The Best Made Plans

I had high hopes for this weekend. Especially today, Saturday. It has been a rough week, filled with highs and lows and lots in between. Because of my gestational diabetes diagnosis, and my advanced age..my doctor wants to see me twice a week for fetal monitoring until I give birth.  I am required to go to the clinic, climb into a bed, be hooked up to a machine that monitors the baby's heart for 40 minutes twice a week.

I balked at the idea that the Silver Fox, that's what I call my doctor, thought I had 40 spare minutes in my day, twice a week to lay around at the clinic. I had my second session on Friday and it was so nice to have a break in the middle of the morning to put my feet up and listen to my little guy's heart beat for 40 minutes.  This was another lesson in the changing priorities in my life.

I waddled back to work after; all the nurses thinking I was going home. I am not quite ready to stop working. I should be, but I'm not. My job is such a large part of my life and it is odd to think about not having the challenges and opportunities that come with it. I know I have new set of challenges waiting for me when the baby comes, but he is not here yet.

I have been feeling good this week. Tired and uncomfortable, but believing that it would be perfectly reasonable for me to to go the mall to look at Italian baby strollers that just happen to be on sale this month. Everything is on sale this month in Italy. Italians make so many beautiful things, and strollers are no exception. Along with my trip to the mall I added a matinee at the movie theater on post to my plans for the day. Last night before bed, I fantasized about the sense of accomplishment I would feel at the end of today.

When I woke up with vomit surging up my esophagus in the middle of the night I was confused. It felt like a nightmare, but clearly I was awake, and those nachos refused to stay put. I hate throwing up. Not just the heaving, but I worry about the damage the acid will due to my teeth and gums. Pregnant women have vulnerable teeth and gums. I brushed and rinsed with Listerine knowing my father would be proud.

I stumbled back to bed in a cold sweat. Ryan whispered that the nachos he made for me were probably not a good idea so late at night before drifting back to sleep. I slept until 2:30. I did not go to the mall or the movies. I started watching the tv show Girls instead. It is the new Sex and the City, except the girls are in their 20s instead of their 30s. At one point I turned to Ryan and said that we always go out with friends and rarely alone on dates. I was reciting lines from the show, "Are we even dating? Is this relationship going anywhere?!" He turned to look at me, chuckled and said umm ok, then went back building his model tank. We are way beyond dating, but those outbursts sure are fun!

These are my pajamas

Artist rendering of my hospital room...My room DID NOT look like this.

During my four days of confinement at San Bortolo I was the source of curiosity for the staff. It started off with Ryan and I getting separated. He dropped me off at the entrance and went to park the car. The Army has Patient Liaisons to assist Americans from the base. None of them were in the office when I arrived.

This is a good place to note that Italians do not have a sense of urgency about most things. Perhaps it has to do with their flair for the dramatic. They do not get excited in the moments you would expect. For example, an impatient pregnant woman in line at the OB section of the hospital (me) There was a woman in line in front of me. I was definitely breathing down her neck. She moved closer to the desk, and I was still there, breathing down her neck. Italians do that to me all the time. She whispered whatever her ailment was and walked away.

The intake lady wanted to know if she needed to wait for the Patient Liaison to interpret for me. I politely said no and handed her my ID card. That is when the contractions started to come back. The heavy breathing started and I gripped the plastic partition that separated us with my sweaty hands. She looked at me slightly concerned but, continued to ask me demographic questions. Then she told me to have a seat, but I could not stay seated for long. I was trying to walk off the pain and soon I was panting again. I remember seeing a few nervous faces staring at me. I looked down the hall hoping to see Ryan, but he was lost somewhere in the facility. All it took was one guttural  moan for the examination room doors to slide open. Suddenly, the Patient Liaison was in the room with Ryan and I was being admitted.

My first stop was the delivery floor. I think if I knew that then I would have freaked out, but I was oblivious to my surroundings. Although I do think I heard one woman give birth. The nurse started an IV and things began to calm down shortly after. Once I was stabilized they moved me to another floor and I changed into my pajamas. The nurses kept asking me if I would be more comfortable in my pajamas. I kept saying these are my pajamas. One nurse asked why my leggings had sparkles. Another referred to my snoogle as a snake. When I realized I would be there for more than one night I had Ryan bring in rugs for the bathroom and my bedside. That seemed to surprise the staff the most. Did I mention there was no tv? I was bored so I did a little decorating, well Ryan did the decorating.

