Dear The Whole Entire World,

Go eff yourself.

My issues with you are innumerable and indescribable...as evidenced by my unwillingness to talk to anyone (just leave me alone), and the fact that I've been watching the Discovery Channel non-stop for 6 hours.

I guess I'm just too fucking lazy to put a bullet in my head.

I am emotionally, physically, psychologically and hormonally drained. I haven't got an ounce left. My blood pressure is high, my head is in a vice grip, I'm at 123% abdominal capacity and I truly and completely despise my position in life right now.

I'm finding it hard to:

-like
-trust
-tolerate
-be close to
-talk to

ANYONE.

My likely-to-stab-the-next-motherfucker-who-gets-near-me index is astronomical.

So, go about your merry business, dear the whole entire world, and kindly...

leave me the fuck alone.

dag nabbit!

I was there!

I was sooo close!!!

my uterus was acting wonkie, contracting up a storm, getting ready for the big event...


then I blew it.

I went ape-shit over the nursery (and everything else) starting stomping, moving furniture (mostly by throwing it), screamed a bit, cried a ton, almost puked and generally increased my adrenaline level 3,000 fold.

adrenaline = stoppage o' labor.

when I finally relaxed (about 5am)...the contractions came back (getting fierce this time)...

then I went super-demon, again and killed them.


are my hormones trying to tell me something???


or is it my psyche?


either way...homeboy STILL has a huge dome (getting bigger even as I type this), could turn breech again any minute...and must to be leaving the womb...

like now.

castor oil cocktail anyone?

this could mean something...

or this could mean nothing at all, but...

I lost my mucus plug today (for real this time...not just in a dream).

I'm hoping it means birthing waves are just around the corner and lil' man is ON.HIS.WAY!!!


either way...I should probably:

-pay the doulas
-clean the house
-get the nursery set up (yes. its STILL not set up)
-find some old sheets and plastic
-decide on a name for 'y'unior
-eat three bowls of brownie batter (while this has no relation whatsoever to going into labor...I think it'd be a nice touch)

wish me luck and SPEED!!! (I'm sooooo bored)

good news...ruh roh news.

today's ultrasound confirmed the lil' booger is head down.

YAY!!! sooo excited!!!

AND that he's got a giant dome.

ruh roh. little scurred.

he's measuring two weeks older than he really is with a head circumference of 34 cm.

it is sooo time to get this lil' guy born.

jumping jacks...

lots of jumping jacks.

ass up and fingers crossed

the lil' booger seems to be head down, butt up and ALMOST in the right position.

awaiting confirmation via a mid-wife handling my nonny and a not-so-sweet ultrasound tech lubing up my belly and blasting the squirt with sound waves for the 5th time (I'm so sorry lil' bubbers. let's just hope they aren't later found to be overly harmful).

then crossing my fingers he stays that way.

the whole medicalized birth possibility is still just that. a distinct possibility. we can't deliver at home until we've had a "confirmation" ultrasound...while I'm in labor...that the squirt is in the right place.

so either way...I'll be starting my birthing journey in precisely the place I don't want to be...a hospital.

HOWEVER, if things go well...

I can still go home and get things done properly.


voodoo dances and whammy castings are greatly appreciated at this point.

frightened, angry and a little bit confused

I'm having trouble understanding how most people's reaction to the possibility of a c-section is mostly that of "meh."

its a devastating thought to me.

one is every 3-4 American births ends in major abdominal surgery.

what?

there is NO way this is necessary. Induit women would dig a hollow in the snow, squat above it and birth their children unattended.

tribal african and south american women are EXPECTED to birth alone...not waking their husbands until the baby had arrived, then returning to the fields (forests, etc) within a day or two.

of the industrialized nations...the united states has THE WORST infant mortality rates.

what are we doing wrong?

worrying about liability. losing the art of natural birthing. disregarding the fact that women were BUILT to do this...and instead considering everything a complication, hindrance or a "medical issue.". last I checked...women gave birth well before doctors even existed.

birthing a breech baby is becoming a completely lost art in our culture, because no practioner can get malpractice insurance to do it.

a study conducted in Canada within the last few years showed elevated risks to both mother and fetus when the baby was breech and delivered vaginally. the study did not discount first time, at risk mothers or those with other complications or previous c-sections.

in other words...it was biased, uncontrolled and incorrectly interpreted and its now the basis for 'standard' practice in our country.

and its becoming a real pain in my ass (and emotional state).

