it's a boy!
no, not z (at least, not that we know, as of yet). my college roommate has given birth (in a swimming pool!) to a lovely boy named solomon. he spent a week in the hospital because he had no fat on him at birth, but he's home now and everyone's doing well.
solomon's mom is my kindred spirit, my friend for two-thirds of my life. but our birthing styles could not be more different. what we both have in common is our age, and that we live about five minutes from major medical centers.
but she has now delivered all three of her children at home, with a midwife and a doula, and at least the last two were in an inflatable pool (not sure about the first one - we lost each other for a couple of years). heading to the hospital is her option of last resort.
can you even IMAGINE me doing such a thing now? i considered a midwife before i got pregnant with hans; justin was a big proponent of midwifery, and i was open to it - until i learned the only midwives on my then-insurance were housed on the far, far east side of town - i live on the west side and work on the south side - the east side just wasn't happening. and then i started bleeding, and the high-tech medical intervention began, and any thoughts of the happy hippy birth experience were forever forgotten.
i envy women who can do it. even more, i admire women who have lost babies and still have the courage. any minute now, maybe even as i write, but absolutely no later than tomorrow or saturday, deadbabymama will be bringing the little sproglet into the world, midwife at her side (or rather, at her cooter). that blows me away.
but envy and admiration do not constitute comfort for me. when my (and z's) time comes, i say, bring on the doctors! the more, the better! surround me with nurses! (but only good ones, please; hold the clueless.) strap me up with monitors, inside and out! the more medical professionals get a gander at my hoo-ha, the happier i'll be!
twenty people staring all the way to china is my dream birth experience. it may be time to go back into therapy.
*****
i think i'm coming down with a bad case of pregnancy acne. i don't know what's happening to me. my rosacea flared up a little with hans, but i never had anything like what i've got now. nor is it confined to my face. it's everywhere. i don't want you to have to picture just where all that is, so i won't elaborate. but how strange is it that i even have a giant zit on my forearm??? i'm a little freaked out.
*****
tonight was my first exam in my class, and i might have made a 100 or i might have made a 50. i have no idea. but i got through it.
when i got in the car, the radio announcer gave the women's figure skating results, before i could turn it off. doh! i deliberately did not do my usual olympic result check online today so i wouldn't know, and now it's ruined. oh, well - at least i can sit back and listen to dick button, without justin, whose boys' night out it is. me and dick, alone together at last.
never before imagined myself actually saying that.
but first i gotta watch the last of the idol elimination show. i skipped the girls' night tuesday for women's figure skating, but i watched the boys last night, and bobby was definitely the right person to go. i'm sure he's a sweetie-pie, but if i had a cat, it would have been howling during his performance. i hope the silver-maned taylor wins, but i'd like to have my way with ace. mmm, mmmm.
note to self: must get this junk tv out of my system before z arrives. can't be corrupting the babe with such nonsense.
simon cowell is my personal smack.
solomon's mom is my kindred spirit, my friend for two-thirds of my life. but our birthing styles could not be more different. what we both have in common is our age, and that we live about five minutes from major medical centers.
but she has now delivered all three of her children at home, with a midwife and a doula, and at least the last two were in an inflatable pool (not sure about the first one - we lost each other for a couple of years). heading to the hospital is her option of last resort.
can you even IMAGINE me doing such a thing now? i considered a midwife before i got pregnant with hans; justin was a big proponent of midwifery, and i was open to it - until i learned the only midwives on my then-insurance were housed on the far, far east side of town - i live on the west side and work on the south side - the east side just wasn't happening. and then i started bleeding, and the high-tech medical intervention began, and any thoughts of the happy hippy birth experience were forever forgotten.
i envy women who can do it. even more, i admire women who have lost babies and still have the courage. any minute now, maybe even as i write, but absolutely no later than tomorrow or saturday, deadbabymama will be bringing the little sproglet into the world, midwife at her side (or rather, at her cooter). that blows me away.
but envy and admiration do not constitute comfort for me. when my (and z's) time comes, i say, bring on the doctors! the more, the better! surround me with nurses! (but only good ones, please; hold the clueless.) strap me up with monitors, inside and out! the more medical professionals get a gander at my hoo-ha, the happier i'll be!
twenty people staring all the way to china is my dream birth experience. it may be time to go back into therapy.
