moving to doozeedad

Moxie was born on May 7th. As Juli lifted her out of me and placed her, wet and bloody on my belly, I saw instantly that she had Down Syndrome. And it didn't matter at all.

All this time being so very worried. For nothing.

This baby is precious and perfect and exactly the baby for me. I love her, so very much.

This blog is going to go back over to http://www.doozeedad.blogspot.com/ now. I think it's time to mesh it all up again, just have one blog.

Don't you?

And won't you join me there? I'd love to still keep your company...

updating...

My hands have been hurting to the point in which I really can't type much. Or do much with them at all. "Swollen" is an understatement - they (like my tootsies) are like inflated sausage-tinted marshmallows. Sexy, eh?

Juli (my wonderful midwife) says that it's because I'm low on salt. She said that it's different when you are pregnant - that us breeding folk need to have a goodly dose of salt else we'll bloat. I drank a glass of sea-salt water after that and have been adding a lot more salt to my food and lo! It's abated considerably. My fingers have some definition and feeling again!

It's so interesting having someone around who actually knows her shit.

Yesterday was a LONG day. I had to go first to Oakland Kaiser for a non-stress test. Non-stress tests (NST) are where they test your amniotic fluid and baby's heart rate to make sure your baby is still doing fine in there. Juli and Nikki (Nikki's our awesome doula and is Juli's daughter - I like to call them the Dynamic Duo) prepped me the night before about it all. What to expect. What questions to ask. What's "normal" what's not.

Because the thing is - while NST's are a good idea - they really are - they are often incorrectly performed and then the results used in ways that harmful. For example: they'd only test one pocket of fluid, base all results on that, and keep a woman in the hospital for an emergency-c (not the drink; the operation).

When I went in, there was big, black nurse (I think Kaiser likes to hire big, black nurses because they can stare anyone down into submission) who got me on the gurney (more with a look than anything) and checked my amniotic fluid with the ultrasound. But only one pocket! I asked her what it measured and she said 2.6. So then I said that since 5.0 is a "normal" low level (which I knew, thanks to Juli), wasn't she going to check other pockets to see what it added up to? She said no, she didn't need to, all she had to measure was one.

Um. Okay.

I didn't fight it since she seemed happy with that number and unlikely to strap me down, run me up to the 4th floor to slice me open.

Then she put the heart monitors on me and had me lay down next to the machine. I asked her what the point of that was since the baby was sleeping? I mean, shouldn't I try and wake the baby up? She said no... and that the baby was moving inside me, I just couldn't feel her.

Um. Right.

Anyway, after 20 minutes, she released me and said I had to come back on Friday for another one. I said sure.

In the 20 minutes that I was lying there, strapped up with the heart monitors, I was thinking how different this NST was than the one I'd had with Juli. Where she talked me through every*single step of what she was doing, explained everything and positively glowed because she was so happy for me that my baby is doing so well. I thought about how sad it makes me that us women here in the US need to be satisfied with sub-standard care because that's all most of us will ever get. We'll get strapped up to some monitor in a dark basement room, left alone and hey! Aren't they great here!

It's just wrong. Our 10, 20 minute appointments with OB's (trained to slice n' dice and not birth). Our blank-faced and rather hostile receptionists and nurses who collect our pee. Sitting in rooms, naked from the waist down, waiting for someone to come in so we can have their hands lubed up and shoved inside ourselves to "check" how well we are "going". At least cows get to stay in the barns where there isn't any fluorescent light.

Moving on, at noon I went to Jill, my delightful acupuncturist and got needled up. This was to reduce my stress level and also to help start labour. The latter hasn't happened, just the former. But it was nice being there. Kind of the antithesis of my morning with Kaiser. Beautiful light, comfortable environment, everything explained to me by a most-sympathetic healer. Leaving in far better spirits than when I arrived.

