rivka

I just had my new desktop computer installed. I ordered it ages ago, and it's actually even been in for some time - I just never had the time to spare to have them come down and mess my system up. Until now!

The most immediately shocking change is the 22-inch monitor. A 22-inch monitor? Is really really big. It's going to be great for managing and analyzing data, but in the meantime it's a little startling. (The new machine is also reportedly very very fast, but I haven't had the opportunity to test that yet.)

The IT guy took away my old computer to suck everything off it and back it up. He's going to come down this afternoon while I'm at the clinic to get my e-mail configured and put my stuff on: my extra programs that aren't part of the standard suite, my documents, my e-mail archives. Until then I can't access any of those things.

So there's not much I can do right now. *twiddles thumbs* Except, you know, I guess, get my office organized by some model other than the "random stacks of paper" thing I have going right now. I guess I might could do that. Until... hey, is it time for lunch?

The bad news: our camera also seems to be missing.

The good news: It was a four-year-old Kodak EasyShare 4-megapixel camera. I vaguely remember paying about $400 for the camera and accessories back in 2004. I note that Kodak now sells an 8-megapixel model for under $100. So it won't be anywhere near as expensive to replace as it was to buy. And we haven't lost any pictures - they'd all been downloaded.

The other good news: My laptop is here at work.

I am craving limeade. The fizzy kind. Mmmm, sour.

Sadly, I have no prospect of getting any.

Alex: What will the new baby say if it wants a toy?
Me: It might say "Uhhh!", or it might reach for the toy, or it might cry.
Alex: I would bring it a baby toy and say "Here, you can play with this!" And I would have a big bag of baby toys, and I would say, "You can have all of them."
Me: You have it all planned out, what kind of big sister you'll be. ...So, do you think you might ever get angry at the new baby?
Alex: No. Getting angry is Mama and Papa's job. My job is going to be giving toys to the baby.

(Here I have to interject something. I am fully aware that Michael and I don't come off very well when our poor innocent lamb describes our primary parenting role as "getting angry." But you must know that this is a child who, this very afternoon, responded to "I told you to stop biting the pillows" with "I'm not biting it, I'm just spitting on it."

...Go ahead. Try to tell me that your parenting role would subsequently be described as "smiling seraphically and exuding unconditional positive regard." I dare you.)

At any rate, the conversation continued:

Me: Well, suppose that you really wanted Mama to play dollhouse with you, and I said, "I'm sorry, I can't play right now because I have to feed the baby."
Alex: I would just play with my Dad.
Me: But do you think you might be a little angry, and think, "That baby is in the way!"
Alex: (sounding genuinely bewildered): Why would I think that?

---

I'm not trying to induce sibling rivalry, here. But when we talk about life with the Niblet, which is often at Alex's instigation, she paints an incredibly rosy picture of it. She thinks having a new baby in the family will be the neatest thing ever. Well, me too, except that I also know that it can be rocky for, especially, a previously-only-older-child to adjust. I want to at least open the door to the idea that her feelings may not be 100% positive 100% of the time, and that negative feelings are okay... without setting up the assumption that older kids automatically hate the baby, either.

Sibling advice, from parents of more than one?

The receptionist at the radiology clinic leaned across the counter and lowered her voice.

"I'm going to tell you something, honey," she said. "I have four kids, and I had first trimester bleeding with every one of them. Four healthy kids."

The ultrasound tech squirted warm gel on my belly, touched it with the wand, and immediately said, "There's a nice heartbeat."

And there was. I saw it myself, pulsing on the screen. Over the course of the next twenty minutes or so, I saw the Niblet stretch, roll, kick, wave, rub its face, open its mouth, and wiggle. Niblet did not look even the teensiest bit peaked or lethargic. The baby is active and alive and healthy.

The views were much better than they were just two weeks ago. It also helped that this tech was helpful and talkative. She showed me everything. The three blood vessels in the umbilical cord. The kidneys, just tiny little densities in the back. The ribs, the jaws, the vertebrae, the long bones of the arms and legs. We got a lucky glimpse of five fingers on one hand.

My cervix is long (6cm, or twice as long as it needs to be in order to be called "competent") and closed. My placenta is well-positioned away from the cervix. It's in the front, though, which might explain why Kate couldn't find the heartbeat with the Doppler this morning.

Niblet continues to measure a little bit ahead, showing about two weeks' growth since my last ultrasound two weeks ago. She estimated that Niblet weighs 4oz, and measures 9cm from "crown to rump."

Niblet is the best li'l Niblet in the world. What a good baby.

Twice in the last week I've fallen and hurt myself. That seems a bit much.

A few days ago I tripped on the edge of the plastic floor protector under my desk chair at home. I fell sideways towards my desk and landed hard on my right (small) wrist. It hurt so badly that I felt intensely sick to my stomach, and for the first few minutes Michael and I thought that I might've broken my wrist. I've still got a large, painful bump there, although curiously it didn't bruise much.

Then, just this afternoon, I headed out to lunch and apparently tripped over a sidewalk crack or something. I fell hard enough that when I landed my laptop backpack actually flipped over my head to rest on the sidewalk in front of me. And I scraped my left palm, left elbow, both knees, and the tops of both feet above my sandal straps. The elbow, left knee, and left foot scraped deeply enough to draw blood - the others just lost the top layer of skin.

