Make your doctor happy
Maybe it’s just the hormones talking, but I love my doctor.
Yep, it’s the hormones.
My doctor has a tactlessness about her which is quite terrifying to a pregnant lady. For example, she doesn’t open with, “The test results were normal” – she opens with, “I’d like to do more tests.”
But now I know her pattern, I can brace myself – saving my panic for when she actually says something is wrong (which has never happened, and probably never will).
The thing I love about my doctor is that on our first meeting (when I was still quite sick from some Indonesian food poisoning) she recommended that I cut out lactose and gluten indefinitely.
Not. Going. To. Happen. (This is not the bit I love, by the way.) Dairy is probably my favourite food group (other than chocolate) and I loooovvvveee bread. I’d just gone on my own one-week elimination diets of each group, and it was both horrific (I just couldn’t handle the change in routine) and pointless (I was still sick, and unable to eat the only healthy food I like).
By our second visit, however, we had conversations like this:
Doctor: I’d like you to switch to low-fat milk.
Me: No.
Doctor: Do you think you could. . . try it?
Me: How about I cut down on my chocolate a little instead?
Doctor: *sigh* Okay. And dark chocolate has less fat than milk chocolate.
Me: Okay, I can incorporate that.
Doctor: Fine.
A few days ago, I went for my first official pregnancy checkup. (Everything is fabulous, by the way.) While taking my blood pressure, she advised me to incorporate more fish and nuts in my diet.
“I have,” I said, reeling off three fish I’m eating that have low amounts of mercury (shark, sadly, is high in mercury – so no weekly fish and chip shop visits “for the baby”). “I’m eating a lot of nuts–”
“Especially walnuts.”
“Especially walnuts – I bought a pack of just walnuts to mix with the rest – and so many vegetables that I’m visibly bloated, see?”
She beamed at me with the shining eyes of a health professional seeing a patient actually eat properly while pregnant. I’ve never seen her look like that before.
She was still glowing with surprised satisfaction as I went away.
In other news, I’ve discovered ginger beer is useful for temporarily quelling nausea – so this morning, unable to face cereal, I drank ginger beer and ate weetbix sandwiches (that’s a wheat biscuit split carefully in half and spread with peanut butter and honey).
In news that I’m sure will be hilarious to some of you, the sight and smell of chocolate now grosses me out. To be fair, that’s true of almost all food (or indeed the thought of food, or a picture of food).
Worth it.
Celebrate the season you’re in
Here, as I overcompensate for yesterday’s long entry, is a picture of an autumn tree:
I’m pregnant
The rumours are true.
Every Wednesday from now on will be about the baby (aka Mini-Me) until he/she is old enough to need some privacy (it’s quite likely I’ll mention breasts, breastfeeding, and maybe periods – but that’s as gross/adult as it will get). I’ve also prepped literally dozens of blog entries in advance – awesomenesses, pregnancy thoughts, and book reviews – to make sure I don’t let you guys down.
I was irrationally terrified CJ and I would be infertile, but it turns out we’re quite the opposite. We had one month of just trying, one month with a chemical pregnancy, and now we’re pregnant for real. Most people take 6-12 months to conceive – not three.
What’s a chemical pregnancy? It’s an extremely early miscarriage – within the first five weeks, and often before the first period (I only know about it because I used Forelife brand pregnancy tests, which turned out to be MORE sensitive than the urine tests at the doctor). Chemical pregnancies happen when the baby is malformed somehow. Which means that if our second-month pregnancy had come to term, it might have looked a little like this:
http://www.mykeamend.com/paintings/Purple.png
But THIS pregancy will probably end up looking a little like these samples my associates prepared earlier (especially the first, my niece):
When are you due? January 18 (although that may change as doctors learn more about the baby’s size – and it’s likely I’ll be up to two weeks late, like my mum). As of today, I am at six weeks.
Observant readers will notice that January is always an eventful month in my life – CJ and I married in Janury 2009 (I had in fact told him the previous August that we HAD to marry in January, and my mum and sister and I had discussed it in detail for over a year), went to China and Indonesia in January 2010, and had a second honeymoon in January 2011. For me, Christmas holidays are a dark, empty period of no tutoring income for two months (and the excess of free time doesn’t help things at all). We timed our conception attempts deliberately to (hopefully) hit the Christmas holidays. . . and we actually did it. So the timing is GREAT. Plus, my sister will be here – awesome.