At 4:00, Nikki came over to come with me to the hospital for my OB appointment on account of the fact that I can turn chicken shit when dealing with doctors. I'm so glad she did. When Dr. Yu saw Nikki and I introduced her as my doula, her smile wattage increased by what, 2,000% and she became far, far more accommodating. I'm telling you... doulas work.

In our conversation, I told Dr. Yu that I didn't want to have the c-section on Friday like they want me to. I said I'd like to wait until the end of the 42nd week - or the very last possible time - to have one, if at all. She said that waiting that long or even pushing past Friday is 'risking fetal demise'. I didn't comment, just nodded. She said well then, she'd make a phone call and see what she could do in terms of rescheduling.

When she left, I turned to Nikki and was just like, why do I feel like crap right now? Nikki said it was because the doctor had played the 'dead baby card'. It made sense... right. Yes... that's what just happened. I said I wanted to do something that they didn't support and they say that it can kill my baby. This is WRONG. Yes, the risk of fetal demise does go up after 42 weeks, but it's a tiny percentage (about what the risk of a miscarriage through an amnio is, not that they were touting that when they wanted me to have one) and it's AFTER 42 weeks. What was I yesterday? I was 40 weeks.

Dr. Yu came back, said the only opening they have next week is for 5/11 at 9:30am. I said okay, we'll take it. Then she whips out all this paperwork for me to sign, consenting a c-section! I told her I wasn't going to sign anything and she said I needed to. I asked why? I can sign it at the hospital if I actually do have a c-section... She looked at Nikki then smiled brightly and said 'of course!'.

For crying out loud. This is just ridiculous.

And I *heart* Nikki.

And I want Moxie to come soon. Please baby, come soon.

duly dated

I didn't realize that the whole point of the acupuncture that I engaged in on Tuesday was to reduce my anxiety and stress! Oh, that's funny!

When I went in yesterday, my acupuncturist asked if there were any changes... I said, no, not particularly, in a physical sense. But in a spiritual sense, I'm not worried at all about having Moxie anymore, not worried about Ds or the birth or anything. And she was all, 'oh! that's great and those were the points I worked on yesterday!'.

*chuckle*

I wish I'd done it earlier... so if any of you newly-diagnosed Ds Mamas read this, you might want to check acupuncture out as a way of becoming more stress-free over it all...?

I'm so very full o' child now. A still-active child that is sitting incredibly low in my pelvic area. Pressure! Pressure! Pressure! I've got a fair amount of contractions through the night. It's all good and it's exciting now that my birth team is assembled and I like them so very much.

Thanks to Helena and her cleaning gift (which took the team from 8:30am - 4:30pm yesterday), my apartment sparkles like a big, fat, fair-traded and happily-harvested diamond. The towels are stacked. The candles are out. The vision board is done, as is the playlist.

It's just waiting time now. And walking. So I'm going to go for a walk now.

*smile*

dreams and things

Another friend of mine had a dream about Moxie's birth. This makes 4 (that have told me, that is), and of the 4, only one knows about her Ds dx. So 3 friends (that I'm really not close to) have had a dream about her birth. the dreams were reportedly very good.

This seems unusual to me. Maybe it's totally normal. But I'm not used to it. And it makes me think that this baby is indeed special, for whatever reason. How else to explain the dreams?

I'm struggling to center myself, be at one and be as issue-free as I can right now.

Even though we're working with our awesome midwife/doula team (more on that in the other blog, doozeedad), I need for her to be born before 41.5 weeks on account of kaiser's timeline. When I become nervous and scared about her, I can feel the big wall building up inside.. and honestly? I don't think someone can be born with a big wall blocking the way.

I'm on a steady diet of homeopathy, acupuncture and sleep. Relaxing, preparing, letting go. Loving.

It feels good.

Now I hope I dream about my baby girl tonight.

a rainbow baby

You who have been reading Juicy Fruit for a while know that I've called Moxie "Rainbow" from the get-go. So many reasons... but to me, it just seemed to fit. The songs that helped me through the miscarriage of Ziggy were all about rainbows, looking up. And then in the early days of Moxie-growing, it seemed like she was getting a big kick out of everything. Laughing. Like she was just really bright, full of colour. Energy.

