uttered that has made anyone squeal with glee. Well, that’s not entirely true. My bestie, the GAOOG, has repeatedly cooed at any of the names I have thrown her way. Yes, even Penelope & Gertrude. And my other bestie, the doctor, has been the epitome of laissez-faire awesomeness. While she hasn’t cooed, she has remained her usual, even-keeled, it’s-all-good, whatever-you-like self. Thank goodness for besties.

All of that said, though, I should say that I’m really not overly worried about it. I think the name is an awfully big deal, but I have confidence that we will pick something that is just right for us and, more importantly, just right for Lady Sweet Potato. I hope that she likes the name we pick for her and, if she doesn’t, I hope she forgives us for our choice and knows we picked it after much thought, with oodles of love and with tons of advice from the peanut gallery. In the end, though, it’s really just a name. Right?

*One coworker was asking me about our name ideas and, when I turned the conversation back to the names of his four kids (see component number two in Midwestern Nonchalance), he told me that he and his wife usually agree on things, but when it came time to name their kids, they did not see eye-to-eye. He said, “She liked late 19th century names like Agnes. Agnes! Can you believe it? I said, ‘Honey, Agnes? We might as well name her Gertrude!'” And, scene.

Gracie is a snuggler

Published November 5, 2011 baby stuff , home improvements 4 Comments

I was at a conference most of last week and I must admit, it was nice to get out of the office. Although I am really enjoying my new office (it has a window!), I needed a bit of a break. Here’s the thing, though: I miss my dog when I’m away from home. I don’t mind not having to take her out, or having to clean her hair off of my toothbrush, or having her shove me out of the way when she thinks Aaron is about to give her a chicken liver, but I still miss her. I miss her snuggling in our bed, I miss her snoring, and I miss her warmth — and I mean that both literally and figuratively. How will it be when this baby girl gets here? Zoinks. I can’t imagine.

So, in the meantime, because I can’t really deal with all of the things I can’t imagine, I am in the process of trying to figure out more tangible things. For example, the nursery. Or the quasi-nursery-living room we currently have in mind. Turns out living in a one-bedroom condo has its disadvantages. I think, though, that our unorthodox floor plan (for a family in Madison, Wisconsin) is going to lead to some fun results. When I’m not busy being anxious about where everything is going to go, I’m excited to figure it all out and make it really neat. Wish me luck.

Oh! And any and all tips are appreciated!

Elderly gravida: the amniocentesis

Published October 17, 2011 baby stuff , bling blog 18 Comments

Ok, so where was I? Right, right. Phone call, genetic information, crying, amnio scheduling.

Monday, September 12, 2011. The genetic counselor told us our odds were not on the awesome side of where we wanted to be, so she had gone ahead and scheduled the amniocentesis. Now, this is where I began to get a little annoyed with the universe. You see, we had the first trimester screening when we thought I was just under 13 weeks along. A CVS procedure, which gives you results that are similar to an amnio (but not nearly as comprehensive), can be done up until a woman hits week 14. We had thought there would still be time to do the CVS if the results from the screening test came back not-so-great. We were wrong. Because the ultrasound portion of the screening test changed our due date, I was now just a few days past the 14-week marker, so a CVS was off the table. Although the amnio can give more answers, it cannot be done until after 16 weeks of gestation. So, as I said last week, now we were in for a wait. Two weeks felt like two years. I must have googled ‘amniocentesis,’ ‘1/87’ and ‘does my baby have Down’s Syndrome?’ every day. Almost immediately upon learning I was pregnant, I was bombarded with information about the tests available and suggested (or, it sometimes seems, mandated) for a woman of my advanced maternal age. When I had read about amnios earlier, I got nervous. The procedure itself didn’t sound awesome — a needle through my belly into my uterus to extract amniotic fluid — but it was the risk of miscarriage that scared me. As we approached the date for my amnio, though, I really held almost zero fear about the actual procedure or the risk. I had read that although the risk of a miscarriage is often cited at about 1/300, the actual risk is really much lower, particularly in a hospital in which the procedure is done frequently. So, when we finally went in for the test, I was nervous only about the results.

Monday, September 26, 2011. The cool thing about the amnio is that you get to see your baby again. After 45 minutes of genetic ‘counseling,’ at which we saw the breakdown of the first trimester screening numbers and were shown a diagram of what the amnio would look like (Aaron nearly passed out at the sight of the cartoon needle), we were ushered back into an ultrasound room and the warm jelly was again applied to my belly. And poof! There was baby again! The baby definitely looked bigger than the last time we had a viewing and, to me, the baby looked healthy and content. Only a few minutes went by before the ultrasound tech asked us if we had wanted to know the baby’s gender. We indicated yessirree and the woman gave us the most wonderful news: we were staring right at the baby’s girl parts! That’s what she told us the scientific name is: girl parts. We were, and are, so thrilled. After many more minutes of the tech taking a million measurements and poking at the baby through my belly, two doctors came in to meet us, a man and a woman. The man must have been some sort of resident or something, though I did not catch his role, because he was clearly taking instructions from the others. The woman was nice enough, though she seemed as though she may have done this one million times before and did not find the procedure nearly as significant as we did. After some pen marks were made on my stomach, the man poked me with a needle a fraction the size of the cartoon needle that had made Aaron woozy minutes earlier. The man had also given me a poke with something that was to numb the area, but he admitted he wasn’t sure it would help much. This is because, I assume, most of the discomfort comes from when the needle hits the uterus, not when it goes through the stomach. I had read people describe the sensation as akin to menstrual cramps, but I’m not sure I’d call it that. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it didn’t feel great, either. I would say it felt uncomfortable and tight and prolonged. Three different vials had to be filled with amniotic fluid; I think two were for the full chromosomal testing and one was for the FISH test (see below). After the vials were filled, the doctor took the needle out and we were done. Simple as that! Well, and then we had to wait. Again.