Are you concerned about miscarriage? Mildly. I know the chances of miscarriage are relatively high in the next seven weeks, but I come from strong baby-making stock so I’ll almost certainly be fine.
Do you want a girl or a boy? Yes.
Before I was married, I wanted girls (because girls mostly make sense to me, and boys mostly don’t). The more I get to know CJ, the more I want a boy. But then again, girls have smaller heads.
How’s CJ coping? I love change and CJ hates it – but he’s also naturally VERY calm (any calmer and he’d be dead), and surprisingly good at adapting when change happens. He’s quietly excited about becoming a father, but to a certain extent he’s not convinced Mini-Me is real (which is fair enough, as well as being handy for coping with the thought of the epic journey ahead of us). The first few days after we found out were probably the only time in our lives that I was calmer than him. I enjoyed that.
How are you feeling physically? Pretty normal, with a host of minor side effects so far – stomach cramps, pain, nausea, gastro, stomach-muscles twinging if I lift something heavy or reach for something high. Back pain. Sore breasts (I’ve already gone up a cup size, yay!), flatulence (yes, CJ, that was me – not the cat), dry skin, bigger belly (yes, already – to be fair, it was big to start off with), fatigue, emotional sensitivity (in every direction – exactly like PMS), and a cold. It’s fascinating how much pregnancy screws with everything in one’s entire body – but so far, it’s all extremely minor. Oh, I’m also extra unco and extra forgetful – no surprises there.
Since writing the above a few days ago, proper nausea has kicked in – particularly in the evenings. It’s just like being seasick, which means I have a pretty good idea where the increasing nausea is inevitably heading. Yo ho. . .
Actually, the most annoying thing so far is that on the steam train day I had another side effect: thirty mosquito bites all over my ankles and legs. Not a single other person I spoke to had any bites whatsoever. So remember, next time you go camping, to save yourself from insect attack all you need to do is pack a pregnant woman.
Here’s hoping my blood isn’t as delicious to vampires. Note to self: carry a stake (and/or exacto knife).
I also had a wacky pregnancy dream that I was a man (a sailor, incidentally – talk about foreshadowing) whose fiance gave birth to a large potato. After a careful discussion about whether smaller offspring would be bullied by the other children, we cut the potato in half – making it into twins.
Evidently, my subconscious skipped out on sex ed classes.
Have you thought at all about, ya know, having a baby – and how you’ll deal with that? Having a baby (child, teenager, adult offspring) is pretty much the point of the exercise, and it’s something I’ve thought about carefully for several years. I know it’s what I want to do with my life, and I also know it’ll be harder than I can imagine. There’s no way I’d have attempted this without CJ (quite apart from the difficulty of conception without his assistance), and I also know my mum’s obsession with grandchildren is the greatest thing in the world. Hello, free babysitting.
How’s that mental illness coming along? Very well, thank you. Oh, you mean How is someone with an anxiety disorder going to cope with pregnancy, and a real live baby?
Pregnancy is a lot like mental illness, but with physical illness on top. My tutoring workload is rather low at the moment – so I’m leaving it where it is until further notice (resisting the urge to earn more money while I still can). I’ve been madly stocking up on frozen meals – consciously planning for around six weeks of bleaugh and lolling around the house (I observed my sister’s pregnancy closely, and she was basically fine except for the second half of the first trimester – so I’m right on schedule). The good thing about my anxiety disorder is that I am very familiar with my own limits, and extremely aware of danger signs. I am not trying to be superwoman, and I’m certainly not going to attempt to be a supermum.
I’m already napping every day, doing less writing (I’m two months ahead on my quota anyway – did I mention I planned this?), and eating WAY more vegetables, milk, and protein. I’m also eating 30-100 grams of chocolate each day so that if I snap and have a binge it’s not a huge shock to the system (caffeine can harm an unborn baby, but since I don’t drink coffee I’m okay so long as I stick to my preference for milk rather than dark chocolate). My no-no foods are soft cheese, soft serve ice cream, raw food (unless it’s peeled and/or washed in hot water and detergent, ugh), paté, and processed cold meat. And (obviously) alcohol.
Most of the same prioritise-the-baby-and-be-good-to-myself principles apply to a new baby experience, except with way more assistance from CJ (who gets parental leave), my Mum, and everyone else I’ve ever met. My expectations are: emotional collapse on day 3, extreme exhaustion and sleep deprivation for several months, lots of poo and vomit and screaming for several years – and joy and sorrow for the rest of my life.