Even in those incredibly bleak times. I was so very confused because I was hearing one thing from the doctors and feeling another thing entirely from her. It's like the like feeling I had from the very, very beginning - that it would be a difficult pregnancy but that everything would end up very well. I had no idea at all what that means - still don't - but there it is.

This morning on on my Mommy Group thread, there was talk about 'Rainbow Babies' - and then others asking what a Rainbow Baby is. I got chills... big time. A Rainbow Baby is is a child born after a loss - a miscarriage, a stillbirth. Like it's said:

It is understood that the beauty of a rainbow does not negate the ravages of any storm. When a rainbow appears, it does not mean that the storm never happened or that we are not still dealing with its aftermath. It means that something beautiful and full of light has appeared in the midst of the darkness and clouds. Storm clouds may still hover, but the rainbow provides a counterbalance of color, energy and hope.

Wow.

I can't believe it. And here I thought I was just giving her a nickname!

what's got to give?

This morning I went in for my 39-week check and I walked away fuming.

The thing is, it's everything. It's having a 10 minute (if that) appointment the week before I'm slated to give birth. Lying on my back with very little pre-interaction with my doctor (whom I barely know) and having her hands go all the way up my vagina. Harsh lights. The discomfort. Then being told that OOPS! She'll be out of town from next week on so I'll be seeing a new doctor, someone I've never met before.

I guess that's not such a big deal, given that I'll probably be delivering my baby with the help of someone I've never met before. A whole team, a flock of people that I've never met before. I mean, it's just wrong. Wrong.

My doctor started rubbing me the wrong way when she said that if I wasn't more dilated next week, the new doctor would schedule an induction on me. Then she said that actually, they couldn't do an induction given that I've had a c-section before, so the new doctor might just schedule me in for a c-section next week. I rolled up my figurative sleeves and shook my head at that, "that's not going to happen - I won't do that". My doctor then said that they'd wait an extra week, but it'd be a good idea to have that c-section scheduled and I repeated myself. She didn't want to get into a fight with me and knew it was brewing so she was just like, ' okay, you guys can talk about it then'.

I can't believe this. But I can. I am not even up to my due date and the hospital is already pushing me for their timeline.

Bastards.

Mikey said that this is just the system and if I want to participate in it, some things have to give. I agree with him, so long as the things that you have to give aren't the things that had you participate to begin with: to have good health, care, to avoid things that will harm you. I can take waiting to see a doctor - sure. I can't take, nor do I think anyone should take - having to defend your right to avoid an unnecessary major abdominal surgery.

yes, the sun IS shining

The sun is shining gorgeously outside right now.

I know there is a full, fun day ahead of us with the Flea Market that we love on today.... it's full of immigrants (primarily Mexican), has the best food ever (toasted corn with chili, fresh handmade pupusas and tacos and everything else...) and it just really enjoyable.

So I'm going to try to enjoy it.

It's a bit of struggle I have to say, with my feet swelling out to THERE. I can't wear any shoes now except for my flip-flops. Moxie-girl moves so much that she kicks at the belly belt that gives me support and makes it hard to wear. My hands are in agony (hence the lack of blogging updates). I'm scared of how big my body and my face are getting - so bloated that I worry it'll join edges and form one massive meriah-ball and roll away. Or get squashed by a passing Jolly Green Giant. Or will be mistaken for a huge peach and I'll be sliced up and devoured by a pack of pie-hungry cats. YES! All of these scenarios make perfect sense in the context of my weird dreams that go on and on and on all night.

I'm not getting enough sleep either. That's a bit of a problem.

I'll get just enough so long as Micah naps too, for a good 2 hours.

I feel bad writing this too - after I lost Ziggy, I swore up and down that I'd never complain about anything related to being pregnant again if I was to be pregnant again and look. I'm not just complaining, I'm bitching!

