I will post all about her birth soon! But suffice it to say we're all doing well now! If you want to see some pictures, you can check my myspace, facebook, or hyves!

Met with the doctors again yesterday regarding my frank breech baby. This time we brought our birth plan, etc. Now earlier in the week we had a meeting with the midwife and had a long discussion with her. What she's telling us and what the doctors are telling us are two different things, and all of the recent medical journals that I've been able to get my hands on agree with the midwife.

I don't have the option of having the midwife attend the birth and not doctors because of the way things are set up in this country.

I'm more than a little freaked out, even moreso when we're discussing what is going to happen to my child and me. I don't want a routine episiotomy. The doctor has never even seen my vagina. (This is a different doctor than the last one, but for the record, not one of them has done a vaginal exam on me.) We're being told that because the baby is breech and it's my first baby, that's a medical indication for an episiotomy. He also told me that the baby's head would get stuck on my perineum. The midwife said that we may need an episiotomy, but that they wouldn't be able to determine that until I was in labor and the baby was partially delivered.

The 50% chance that they're giving me in the hospital for a c-section is also much more worrying to me than the 30% chance that the midwives have. I was also particularly impressed when the doctor told me that my midwife would be allowed to attend, but he was still in charge. It made me feel kind of like I was just an afterthought in this entire debacle. Not like I'M going to be the one in labor or anything.

They also couldn't understand the stance that my husband and I have re: risk. It seems like any amount of risk to the mother is acceptable as long as it reduces the risk to the baby. My husband and I are of the opinion that a huge jump in the percentage of possible complications for me is not worth the minuscule amount of risk reduction for our baby. I love being made to feel like a horrible mother because I want to be in a position to actually take care of our child after she's born, instead of being a mangled mess stitched up like a damn quilt and high as a kite on pain killers. I want to be able to go back to work when I'm supposed to so that I can continue to provide food, clothing, and shelter to my child. I don't want to resent my child because of the way she was brought into this world.

So yeah. I'm stressed and more than a little freaked out. I was fine with this until we started talking about hacking away at pieces of my anatomy, and needles in my spine (I'm phobic for needles.) and oxytocin and it started being insinuated that I was already a bad parent who would be automatically killing my baby for even considering a general anesthetic instead of a spinal block if the need for a c-section should arise. Explaining that there was no way in hell they were going to get near me with that needle, or how I would not be able to hold still during it made no impression and only got comments like "it doesn't hurt that bad you know" and "it's perfectly safe". @_@

So yes, just about every concern I had was shoved aside as silly, invalidated, or met with the attitude that I should just trust the doctors to do the best for me and the baby. Kind of hard for me when they're not showing any consideration (and little medical basis for their methodology apart from "that's just how we do it.") for us or our wishes. We both have the same goal of having this be a good labor with a positive outcome for both me and my baby. But we have different ideas about how we should get there, and their way of doing it could cause me considerable physical harm in an attempt to reduce an already low possibility of a negative outcome.

Thanks for listening to me rant. I'm really freaked out. I'm 39 weeks today and now instead of looking forward to the birth of my daughter I'm absolutely dreading it.

Omg, I love Chalupas SO. DAMN. MUCH.

*burp*

Contractions suck. I'm hoping that these are just Braxton Hicks, because goddamnit I want my Taco Bell. Blake and Amy are bringing me back some from Ramstein because we dog sat this weekend and also because I've been craving it the entire freaking pregnancy.

Also, I want a chance to go over some things with the doctors before I go into labor. Our next appointment is Wednesday, and because the baby is breech, we have a LOT of things that we want to discuss. Especially since they seem a little bit too gung ho about cutting into me for reasons that have no basis in medical fact or science for my comfort.

Oh please be Braxton Hicks contractions...

3am this time. Drunk as hell. Couldn't figure out why I was upset, and was arguing with me that I should be happy that he calls me drunk in the middle of the night, because hey, he got to hear my voice so it was worth it. Also screaming at me for not calling him back and started demanding shit from me. I finally told him that if he ever calls me in the middle of the night I will never, ever, ever talk to him again, ever, I'm not even kidding no seriously, I won't. Lots of yelling from me because I've had it. Pissed me off so incredibly much I've been having contractions ever since. I'll post something more coherent when I can think more clearly.

I got to talk to my sister though, because I had to call her and warn her that he might attempt to call her to scream at her too. -_-

I have SO had it with this shit.

Bleh. That is all.

