Z's birth story: A comedy

At 3:15 on June 22, 2009, 5 days past my due date, I had an appointment with my midwife for my 41-week check up. My midwife and I had talked in advance, and she had agreed to do a “stretch and sweep,” which is a fairly non-invasive intervention that can induce labor. Essentially a “stretch and sweep” involves a vaginal exam in which the midwife stretches her fingers in the patient’s cervix as far as possible and then runs a finger between the cervix and the bag of waters. My midwife did this twice, and at that time, I was about 3 centimeters dilated and was easily stretching to 5 centimeters. In the event that this didn’t work, we had planned an induction for June 28th, which would have put me at 41 weeks 5 days gestation with Z. I really didn’t want to wait that long for a number of reasons. I did not want to be induced, but I couldn’t bear being pregnant any longer. On top of that, my mom was scheduled to leave that day, and it was going to cost her about $400 to extend her ticket (thanks to the international fair), which neither she nor I could afford.

After my midwife appointment, C and I went home and picked up Wild Man and my mom. It was hot and humid that day, and although the temperature was much milder than anything we’d ever experienced in Southwest College Town, I was uncomfortable. We decided to take Wild Man over to the local bookstore for a while so I could rest in the air conditioning and he could play with the train sets. While C looked at the home improvement section and my mom shopped for books for Wild Man, Wild Man and I played with the trains and read books. It was nice to have some time just for the two of us. After about an hour or so, we headed home as Wild Man was getting hungry. C took Wild Man to the car while my mom and I stood in line to pay for the books she got Wild Man (as an aside, I highly recommend Margaret Atwood’s children’s books; Wild Man loves them!). As Mom paid, she looked at me and asked if I was ok. I said, “Oh, just another contraction, but this one was a bit more painful than the ones I’ve been having for the last month or so.” We left and got in the car. It was about 5 minutes after 5:00 pm then. We drove home, and Mom started reading to Wild Man while C got dinner ready. I went to the bathroom and had another strong contraction. I asked C for his ipod to keep track of the contractions (he had downloaded a labor application a few weeks earlier for us to use), and I distinctly remember thinking that I was glad I’d put chili in the crock pot earlier in the day.

For the next 20 minutes or so, I kept having strong contractions, which lasted about 90 seconds and were 5 minutes apart. Around 5:40 I told C he needed to get my bag ready and that he needed to eat dinner. At that point, I noticed he and my mom exchanged a look. I tried lying on the couch to manage the pain on my own while C tried to eat and Mom fed Wild Man. I vaguely remember C taking stuff to the car, and then I started calling for him to help me manage the pain. He rubbed my shoulders, and then I told him I had to move around. I went from the couch to the bathroom, where I sat on the toilet for a few contractions. On my way there, I stopped in the dining room to reassure Wild Man who was getting a bit concerned for me. He kept calling for me and asking what was wrong. I wasn’t in a position to talk to him, so my mom and C tried to explain things best they could. Around 5:50, I told C that he needed to call our midwife. This was a bit complicated. Our midwife is currently working with a student midwife who is finishing up her clinical rotation. Since C and I are both teachers we had no problem working with the student, whom I’ll call L. We’d be instructed to page L first so she could get practice assessing women in labor. At the time, I really just wanted to bypass L and call my midwife directly because I knew labor was progressing very quickly, but we followed my midwife’s instructions. We called L and waited 10 minutes; when she didn’t call back C asked me if I wanted him to try her again. I said, “Absolutely not! Call my midwife.” By now it was around 6, and the contractions were getting really strong. As we waited for the midwife to call back, I did something really stupid. I went up stairs to the master bathroom to brush my teeth. I got up the stairs in between contractions without C’s help, and I don’t even think he realized I was upstairs until I called for him. Why did I go upstairs (putting me on the third floor of our house)? Well at the bookstore, I had shared a frozen strawberry drink from Starbucks with Wild Man, and I could still taste it in my mouth. I remember thinking, “I cannot have this taste in my mouth the entire time I’m in labor.” Not the smartest decision on my part, but it is what I did.

I managed to brush my teeth and then went to our bedroom to make sure we had everything. At that point I was hit with a really strong contraction and I called for C. He found me leaning over our bed and demanded to know why I’d come upstairs. I looked him straight in the face and said, “I don’t care what I’ve said for the last 9 months; I want the epidural this time. Make sure you tell L and our midwife that.” He didn’t say anything, but later he told me he knew I was entering transition at that point. C managed to help me downstairs to the main floor and just as we got there my midwife called back. C explained what was going on, and he asked me if I could talk to her. I was in the middle of another contraction and trying to hug Wild Man at the time, so I think I said something not very kind to either one of them. C told her that he thought we needed to get me to the hospital quickly. She said she’d call over to the birthing center and make sure they were ready for us and then call back. She called back in about 2 minutes and said we could head over; she then asked if I wanted her to come to the house and check me there. C passed this along to me, and I said “No, I’m going to the hospital now if I have to drive myself.” I then started heading downstairs. C later told me that B, our midwife, found this amusing; she apparently laughed and said she’d meet us there.

By now it was about 6:20. The contractions were coming really quickly, and C kept telling me to keep track on the ipod. I finally told what he could do with his ipod. Wild Man followed me down the stairs and was really upset at this point. He didn’t understand what was going on, but he knew I was hurting and that bothered him. He didn’t want to leave me, and my mom realized he was going to have a major meltdown. She didn’t want him upset and she didn’t want me upset. She looked at me very quickly and said, “M, I’m going to do something you’re not going to like to distract Wild Man. I’m sorry.” She then said to Wild Man, “Let’s go have some ice cream. Would you like to have some ice cream with Nana before we take a bath?” Ordinarily I would have been displeased with using food as a bribe, but given the circumstances I didn’t care. And it worked. Wild Man kissed me and scampered upstairs. My mom kissed me good-bye, told me not to worry about Wild Man, and very sternly instructed C to take care of me. C then helped me to the car. He tried to put me in the front seat, but I went in the back so I could lean over the driver’s seat. He then told me to put my seatbelt on, and I told him to shut up and drive. Luckily we’re only 5 minutes from the hospital.

As luck would have it, C couldn’t find a close parking space, and being stubborn and in a lot of pain, I did not want him to drop me off. I told him, “I don’t care if you have to carry me; you’re not leaving me by myself.” He found a space as close as he could and we started walking to the hospital. He stuck his ticket for the lot in his pocket; we had arrived at the parking lot at 6:32 pm.

To get to the hospital from this lot, you have to walk over a sky bridge that spans the lower parking lot. As soon as we entered the sky bridge, C grabbed a wheelchair and put me in it. The floor on the sky bridge is very bumpy though, and it was not remotely comfortable. Half way across I got out of the wheelchair and walked, stopping every 30 feet or so for a contraction. We finally got to the elevators, and suddenly my labor turned into a comedy of errors. The elevators in this hospital are notoriously slow, so we waited through at least 2 contractions until one arrived that was going down. Somehow C got me on the elevator in the middle of a contraction, and we pushed our way to the back so I could lean against the wall. Now, we were surrounded by 3 nurses and at least 4 doctors. C was so focused on helping me manage the pain that he never asked for a floor, but he said he thought to himself, surely they will push 2 for the birthing center. When the elevator doors opened everyone got out, including us. We headed in the direction of the birthing center, and C said, “Oh, M. I’m so sorry. This is the first floor. We have to get back on the elevator and go up one floor.” I turned toward the elevator and literally pushed a doctor out of my way so I could lean on the wall to get through another contraction. C said the doctor didn’t even seem to notice, and by now, C was getting a bit aggravated that no one was being particularly helpful. As we waited for the elevator, an off-duty nurse saw us and brought us a wheelchair. Being me I refused again to get in it—it literally hurt to sit down at that point. Standing up was the only way I was managing the pain at all. Given that we weren’t able to sit down or even stand still, we weren’t using any relaxation techniques at all. C was trying to get me to the birthing center as quickly as possible, and I wasn’t being particularly cooperative. But as I’ve reminded him, I was in labor!

The elevator finally arrived and we were on the second floor. C demanded I get in the wheelchair, and when I told him no, he literally pushed me down by my shoulders and moved so quickly I couldn’t get out. We got to the birthing center, and he started checking me in. I got up out of the wheelchair, announced that I had to pee, and went into the bathroom. He ended up throwing my wallet at the receptionist and pulled me out of the bathroom. He was concerned I was going to start pushing, but I really just had to pee. I know now that my bag of waters was so low that it was compressing my bladder, making me feel like I had to pee. A nurse showed up then and agreed to take me to the bathroom. C gave what he thought was my health card to the receptionist, but it turned out to be Wild Man’s. So until after Z was born, Wild Man was the one who had been admitted to the hospital. Once the nurse got me to the bathroom, I took my shorts off to go to the bathroom, and then I told her I needed C. She hollered for him, and then she determined that I shouldn’t go to the bathroom. She led me to an exam room, telling C on the way there that a birthing suite was all ready for me. I refused to put my shorts back on, so she and C wrapped a gown around me and we hobbled to the exam rom. She told me to lie down on the bed. The nurse said she’d check me and then get me a gown to change into. As soon as I opened my knees for her to check me, I knew I had to push. She said the words that are the most irritating thing for a woman in labor, “Don’t push.” I squeezed C’s hand as hard as I could and somehow managed not to push. She checked me and announced, “Oh yeah, she’s ten centimeters. Do you have a doctor or a midwife?” C answered, “A midwife, and she’s on her way.” The nurse then said, “I don’t think she’s going to make it in time.” I looked at the clock on the wall and noticed it was 6:55. It had taken us almost 30 minutes to get from the car to the birthing center. Then my midwife walked in.