*****
i think i'm coming down with a bad case of pregnancy acne. i don't know what's happening to me. my rosacea flared up a little with hans, but i never had anything like what i've got now. nor is it confined to my face. it's everywhere. i don't want you to have to picture just where all that is, so i won't elaborate. but how strange is it that i even have a giant zit on my forearm??? i'm a little freaked out.
*****
tonight was my first exam in my class, and i might have made a 100 or i might have made a 50. i have no idea. but i got through it.
when i got in the car, the radio announcer gave the women's figure skating results, before i could turn it off. doh! i deliberately did not do my usual olympic result check online today so i wouldn't know, and now it's ruined. oh, well - at least i can sit back and listen to dick button, without justin, whose boys' night out it is. me and dick, alone together at last.
never before imagined myself actually saying that.
but first i gotta watch the last of the idol elimination show. i skipped the girls' night tuesday for women's figure skating, but i watched the boys last night, and bobby was definitely the right person to go. i'm sure he's a sweetie-pie, but if i had a cat, it would have been howling during his performance. i hope the silver-maned taylor wins, but i'd like to have my way with ace. mmm, mmmm.
note to self: must get this junk tv out of my system before z arrives. can't be corrupting the babe with such nonsense.
simon cowell is my personal smack.
posted by laura at 8:51 PM
11 Comments:
I don't know what it is; I'm a snob, and I'm certainly prone to cattiness, but these two empty air bags just bugger the shit out of me.
Simon Calwell and Dick Button: Twa-tea drinkers of the lowest order.
you, my love, have been permanently prohibited from ever speaking, writing or otherwise expressing the words "dick button" together ever again. or had you forgotten? you must stop. your obsession is unhealthy. and if you're going to come in at midnight all buzzed and wanting to scream in my ear again, about either dick or simon, you should just go home with him and come home tomorrow when you've gotten those two out of your system.
by "go home with him" i meant "go home with jim. bunk at the bachelor pad until you're ready to let go of your dick obsession.
(snicker)
I have a feeling you'll be interviewing the nurses before they are allowed to attend to you after aid-from-hell yesterday!
A friend of mine gave birth in a pool at the hospital. They brought in a kiddie wading pool and inflated it, filled it, and proceeded to freak out the hospital staff with the pool and their midwife. Anything is possible! Actually in the UK many hospitals have purpose-built birthing pools.
I had super-bad chest acne with Strummer at about the 4 to 6 week mark, it went away pretty quickly though.
I chuckled all through last night's figure skating commentary after reading your Dick Button post. It's sad but I love the way he cuts them down. He even admitted that he was being a bit harsh at one point. I was sad for Irina, though. I wanted her to win.
And I'm with you on the doctor/hospital thing. After so many complicated/unsuccessful pregnancies, I don't have the guts to go any way but traditional with access to all possible equipment.
I had that zit issue with Kameron. It went away right after I gave birth. Hopefully yours will go away sooner than that.
We will also be surrounded by bight lights, specialist and nurses during the mini's birth. After everything we've been through it's hard to imagine it any other way. In the end it doesn't matter, as Vixanne said a long time ago... All I want is A Live...
Make sure they don't forget the machine that goes "ping"!
_, the machine that goes PING? please clarify...
(my password is "luucrkub" - which i interpret as "luck rub" - which i hope is not a sign that i have to start letting people rub my belly for luck. i HATE it when people rub my belly.)
It's a reference to Monty Python's The Meaning of Life. At the beginning of the movie, there's a scene of a woman giving birth in a hospital, and the head doctor makes sure that the most expensive and modern equipment is in the room, including "the machine that goes 'ping'". Just in case the adminstrator shows up. You have to see the movie now, just for that scene. Oh, and also for the part where they sing "Every Sperm Is Sacred".
But anyway, if you'd seen the movie, you would have known how perfect and obvious that reference was.
Someone must have gotten that reference! Anybody?!
deadbabymammas husbands blogs under the name "Ping" -- could be?
The problem, atleast for the two of us with Python flicks is that we came to the game way too late (not sure how i missed them as they were the rage at a certain moment within my crew, but nonetheless) which essentially boils down to me having heard every single Python skit rehashed and referanced, by non players, thousands of times, so when I actually saw the movies, everything was as expected, nothing shccking or funny. Sort of like when Laura saw "I'm Gonna Get You Sucka" for the first time, or walking into "The Aristicrats" knowing that a certain, formerly, squeeky clean TV Dad would take the raunch cake
- Justin, posting as Laura
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