This was going to be my $0.02 on SOPA/PIPA

I started to write a post on my feelings about SOPA/PIPA while I was at the doctor’s office a few days ago.  Unfortunately, I’ve learned that drafting something on my phone is not a good start to a post.  So, after a quarter of the way through my musings, I was finally called back for my ultrasound and all interest in that topic went down the drain.

So, in short, I think Congress isn’t outright trying to censor the Internet – they just have no idea about intellectual property OR technology, which are kind of important when making laws concerning the two.  I also think the lobbying groups (namely, the MPAA & RIAA) really need to learn that when people share things online with each other, even if it technically “breaks copyright law” in their mind, it is also FREE ADVERTISING, morons!  Generally speaking, any ideas that these groups come up with to protect against real pirating is about 5 steps behind where those pirates are operating.  People know about IP addresses versus domain names.  Get ahead of the technology – stop trying to catch up.

Ok, now that I’ve gotten my topical BS out of the way, back to talking about me me me!

Update on the doctor visit: doctor told me, basically, that I looked like shit and prescribed me some antibiotics.  Baby’s heart rate was still fine, and my blood pressure was as low as ever.  Going back in for a retest of my white blood cell count tomorrow, but I’m already feeling tons better, so hopefully I get the all clear.  Went in for an ultrasound the next day since the doctor was still concerned about all the pressure I was feeling & wants to tell me to just suck it up but couldn’t without one more look at my innards.  Luckily, and I quote from the doctor at the ultrasound facility, my “cervix is long enough for triplets.” Everything was in its right place and as it should be.  Plus, we got to find out…

I'm a Boy!

Yes, that arrow is pointing where you think it is...

I get to post pictures of my son’s peen across the interwebs now!  The only sad part was that the anatomy scan was scheduled for this week when the hubby could be there.  I had to call him on the phone so that we could find out together.  All together, though, baby weighed approximately 12 oz as of that sonogram and measured about 3 days ahead of schedule (I was at 20 weeks exactly, he measured 20 weeks, 3 days).  On the individual measurements, he has a huge head and short legs.  Taking after his mom already, I supposed.

And for one really cute story: hubby just found out that someone he knows read the same story to their little fetus everyday before it was born.  Then, whenever the baby heard that story afterwards, they would always smile.  The only difference is that hubby’s idea of a “story” is to read the Declaration of Independence, complete with his personal DVD commentary (which, as I tried to explain to him, completely throws out the whole notion of reading the SAME story every day so that the baby will know the rhythm of the words).  Still, it was very cute, and I know I’m lucky to have such an involved daddy-to-be (commence gagging… now).

So, next for the neuroses, provided the doctor’s appointment tomorrow goes fine, is that I still haven’t felt the baby move yet, at least that I can know for sure.  Between normal pregnancy gas and antibiotics killing almost anything in my stomach that would aid in digestion outside of acid, there is way too much action down there for me to tell what is another person poking at my insides.  Here’s to hoping I figure it out soon.

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This post brought to you by insomnia

(Somehow, I doubt this is the first blog post ever with that title…)

I ended up in the hospital today for what to me was a sharp, stabbing pain in my stomach & vomiting.  Turns out, that was just normal (dear LORD, how the human race survived when being pregnant feels like this is beyond me).  Unfortunately, that was not what the doctors seemed to care about.  My temperature was elevated (100.4° F) and my white blood cell count was a little high.  After some very skillful negotiating with 2 doctors, I managed to not get myself admitted under a blood oath that if my temperature went above 100.4, I return immediately to the hospital and, if it doesn’t, go straight to my OB first thing tomorrow morning..  Taking my temp right before bed, I came in just under, thankfully.

However, I’ve now been awake since 2:30 am (or probably earlier than that even) with some really intense back and chest pain.  I don’t really know what is “normal” as I suspect that laying on a hospital gurney for hours on end may have something to do with this. The worst part is, I really don’t care if there is something wrong with me.  I’m easy to fix.  I worry about the baby.  I don’t know what will hurt it (him/her).  I don’t know what is safe for it.

I spent a lot of time yesterday feeling like a bad mother.  The baby isn’t even born yet and I can’t take care of it when all I need to do is eat properly, get a bit of exercise, and take a prenatal vitamin (and, you know, no hard partying or jumping in front of x-ray machines or anything).  I’ve been having lower abdominal achiness and pressure for a couple of weeks now.  I don’t know if it is due to carrying the baby low (my mother’s explanation) or just over-exerting myself.  Hubby wants me to quit my church singing gig (even though I know we need the money) so that I’m not doing anything extra outside of my normal work day.  All I know is that I feel helpless and too many people keep throwing around the words “pre-term labor” now.  I’m scared of bed rest.  I’m scared of the NICU.  I’m scared of not working (or not working enough at least) and not being able to pay our bills.  I’m scared of anything that I’m possibly doing  to hurt this baby.