I started freaking out a bit at that point because the contractions felt drastically different from what I experienced with Wild Man. They were one on top of the other and coming very, very fast. I told C I was scared, and he and B were great at calming me down. The second midwife, who was there to take care of Z once he was born, showed up, and I could finally start pushing. Pushing was such a relief. Instead of being high up on a hospital bed, on my back with my legs in stirrups like I was with Wild Man, I was on a low bed, and I was able to change positions as I wanted to. The room had dim lights, and the only people there were C, the two midwives, and me. I wasn’t hooked up to any monitors, and I didn’t have an IV (although, since I had tested Strep B positive 4 weeks earlier, I was supposed to have IV antibiotics). In between pushes, S, the second midwife, checked Z’s heart rate with her portable fetal monitor, the same kind doctors use to check babies’ heart rates during office visits. For the next 35 minutes I pushed while lying on my side, with one leg stretched out and the other pulled up. I changed positions once, and ultimately I was lying on my left side, holding C’s hand while I pushed. There was no counting this time. C and B encouraged me, but B let me push as many or as few times in a row as I wanted to. I pushed between 3 and 5 times during each contraction, and the 3rd push was always the strongest. After about 20 minutes of pushing my water broke while I was pushing, which was a strange sensation. It wasn’t the big gush I remembered from when Wild Man was born and my water was broken. Instead it was a small gush and then more gushes every time I pushed after that.

By this point, I was tired and ready for the baby to be born. B told me the baby was crowning, and I pushed really hard. When she told me the head was out and to stop pushing, I just looked straight into C’s eyes to have something to focus on. C told me to look down, and because of the position I was in, I was able to see Z being born. As soon as the baby was born, B put him on my chest, and S helped C and I start cleaning him up. I saw his penis right away and looked over at C, who was looking right at me. We were both quiet for a moment, and I then I said, “Well, I guess his name will be Z.” This was the only boy’s name we both liked, and ironically, it was the only name we had agreed to before I’d gone into labor. We’d gone into the delivery room with C preferring one girl’s name and me preferring another. It seems everything turned out for the best! Still, C was a bit taken aback, and said, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” He quickly agreed that we’d name him Z though. At that point, B was so focused on me that she didn’t even realize Z was a boy, and I noticed she gave us a funny look. After she delivered my placenta, she came to the head of the bed and gave Z a good look. She said, “Oh, that’s why you named him Z. I was thinking that was an odd choice for a girl.” We all laughed, and at that moment L, whose pager had not been working properly, arrived. Remember we’d arrived at the hospital, according to the parking meter, at 6:32 pm; Z was born at 7:36 pm. He weighed 8 pounds, 5.9 ounces, and was 22 ½ inches long. He was a full pound and a half heavier and 3 inches longer than Wild Man when he was born.

In the end, I had a first degree tear, which required two stitches, and I had been in labor for about 2 ½ hours. We spent the night in the hospital and went home around 3 the next afternoon. As surprising as it was to take home a little boy, we’re thrilled with our two boys, and Wild Man, who proceeded to call Z his “baby sister” for the next week, seemed very pleased with Z.

Annoyed

C and I are both a bit annoyed with Wild Man's school today. We love everything about this school (well, except maybe the tendency to serve sugary snacks in the afternoon), so for us to have a complaint is unusual. But we have one, and C was so annoyed that he emailed the director to follow-up on the conversation he had with her this morning when he dropped Wild Man off.

A bit of background: following the Canadian system, toddler rooms (which is what Wild Man is in) have children from age 18 months to 2 1/2 years. The reason for this is that most children don't start daycare until they are 12 months old (thanks to the Canadian practice of allowing caregivers to take up to 12 months maternity leave assuming they qualify). When Wild Man started, he was one of the younger kids in his class, and although this concerned us a bit, he quickly acclimated and made some good friends. Now he is one of the oldest kids. In fact, we were told a few weeks ago that he was the next child on the schedule to move up to a pre-school class. We were excited about this for Wild Man as we knew one of his good friends was going to be moving up soon; in fact, we requested that he be moved up with another of his good friends who is only 4 days younger than he is. The director said that this shouldn't be a problem, so we didn't think too much about it.

Well, last week we learned that Wild Man's best buddy, D, was moving up this week, and we knew that was going to stress him out a bit. We talked about it this weekend and he seemed ok. We reassured him that his other good friend, T, would still be with him, although she had been out on vacation last week. This morning, C dropped Wild Man off and realized that not only was D gone, but so was T. C asked Wild Man's teachers, who explained that both T and D had moved up today. C said Wild Man looked around the room for his friends and turned to C and asked, "Daddy, where are my friends?" Wild Man can (and will) play with the other children, but they are all 3 months or more younger than he is. None of them are as verbal as he is, and none of them are quite as rambunctious as he is. C said when he left, he could tell that Wild Man was stressed out. Given all the other changes that Wild Man is dealing with, C was concerned--and a bit angry. He stopped by the director's office to ask when Wild Man would be moving up. It seems they are having a hard time finding a spot for Wild Man this summer given his "part-time" schedule. So Wild Man, who turned 2 1/2 in April, isn't being moved up because he only goes 4 days a week instead of 5. That made me angry. I understand the intricacies of the schedule and all of that, but it seems like in the 5 pre-school rooms this school has, there would be one that would work with his schedule. The director told C it would be easier to find Wild Man a spot in a pre-school room if he went full-time.

Now we're discussing sending Wild Man full-time if only to ensure that he is stimulated and happy at school. I'm really, really unhappy about this, but I'm not sure what else to do.

Random Stuff

Both Z and Wild Man are napping, and C and his mom are grocery shopping. I should be napping too, but I can't seem to turn my brain off. A lot has happened in the past two weeks, and I'm not certain I've begun to process it all. My emotions are all over the place, so I thought writing might help.

• Wild Man is doing well adjusting to his brother's presence. He's not doing so well sharing me. Saturday morning he had his first major meltdown. Z had cluster fed throughout the night, which meant I was up about every 2 hours. On top of that Wild Man had a rough night himself. He woke up once and took about 30 minutes to go back to sleep, and then he woke up for the day at 6, which is about an hour earlier than he usually wakes up. So C and I were both exhausted. When Wild Man woke up, C woke up his mom, and she watched a movie with Wild Man, so C and I could go back to sleep. At 8, Z woke up, and Wild Man heard him. He came right up the stairs to see me, and he wanted a hug. I was trying to nurse Z, so I told Wild Man to sit on the bed with us and I'd hug him while I nursed Z. Not ideal, I know, but I thought it would make Wild Man happy. I was wrong, and Wild Man had a total global meltdown. He wanted me right at that moment, and I couldn't hold him the way he wanted to be held. I felt horrible. I had to feed Z, but I really wanted to take care of Wild Man, who was clearly not feeling like himself and was exhausted. C, who is inifintely patient with newborns, has little patience for toddlers' temper tantrums, and he wasn't as helpful as he could have been. Really, Wild Man just needed to cry, but going on lack of sleep, C put him in time out. That made things worse. Thankfully Z is already an effiecient nurser, and he was done in about 15 minutes. I was able to give Z to C and comfort Wild Man, but even then it took him about 15 more minutes to calm down. He was off for the rest of the day (which, frankly, wasn't helped by the fact that Yetta insisted on having an elaborate lunch for the 4th and we didn't eat until 1:00, which means Wild Man had been up for 7 hours by the time he went down for a nap.).
• I'm tired, which seems obvious, but it isn't the same tired to the bone I experienced with Wild Man. Thus far, Z is a calmer baby than Wild Man was. He is routinely up for 2 hours in the middle of the night, but as he isn't fussy, he is easier to deal with. In fact, last night was his first real fussy night, and he was having a hard time pooping. Once he relaxed and pooped, he nursed and went right to sleep.
• I have a million things to do to get ready for the semester, and I don't want to do any of them.
• I'm anxiously waiting for Z's birth certificate to come in so we can get him a Canadian passport. Since we couldn't get an appointment at the U.S. Consulate until the end of the month, we weren't sure his U.S. passport would come in by the time of our trip to Southwest College Town in August. Thus, we've decided to get him a Canadian passport. I've been told this will only take about 3 weeks once we get the paper work in, but since the Canadian post is notoriously slow, I'm still worried.
• We have to get the car registered, which will likely be a tedious process.
• C has started installing our new kitchen cabinets (I swear the man must be occupied at all times). They look great, but frankly, I'm tired of talking about home improvement.
• Yetta is wonderful, but she isn't my mom. I miss my mom.
• Yetta hates hanging out around the house, and I'm not really feeling like getting out right now. C, however, wants to make sure his mom has a good visit, so he is giving in to her. I don't want to eat out, I don't want to go shopping, and I really don't want to leave my house except to take Wild Man to the park (which is too far for Yetta to walk to even though it is only 2 blocks away). I told C last night that I need him to remember that I just had a baby, and I'd like to lay low for a few more weeks.
• My sister is being an ass to our mom. I don't want to elaborated at this point, but I will say that my sister is using her recent diagnosis of bi-polar 2 as a means to blame every horrible thing that happened in our childhood (and for the record, we had a pretty good childhood) on our mom.
• C's sister, Pita, has made several comments about Z being a boy. C says they come across as jokes, but she is expressing her disappointment at having another nephew. So far she hasn't said anything to me, and I have already warned both Yetta and C that if she does say anything to me about Z's sex I will not be kind.
  
• I had no idea that having a second child would make me love my oldest child so much more. Despite his clinginess to me, Wild Man clearly loves his baby brother. He constantly kisses Z and tells him how much he loves him. He hates for him to cry, and he gets very upset if we let Z cry for a minute longer than Wild Man thinks is necessary.
• I still need to type up Z's birth story (which, in retrospect, was quite comedic), but I haven't managed to do that yet.
• I have a bunch of corrections to do to my dissertation, per the ubiquitous thesis office, and I have to finish those this week.
• I'm actually looking forward to this coming weekend. Yetta leaves on Wednesday, and it will be the four of us until the end of the month, when Pita comes for a visit. It will be stressful in some ways, but I also think it will be good for us to be on our own so we can start to figure these things out for ourselves.
• I want to give Z a bottle sometime this week. He's nursing great, and I don't want to wait much longer. With my teaching schedule this fall (I'll be on campus 4 days a week), I need him to take a bottle easily. Wild Man never really took the bottle, but I really need Z to be comfortable getting breast milk from a bottle.
• I figure I have another 30 minutes before Wild Man wakes up, so I'm going to try to get through some of those revisions now.
  