Let me re-focus on the positives: the sun is shining. The Flea Market is on today. The doula stuff will come together (more on that later). The beautiful cleaning people will come and clean our place next week (more on that later). I got to meet Aya's boy, Luke yesterday and see her husband Sam after almost 10 years! (more on that later). My toes still look great (more on that later) and there are popsicles freezing in the freezer.

And did I mention the sun is shining?

loving a leave

I am on leave now... YES! I made it, hot diggity, do! I'm so thrilled, it's only slightly ridiculous.

- no need to check email! - I can nap! - no real time limits on getting anything done! - I can play trains with Micah at 10am! - I can live in my sweats!

...oh, the list goes on. And on. As I remember a-new that I don't need to go to work tomorrow, I can feel myself glow from inside. It's pretty awesome.

Yesterday, my first day off, I had a blast. Read only about 10 train books to Micah about 20 times, each (yes, I know them by heart). Went for a walk. Drew trains. Met up with a pregnant new friend. It was really a lot of fun.

Oh, one thing that happened yesterday made me pause. We went to Safeway to buy juice-making supplies (to make popsicles, of course) and both the card machine and the real human clerk asked me if I'd "like to make a donation to help people with disabilities". Ummm - what?

That's a little unsettling. Do I? Is that going back to me? The people I work for? Or... who exactly is this going to, and towards what end? It's funny how anyone who refuses looks like an ass towards people with disabilities. I wonder if they ask people that use wheelchairs if they'd like to contribute? Ha! I'd like to see that!

Anyway, moving on.

This leave is so different from my last one. It's more fun because I get to play with Micah all day. It's harder because I get to play with Micah all day!! It's easier because I get to play with Micah all day *chuckle* It's just different, you know? Better. And different.

We'll see how it all unfolds.

swigging a slurp

I'm feeling all right again about everything. Well, about the Ds, "everything" *smile*. I guess it's all just part of the process.... but yeah. I'm not freaking out anymore.

I think I'm thinking more about my 2-week break before her due date... and tying all the ends together. I'm thinking about finding a doula, how to go about it. Thinking of the errands that need running, emails that need sending and practical stuff like that.

Not so much about anything related to Ds.

I'm also only slightly obsessing over popsicles. How I love them and yearn for them, day and night. Slurp. Gulp.

ringing belly casts

I saw The Ringer last night and felt better.

It was funny, for one. And for another, it was great that the smart asses were those with Ds. That while they may have been developmentally delayed, they were not fools.

I liked that. A lot.

And it just felt good to laugh, you know?

I think today will be a good day. We're going to have a Ladies Outing which will include a pedi and food. That spells fun, especially since one friend is also pregnant (good stories!) and another just came back from Pakistan where she visited her extended in-laws (wow stories!).

And then tonight we are supposed to be making my bellycast.

I should have done this earlier and I've started to worry a bit that Moxie will get here before I make hers and then she'll be all pissed off with me when she's old enough to care. If she will be the type to care, that is. I don't want to take the chance that she won't care, so I'd better make it tonight and have it ready.

It was fun doing it with Micah! So easy and neat to see now.

Speaking of which, they both just got home from picking up the half n' half. I better quit writing.

pop, pop!

I am so obsessed with popsicles. It's bad - really bad. I wake up thinking of them. Wander around all day thinking of them. Want 'em, need 'em... must have 'em.... (yes, I do sit through client appointments, musing on flavours in the back of my head... this is why we should all get out on maternity leave at least a month before the baby comes!).

I have to say, it's more like I want 'ice-block' than an actual popsicle though. Ice block is what I used to have all the time as a kid in Fiji - it's just watery juice that's been frozen, usually with a stick in it. The thing about most ready-made popsicles that I find is that they are too something for the most part - too sweet, too rich, too smoothly textured. I like the knawing that goes on with an ice-block and I like how watery they are. Yum.