I'm petrified and incensed that I may be forced to subject myself to major surgery, compromise initial bonding with my child and once again, have my wishes to see this through...completely...without unnecessary intervention or meddling.

I'm capable of this. all women are. why do they keep telling us we aren't???

I'm in the process of writing two birth plans. one for at home...proceeding at home, without intervention. it'll go something like this:

-catch the baby
-give him to me
-have a brownie and a safe trip home

the end.

the second birth plan (the one where we have to go to the hospital) will read more like a protection order, ticking off all the intrusive "preventative measures" I don't want them to subject my child to.

instead of being able to bond with his brand new family...oqui will be forced to assume the role of protector and armed guard assuring that the child never leaves his sight, lest they decide to innoculate, circumcise or give him a bottle...

and I'll be vomitting from anesthesia...

for days.

I feel violated already.

Dr. Elizabeth is confident she'll get the booger turned around...which will be a moot point if today's lab work doesn't bode favorably for me.

I feel beaten up, tired and sore...and as much as I want to focus on the positive, I can't help but be concerned that it's acceptable to unnecessarily cut women in this country.

how can that be?

why are we (women...and all the men who happen to know and care for one) standing for this sort of treatment?

shit.

today's visit to the birth center bore bad news on two accounts.



firstly, my blood pressure is elevated. out of "normal" range on both attempts. its been steadily rising and has now necessitated some tests and peeing in a jug for 24 hours. I haven't had any other symptoms of pre-eclampsia (unless sleeping 13 hours a day counts)...so we're in watch mode only.



secondly, and this is the one that really sucks...junior is breech. at 37 weeks this is not the best of news. they want to schedule me for an external version (painful, not very effective procedure to try to turn the squirt)...making sure that they have the doctor available to perform an emergency c-section should the baby go into distress.

nope. not gonna let them do it.

I'm disappointed that malpractice suits have brought obstetrical care to this point. vaginal delivery of a breech baby is slightly more risky than a vertex sprout...but not cause for instant major surgery.

I read last night that delivering a breech baby is becoming a lost art. at least in this state. no care provider will do it. so unless I get this lil' booger turned...he's destined to be cut out of me.

...a far cry from the peaceful, gentle, loving home-birth we're preparing and planning for.

I'm petrified, but trying to control my fears to keep my blood pressure down and junior in peace. we're trying chiropractic, accupuncture, massage, posture and voodoo.

our first chiropractic treatment with Dr. Elizabeth yielded a whole lotta movement from the sprout...SOME of it in the right direction. she's confident she'll get him turned. 99% effective. I like her (she's a climber). I like her attitude.

since we've decided we're not going to let them manhandle me and the baby, we don't have the arbitrary deadline of tuesday to get him turned. assuming all stays acceptable with my blood pressure...

we might have a few more weeks to get his lil' butt in the right spot (which, in case you were wondering...is NOT in my pelvis).

so for now...I'm spending alot of time trying not to worry or cry (unpossible) with my ass in the air...

reading up on nursing and bonding after c-sections.

super mega bad dream.

for some reason...my entire family was at my house...

and I couldn't feed any of them. (<----christmas party anxiety?)

then...I lost my mucus plug (in a rather dramatic and graphic fashion that I'll spare you all. all 3 of you, anyway) and couldn't get ahold of oqui or the birth center.

THEN...when I went to the birth center they 'checked me' using a greasy mcdonald's paper bag as a glove...and sent me home to 'complain about it some more.'

when I got home, after attempting to call oqui 43,538,389 times...I found him sitting at the kitchen table...

as a fat asian man (<----I'm really not sure what that signifies, but boy was it scary)...

staring at his cell phone as it rang, yet again...and ignoring it.

several minutes later he spoke, only to tell me he had been fired.

(did I mention he was a fat asian man???)

sooo....