Yetta

Yetta got her on Wednesday night, and I'm already struck by how different our mothers are. I'll blog about it at some point, but for now I'll just say that Yetta prefers to shop for us while my mom preferred to clean for us. And I don't think she's stopped talking since she got here. . .

My mom

My mom leaves Sunday, and that makes me really sad. My mom has been here for 2 weeks, and she's been great. She's done all the stuff around the house that she could since she's been here so I could focus on Wild Man before Z's arrival and both boys after Z's arrival. She kept Wild Man calm the evening I went into labor, and she's taken Z every morning so I could go back to sleep and C could get Wild Man ready for school. On top of all of that, we had a week together before Z's birth, and we talked about a lot of stuff that has happened in the past few years. I feel like we understand each other a lot better now. I understand a bit more how hard it was for her when she was first diagnosed with bi-polar and she undersands a bit more how hard it was for me to deal with her diagnosis. I really wish she didn't have to go, and she wanted to extend her ticket. Doing so cost more than either one of us could afford right now, unfortunately. She may come back in August, and she'll definitely be here for Wild Man's birthday in October. In addition to giving birth to a wonderful baby, I also feel like I've gotten my mom back.

Ugh

Due to a mistake on the part of the rep in Human Resources and my ignorance about the Canadian system, it turns out that I do not qualify for maternity leave benefits. I'm feeling a little sick to my stomach right now as that affects our income for the summer, although not drastically. C will still begin leave in a few weeks, and thanks to his full-time position at the university, he is assured of benefits.

There are some positive things to remember, which I'm trying to focus on rather than having an all out break down, which I'm sure would be fueled by my post-partum state of mind. We have enough in savings to see us through till the fall when I will be getting paid again. I recently found out that I will be teaching 3 courses in as many departments this year (well, 3 in the fall term, and 2 in the spring term), which will significantly improve our income and mean that we'll be able to replenish our savings fairly quickly. We also got a sizable amount back in income taxes which will help see us through. But knowing that this is due to the fact that someone forgot to check something soon enough and that I didn't know to ask the right questions is very, very upsetting.

Z

Big Brother

Wild Man is handling Z's (at some point I'll come up with another pseudonym for him, but for now we'll stick with Z) arrival really well. There has been some minor jealousy, mostly connected with me, but considering he has his Nana's attention, Wild Man is doing fairly well. In fact, whenever he hears Z cry he says, "Mommy, Z is crying. Don't hurt my brother. You be careful." He has helped C change Z's diapers several times and is eager to play with him. So far the transition has been fairly easy, although I got upset yesterday when Wild Man was crying for me to give him a bath and I couldn't because I was nursing Z. We're taking it one day at a time, but it is good to know that Wild Man likes his brother.

Baby Z's birth announcement

Baby Z was born yesterday evening at 7:36 pm after 2 hours of labor. He weighs 8 pounds 6 ounces and is 22 inches long. And yes, you read that correctly: Baby Z is, indeed, a boy! It seems our little guy confounded the ultrasound tech who had predicted he would be a she. So now we're trying to figure out what to do with all the pink clothes people have given us! I'll write more later, including a birth story. For now, I'm happy to be home with all my boys!

Scheduled

I spoke with my midwife this morning and scheduled an induction for June 28th. Scheduling an induction means that I will have to be transferred out of my midwife's care into that of an ob/gyn. My midwife encouraged me to wait one more day because the doctor on call on the 28th is a doctor whom she has worked with before and who is willing to allow her to be a part of the induction process. Not all ob/gyns are willing to include midwives in the process. My midwife also seems to think that this doctor would be willing to try just breaking my water rather than giving me pitocin or other drugs first. When I had an emergency induction with Wild Man, my then ob/gyn only had to break my water. 4 1/2 hours later Wild Man was born. This suggests my body will go into labor on its own with this single intervention. I'd really like to go this route as I may not have to deal with pitocin and will be able to have an unmedicated birth. I'm not sure what will happen if I have pitocin. I also have a series of appointments scheduled for next week in the event that I do have to be induced. This is making for some crazy conversations and contigency plans.

I do have to say though that it has been really nice to have this time with my mom. We've been shopping, she's helped me hem curtains, we've organized Z's closet, and we've been out to lunch several times. On top of that, she's done all my laundry, done the dishes every day, and played with Wild Man until he's collapsed on the floor in giggles. We also had a long conversation about my expectations once the baby gets here, and before I could even say much she told me she thinks it is more important for her to focus on Wild Man so I can focus on the baby. Since she isn't comfortable driving around a new city, she said she thinks it will be better if C handles errands and things like that. This is precisely what I had in mind anyway, so it all works out very well. It seems a lot of my worrying about her was unfounded. She isn't as energetic as the mom I grew up with, but she is definitely more together and present than she was right after Wild Man was born. Even if she is only here for a few days after Z is born, I will not feel like this was a wasted visit sine we've already had such a good time together.

An induction

Since I'm still pregnant and Z shows no signs of making an appearance, we have decided to schedule an induction. My midwife, who is not at all concerned about the baby or me, will not even consider an induction until I'm 41 weeks and 3 days, which is about 10 days from now. Her reasoning for this is that with any intervention I'm more likely to have more interventions, and I totally agree. I am somewhat frustrated though. I fully realize these are circumstances that are beyond my control, and I'm mostly ok with that. I want the baby to come in her own time as that means she's ready. That said, our good friends, who had driven to CU Land from New York, had to leave today, and their primary purpose in coming was so that my friend could be my doula, something she did for me when Wild Man was born. My mom also got here on Saturday, and she's very nervous that she won't be able to be here much after the baby is born if Z doesn't show up until the induction date. Granted, Mom will be here for about 11 more days (and for the record, the "together" Mom showed up!), but if I have to be induced, Mom will have to take more time off of work and extend her ticket. Her visit will also overlap with C's mom's, which isn't ideal for any of us.

Needless to say, both C and I are a bit stressed out. Neither one of us wants to have an induction, but I don't know that I'm mentally prepared to be pregnant for another 2 or 3 weeks. Right now the plan is to schedule an induction for June 27; in the meantime, we'll hope Z decides to come on her own. If she hasn't come by next Tuesday, my midwife will send me to have a stress test, and a few days after that she'll send me for another stress test and an ultrasound. Oddly enough, everyone is more worried than C, my mom (who went to today's appointment with us), and me. As I said to C a little while ago, I know what it is like to have a doctor look at me and be worried. After the scare we had with Wild Man's delivery, I know the look that medical personnel get when they think something is going wrong with my pregnancy. My midwife, whom I like a lot and really trust, does not seem at all concerned, so I'm not concerned--at least not about my health or the baby's. I'm just a little sad that our friends had to leave before the baby arrived and that my mom might not get to spend a lot of time with us after the baby does arrive.

*Edited to add: Yetta and Pita, both of whom are prone to assume the absolute worst, are freaked out. They are sure something will go wrong and were very upset when C told them that he isn't really worried and that he'd prefer not to have me induced.

Submitted!

So this morning C pointed out that I had instructed Baby Z not to make an appearance until I was completely finished with my dissertation. As of this morning, I only had to complete the abstract and the table of contents. I then needed C's help to convert all the various supplementary materials into a pdf before I could submit it to the thesis office. I spent the afternoon doing that, and C finished helping me convert it to a pdf. I just submitted it to the thesis office. My adviser will send the signature page over to the thesis office tomorrow, as well as a few copyright forms. My dissertation is now submitted. I hope this means that Z will now decide she can show up without making her mother's life more stressful!

I am. . .

still waiting for Z to make an appearance. I'm 39 weeks and 3 days pregnant. I have finished all of my dissertation revisions. Our good friends are in town visiting; Solon is here to help take care of Wild Man, and Megs is here to be my doula. My mom got into town today. I feel like a watched pot that will never boil.

According to my midwife, Z's head is engaged, which explains why it hurts to walk. I've had serious contractions the last two nights, but they've stopped around midnight. I'm ready, C is ready, Wild Man is even ready. Apparently Z is not ready. So we wait.

Princess Fever

Gender is always on my mind, it seems. It is a big concern of my research, and I think I probably pay more attention to issues of gender than the average parent (no doubt, as do most of my readers many of whom are also academic moms). Since giving birth to Wild Man, I've thought a lot about gender roles and how they will affect my son. At 2 1/2 Wild Man is slowly becoming aware of gender and sex. He knows, for example, that he has a penis and that I do not. He knows that I wear a bra but that C does not. As he has found various feminine products in our bathroom cabinet the closer we get to Z's arrival, he is also starting to understand that certain things are for "ladies." Per our pediatrician's instructions, we're focusing on providing simple answers to his questions and offering more information when he asks for more. Mostly though, Wild Man is satisfied with simple answers about the differences between his body and my body. We have recently had some trouble answering questions that are clearly related to gender.

C and I recently took Wild Man shoe shopping. He is now at the age where he offers an opinion, and we're learning how to validate his opinion while buying clothes and shoes that we think are appropriate. On this particular shopping trip, we explained to Wild Man that he needed new sneakers, nothing else. My kid likes shoes (can you blame him? So do I!), so it was important that he know we were only buying sneakers. Well, at the shoe store, Wild Man was drawn immediately to a pair of pink sparkly sneakers. He looked up at me and said, "Mommy, I please have these?" The pair he had chosen were reasonably price, were well made, and were a brand that I know will last. Moreover, they were designed in a way that would easily accommodate my son's wide foot. I figured, what the heck? They weren't obnoxiously pink and only the velcro straps were sparkly. But C took one look at them and said, "I don't think we should let him have pink shoes." I raised my eyebrows, and he then said, "I know we're trying to be progressive parents, but I really don't want to have to deal with all the comments we'll get about letting him wear pink shoes. I'll compromise. We can go buy him some pink, glittery play shoes at the toy store when we're done here." To be totally honest, I think C's reasoning is a bit of a cop out. Wild Man likes pink, plain and simple. But he also likes trucks, tractors, and dirt. I understand that we'd probably get a few odd looks about his shoes, but whatever, right? I mean, pink shoes are the least of my worries. That said, I wasn't in the mood to have a long drawn out debate about gender in the shoe store. C was able to suggest a pair of navy blue sneakers with red and silver trim that Wild Man liked. They fit so we bought them. We never made it to the toy store for dress up shoes, but he still wears my heels around the house. All is well in our house.