This encounter wasn't as painful as the wrist injury, except for the part where I had to scrub the deeper scrapes with alcohol wipes. (God only knows what germs are lurking on a Baltimore sidewalk.) My elbow still aches, and it's bruising up pretty well around the scrape.

This seems kind of excessive, doesn't it? It's not as if my center of balance has really changed, yet.

Thursday was supposed to be my gloriously activity-free day. I'd originally planned an all-day nature trip with Alex, and then cancelled it when the program description changed from registration to confirmation. I had also figured that I would need a day to rest and recuperate after two hiking days in a row. By Thursday at SUUSI, many - most? - people are dragging. All my muscles hurt from my insufficiently-trained-for hikes. I planned to update LJ, take a long hot shower, nap, and maybe hang out in the coffeeshop for a while. ( Read more... )

...Anyone heard from kate_nepveu lately?

Yesterday was my due date for my lost pregnancy. Tomorrow, my current pregnancy will reach thirteen weeks - the point at which I lost the other one.

This is a weird place to be.

I am so, so grateful to be pregnant on the day that, by all rights, I should've given birth been complaining bitterly about when was the damn baby going to come already. I've been watching for this day for the last six months, and praying that I'd be pregnant when it came. I know it would be far harder if I were still feeling broken and barren.

And yet it's also hard to be where I am. The end of the first trimester is supposed to be a tremendous relief - the point at which you know that, probably, everything is going to be Just Fine. The point at which you tell everybody. The point at which vanishing symptoms are cause for relief, not anxiety. Last time, at this point, I had even broken out my least-obvious pair of maternity pants. This should be the point where I can relax, having made it through the dangerous part of pregnancy, and look forward to the genuine pleasure that is the second trimester.

Instead, this is the point where I feel like I'm at risk of being utterly blindsided by tragedy.

I've joined a really good mailing list called SPALS: Subsequent Pregnancy After Loss Support. The SPALS list has helped me keep my sanity through some scary early signs of trouble with this pregnancy, and I admire these women for the supportive community they've created. But the reverse of that support is that participating in SPALS makes me all too aware that you can actually lose a pregnancy at any time. Lots of women on the list have had stillbirths.

My midwives told me to take my progesterone supplements until 13 weeks, which I am interpreting as "the end of the 13th week" rather than as "the first day of the 13th week." After that, they say, my placenta should have totally taken over progesterone production, making supplementation unnecessary. But honestly, as much as I hate those damned things, stopping using them feels like stepping out over a cliff and trusting that something I can't see will break my fall. Who knows whether my placenta knows what the hell it's doing? If I wasn't making enough progesterone, who says it will make enough progesterone?

My first-trimester symptoms, bless them, are hanging on until the bitter end. I've had a bad cold this week, and postnasal drip + human chorionic gonadotropin = ZOMG incredible nausea. I expect that as my cold goes away, so will the nausea. In the meantime: my jeans still fit. I have the Incredible Pregnancy Rack of Doom (now size 36H!!), but that's the only place I've put on any weight. There are still eight days until the midwife appointment at which we may (may) be able to hear the fetal heartbeat with a Doppler. I'm still a few weeks away from the earliest possibility of feeling fetal movement. At the moment, to borrow a phrase from fairoriana, this is Schroedinger's Pregnancy.

It seems like such a cruel trick of fate that all of these dates converge: the lost due date, the gestational age at which my miscarriage happened, the point at which pregnancy symptoms are scheduled to go away, the point at which I'm supposed to remove the supports and trust my body to do the right thing hormonally.

We tried a marvelous new recipe tonight: smoked salmon and apple quesadillas. They were delicious and very quick and easy to make.

The recipe is apparently originally from rec.food.recipes, but there are some formatting problems in the online version (12 cups of sour cream? For a dish that feeds four?) so I'm just going to reproduce the whole thing here, for my records.

Quesadilla filling (for two adults): I julienned 4oz smoked salmon (lox) and half a peeled and cored Granny Smith apple. I mixed these with 3/4 cup grated cheese (I used a pre-grated "Mexican blend" that I think was mostly Monterey Jack) and seasoned it with a generous amount of fresh dill and a splash of lime juice.

I melted a little butter and brushed the bottoms of two big tortillas with it. I split the filling evenly between the two tortillas, folded them over, and cooked them in my biggest skillet over medium heat for a few minutes on a side, until the inside was all melty.

We topped them with horseradish crema: I mixed together 1/4 cup each sour cream and mayonnaise, seasoned it with a tablespoon of horseradish, a tablespoon of fresh chives, and a splash of lemon juice, and thinned it with a tablespoon and a half of milk. This was easy enough to throw together while the quesadillas were cooking.

They were great. I wouldn't have thought of smoked salmon and apple, but it's a good combination. I don't think you'd want to use a sweet apple, but the tart crunchy Granny Smith bits were delightful. And the horseradish crema was delicious - I'm already thinking of other applications for it. (It would go well with asparagus or artichokes, I think.)

This would make a lovely entree for a summer brunch. Michael recommends a crisp, fruity white wine as an accompaniment for nonpregnant diners.