If you ask my husband, I had/have a lot of irrational fears regarding pregnancy.  The first being that I would never get pregnant.  This was not based in reality (obviously).  Most likely, it was a combination of reading infertility blogs/articles and a gynecologist once telling me that I might have endometriosis. Not exactly good indicators of one’s own fertility although it is an excellent indicator of my tendencies toward hypochondria.

Secondly, once I got pregnant, and seeing how suddenly & easily it happened, I was then constantly worried about miscarriage.  I know the stats.  It wasn’t even about that, really.  I just felt like if it could come this easily, it could also go just as easily.  Hubby had to talk me off a ledge when I decided that I wanted to rent a Doppler machine.  I thought this was the only way to assure myself that the baby was still alive until I could feel it move for myself.  Every time I go to the doctor and they check the heartbeat or I get an ultrasound, the only thing I can ever feel is relief.  We made it this far.  He/she is managing to survive, no matter how much I may be screwing up or how tenuous the whole matter seems to be.

Now, though, things are getting very real.  The pressure that I’ve been feeling could very well be Braxton-Hicks contractions – especially seeing as how I can feel my uterus hard as a rock when it happens (and, usually, I can’t find my uterus with a map and a compass).  Again, this is something that could be completely normal OR could be a harbinger of doom.  Who knows!  The pain I’m feeling is probably just round ligament pain (but, “keep an eye on it” the doctor says!).  All I know right now is that I need to make it the next 5 hours before I bang down the door of my OB’s office to get everything checked out.

Navel gazing at its finest…

…and quite literally, too. My belly button has “popped” I think. I finally had to remove my piercing last week (I made it 17 weeks, though – one of my finer accomplishments in life). Now my belly button is freaking out everyone with its mushy, slightly protuberant center. Maybe I’m really cream-filled? Wouldn’t surprise me in the least.

The house is finally in order. Between getting kicked out for the bathroom renovations (mold is bad for the pregnant lady), then the ensuing rat infestation (well, if you thought the mold was bad… you ain’t seen nothin’ til you’ve seen rat poop), I was not allowed in my own home for 2 1/2 weeks. My Christmas present was to finally sleep in my bed. And if you’ve ever seen my mattress, you would know that it would take a LOT to make me joyous about that!

Just an aside about the rat infestation – I believe that we are the only people ever that can call a single rat in our home an “infestation.” However, this one, coke-can sized beast was able to traverse both floors in our home and poop in nearly every single room. Now I jump whenever I see a squirrel outside.

Now to the more figurative navel gazing: time to do a Year-In-Review post, amiright?

At this time last year, I was helping my parents check out assisted living facilities so that they could bring my grandmother down to Florida to keep a better eye on her (a few falls in her extraordinarily dirty house plus a scary morning incident finding her sitting on the floor at her house rambling to herself doesn’t make for independent living anymore). Since then, she’s been to 2 different facilities down here and improved enough to move back to Maryland to a facility close to her home back in September. She went from barely being able to put pen to paper at the beginning of the year to sending me & the hubby a Christmas card from Maryland. It was really remarkable to see a woman of 91 make such a drastic improvement. It was also very hard acting as a supplemental caregiver for a woman who used to take care of me, especially since she had no other family down here but my parents and myself (and the hubby – he was a big help!). We had to constantly visit her to make sure that she had people that she knew around. While I miss having seeing her, I know she wasn’t happy here and is doing better in Maryland. I also have that extreme guilt of being happy to have more free time now that I don’t have to worry about her having visitors (she has a lot more family up there and even knows some people at the facility).

This year, instead of ALFs, we’re checking out daycare facilities. Similar process, different guilt. The tours start tomorrow. Cross your fingers, spit three times, pray to whatever god/deity/etc. you wish. And yes, in case you were wondering, it seems that I managed to get pregnant the week after we moved my grandmother back up north.

Last year, I also somehow managed to complete a “dissertation” (I was in the only grad program in the world that would give a 37-page research paper that title). Because of this triumph, I received my Master’s degree. My job requires me to have an Associate’s. Underemployed, much?

Now, I’m not one to make a New Year’s resolution, but now that things have settled down, I might be able to post more than once a month. Provided this baby doesn’t devour my brain entirely.  A few girls at work joke that the baby takes your brainpower for itself; I tell them that with the way my mind currently functions, this kid better be a damn GENIUS child.