Then I ran across this article on Princess Fever this morning. I freely admit this is my biggest fear about having a daugther: that she will come out of my womb loving all things pink, glittery, sparkly, and princess-y. All things that I really don't like. In fact, part of the reason we haven't bought Wild Man dress up play shoes is that I can't find any that aren't connected to the Disney Princesses. I think I'm pretty good a negotiating gender choices for my son because I'm trying to seek a balance. Ideally we'll be able to provide a similar balance for Z, but after reading this article I am now imagining us in the same shoe store arguing with her about pink sparkly sneakers emblazoned with princesses and trying to steer her toward the navy blue ones. Is it possible in 2009 to raise a daughter who is not enamored by princesses?

Belly shot

A few weeks ago, we had a photographer come to the house and take some family pictures of the three of us and some maternity shots of me. Wild Man was not as cooperative as I'd hoped, but the photos still turned out great, mainly because the photographer was determined to get some great pictures. She got some really nice ones of C and me, which makes me very happy since we haven't had a professional picture taken of just the two of us since our wedding, almost 9 years ago. This is one of my favorites.

Seriously?

So Thursday morning I woke up with a cold. I thought, "Seriously, a cold at 38 weeks pregnant? Who did I piss off?" I was hoping it would be a minor cold. No such luck. It has turned into a major cold, with a cough, watery eyes, and lots of sneezing. So far Wild Man hasn't caught it, but C has. Colds always affect us differently. I've already gone through a box of tissues. C has yet to sneeze or need to blow his nose, but he looks exhausted and clearly feels awful. I actually told him that as tired as I am of being pregnant I really hope I don't go into labor tonight as I don't think either one of us is up for a long night of labor. Here's hoping we'll both feel better soon, and that Z makes her appearance soon after that. I think Wild Man is even ready for her to be here. He asked me today, "Mommy, when sister come home?"

Birthday Update

Yesterday was my birthday, and I really thought that Z would make an appearance yesterday. I was born on my grandfather's birthday, so I have thought for some time now that Z might show up on our birthday to give us something extra to celebrate. Apparently she wants to keep us guessing, so we're still waiting.

Despite still being pregnant, I had a lovely birthday. Wild Man woke me up by singing "Happy Birthday" to me, and he and C made me breakfast--toast, cereal, and sliced strawberries. After we dropped Wild Man off at school, C and I went to price kitchen cabinets. I know this isn't particularly exciting to most people, but the chain home improvement store in town is discontinuing a nice line of cabinets. Thus, we can replace the cabinets in our house for around $700. The problem is that since the line is discontinued we have to make do with whatever is in stock. We spent over an hour figuring out what they have and don't have and trying to locate the missing pieces at another store, which is in a town about an hour away.

After leaving the land of kitchen cabinets, we ran some other errands and then had a lovely lunch at a Thai restaurant I've been wanting to try for a while. We opted not to have a family dinner because I wanted to go to a nicer restaurant. We also opted not to hire a babysitter and to go out for the evening because I'm just not up for late nights right now. In the end, this restaurant, which was a bit upscale, was a good compromise. We had a lovely grown-up lunch, lingering over appetizers and entrees and talking for over an hour and a half. Now if we don't get to celebrate our anniversary in any significant way, I don't think either of us will feel cheated.

After lunch, C dropped me off at a nearby Starbucks, where I read and worked for awhile, and he returned to the home improvement store to purchase the cabinets we needed and they had in stock. Then he picked me up, and we went to a midwife appointment. We learned that Z is still quite low (which I knew), but that her head is not yet engaged. The midwife warned me this may not happen until I'm in labor. I find it hard to believe her head isn't engaged since I'm experiencing so much pressure in my pelvis, but whatever. Then we picked up Wild Man and went to the park for a while. We got home around 5, made pasta for dinner, and had yummy ice cream cake for dessert. After Wild Man went to bed, C and I watched a movie and snuggled on the couch. All in all, it was a low-key birthday, which is exactly what I wanted. And we have over 3/4 of the ice cream cake left, so I get to celebrate for quite a few more days!

Weepy

I'm feeling a bit weepy today. Truth be told, I've been feeling a bit weepy for the past few days. Lots of things make me want to cry, especially things connected to Wild Man. In the past month or so, it has really hit home how much he has grown up.

He is almost completely potty-trained. He always pees on the toilet, and he poops on it about 85% of the time. While a lot of this is due to mine and C's effort to make sure he goes, he is getting much better about telling us when he has to do. He can dress himself, aside from buttoning buttons and zipping zippers. He can even get his shoes on himself, although he still confuses which feet they go on regularly. And in the milestone we've been working toward for so long: he consistently sleeps through the night and puts himself to sleep. This is a big accomplishment in our household. All of these things are great, and I'm very proud of my little guy. But he is definitely not a baby anymore. He's lost most of his baby chub with his most recent growth spurt. He is about 35 inches tall and weighs about 33 pounds. He constantly tells me, "Mommy, I do it myself." He has never been much of a snuggler, and he is even less of one now. He is very free with hugs and kisses, but he won't sit on my lap (or what is left of it) for any length of time. As if all of that weren't enough, he is fascinated by C. Whereas he used to want to be with me all the time (and yes, I remember complaining about it), now he follows C around and does everything he sees his father doing. I'm quite happy that he is attaching himself to C, as it will definitely make the transition easier once Baby Z arrives, but it makes part of me a little sad.

On top of missing my baby boy, I'm also feeling some guilt about having a second child. On some level, I feel like we're doing Wild Man a huge disservice by having a second child, at least financially. If we were a family a three, we'd be able to give him a lot more--in terms of education, of travel, of life experience. Being a family of four, those things are necessarily going to be harder. C's reassures me that this won't necessarily be the case. After all, given our professions and his particular field of study, our kids will have a lot of life experiences we didn't have as children. But financially things will be harder, at least a bit. And then I feel guilty for thinking maybe we shouldn't have decided to have a second child. It's this horrible cycle, which I'm hoping will end once I meet Z and hold her for the first time. But I keep thinking, what if all I can think about when the midwife gives her to me for the first time is Wild Man? What if I don't have the immediate love for her that I had for him? What if I like him better? And I want to cry again.

I'm really hoping all of this is just pregnancy hormones and that all of these doubts and fears will go away once Z arrives.

Insurance aggravation

So last week, C and I finally got our Canadian driver's licenses. We had been putting it off for a variety of reasons, but finally, we (or I) determined we just had to do it. Getting our driver's licenses was the easy part. It literally took under a half an hour, which we both found really surprising. Getting Canadian car insurance is proving to be a bit more difficult, however.

First of all, car insurance is much more expensive here--as, it seems to us, is everything else. Second, it honestly never occurred to either C or me to keep a copy of our Southwestern State driver's licenses, which is proving to be a problem as we don't have driver's license numbers. Third, it seems that the Canadian system and the American system don't "speak" to one another, so all the paper work that the Canadian insurance company needs I'm having to find and locate on my own. That said, the insurance agent I've been working with regarding forms and the like since March has neglected to tell me what all I need to get the best rate possible. The entire process is getting a bit frustrating--and that frustration is only complicated by the fact that C has absolutely no patience for anything like this at all.

So after 4 phone calls to various companies and various states I think I finally have all the forms that I need so we can get Canadian car insurance. But something tells me I'm probably wrong.

Baby Preparations

I should be working on course prep for the fall so I am not so overwhelmed come August, but I'm not. Instead I'm marveling at all we've done in the past 2 weeks to get prepared for Z's arrival. Here's a rundown of some of the things we've done.

• Washed and organized all baby clothes.
• Organized coat closet.
  
• Replaced the heater in her room with a more energy efficient model (the one drawback of our townhome is that it uses baseboard heaters that are about 20 years old. Given the makeup of the house, installing a furnace or central heat isn't an option, so we're slowly replacing the old heaters with more energy efficient ones.)
• Purchased bottles, bath products, changing pad, wipes, and nursing pads.
• Pulled breast pump and all related items, pack n'play, infant car seat, and infant bath tub out of storage.
• Disinfected everything that needs to be disinfected.
• Put infant car seat in car.
• Set up pack n'play in living room, where Z will nap and we will change her (rather than walking upstairs every time she needs to be changed).
• Purchased used Baby Bjorn (the one with back support).
• Packed Z's diaper bag and put it in the car.
• Begun packing my bag for hospital.
• Made arrangements for Wild Man for when I go into labor.
• Cooked and frozen about 12 meals.

C has done a lot of home improvement projects that aren't necessarily related to Z's arrival, but they are projects that needed to be done before she got here (or else they wouldn't get done until who knows when.)

• Replaced floor trim in bathroom.
• Painted upstairs hallway.
• Replaced floor trim in upstairs hallway.
• Painted all bedroom and closet doors.
• Replaced doorknobs on all bedroom and closet doors.
• Painted downstairs hallway.

We've done all of these things while C has been working on an article and I've been completing the revisions mandated by my committee (which, I freely admit, I'm completing at a snail's pace). We're also making a concerted effort to do some special things with Wild Man, including going to the Farmer's Market (he loves the Farmer's Market!), getting ice cream (ok, this is more about me than him, but I never met a 2-year-old who turned down ice cream), planting flowers, and going to the park. He has even helped C paint and helped me put Z's clothes away. I honestly feel like I could go into labor now without worrying about anything. And that, of course, means that Z will be a week late.