If you say that a parent deserved what happened to them after their child is kidnapped, raped, abused, killed, etc because they weren't a great parent you are insinuating that the child deserved what happened to them too. (If the parent wasn't the one who harmed their child, of course.) Why is it okay to blame a victim when someone else hurt them? Shouldn't you be blaming the one who actually hurt the person? Shouldn't your vitriol be reserved for those motherfuckers? In what fucked up universe are these people living in?

moar funny pictures

Please go rate it!

http://www.amazon.com/review/R2XKMDXZHQ26YX/ref=cm_cr_dp_cmt?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B000NZW3IY&nodeID=1036592#wasThisHelpful


Three Wolf Moon T-Shirt,

7,829 of 7,895 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars Dual Function Design, November 10, 2008
By B. Govern "Bee-Dot-Govern"
This item has wolves on it which makes it intrinsically sweet and worth 5 stars by itself, but once I tried it on, that's when the magic happened. After checking to ensure that the shirt would properly cover my girth, I walked from my trailer to Wal-mart with the shirt on and was immediately approached by women. The women knew from the wolves on my shirt that I, like a wolf, am a mysterious loner who knows how to 'howl at the moon' from time to time (if you catch my drift!). The women that approached me wanted to know if I would be their boyfriend and/or give them money for something they called mehth. I told them no, because they didn't have enough teeth, and frankly a man with a wolf-shirt shouldn't settle for the first thing that comes to him.

I arrived at Wal-mart, mounted my courtesy-scooter (walking is such a drag!) sitting side saddle so that my wolves would show. While I was browsing tube socks, I could hear aroused asthmatic breathing behind me. I turned around to see a slightly sweaty dream in sweatpants and flip-flops standing there. She told me she liked the wolves on my shirt, I told her I wanted to howl at her moon. She offered me a swig from her mountain dew, and I drove my scooter, with her shuffling along side out the door and into the rest of our lives. Thank you wolf shirt.

Pros: Fits my girthy frame, has wolves on it, attracts women
Cons: Only 3 wolves (could probably use a few more on the 'guns'), cannot see wolves when sitting with arms crossed, wolves would have been better if they glowed in the dark.

Once upon a time in a land far away, a beautiful, independent, self-assured princess happened upon a frog as she sat contemplating ecological issues on the shores of an unpolluted pond in a verdant meadow near her castle.

The frog hopped into the princess' lap and said: ' Elegant Lady, I was once a handsome prince, until an evil witch cast a spell upon me. One kiss from you, however, and I will turn back into the dapper, young prince that I am and then, my sweet, we can marry and set up housekeeping in your castle with my mother, where you can prepare my meals, clean my clothes, bear my children, and forever feel grateful and happy doing so. '

That night, as the princess dined sumptuously on lightly sautéed frog legs seasoned in a white wine and onion cream sauce, she chuckled and thought to herself:

I don't fucking think so.

Warning: If you're easily offended by anything, you may want to skip this entry. You have been warned.( Read more... )
Ok, that's it. I'm done for now. But I'm sure I'll bitch about this again before I pop out our little Imbrium turkey. :P

Those of you who know me IRL or personally may know that I'm a classical musician. I play many an instrument. I've been playing music for 20 years. (Holy shit!) My husband is also a musician. He also plays many instruments. He's been playing music for 30 years. (He even openly has stated that one of the reasons he married me was because we both play French Horn. :P) Now, I'm not the worlds' best musician. I can't sight read for shit, for instance. But I play by ear reasonably well, and I can sight read a bit, and can read music well, as long as I have enough time to go over it before attempting to play it. I figure that being able to play on a moderately good level (let's say level 3-4 music) on several instruments is better for me than being superb on just one instrument.

That being said, I'm convinced that my husband is a friggin' saint. He loves teaching, and he especially loves teaching music. I'm not particularly adverse to helping people learn, and will help where I can, but I get irritated when people cannot get things down after what I think is a reasonable amount of time. I'm sure that this has only gotten worse since I got pregnant, as I'm hormonal.

My husband is currently giving a trumpet lesson to a very nice older man from our woodwind band. This man played bass drum for years and really never had any reason to learn how to read music at all. Considering, this guy is actually doing well.

But.

He can't count. He can't remember the fingerings. He always pitches his notes too high. He can't read music and he can't play by ear. He's been playing under a year, so he sounds rather like someone torturing a goose. That's normal... Seriously. But I just can't deal with it. I want to beat him up with his trumpet. An hour and a half lesson, with big sections of these very easy parts being repeated over and over again.

I swear... I'm in Hell. And my husband is an absolute saint for being so patient. I for one, am going to find some ear plugs so I don't go on a rampage.