So I started making them. I just take sippy cups and fill them with watered-down juice, freeze it, and then relax in delight when they are done. I usually have multiple flavours freezing at once - grape/orange/and luscious lime. MMmmmm.... oh, lime, how I love you in all your tart glory.

I can't wait for next week, when my maternity leave starts and I can hang out with Micah and play trains and eat ice blocks all day!!! Oh yeah!!

breathing dreams

I had another dream, night before last.

In this, I had just given birth and the baby had been whisked away. A few hours (days?) later, the baby was brought back to me. It wasn't a she after all, it was a little he. With blonde hair. A plastic face that looked extremely strange, with African tribal markings by his ear.

I wondered if he was alive and just then, he blinked. Looked at me like he just couldn't grasp that he'd been born, this was his current reality. I felt the same way.

Of course I took that dream to my trusty therapist and she said that it seemed like for me anything could happen. That I didn't have anything set in regards to how my baby will be and so I'll have weird, crazy dreams like that in which someone so far from any type of expectation in the far reaches of my mind (- plastic face? boy? blonde hair?) will be what's real.

I know I've said it before. But I really am scared shitless right now. I see some kids with pretty severe Ds - like yesterday at Ikea - and I feel horrible, guilty, terrible - that I hope my child won't have it so bad. I wonder how I'll deal if she does. Everyone says I'll love her - but what if I don't? What if I look at her right after she's born and not feel that love that I'm supposed to? What then?

I feel like the most horrible person ever to even be thinking such thoughts. I'm supposed to be good and strong and brave. Not this quivering, scared excuse for a mama.

Deep breath.

caught in the eye

It's all a whirlwind now, full-on cacophony of worries, fears, work, chores, traffic, weird dreams, hormones, alien-belly-movement, swollen-self and a dash of over-analyzing angst thrown in.

I'm so scared of what might be.

And what on earth was I thinking in not lying about my due date? What did that serve me, other than having to work up to basically the last minute? Dang, if I had just fudged a bit, I could have been focusing more energy on long walks with my little boy (or swims!) and less on the nuts and bolts of my boss taking parts of my job. Silly reports that beg to be written. Stuff like that that doesn't mean all that much to me in the full-frontal of everything else.

Moxie still doesn't have a middle name. This really bothers me. My professor didn't get back to me and I am shy about harassing him. This leaves me with choices:

Rian - "magical" according to one baby book but "little king" according to other sources. Former is great; latter, not so much

Eleanor: "shining light"

Samara: "protected by God"

Kealoha: "the loved one"

Kaleiokalani: "child of heaven"

Hi'i'lani: "held in the arms of heaven"

'Alohilani: "heavenly brightness"

Eirian: "bright, beautiful"

Ziazan: "rainbow"

Ixchel: "rainbow"

That's all I have now in the way of names. I should probably stick with Ziazan because she's been a rainbow little girl to me all the while. I just wish I could put in something else related to brightness and being protected by God. But we haven't gotten the Vietnamese parts down - maybe they can either capture Rainbow or the other pieces?

I hope so.

Deep breath.

This too shall pass.

definitely doula-ing

I'm moving forward with the doula bit. I'm going to try and find one. I think it's just too important to not do... a' doula'do!

It's kind of funny - I remember I was pretty sure I was going to get an epidural and go the drug route. I was just like, well, whyever not? I'm no super-pain-lady, total wimp-assed me. The thing that changed me was reading about what it does to the baby. Moxie's got enough going on with her, you know. She doesn't need more. Like residual drugs in her system, a heart monitor on her little scalp... a vacuum sucking her out.

Knowing how much of a wuss I am, knowing how paralyzed Mikey gets when I'm upset, I really think we're going to need someone else there to keep us on track, keep me from succumbing to spinal taps and lovely drugs and keep the hospital from splicing me open. And hopefully do something wickedly nice with the hospital atmosphere (there were some pretty good stories in the books about that atmospheres created by doulas...).