Naming Z

I'm 37 weeks pregnant today, which makes me officially full term. And we still don't have a name for Z. We have a list, but if she were born today, I have no idea what we would name her. To make things more difficult, C recently announced he didn't like the middle name we had agreed upon months ago, which is the feminine version of his name. I was sort of flabbergasted because I had become invested in this particular name for lots of reasons. It is simple, classic, and goes with every name on our list. As a bonus, if we end up naming Z one of the more outlandish names on our list (at least one is fairly unusual, by my standards), this middle name would be perfectly suitable as a first name, should she ever want to use it as such. Apparently, C feels that I just picked the name without consulting him all that much, and he would prefer not to give the baby any version of his name at all. As he reminded me, he is the first man in his family not to name his first born son after himself in, oh, about 6 generations; so why would he want to give his daughter the feminine version of his name? Ok, I get this, and to be totally honest, I only pointed out that this was the feminine version of his name because I like it so much and I thought telling him that would sell him on it. I guess I was wrong. It seems Z's middle name will be in honor of C's grandmother. To be completely honest again, this isn't a name I particularly like (and the fact that C's mother has been lobbying for its use since before I was pregnant with Wild Man probably doesn't help my opinion of it). That said, Wild Man is named after my grandfather, so I don't think I can tell C, "Um, nope, don't want to name our daughter after your grandmother!"

I think C's decision about Z's middle name is what has thrown me for a loop. Prior to that, I had one name on our list that I really loved, but now, with the new middle name, I don't like it so much. I'm hoping that we will look at her and know what her name is, but something is telling me this little one might not have a name for a while.

**Edited to add: I actually proposed using my preferred middle name as Z's first name combined with C's grandmother's name for Z's middle name. He nixed that idea immediately.

My Birthday

My birthday is less than 2 weeks away. Yesterday C asked me what I wanted to do. He offered to hire a babysitter for Wild Man so that we can also celebrate our 9th wedding anniversary, which is on June 24, about a week after Z's due date. But I truly have no idea what I want to do. I mean, a romantic evening would be really nice, but honestly, at 38 weeks pregnant (which is what I'll be on my birthday), I doubt I'll be feeling very romantic. . .

I guess I better come up with something so C isn't disappointed.

Job update

I got word yesterday that I will, in fact, be teaching a full year course for the English Department this coming year. That means I will be gainfully employed for both the fall and spring semesters next year. This is a big relief, financially. But more to the point, I'm thrilled to be teaching for the English Department at CU. I feel like this is a much better department fit for me, and now I can begin getting to know the people in the department. This is the department I'd prefer to be hired in to if we're able to negotiate a tenure-track job for me. And bonus: I get to teach as Dr. M for the first time ever!!

36 weeks

I am officially 36 weeks pregnant today. 1 more week and Z will be considered full term. I suppose I ought to think about throwing some stuff in a bag for the hospital . . .

Z's Dual Citizenship

I've been doing some research on how to secure Z's dual citizenship, and it seems that the process will be much more complicated than either C or I had anticipated. I mistakenly assumed that since C and I are both U.S. citizens we would only have to fill out some lengthy form to apply for Z's U.S. citizenship. Nope, not so. It turns out we will have to make at least one (and quite possibly two) trips to the nearest U.S. consulate to apply for Z's U.S. citizenship. The first appointment will take a minimum of 2 hours and will require us to load both kids in the car for a 2 hour drive. Z will be fairly easy to manage, but I can't imagine Wild Man will enjoy such a day--2 hours in the car, followed by a 2 hour appointment in which he will expected to be quiet, and then another 2 hours in the car. Oh, yes, I see Wild Man really enjoying that day. To complicate matters somewhat, we'll need to do this fairly soon after Z's birth as we're traveling to Southwest College Town in August to attend my graduation. We will need apply for her citizenship and her U.S. passport at the same time to ensure her passport comes through. We could just get her a Canadian passport, but it seems to make more sense to go ahead and get her a U.S. passport.

One more thing to figure out. . .

Nesting

I have a lot to get done in the next 2 weeks or so, and a lot of it involves nesting. I need to pull out all of Wild Man's baby things and get them organized. I also need to organize the massive amounts of clothes Z already has. Between C's mom, my sister, and our very generous friends, this girl has a lot of clothes. On top of that I need to figure out what essentials we still need to purchase so we have everything ready when she arrives. Given the number of Braxton-Hicks contractions I've been having, I decided to go ahead and pack her bag for the hospital, so that is one thing that is done. I do, however, need to throw some things in a bag for me.

On top of that, I want to get a few more meals in the freezer. My sister came to visit this weekend, and we spent a good portion of yesterday and today cooking. We've made some headway there. C has also been wrapping up lots of little home improvement projects, including installing new shelving in Z's closet. We're slowly getting there, but I have to admit I don't really believe in nesting. I'm doing all of this because it has to be done, not because I feel some overwhelming urge to do it. In fact, I'd be quite happy if none of this had to be done at all! I know lots of women who feel the urge to nest, but I'm just not one of them. I'd honestly rather sit on the couch with a glass of lemonade and a good book right now.

Wild Man and Baby Z

We've been talking a lot about Baby Z's impending arrival these days, and I think Wild Man is starting to understand that we will have a baby in the house soon. We've put up the bedding and hung curtains in Z's room, something that didn't make him very happy. In fact, the day C did all this Wild Man announced that the crib is his bed and that the baby will have to sleep elsewhere. He and I talked about sleeping arrangements yesterday, and it seems that C will be taking the brunt of Wild Man's frustrations. Wild Man has determined that Z will sleep in her "basket" (we bought a moses basket on a rocker for her to use while she sleeps in our room), C will sleep in the crib, I will sleep in mine and C's bed, and Wild Man will either sleep in his bed or in "Mommy's bed." When I asked him if he thought his dad would fit in the crib, he reconsidered and grudgingly said, "Daddy sleep with Mommy."

Yesterday at dinner Wild Man asked if Z will nurse at my nu-nus (his word for breasts, which he came up with all on his own). C decided to handle this one, and said yes, Z will nurse just like you did. Wild Man pondered this and then asked "Will the baby chew Mommy's nu-nus?" I tried desperately not to laugh, but I barely managed to avoid spitting my water all over C. C explained that babies don't have teeth, so they just nurse, either their mommys' breasts or from a bottle. Wild Man then declared, "Baby Z eat my nu-nus." I think we're making progress, but I'm not 100% sure.

This weekend we're going to show him the pictures of the three of us at the hospital following his birth. We're hoping this will make him understand a little better what's going on. C also told him that our good friends Megs and Solon with their girls Jeezy and Lion Cub will be coming for a visit around the time Z is scheduled to arrive. This news ended all serious conversations about Z as Wild Man couldn't stop talking about Jeezy and Solon. So, Megs, if you're reading this, you better prepare Jeezy: Wild Man is going to show her how to dig for worms in our backyard. He said he can't show Lion Cub because she's too little.

35 weeks and counting

I'm officially 35 weeks pregnant today. 2 more weeks and I'll be considered full term. Baby Z is very active, kicking and rolling a lot. I'm also starting to feel a lot of pressure in my hips and pelvis. Last night, I had to turn over bedtime duty to C so that I could go lie down in an attempt to stop all the Braxton-Hicks contractions I was having. C is betting that Z will not make it to her due date; in fact, he's certain she won't wait until June. As for me, my mommy intuition is telling me she'll be a bit early, but I'm not counting on that. C has predicted she'll be early so many times that I think she may just decide to hang out to prove her father wrong. I certainly hope she waits two more weeks, at which point she'll be considered full term. Beyond that, I know she'll come when she's ready.

Visitors, or Why I'm not sure I want my mom to visit

Now that I have defended (and should be completing my fairly minor revisions), I feel like I can think about Z's arrival, which is about 5 weeks away, give or take. I'm getting a bit stressed out, and I'm not sure how to combat or even to deal with that stress. I'm not worried about having a second child. Ok, let me try that again. I feel like C and I know what to do with a newborn. As I've blogged countless times, Wild Man was a difficult newborn. His inablity to sleep more than 45 minutes a time for 2 months combined with his colic and with the fact that C's dad died less than 24 hours after Wild Man was born made his first few months incredibly stressful. Given that experience, I feel like we will be up for the challenge of a newborn in a few weeks. C and I have already talked about handling the workload and how we will divide responsibilities, especially night duty. Since I'll be nursing, I'll take the night shift, which means he'll have to get up with Wild Man so that Z and I can sleep in a bit. We're hoping Wild Man's schedule won't get disrupted too much, but we've talked about things enough that I feel fairly confident that we'll be able to manage.

We're expecting quite a few visitors in the weeks following Z's birth, and I'm not altogether certain how I feel about visitors. My mom will come first, and she'll stay with us for 2 weeks. Now, I don't blog about my mom a lot for a variety of reasons, the primary being that my feelings about my mother are so conflicted that it is just easier to complain about C's mom than it is to confront my feelings about my mom. How's that one for honest? If I had had Z and Wild Man 10 years ago, I would not have been stressed at all about my mom's visit. 10 years ago I could have told her to take over cooking and entertaining Wild Man, and I would have been confident in her abilities to do so. But my mom has changed drastically in the past 10 years. She has always struggled with depression, and about 5 years ago she was diagnosed as bi-polar 2. This means that she has the highs and lows associated with bi-polar, but that her mood fluctuations are easier to predict and they don't require her to be hospitalized. It took me a long time to come to terms with this diagnosis, and it took me even longer to come to terms with my mom's way of coping. She has avoided therapy in favor of a traditional psychiatrist, whom she sees once a month. She is on a number of medications, and they change quite frequently. In the first 3 years following her diagnosis (which included the year Wild Man was born), my mom also believed she suffered from panic attacks.