In the weeks after receiving the first trimester screening results, I had read that people have to wait a week or two for the full results from the amniocentesis are available. But I also read that there is a special test, called FISH, that can be done in some areas and which gives a couple their results much faster. The FISH test takes the cells from the amnio and injects some sort of illuminator into them, which illuminates chromosomes 13, 18 & 21. If the test shows that those three chromosomes are present in their normal form — just two of each — then presto! There goes your risk for Down’s Syndrome (Down’s Syndrome is diagnosed by an extra chromosome 21; an extra chromosome 13 and 18 represent different, far less common, disorders)! I didn’t know if Meriter offered the FISH test, but I was hopeful. About halfway through the counseling session that immediately preceded the amnio, I asked how long the wait for results would be. Our counselor then told us that the FISH test was, indeed, an option. She said that we could have it done, but she could not guarantee that insurance would pay for it and it could cost us about $1000. Now, we don’t exactly have an extra 1k sitting around gathering dust, but if there was anything we could do to speed this process along, I was all for it. Sign us up, we said! We were told the amnio results would be ready in seven days (not business days, but seven actual days — I made sure to clarify this) and the FISH results would be ready in 48 hours.

So, after the amnio, we went home and I laid on the couch. What else is new, you’re thinking. I know, I know: not much. Anyway, I took the next day off from work just to make sure that there weren’t any side effects from the test (some women experience cramping, bleeding or loss of amniotic fluid but I experienced nada, really) and, frankly, to relax since the last two weeks had been filled with nothing but anxiety and panic. I had been hoping the FISH results would come back early, but no dice. Tuesday came and went and we still did not know if our baby had Down’s Syndrome.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011. We went to work and tried to go about our day. I became really busy in the morning — drafting some sort of unexpected motion, returning a couple of phone calls to a judge’s chambers, etc — but then things turned back to my normal course of work-life, which entails writing and thinking and researching and reading and thinking and writing and thinking. Too much time for thinking and my mind inevitably wandered. Aaron & I walked out to the farmers’ market and took a couple of loops around. I gripped my phone the entire time, willing it to ring. It didn’t. Finally, at about 2:45 pm, rapidly approaching the 48-hour anniversary of the fluid-taking, I called the perinatal center. Well! From her voicemail message, I quickly learned our genetic counselor does not work on Wednesdays! You’d think she could have mentioned this when she said, “If you have any questions, call me” and “Your test results revealing a large part of your baby’s future will be available in 48 hours.” Anyway, I finally reached the “on call” counselor and she was extremely nice; her voice instantly calmed me. She told me FISH results are not reported until the end of the day, but she would make sure to call me as soon as they came in. I breathed a sigh of relief. Although we still had waiting to do, I was pretty sure we were in the home stretch. Of course at this time, there was a knock on my unusually-closed office door. It was my secretary, asking me to sign a motion or something that I had given her earlier. She asked me to remind her what test I had done and what the results I was waiting for would tell us. I relayed the information, to which she oh-so-helpfully told me, “Oh, I would never do that test. I mean, what difference would it make? It’s not like you can do something about it.” I gritted my teeth, tried to remain calm and tried with all of my physical and mental will not to stand up and hurl myself at her throat. I succeeded. Instead I smiled curtly and said, “Well, I need to know.” There was another interruption at this time when a colleague, seeing my open door, started to rant about something so ridiculous that I cannot even bring myself to print it here. Suffice it to say, it was along the lines of complaining about the color of the elevator buttons in an elevator she has never had to ride in. I mean, it was nothing. And it was driving me crazy. My baby might have a chromosomal disorder! I have real problems here, people! Stop talking to me and let me go back and hide behind my “I should close it more often” office door. Soon – though let me emphasize not soon enough — the counselor called me and said, “Kate, I have great news.” And I then became so happy I thought I would burst. After telling me the baby’s chromosomes looked great, she said, “Now, did you want to know the gender?” I said we did want to know, and the ultrasound tech had told us what she thought the baby was. The counselor said, “Would you like me to confirm or deny that information?” I said, “I would really like you to confirm it!” And confirm it she did: two X chromosomes on Baby! I was elated. After I hung up the phone, I immediately went into Aaron’s office smiling, hugged him, told him the news and burst into tears. What a relief.

We had to wait longer than seven days for the full results, though. In fact, we did not get the full results back until Wednesday, October 5. The full results also came back normal, which was another great weight off of our shoulders. While the waiting on that information wasn’t fun, it was nothing compared to the two weeks we waited for the amnio, and the 48 hours that followed that. I know many people would, and do, decline these tests and I know that they do so for a variety of reasons. And while I do not wish the stress of what we went through on anyone, the knowledge we have gained — and at least our momentary peace of mind — is invaluable to me. Right now, I am actually enjoying being elderly gravida. My baby girl is growing and breathing and moving (though I can’t feel her yet) and has all her chromosomes in all the right places. The worry button has been reset to DefCon 3.

I’m sure I’ll ratchet it up again as we go into the 20-week ultrasound.

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