Four Days in Lockup

This could go down as the worst Christmas ever, but I am pregnant with my first child. Being pregnant trumps everything else. How I ended up in an Italian hospital for four days goes back to a few weeks ago when I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. The diagnosis was a surprise and a disappointment. The irony is that before the pregnancy I ate whatever I wanted without much consequence. Now that I am pregnant I have to watch my carbohydrate and sugar intake. It has been stressful trying to get accustomed to the new diet. I have never dieted in my life!
After a visit to the dietitian, I decided I would make more of an effort to be active to help burn off the excess sugar in my system more effectively.

I strapped on my support belt and started waking up earlier, doing the the grocery shopping, running around to office celebrations and of course looking for the perfect gift for Ryan, which I found. By Saturday I knew I was pushing myself, but I thought this is good stuff. I have my heart rate up, I feel energized and I am getting stuff done.

With Ryan's gift sorted it was time to find my Birthday/push prize. It took sometime to find parking at the mall and I ended up much farther away from the entrance than usual. The hike included a short flight of steep stairs. That is when I felt the first sign of trouble. It was a sharp pain in my lower back. I never felt anything like it. Sort of sharp, hot, pulling pain. I headed home.

We had dinner and were deeply entrenched in our nightly routine of watching TV and lamenting over all the shows we love that are currently on hiatus: Sons of Anarchy, The Americans, Mad Men, Homeland, Game of Thrones and Hannibal.  I felt a mild Braxton-Hicks contraction. Those have been common in the last few weeks, but over the course of the evening they increased in severity. Before long I was panting and moaning like a grizzly bear in heat.

The pain subsided a bit and I went to bed, but tossed all night. In the morning I called the Army clinic. They advised that if I could not talk through the contractions I should go to the Italian hospital. I was in pre-term labor, and the doctors administered medication to stop the contractions, as well as steroids to help develop the baby's lungs in case he insisted on making an early appearance.

They were able to stop the contractions with medication, but it took three days to run its course and then they wanted to monitor me off the medication. I was released last night with strict orders to rest, including NO SEX...

My experience in the Italian hospital deserves its own post, which will require reflection first. I can say for now that they were thorough, attentive and kind to me. The rest will have to wait.

Not the Baby Shower Type

If and when I can I avoid baby showers like the plague. In general I used to find most events that involve pregnant women and babies boring, icky or some combination of both. Over the years I got over myself and grew up, but the baby shower aversion clung to me like a bad cold. My friends began the baby shower chatter a few months ago. The idea made me very uncomfortable. There were a few baby showers at various offices that I could not avoid in my past. They were strange events with cakes made of diapers, and silly games that left the mother-to-be resembling Little Bo Peep.  The guest of honor always ended up with paper plates on her head and streamers wrapped around her body. Once I watched in disbelief as the the guests made dress out of the wrapping paper and made the soon-to-be mom wear it! I wanted no part of that. I finally confessed my fears to a friend, and she gave me a bit of sound advice. She reminded me that the process of preparing for and the raising of a child is a community effort. She said it was an important "rite of passage" to let my community shower me with their support. She added that I would need many of them in the months ahead.

Her words stimulated me and I realized I could have a baby shower on my terms. I discussed my fears with the friends I trusted the most. They assured me that my shower would be a tasteful event. Once assured of their promises we set a date: 23 November. The next important decision was the location. With holidays almost upon us it would be difficult to find the appropriate venue. My apartment was the obvious choice. The other details were easily the best part: the menu. We selected all of my favorite dishes. Some were purchased at the Commissary and others were homemade, but all were delicious.

The games were fun and mostly for the guests. Although at some point I did start tying ribbons around myself...The best part was support of my friends. It was just as my friend said. The women in my community rallied around to support me. It was beautiful and heartwarming. We had a few guys over to keep Ryan company. They stayed in the kitchen where  Ryan was frying up batches of his delicious hot wings. By the end of it I did feel like I had crossed another threshold. One that brought me closer to motherhood.

My history with pickles

I have had a thing for pickles since I was kid. My childhood best friend and I would plan our entire afternoon around finding the perfect pickle and taking it back to my house to eat it.

Somewhere along the line we decided my neighborhood had better pickles than hers. The truth is probably closer to we had more privacy to enjoy our pickled delights at my house.