Rather than try to determine what caused the panic attacks and figure out how to cope with them without medication, my mom elected to take medication. Some days she would take as many as 4 pills in her attempt to get her panic attacks to stop. She was open about this and never understood why I (and my sister) was totally aghast at this. Well, I've suffered from panic attacks, and I was on an anti-anxiety medication for about 6 months while I learned, with the help of a therapist, how to manage my anxiety. I learned what sorts of things would trigger a panic attack and I developed ways of dealing with the anxiety that did not include medication. When I saw my mom pop 4 pills in the span of an hour, I was seriously disturbed. As a result of all the medication she was taking my mom became rather like a zombie. She was listless, inattentive, constantly tired, and not really present. This was in stark contrast to the mom I grew up with, who was constantly on the go, talkative, empathetic, and very present. My mom on anti-anxiety medication was not my mom, and I really mourned the loss of this person. About a year and a half ago, after my dad, my brother, my sister, and I had had many conversations about Mom's mental health and I argued that she needed to consult a new psychiatrist because I truly believed she was overmedicated or self-medicating, my dad observed my mom in the throes of what she called a panic attack. She said her chest hurt, but she wasn't distressed in any other way. My dad and I had recently had a lenghthy conversation about the symptoms I suffered from while I was having a panic attack--shortness of breath, inability to sit still, tightness in my chest and arms, among other tings--and he noticed she wasn't having any of these symptoms. When she asked him to bring him her medicine, he instead brought her seltzer water. He told her to drink as much as she could in 2 minutes and see what happened. He said if she didn't start feeling better then he'd get her pills. Amazingly my mom did as he asked; after she chugged the soda, she let out this amazing burp and said she felt better. The next day my dad drug my mom to her GP, who ran some tests. Her panic attacks were, in fact, a tear in her esophagus; my mom had severe heartburn. Her psychiatrist took away her anti-axiety meds, and slowly my mom started to come back. She is not the same as she was when I was younger, but she is certainly more present. She continues to have her good days and her bad days, but mostly she has good days.

I shared all this for a few reasons. First, I'm still trying to come to terms with my mom's diagnosis. Second, Wild Man was born in the midst of all this, about 9 months before my dad figured out my mom didn't have panic attacks, but that she was abusing her anti-axiety meds. She stayed with us for 2 weeks then, with the result being that I was caring for 2 infants. Mom would cry at the drop of a hat, or she'd sit on the couch and stare off into space for an hour at a time. Needless to say, she wasn't much help, and I was glad when she left. Her behavior was so disturbing to C that he refused to leave Wild Man alone in her care, and I found that I couldn't really argue with him given her level of awareness at the time.

Since then I feel like my mom has come back, at least mostly. She is still slow (literally, physically slow), and she still does things very methodically. It takes her a long time to complete the most ordinary tasks, like folding laundry or making dinner. She has no awareness of the outside world, as she prefers to watch reruns of "Law and Order" over the news. She is still not the take charge woman who mothered me. Instead when she visits, which is rare, she asks for instruction on everything--how to make Wild Man's breakfast, what clothes he should wear, what games he likes to play. While some of these questions are understandable, my mom doesn't ask them just once, but every time I ask her to do something for Wild Man. I'm concerned she will be no help after Z's birth and that I will find myself resenting her presence and trying to control my anger toward her--unsuccessfully. The truth of the matter is that I desperately miss my mother, or the person that I remember my mother to be. And that is the person that I want to show up after Z is born: the woman who did things without asking, the woman who was in charge and whom no one questioned, the woman who took care of me. Instead, I'm afraid this new mother will show up, the one I don't really know how to deal with, the one that I end up parenting. I'm afraid this visit will go very much like the visit following Wild Man's birth, where I found myself crying in the bathroom while I held my newborn. I wasn't crying out of depression or exhaustion; I was crying because I missed my mom, even though she was just downstairs. I know that I will have less patience with this visit because this time, I have two children to care for. My mom's ostensible purpose during this visist is to care for Wild Man, to play with him, and to keep him entertained while I care for Z and C takes care of the house. As excited as I was when she made her reservations, I am now deeply regretting asking her to stay for 2 weeks.

Home

I got home yesterday, although I left Southwest College Town on Saturday. C surprised me by reserving a hotel room for us on Saturday night, which meant we didn't have to drive back to CU Land on Saturday night. The three of us had a nice dinner and hung out in the hotel room. Then yesterday we went shopping and had a nice lunch before driving back to CU Land. It was a quiet, relaxing day, which is exactly what the three of us needed after being apart for almost a week. I have to say, seeing Wild Man run to me from across the airport was just as wonderful as hearing my adviser say I'd passed my defense. He proudly presented me with a Mother's Day present--a very pretty bead bracelet that he'd made himself at school. As wonderful as it was to be with all of my friends and to defend, it was more wonderful to be back with my boys again. Wild Man and I are spending the day together, and then tomorrow, I get back to work. I'm giving myself 2 weeks to finish all my revisions, although I'm hoping it will take less time. Then C and I begin the arduous task of organizing closets and making other final preparations for Z's arrival. Only 5 1/2 weeks to go. . .

I passed!

That sums it up for now. I have lots of thoughts on the defense itself, but for now, I'm exhausted, literally and mentally--although I'm also oddly energized mentally. I received lots of great feedback at the defense, and I am excited to put a lot of the suggestions into my dissertation. Luckily none of the revisions are major, at least not for the dissertation. I got lots of great suggestions for "the book," and overall, the defense itself went much smoother than I ever could have anticipated.

Everyone warned me that it would feel oddly anti-climatic, but I have to say, it feels pretty good.

By 4:30 this afternoon. . .

I will have defended my dissertation.

It feels very weird to be having this experience, and it feels doubly weird to have it while C and Wild Man are in CU Land. They are the ones I most want to see at 4:30. I will have to settle for dinner out with my adviser at a fairly swanky restaurant, followed by a small party of some of my best friends tomorrow--including a dear friend who is defending this morning. C has dropped enough hints for me to know he has something planned for my return, but not enough that I have been able to figure it out. . .

Annoying children

I wrote this yesterday, but I didn't get a chance to post it until today.

Ok, so I’m a mom, and I have taken Wild Man on many, many plane rides. I understand how difficult it can be to keep an infant quiet or to keep a toddler occupied. Generally, I’m sympathetic to the kids and parents, especially when the parent is traveling alone on a long flight with his or her child. But if the little girl behind me kicks my seat one more time, I think I’m going to rip her foot off. I’ve been trying to work on my defense presentation for the duration of the flight, and on more than one occasion I’ve found myself typing snippets of the very loud conversation that mother and daughter are having. I’m getting increasingly annoyed, and I really want to turn around and ask them to use their “inside voices.” This little girl is about four, so she should know what an inside voice is. And her mother, who has had her Chanel sunglasses on for the entire flight, should definitely know how an inside voice is. . .

Still here

No, I haven't dropped off the face of the earth. I've just been swamped with grading, last minute dissertation stuff, and organizing the house in advance of my mother-in-law's arrival. We have managed to squeeze in some fun, including a trip to the nearest zoo. Wild Man had a ball, and he especially loved seeing the hippos. The kid is obsessed with hippos, so he was quite pleased to see two up close and personal. I'll post more once I wrap my head around the fact that I am defending in less than a week. . .

A little annoyed

Given the problems some of my friends (real and bloggy) have had with their advisers, I always hesitate to complain about mine. On an average day, she is wonderful. She is precisely what I needed in terms of an adviser; she takes a back seat approach to my research and writing, but when I need her, she immediately steps up. She provides great feedback and is a wonderful editor. On top of all that, we think and work a lot alike, so the relationship has been a great one. That said, she is an associate dean, and I am the last student whom she will be a dissertation adviser for. Her job as a dean means she's often out of town or hard to pin down for meetings. Given that I'm finishing from distances and about 90% of our communication for the past 9 months has occurred through email and Facebook, this hasn't been a problem. There have been a few times, however, that she hasn't gotten back to me quickly. This tends to happen when she has a week that is jam-packed with meetings. When she does answer, she is always apologetic and helpful. I usually just go with the flow, but this week, I'm not feeling so understanding. I've sent her 4 emails in the last 10 days or so, and I havent' heard anything from her at all. The emails were fairly important too--at least as far as I'm concerned! In one I asked for direction about a conclusion--specifically whether I need to try to write one before my defense, which is in two weeks; in the other I asked about including images of Edith Wharton's home The Mount in my chapter on Wharton. This one isn't so major as we can decide later, but it would be nice to go ahead and start talking to the people at The Mount to get permission to use images of the house. I've sent each email again, and still haven't heard anything. I'm fairly certain she's in town b/c I haven't received the typical response to my emails indicating that she is out of town. So what do I do? C has advised me to let it go; I can't address either issue without her input, so he thinks I should just wait until I do hear from her. If I don't have a conclusion, it isn't my fault, according to his theory. But two of my other committee members have already asked about a conclusion. . . I think I'll give her until tomorrow and then I start pestering again.

It is official

I just sent my introduction to my committee. They now have a complete copy of my entire dissertation. Well, they have everything but the bibliography. I need to make some minor changes to it, and I will send that to them later today. I must say, this feels very, very odd.

Bonus!

Apparently there is a bonus to getting a doctorate in English, especially when your dissertation focuses on gender issues. Thus far, I've applied for part-time teaching in 3 departments at CU: English, Women's Studies (applying is a formality; I know I'll be teaching one course in the fall), and Writing.

That makes me feel better about my prospects for employment next year.

Labor worries

It's 6:30 in the morning, and I'm up early, as usual, to get some work done before C and Wild Man wake up. But I've been up much longer than usual this morning, and I haven't been working. I've been worrying about labor. I'm finding it odd that I'm worried about labor with my second pregnancy since I wasn't really worried about labor when I carried Wild Man. I have quite a few concerns this time, though, and most of them are connected to my ability to have another unmedicated birth.