I also honestly believe I can handle it (with all that help, of course) as well or better than the average new mum.
Why’s that?
When something is meaningful, I can handle it. When it’s not – I can’t. I can’t work in a shop (unless it’s a bookshop), but I can look after a newborn. The difficulty actually makes it easier for me mentally, because it makes me feel my life has purpose (yes, I’m weird, I know).
I also spend a lot of time with babies and kids, and always have. CJ and I each have an excellent set of parents, which gives us a huge advantage in knowing how it’s done. Most of all, I know my strength is limited – which is, in my opinion, the single most useful piece of self-knowledge for a mum to have.
Are you scared about labor? Not really. Firstly because it’s not until next year, and I figure I can save that fear for later. Secondly because the pain will likely last around thirty hours – and then end (pain with a purpose AND a specific timeframe is the best kind). I tend to deal with crisis fairly well (unlike ordinary life, which terrifies me), and labor definitely counts as a heroic endeavour (and an AWESOME writing experience).
Frankly, I’m looking forward to labor – it means Mini-Me is about to arrive.
Here’s to January 2012!
Bungendore Antique Shop
Bungendore is a small town, and a classy one, so I’m betting they have several antique shops. This one is a half-acre in size. It seems small, and then you go through a door to the back – and there’s more. Then you go through another door, and another, and another.
It’s a little like the TARDIS that way. And also in its eccentricities:
Tomorrow: The most awesome, and life-changing, and blog-changing awesomeness of all time. . . revealed at last.
Steampunk Art
Here‘s a site many of you will love – and here is why:
There are dozens of pictures, and each one is brilliant.
Revise, but don’t re-use or recycle
I’m pretty sure I’ve linked to ex-agent Nathan Bransford before. (Incidentally, he’s just released a children’s book.)
Here’s today’s article – a revision checklist, which I’m posting today as I re-re-re-re-revise my steampunk novel (I printed it out in hard cover, which always makes me see the book slightly differently, and thus more clearly).
– Does the main plot arc initiate close enough to the beginning that you won’t lose the reader?
– Does your protagonist alternate between up and down moments, with the most intense towards the end?
– Are you able to trace the major plot arcs throughout the book? Do they have up and down moments?
– Do you have enough conflict?
– Does the reader see both the best and worst characteristics of your main characters?
Read the rest (including suggestions drawn from the comments) here.
And remember, don’t take your ideas from TV shows (or bestselling books).
Horse
On the day of the steam train, a bunch of us wandered down a Bungendore street to a cafe. A horse in a field beside the pavement hung its head over the fence. I patted it on the nose, then invited my six-year old nephew to do the same. The horse was calm but optimistic. Just as CJ took this photo, it tossed its head – hoping the hand that patted it also brought it some food. It made BJ jump.
Steam Train
Last Sunday, a bunch of my friends and family dressed up and rode a steam train (built in 1903).
The ride was similar to any other train ride, except for the clouds of smoke and steam through the windows. The windows themselves, being antiques, would sometimes slam shut with no warning. This only added to the thrill.
My nephew is six years old now, and is a charming (and effervescent) gentleman. He regaled us with a long story about a kangaroo that had wandered into his front yard (plausible) and cleaned the windows (not so much).
That’s a paper plane in his hand, with which he grew more closely aquainted with everyone else in our carriage.
The train took us to Bungendore (a classy antiquing and craft-oriented small town) and back again, through three tunnels (all unlit). We discovered that burning coal smells precisely like dirty nappies – so much so that, even after the ride up to Bungendore, everyone in the carriage checked their children’s nappies when the wind changed.
The smell was strongest in the tunnels, as the smoke had nowhere to go but inside our carriage, casting lines of visible sunshine across the air.
At Bungendore we were allowed inside the locomotive (I smelled the unburnt coal, and it was a lot like burnt toast).
Just as I stood outside for yet another classic author photo. . . the whistle blew.
Surprise!
I have done something awesome. Something so awesome it’s going to change my life forever – and change this blog, too. It is very, very good – and required a little luck to achieve.
I’m not going to tell you what it is. Not until exactly one week from now.
I will tell you that if you know me (even just through this blog) you know that there are only two things it could possibly be.
It’s the second one.
Feel free to make guesses in the comments if that’s your thing – but I won’t confirm or deny anything until Wednesday next week.
Tomorrow: Steam Train!
Felicity Banks 