I really wish I could go to The Farm though and have her with Ina May Gaskin and her awesome army of midwives. Wouldn't that be the greatest?

a doula-do

It struck me all of the sudden that Mikey and I are like newborn babes in this whole area of childbirth. Yes, I've had a child - but since it was a scheduled c-section (breech), I know nothing but nothing of labour. The stages. What to expect. Nada!

All I do know is that everyone in my world that's had a baby in the past three years had an emergency c-section. Except for Stefanie, who was also the only one who brought a doula in with her. Every*one else had an emergency c-section. That's quite a lot of people actually, and is definitely worrisome to me, me who is only slightly terrified of having another c-section and having to face that hideous recovery. Shudder.

I waddled over to my trusty local library and took out lots of books on childbirth: The Birth Book (by Sears), Ina May's Guide to Childbirth (Ina May Gaskin), Your Best Birth (by Ricki Lake and her friend) and yes, Birthing From Within (Pam Horowitz). Thanks to rampant insomnia, I'm almost done with all of them.

It makes me so sad that the whole birth experience has boiled down to this fight... you know, getting rid of these interventions that tend to do more harm than good. Getting an advocate for yourself. And at the same time, I'm rolling up my sleeves to prepare for said fight. I just don't want to put my baby through a lot of drugs, I don't want to put myself through a long, rough recovery. I want - no, make that need - to be able to walk after birth. I must be able to walk. I need to be able to watch and care for Micah on my leave as well as Moxie. That is definitely not going to happen if I have another c-section.

I'm thinking I need to get a doula. No, we can't really afford one, but then, can I really afford to be so struck with another major surgery?

pregnantly procrastinating

I'm supposed to have been working assiduously from home all this past week... the furloughs that blanket the university don't (fortunately or not) affect me, with my outside-funded salary. Yes, so I was supposed to have been pounding out proposals and plans in addition to the emails and reports.

I didn't though. I only worked on emails and reports. I am terrifically uninspired for the proposals and plans right now. Miss-Jaded-Me thinks why bother? What's the point? What's actually going to happen, hmm? I'll write some 5-page proposal and put my heart in it and then it'll just sit around and not be implemented. Or worse, be "implemented" by some slacker that won't do squat. I'll come back from maternity leave and fix everything up; said slacker will get credit. Because this is what happens and I think I just don't feel like doing it right now...

I'm not motivated.

Of course this is coupled to the fact that my brain power seems to be directly decreasing in proportion to my belly burgeoning. I don't care about the proposals the way I care about the dust in the corner of my bedroom. Or the baby clothes that need to be sorted. Filling up the wiper warmer, buying some infant diapers. Finding a car seat that is pink.

That kind of thing.

Lying right next to my hands as I type are a lot of of contract budgets and I'm soooooooooooo bored. But I have got to finish this - I'm too much of a working ox to not. Mooo.

growing wings

I found the thing that got me out of my rut: I'm just glad and grateful that I've been able to have the experience of growing and having children. That I somehow found the right partner for me.

This time, just 3 short years ago, I was giving up on it ever happening.

And now, look. How blessed am I. My Mikey. My beautiful, wonderful toddling boy, Micah. Growing rainbow-tiger-girl, Moxie. I'm bitching because I won't get much time off - but think of all that I do have. It's pretty amazing. Pretty glorious. Pretty damn awesome.

I am grateful.


PS -
I still think the US has barbaric maternity leave policies

a knotted ache

I'm trying to keep in mind everyone who has it worse than me in regard to maternity leave:

1. My cousin Sue: besides the fact that she left the hospital the same day she pushed her son out (she couldn't afford to stay longer as she didn't have insurance), she only had 2 weeks off for maternity leave

2. Pat N: she went back to work after 6 weeks (this is getting close to me though - only 2 weeks' difference)

3. The Chinese lady from the Good Earth: she popped out her baby in the rice field and went right back to hoeing

In some ways, I can't say I think #3 had it all that bad - I don't mind working - that's not the issue. I mind leaving my baby.