I'm never going to sleep, again.

it's cold.

I woke up to a 57 degree house at 10:30.

shivering, I wondered how cold the rest of the family was when they got up at 6.

aaaaaaaaahahahahahahaha

(^ ok. that was mean.)

creepy furnace guy has our sizable deposit and will be starting to deconstruct the old bohemoth tomorrow morning. friday the spiffy new unit (<----I just like saying "unit") arrives and soon after that we should have some heat up in this piece.

space heaters are working over time in the sunroom and living room...

and I'm wondering if our electric bill will cost more than the new furnace???


probably.

child abuse

living on brownies, brownie batter and zucchini bread for two days isn't TECHNICALLY child abuse, right?

don't tell the fuzz...

I'll go have some baked chicken.

promise.

fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu uuuuuuuuuu uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

I'm cranky.

I've been patient all day as people have been traipsing in and out of the house telling me how many internal organs its going to cost to replace the furnace, but now I'm done.

no more stress for me today, thanks.

the only person who HASN'T come over is the alarm guy.

I'm really looking forward to our 4am "session" again...you know, the one where the alarm goes off for no known reason and scares the shit out of us for hours.

I have no milk.
I have no heat.
I have no bed and bedding for this baby...or even a room to put it in.
I have no desire to bathe (and I really need to).
and my back hurts...

really really hurts.

fuck this house. fuck the 'burbs. and fuck every heating contractor on the planet...

I'm so over this place.

ouch. bitch. moan. grumble. gretz. fuss.

I want some brownies, dammit!!!

come on, money stick!!!

we need a new furnace. the old (and I DO mean old) one has come to the point of endangering our lives.

sooo...I'm having estimates done for replacing the furnace, drilling through the sides of the house and blowing insulation in (it currently has none), and have the ducts cleaned and sealed.

I'm also having the alarm company come out and make sure all the smoke detectors are working.

all of this means the house will be a disaster area for the remainder of my pregancy...

and its officially off the market, now.

BUT...I'll feel warm, safe and security system protected. (oqui might be in pain, however, from selling his spare kidney to pay for all of this)

for those of you who just LOOOOOVED this place but didn't make an offer...

too late, suckas!

aren't you upset you didn't get to replace the furnace and deal with insulation dust yourselves?

there is a special place in hell

for men who abandon women and their children...

and I know a guy who just reserved himself a spot.

a friend of mine just had a baby on friday. I visited her, the lil nugget and her boyfriend in the hospital on saturday and planned on taking her a casserole after she went home monday. all seemed well. the boyfriend was diapering the little tyke, his siblings were admiring the baby and momma was trying to nurse.

everything seemed fine.

hadn't heard from her in a few days...sent her a message asking how she was doing. I got her reply at 6 o'clock this morning.

he left her. her mother took her home from the hospital monday...and he never came home from work.

he left her, unemployed, with a newborn in HIS apartment. just...

took the fuck off. didn't respond. didn't even have the sack to tell her what he was planning.

her parents are moving her to their house on saturday, and she was able to catch the paperwork in time to change the baby's last name...

and she's having the most miserable time of her life, when she should be focusing on healing and bonding with her baby.

two weeks ago...these kids were buying a house.

his mother spoke to her mother yesterday...and TOTALLY CONDONES her son running out on his fiance and newborn son.

they should both be shot. if my son ever pulls some stunt like that...

I will personally remove his testicles.

I know this guy is young, and I respect the freak out - alot of new dads have one...but not like this. not now. not this way. usually they go on a bender, blow the savings and/or hit a strip joint...

not move their furniture to their mom's and abandon their child.

savage.

what the hell happened between saturday and monday? did he know in the morning he was gonna bail...or did it occur to him sometime on the way home?

how? just.....when? i mean...wh...

what the fuck?

I hugged oqui as tightly as I could after I read her message. I nearly cried. I can't imagine how heart broken I'd be if he were gone...for any reason. I don't know what life would be like with his son...and without him.

his father took off when he was two...mine slowly but surely rotted his brain until at about the age of 12 I decided I was better off never seeing him, again.

why do some men consider the role of father a disposable one?