Go to www.livejournal.com . I'm getting a picture of some anime avatar thingie and nothing else. Is anyone else having this issue?

I work in a restaurant as a dishwasher/cleaner in the Netherlands. I'm also 5 1/2 months pregnant.

I don't usually have a lot of customer suckage because generally I don't even see the customers. Last night was a bit different because as I was drying a load of dishes, my boss came back with a 30-somethingish man who wanted to see how the "pregnant girl" was doing. Now, despite the fact that I'm 27 years old, people usually think I'm quite a bit younger and I think it does make a difference in how they treat me here. This part would not have been quite as annoying to me if the following conversation hadn't happened directly there after:

DB - Cool Dutch Boss Lady
MC - Misogynistic Asshole Customer
Kay - Me - Lowly foreigner cleaning chick

(This is paraphrased from the Dutch.)
MC: Let me go back there and see how the pregnant girl is doing!
DB: She's doing good, aren't you Kay?
Kay: Yes, doing just fine. (Drying dishes with that plastic customer service smile firmly in place. :D)
MC: Oh, you're pretty big, aren't you?
Kay: I guess so. :D
DB: They found out yesterday that they're having a girl, isn't that great?
MC: Oh how nice. And everything went well with the echo?
Kay: Yes, she's anatomically perfect as far as they can see, which is just awesome. :D
MC: Too bad she's incomplete.
Kay: What? No she isn't. (Grinning like an insane person now, and drying like a fiend.)
MC: Yes, she's incomplete. (Proceeds to make vulgar hand gestures mimicking a penis.)
Kay: WHAT. D: (Stopped smiling and drying entirely at this point.)
MC: (He apparently thought I still wasn't getting it.) Yes, incomplete. (Repeats vulgar hand motions.)
Kay: 0_0

At this point, my boss managed to distracting him and basically dragged him out of the kitchen.

Seriously, WTF was that? On what planet is it a good idea to say that kind of shit to a pregnant woman? Also, why would I want my DAUGHTER to have a penis? Girls don't have penises. Why would a girl be an incomplete male? And why should I be upset that I'm not having a boy? I mean, I may just be hormonal, and I'm certainly sure I am, but I can't wrap my head around how in the hell that could ever seem like a good idea. And were the hand gestures seriously necessary? Gah!

X-posted

And it's a healthy (and long legged) baby girl!

DORIS SPATARO
AGE: 74 HOWELL
Doris Spataro, 74, of Howell died Sunday, April 12, 2009 at Brick Hospital. Born in Bayonne, NJ she resided in Howell for the past 45 years. Doris was a life member of the Ramtown Fire Department Ladies Auxiliary, Den Mother for Ramtown Cub Pack #59, Regional WBA Director of Bowling at Ocean Lanes, Election Officer of District #17 Democratic Election Committee, and a Political Activist in Monmouth County.
She was predeceased by her son, Nick in 1997. Surviving are her husband, James; three sons, Leslie, John and Joe; a daughter and her husband, Elena and Ernie; 8 grandchildren and 5 great grandchildren.
Visitation will be held on Wednesday from 2-4 and 7-9 p.m. at the Lakewood Funeral Home, 6250 Highway 9, Howell. A Funeral Mass will be offered on Thursday, 12 Noon at Holy Family Church, Lakewood.
http://www.legacy.com/gb2/default.aspx?bookid=10230738291083

My sister called me right before I was leaving for work to let me know. I'll post the obituary and pics when someone bothers to tell me what's going on.

I have the Boobs of Doom. They started leaking colostrum sometime during Dragonball Evolution, apparently. They're sore, and leaky, and itchy, and I can't sleep because of them. *cries*

I keep hearing that pregnancy is supposed to be this wonderful, majikaal thyme. -_- Well, I'm not feeling wonderful or majikaal to be honest. I'm feeling like a bloated beached whale whose leaking fluids from several orifices. This pregnancy isn't the worst thing I've been through, but I'm more than sick of the people insinuating that I'm not cheerful enough about this, or that the pregnancy symptoms that I'm having are not valid reasons to not be jumping around like a lunatic with the OMG SHEER GLEE THAT I AM GOING TO HAVE A CHILD. ONE OF US. ONE OF US. WEEBLE WOBBLE WEEBLE WOBBLE. 0_0 ( Read more... )

And... My tits still hurt. But on a happy note, next Friday is the anatomy ultrasound. So I should have a positive post next week. And hopefully now that I've got it out of my system, I can stop with the bitching at my poor, long suffering husband and sister in law.

I found this on google, and had to share it.