A coworker recently returned from her 5-month maternity leave, all a'glow, positively beaming. She boiled her happiness down to her baby being in good care (MIL and sister) and the fact that she hadn't had a day away from her baby for her whole leave - only lots of date and regular nights out...

Ha! My own mother took care of my baby when I went back to work and not only did I not have a day away from my boy during my 5-month maternity leave, but I didn't have any date nights or nights out either.

And I was a wreck, mildly put.

I literally felt like my heart had been ripped out, my brain simply could not function. I am not the type of person who is wired to be away from my babies. No matter who is taking care of them, no matter how much time I've had, no matter what.

Which brings me back to this. I don't know what to do. I feel like just packing a bag and leaving. If we move back to Fiji, I know how to live off the land (thanks, Mom and Dad, for insisting on being subsistence farmers!). Maybe we could move to Montana? Montana seems to be an exotic place, ripe with possibility. Except for those winters, maybe.

If I find a way to supplement the income, I can stay at home for longer. I can get up to 5 months off - it's just that any time after June 30th is unpaid. I'm just struggling in how to strum up the energy to get a supplemental income together.

I was thinking that - HOLY SHIT - I am only going to have enough time to heal and then bam, I'll be back. No time for much else.

Bleh. What a long, depressing post. Sorry about that. I need to figure out a way to not be sad about this and make something positive happen. I think I'm going to take a shower now and think of cousin Sue and then think of stay-at-home jobs...

If you think of anything, would you let me know? Please?

For some reason, it also helps to hear of other people that have also done this and stayed sane... or people who have worse leaves.

Thanks

this plush american life

Still fiercely miserable in the throes of my last month of being pregnant, I got caught up this week in the details of my maternity leave.

Let me just say: I think the US is barbaric. It's just wrong for a society to have no universal standard of maternity leave, in which a job like mine is considered good because I can take 10 weeks off at 70% pay. Teachers, after all, get nothing.

It's so fucked up.

When I was looking at the calendars with the HR lady yesterday and together trying to work out my best plan of action, I was struggling to not lay my head down on my desk and just bawl. Little tears were escaping in the corners of my right eye - I just kept my hand up on my face so she wouldn't notice (she didn't).

The finally-crafted end plan has me out from mid-April to the end of June. Returning to work July 1st, but using a combination of vacation days, leave without pay and regular working time, I'll be making 70% pay for that month and working mostly 1-2 days a week.

And this is good for the US - that I can have "that much" time... and "that much" time means I'll leave my little baby when she is 2 months old.

I don't know how I'm going to be able to do this.

cheese and...

My hands resemble raw pale, pink, plump, pork sausages. Constant pain from the swelling and the carpal tunnel. My wedding band, usually so loose, now cuts into all that swollen finger flesh.

The left side of my upper rib cage is in perpetual pain - dull, aching. Then the space right under my left boob is digs in sharply. Like a cramp or something. I have trouble breathing. My belly is heavy and feels like it's falling out. My feet are so gigantic I am now a full size and a half larger than usual. And they hurt, they really*really hurt. My back aches. My skin is dry, uncontrollably itchy, even right after I slather lotion on. It just is. I have horrible heartburn, even just from drinking water.

To top off this whine list is (no! not cheese!) but the fact that this baby kicks.
I mean, she WALLOPS me. I was kind of curious about whether or not it was quite this way with Micah, but according to my blog at that time, it wasn't, really: it was more like, discomfort. He was just a little soccer player. Not a head-butting bladder blaster who riverdances on the side.

This little girl is at it. To say she's 'got Moxie' is such an understatement.

One thing that is pretty freakin' awesome about this is that I am not longer worried about Ds. I mean, zilch. It's not on the spectrum of my frame anymore. The reality is: this is a little person. A baby in me. An extremely active baby. I'm in the final stages of growing this person.

This hits 'people first' in a whole new way. It's like I can't think of anything OTHER than people first right now.

Frankly, it's a relief.