She had an annoying older brother that messed up the vibe. We would go to the store select our pickles, then float back to my house in a thick fog of anticipation. I would sit on the couch and she would sit on the love seat. We would look at each other, then give each other a deep nod before tearing into the pickle. She was way ahead of the pickle game than I was. She started adding salt and pepper to hers. I followed suit, but she lost me when she she bit the head off and buried a peppermint inside of the pickle before devouring it. I have my limits.

Everyone knows the mythic status pickles have around pregnant women. I think the sour taste helps with the nausea. Cravings are just one of the amazing facets of pregnancy. I only began to crave pickles a few weeks ago.  Up until then I was fairly obsessed with grilled and boiled meat, preferably rib eye steak and turkey. Fried deli turkey is my favorite snack and recently I discovered if you wrap a pickle in fried deli turkey, you find new meaning in the word scrumptious.

Have It Your Way at BK

After running a few errands this morning I got hungry. Real hungry. I thought about the pizza waiting for me at home, but Baby Mac was not interested. I considered one of Ryan's homemade hamburgers, when suddenly Baby Mac "communicated" that he wanted a double cheeseburger from BURGER KING. Goodness gracious I have not eaten a Burger King burger in over ten years! Luckily there is a Burger King at the mall where I was buying maternity clothes, but it was too crowded. I drove to base and ordered a double cheese burger, fries and a strawberry milkshake (my dad's favorite).

It was not at all as gross as I remembered it. In fact I found it to be very satisfying right until I bit into the mustard section of the burger. Lawdamercy, did I freak out. I took the burger back explaining that there was mustard on my burger. I probably had that wild-eyed pregnancy look because they made me a fresh one with very little hesitation. All was right again in the world again

Me and Baby Mac

I drove home, enjoyed the rest of my milkshake and sat down to read through some of the pregnancy books my friend gave me and try on some new maternity new clothes.

I found a great store where they carry things that are super comfy and stylish. After a few minutes I announced photo shoot! Ryan is never quite sure if that means someone is coming over to take pictures or we're going somewhere or if he should just grab my iPhone. This time I just needed him to snap a few pictures for the blog of me and Baby Mac. I don't think I'll wear the boots with this outfit, but otherwise it is very comfortable!

Introducing Baby McNamara!

Last Friday we took our little selves down to the Italian hospital for my five month ultrasound. Excited doesn't quite describe how we felt, but we both managed to stay calm. I made the appointment. I decided who would drive and what time we would leave.  We followed the plan, stayed on course and that was it.

The fun part was a few months ago when we first found out I was pregnant. I thought we were having a girl because my emotions were all over the place. Ryan agreed just because. Then the meat fest started. All I was interested in for weeks was red meat. My dad said this was a sure sign that I was carrying a boy. Still I went on calling the bump a she.

Then one night I had the most extraordinary dream. I was in a hospital room, waking from a nap post labor. The first thing I saw were my feet. Ryan came into focus and I asked where's the baby. He cradled a little baby boy wearing a blue newborn cap. He was swaddled in a blanket..swaddle. He had Ryan's very distinct features. I was amazed. I had never seen a baby quite like him. He seemed very self aware. I stared into his eyes and he SPOKE to me in my mind. Yes, kind of like Renesme in Twilight. He said, "I am a BOY. Look at me and see me for who I am. I am a boy ok? Stop calling me a girl." His words were slow and his tone was very mellow. I woke from the dream with a start. Ryan slept soundly next to me. I nudged him,"Ryan, it's boy! The baby is a boy." He had a very typical response,"Oh good." He went back to his sweet slumber without hesitation.

In the morning I reminded him about my dream. I informed him of the indisputable facts of the matter. I had a dream. In the dream I saw the baby. He was wearing blue, and when this newborn spoke to me he clearly articulated that he is a boy. Ryan's response: "What happens next week when you have a dream that it's a girl?"

Unconvinced, he insisted we find out the sex at the ultrasound. At first I protested, saying I wanted to be surprised, but then I realized I already knew I was having a boy. The ultrasound was the confirmation Ryan needed. As the doctor lubed up my belly, she asked if we wanted to know. We both said yes. She warned that sometimes it's hard to tell, but halfway through her sentence the first image popped up on screen. "It's a boy without a doubt." I looked over at Ryan and he was nodding and beaming yes.

We chose a unisex name, Kennedy, but looking at his fuzzy picture we realized that we needed a much more masculine name name for this guy. Back to the drawing board we go. One friend told me not to worry because I would probably have a dream where he tells me what his name is in a few weeks!