I'm worried because I haven't done any of the preparation I did when I was carrying Wild Man. My whole world has centered around my dissertation and taking care of my son that I haven't set aside the time to prepare my body for labor. This concerns me, and apparently, as he revealed at our most recent appointment with my midwife, it concerns C too. With Wild Man, we took Bradley Method classes, we did relaxation exercises every day for about 5 months, and I exercised daily. This time around, I've managed to start walking as the weather has gotten warmer, and I certainly spend a lot of time chasing Wild Man. Other than that, I think we've practiced our relaxation techniques twice, and I haven't done any of the ab or back exercises I did last time. I have been doing kegels quite regularly, so that's a bonus. I'm not worried about my mental ability to handle the pain. But I'm really worried about my stamina. I'm just not in the physical shape I was in when I carried Wild Man. I'm worried if I have a really long labor I'll get exhausted.

C and I talked about this some last night, as well as with my midwife. We have come up with some solutions. She thinks its fine for me to start exercising more now, and by exercising more she means taking walks. As she put it, it's a bit late in my pregnancy to start doing more than that, especially given how many braxton-hicks contractions I'm already having. C also broke out our Bradley Method book last night and started re-reading it. He asked me a lot of questions about what worked for me last time in terms of pain management, and he pointed out a few things that didn't work. Starting this weekend, I'm going to make more time for me--even if that means I set aside 20 minutes--to do my exercises. This is something that is really important to me, almost as important as finishing the dissertation. So I need to quit worrying about it and do some things to get prepared.

It's official . . .

I no longer have a belly button. In fact, this morning as I got dressed Wild Man noticed and asked, "Mommy, what happened to your belly button?"

To Committee

I just sent off my Wharton chapter, which means my committee now has all three chapters. I have a week to get out the introduction. I managed to put together 5 pages yesterday, and I am feeling confident about today's progress.

For the first time, I think I may actually accomplish this. . .

After . . .

almost two years (not consecutively, but still) of working on my Wharton chapter, it is finally finished. Sure it tops out at 70 pages, and I could still say more. But it's done. I'm treating myself to lunch, and then I'm going to hit the introduction this afternoon.

I think . . .

the end is in sight.

A note to the obnoxious men I encountered at Starbucks yesterday

On days when Wild Man is home with us, as he was yesterday, I've gotten into the habit of leaving the house as soon as he goes down for a nap and heading over to the nearest Starbucks to get some work done. I generally find a quiet spot and work for a few hours. Yesterday I followed my routine, with one exception. My usual Starbucks was packed, so I headed over to one a few blocks away. There were plenty of open tables, so I didn't have a hard time finding a spot. I got a cup of tea and quickly started working. About an hour in two men sat near me. Now, I totally get that I was working in a public place and that I have to put up with some amount of conversation and noise. I'm cool with that. I've even gotten quite good at blocking it out. I'll also credit most of my fellow patrons. When they see my papers, books, and laptop spread out on a table, most seem to get I'm working, and they also seem to understand I'm not an undergrad (perhaps the big pregnant belly gives it away?!). They are respectful of my space, and it seems that most make an effort to keep their conversations to themselves. These two men, however, were among the most obnoxious I have ever encountered at any Starbucks, so here are a few tips for them.

• The entire store does not care about your summer travel plans. We are especially not interested in hearing an account of the wonders of Vienna, with frequent reminders to your friend, that while you clearly know how wonderful it is you have never been there.
• We are equally uninterested in hearing how pedantic Florida is. You're entitled to your opinion, but the barista doesn't want to hear it over the screech of the steamer.
• Don't list all the horrific things about CU Land, at least not at a level that would entertain everyone in Carnegie Hall.
  
• All in all, here's a tip: be mindful of your environment and respectful of others. Sure, have the conversation you want to have and sit where you want to sit, but don't shout your conversation. I'm quite sure you're life is wonderful, but frankly, I don't want to hear about it.
  

I love my husband

For weeks I've been telling C we need a night out. We did manage a brief one in February before I left for my conference. His mom and sister were here, so after Wild Man went to bed, we went out--at night! I can't remember the last time we did that. The evening itself wasn't very exciting. We went to a local restaurant, sat in the bar, and talked. But it was nice to be out of the house at a time when we're usually in our pjs, watching TV, or working on our computers.

In the past few months, C has gotten several last minute invites from colleagues to go out. The invitations always include me, but they are issued so late that it makes it impossible to get a babysitter. Sometimes C goes, and sometimes he doesn't. This week one of his colleagues, whom I like a lot, sent him an email invite for a party this coming weekend. I didn't think a lot about it when C mentioned it because, frankly, I'm in a dissertation haze.

Well, last night at dinner, he brought up the party again and asked if I wanted to do. I said, well, sure, it sounds like fun, but it's Wednesday. I doubt we can get a babysitter. He said, we already have one. It seems he called Dr. Nice Guy's eldest son, who has sat for Wild Man before, the day he received the invite and lined it all up. I love that he did this for me. I am so excited that I might even wear a dress!

Diaper Bag: Pink or Black

In my on-going saga of what diaper bag to buy, I've finally decided on the one I want. I was even on the verge of purchasing it tonight. But then I looked at one more site in my quest to get the best possible price, and I discovered it comes in a new pattern. So now I have a new dilemma: do I get the desired diaper bag in a neutral black, or do I get it in a fun pink pattern with brown accents? I'm not inclined to get the pink pattern because Z will be a girl. I actually really like the pink! I have to decide soon as I want to have it shipped to my mother-in-law to save on international shipping, and she can bring it to CU Land when she visits in May.

Pants

I really wish I didn't have to be on campus today. It would be much easier to work if I wasn't wearing pants.

This just in . . .

being a mom and writing a dissertation is really, really hard.

Early mornings

For the past 2 weeks or so, I've been getting up between 6 and 6:30 in an attempt to have some quiet time to work. I think better in the morning, so this is a practice that has worked for me in the past. Even if I'm only about to stake out 30 minutes for myself I use that time to map out my day and figure out what needs to be done. This worked for the first week or so, and then Wild Man started waking up about 15 minutes after me.

In the past few months we have worked out lots of sleeping issues with him (sorry, I'm not blogging about any of these issues because as soon as I do, Wild Man will regress and we'll have to tackle them all over again!). The one issue that we haven't worked out is the fact that he wants me first thing in the morning. This isn't helped by the fact that C is virtually impossible to get up in the morning. If I let Wild Man holler until C woke up, I'd be listening to him holler for at least 15 minutes! So the past few mornings, Wild Man has joined me when I get up early to work. In fact, as I type this, he is watching "Thomas the Tank Engine." So this hasn't been the most productive of mornings, but at least I was greeted with Wild Man saying, "I love you, Mommy," when I walked into his room a little while ago.

Little feet make it hard to work

So far this morning, I've added 3 pages to my restructured intro to my third chapter. I just finished lunch and am about to make some serious progress toward today's goal: revising 15 pages of the chapter. I have one little problem. I have a pair of little feet (at least I think they are feet) sticking into my ribs. It hurts to sit, it hurts to stand, it just hurts. I've tried everything I can think of to get Z to move, but she is not budging. So I continue to work, taking frequent breaks to rub my painful ribs. . .

I hope this is a good thing. . .

The head of the English Department just emailed me to let me know that the job ads are going up in the next few days. He then added. "I really look forward to receiving your application." It isn't a promise, I know, but it does make me feel slightly more optimistic than I felt earlier today.

Just one more thing. . .

This morning I got up early to get some work done, and before I started revising a new section, I checked my email. I had wonderful news awaiting me, let me tell you. It seems that CU has finally finalized the undergraduate budget for 2009-2010. Dr. Feminist emailed me late last night to find out if I could teach in the Spring rather than the Fall and to let me know the jobs would be posted soon (even though the course has been "promised" to me, I still have to apply for it). I emailed her back and told her that the switch wouldn't be a problem, and I then asked her if this meant that I wouldn't be getting one course each term. I told C about this on the way to school today, and he, of course, got stressed out. My teaching in the Fall had been the basis of our decision for him to take parental leave in the fall to be home with Z. If I'm not teaching, it may make more sense for me to take leave for more than just the summer, and then he could take leave in the Spring.

This creates somewhat of a financial mess for us, though. While C will get 95% of his pay, I will only receive 55% of mine because I'm only a part-time employee. This means our monthly income will drop by about $1,000, and that is the money that pays for Wild Man's school. If I don't teach in the Fall, we have to pull Wild Man out of school; there is absolutely no way around this, unless I am able to find a full-time job (which means I wouldn't be teaching). Frankly, the thought of going back to fundraising or grant writing makes me want to vomit. I loved both when I did them, but I didn't spend the last 6 years of my life in grad school, busting my ass to get my Ph.D. so I could go back to grant writing. I know that it would only be temporary, and I also know that since I've done it before I could do it again (assuming, of course, I could even find a job). But add to my extreme desire not to do it the fact that I'm having a baby in June. Doing something other than teaching would seriously limit the time I get with Z. I am fully aware how lucky I've been that my work, thus far, enables me to spend so much time with Wild Man. I never take that for granted. This is one of the reasons I like academia so much. Yes, we send him to daycare 4 days a week for 7 hours a day, but when he is home with us, one of us is always present. The very nature of our work makes that possible. I can't imagine working 40 hours a week and being away from a newborn for all that time. I can't. The thought of it makes me burst into tears (in fact, there I go again).

So for now, I continue to hope that by some miracle of miracles I will get part-time teaching in the fall in another department. I continue to hope that the head of the English department, who was so wonderful when I met him in December, proves to be as wonderful as I originally thought.

And somehow in the midst of all this crap, I keep working on my dissertation. . .

Wild Man's quote of the week

Yesterday, as I read up on the development of apartments, C kept Wild Man amused by coloring with him. This essentially means that C draws whatever Wild Man tells him to. Wild Man is obsessed with hippos--I blame it on the Madagascar movies. This kid loves hippos, and most hippos are Gloria. He, of course, commanded C to draw "Gloria, Gloria's mommy, and Gloria's daddy." Once C complied, Wild Man took the paper from C and studied the drawings. He then looked up at C and said, "Daddy, Gloria needs a penis."

I laughed so hard I cried.

One more thing

I am not writing a "paper." I am writing a dissertation. If I have to explain this to my mother one more time or ask her not to refer to my dissertation as a "paper," I will lose my mind. I don't understand why it is so hard for her to understand that it is much, much more than a paper. She's seen C's, for God's sake! She knows how long his was, and I've told her several times (because she's asked) that mine is longer. I know that in the grand scheme of things this is a very small thing. But it bothers the hell out of me, especially given the fact that I have told her how much it annoys me when she asks me "How's your paper coming?" She just called, as she does most Sunday afternoons, and she asked me this question. Given her response to my announcement about my defense, I wasn't in the mood to talk about my work with her, and I most certainly was not in the mood to have the project I've been working on for 3 years referred to as "a paper" yet again.

I will now return to taking notes on the history of apartments in New York City.

Random Annoyances

I want to begin this post by saying that I feel really thankful for my friends, both virtual and actual. I have received so much support from them in the past year. I literally could not have made it through moving to CU Land, working so long and so hard on my dissertation, carrying Z, and living life in general with out them. So I want them to know (and I think you know who you are!) that what follows is not at all about them.

The end of my week seemed to have a theme: people I really care about all managed to annoy me. I should add that the particular people who annoyed me have annoyed me in these precise ways in the past, so I know it will happen again. Usually I can shake these sorts of things off fairly easily, but this week I am having a hard time getting past it. I'm hoping that by writing about it, I'll feel better.


Annoyance #1
*Edited b/c, for some reason, I'm not comfortable with making this annoyance so public.

Annoyance #2 and #3
I'm annoyed with my mom and sister for the exact same reason, so I figured I'd put them together.

First, I totally get that neither my mom nor my sister understands what it means to get a Ph.D. They just don't. They try, but it is just outside their realm of experience. I've accepted that this means that they will never be as excited about my accomplishments as I am, and 95% of the time, I'm ok with that. This week, however, was a really big week for me. I finally got the go ahead to schedule my defense. My adviser is confident enough in what I've already finished that she thinks what I'm still working on will match it. This means the six year journey I've been on is rapidly coming to an end. This also means that my decision to have kids while working on my dissertation did not affect my work. In fact, my adviser recently told me how much my writing has improved in the last year, which she attributed to how focused I've had to become since having Wild Man.

When I called my mom to tell her this, I didn't expect a huge reaction, but I did expect at least a congratulations, M! I'm really proud of you. Instead she said this: "Well, are you sure you should be traveling then? That's only about 6 weeks before your due. Really, M, I don't understand your priorities. Can't the defense wait another semester?" HELLO! No, it can't wait another semester. It has to happen now. I have to go on the job market in the fall. C and I want to solidify our positions (or at least try to) at CU, and none of that can happen if I'm ABD. I just can't. And, frankly, we can't afford to pay my fees for another semester, especially not with a second baby on the way. I was so upset by her response that I truly didn't know what to say. I just said, "I've cleared it with my midwife; she thinks I'll be fine to travel. It is, of course, a risk, but it is a risk I'm willing to take." I then changed the subject.

When I told my sister, through email, she didn't even acknowledge it. Instead she sent me a long email about how she hates her job and how she thinks she's inherited all of our mother's mental issues (our mom is bipolar). What bothers me most about this is that my sister is on Facebook, so she knew when I'd scheduled the defense even before I told her. Given FB's crazy new interface, she also saw all my friends congratulate me. Still, she said nothing.

To give credit where credit is due, my dad told me he is very proud of me and that he wants a bound copy of my dissertation to put next to his copy of C's. In fact, he said, "I really like having a bound copy of C's, but I will be taking yours to work and telling everyone: Look, my daughter wrote this." The funny thing is, my dad will actually read my dissertation and will talk to me about it. He read C's, and they had a long conversation about it. My dad may not always be the physical presence that I need, but he doesn't hesitate to tell me when he's proud of me. C's mom even offered some sincere congratulations, telling me it will be nice to have a doctor for a daughter-in-law. I just wish my mom and sister had stepped up.

Fancy Shoes

Wild Man has recently become enamored of my high heels. He loves to put them on and clomp around in them when we're getting ready in the morning and right before bath time. He particularly enjoys this black, pointy-toe pair. He enjoys them so much, in fact, he insisted upon wearing them last night as he went to the bathroom. Given all my posts on boys and gender, I had to share this one!

*Please note: this photo has disappeared.

Proof that I am, in fact, pregnant

Given yesterday's post, I thought I'd post a belly shot as a reminder to myself that I am, in fact, almost 7 months pregnant.

Oh, right, I'm having a baby. . .

Yesterday I ran into a colleague whom I haven't seen since the beginning of the semester. She teaches part-time in the Women's Studies department at CU, just as I do, so when we do see each other we always have a lot to talk about. Well, the last time she saw me I wasn't showing nearly as much as I am now, and I'm fairly certain I was sitting down. Yesterday I was in the Women's Studies office making some copies when she walked in. I had my back to her, and as I turned around she said, "Wow, M! I didn't think it had been that long since we've seen each other!" She then offered her congratulations and we chatted for a few minutes.

I ran into her about an hour later just as I was leaving our office (I share the office with this colleague and 3 others). She apologized for not realizing I was pregnant, and I said something like, "Oh, don't worry about it. I actually haven't told a lot of people, and to be honest, I've been so focused on my dissertation that sometimes I even forget myself." She then asked, "When are you due?" Without pausing, I said "May 6th." She replied, "That's soon! Are you ready?" And I said, "Well, I'm revising my last chapter and working on my introdcution." She looked totally puzzled, and I suddenly realized she was asking about the baby, not the dissertation or my defense. I laughed and explained what I meant and then clarified that I'm not due until mid-June.

I guess I should try harder to remember I'm having a baby as well as writing a dissertation. . .

A Defense Date

All of a sudden I'm feeling more than a little sick to my stomach. I've gotten my entire committee to agree on one of two dates for my defense. I can now pick the date that works best for me. I think I might be sick.

Annoying Questions

In the past few days, I've gotten a string of annoying questions from both my mom and from C's mom. Every single question revolves around Z's sex. I swear we didn't get any questions like this when I was pregnant with Wild Man. I'm starting to regret that we found out Z's sex as it seems to be the only thing our moms can think about. Here are a sampling of the questions.

• Are you sure Z's a girl? If Yetta asks this question one more time I will transport myself through the phone and strangle her.
• Are you buying girly things for her? This seems to be my mom's favorite as she asks it almost every time we talk. I give my standard answer: Well, we haven't bought much at all to be honest. We have a lot of stuff leftover from Wild Man, which is mostly yellow, green, and white. But we have got a few things that are clearly for a girl.
  
• Can I buy her (fill in the blank here)? Again, this is my mom and I give my standard answer: You can buy her whatever you want, Mom. Note: I only give my mom this answer as my mom is infinitely practical with gifts. My mom rarely buys toys for her grandkids, and when she does, she will only do so when they are with her. I would never tell Yetta this as I'd wind up with a room full of Madame Alexander dolls. I appreciate that my mom wants to ensure we'll use whatever she buys Z, but I get tired of answering this question over and over again.
  
• What is Z turns out to be a boy? Both moms are asking this question incessantly. I'm so annoyed by the implications of this question that I can't even answer it. I just ignore it. I mean seriously, the sex isn't important to us. As I've said before, we've started thinking of Z as a girl, so it will mean revamping our thinking. But I know as soon as we see the baby we'll be so happy to hold Z in our arms that we won't care if she has a vagina or if he has a penis.
• Do you think you will have another ultrasound? This one has become Yetta's new favorite. She is very invested in having a granddaughter, so she seems to want some sort of guarantee that Z is, in fact, 100% girl. While C and I won't be disappointed if Z turns out to be a boy, I know that Yetta will, and that makes me very, very sad.
  

Lest anyone think I'm being overly hormonal or altogether unreasonable, I'm actually quite happy to talk about Z with either my mom or C's mom, and most of their questions don't annoy me at all. It is just starting to feel as though they are both hung up on her sex--Yetta because she wants a granddaughter so desperately and my mom because she's afraid I'm going to be disappointed.

A Frustrating Monday

Mondays, in general, are difficult at our house. Wild Man is home with us, effectively giving us a three-day weekend. I really like the extra time I get with Wild Man, and we always try to do something fun, even if we don't leave the house. When we first moved to CU Land, I tried to do limit the time I work on Mondays to Wild Man's naptime, but as the deadline for my dissertation defense draws closer, I've had to spend the better part of Monday working while C and Wild Man do other stuff. Typically, C doesn't have to be on campus on Mondays, and as a rule, he doesn't schedule meetings on Mondays so he can stay home while I work. Today, however, he was supposed to go to campus to attend a ceremony for one of his honors students. Since he was going to be on campus anyway, he agreed to meet with two students shortly before the ceremony. I knew about this well in advance, so, although I wasn't happy with it, I was prepared for it. We had agreed that he would take Wild Man out to the park or the indoor playground for the morning while I worked. C would then help get Wild Man down for a nap before heading to campus for the rest of the afternoon.

Well, on Friday, C received an email saying the ceremony had been rescheduled for Tuesday. As soon as he told me of the change, I asked him if he could reschedule his other meetings so I could have more than a few hours to work. Well, in the rush of Friday afternoon (he had a lecture and a reception to attend), he forgot to email his students, and by the time he remembered, he felt like it was too late to reschedule. I would have preferred he rescheduled, but whatever. I had already planned for the day, so it wasn't a huge issue.

Let's say it has become a huge issue. Out of a day in which I was promised a solid 3 hours of work before C had to leave and Wild Man had to go down for a nap, I got an hour and a half, which was interrupted 3 times (each time, Wild Man and C were coming in or out of the house; now that my office is on the ground floor, I have to deal with these sorts of interruptions if I'm working while they're home). On top of that, Wild Man refused to go down for his nap easily, and although he is now asleep, he took 45 minutes to get down. Instead of helping with naptime, as he promised he would, C did some prep for his meetings. When I expressed my frustration, he had the audacity to say, "I don't understand what's wrong. I took Wild Man out to the park so you could get work done."

Today's lesson: go to Starbucks to get work done rather than stay at home.