Tag Archives: Bobby

Introducing Cedric!

Cedric

Today has been emotionally draining. It was an early, early start to get to the first OB appointment of the day for a scan, and then I didn’t get to my desk until 4 pm due to solid meetings, which I mostly had to rush between; normally this is not a problem, but it becomes more so in the 2 weeks before 3 grants are due (yeah, yeah, this is also why I have not emailed much). When I finally sat down, I found that somehow I missed the prelim deadline for one of the grants. I managed to mix up Monday (due date) and Wednesday (not due date). Fiddlesticks. Seriously.

Then after a frantic period of exhausting writing, I came home to find Robert with a dead duckling in his room of death. Sigh. It was *kinda* sad… but honestly, dead animals and the circle of life and all. I wasn’t that unhappy.

Then I found Walter with an alive duckling IN HIS MOUTH outside. We think he thought it was a toy, as it was essentially unharmed and he mostly laid it gently on the ground and walked around it. Now, dead ducklings: not so bad. Abandoned motherless ducklings, facing a life of miserable solitude? Hysterical sobs. Maybe the pregnancy hormones heightened it, but this is generally my outlook on life: all empathy for those suffering in my life, less so for those who have moved on from it.

Long story short, Wes and I now have some extra, unplanned parenting experience, as we nurse Cedric back tonight. He will be a very temporary member of the Frazier-Wood household, as ducks don’t do well alone, and should be in groups, but temporary members are loved members nonetheless. He is currently holed up in FW’s bathroom with a bowl of sugar-water, some greens, a heat lamp and a soft blanket.

Left alone, he runs about in there quite happily, so that is basically Wes and I’s plan: let him spend the night and then find him a wildlife sanctuary with other ducks, and with better equipment ASAP. We probably won’t have time this time tomorrow ๐Ÿ˜ฆ

31 weeks…

31 weeks!

9 more weeks to go! Although, as the old British song goes, it is not ‘9 more weeks of sorrow’, as generally, I am loving being pregnant. Weight gain is minimal (18 lbs exactly), and I have almost no discomfort. My nails are thick and strong for the first time in my life, and for almost the first time, I don’t look at my belly and scowl, but grin ๐Ÿ™‚ Sure, I have days where I feel like a whale, but they pass. Pregnancy suits me, I think.

30 weeks and a cheesy grin

Medical update: So, a biophysical profile revealed that I still have a lot of amniotic fluid. 93rd percentile. So, as my high-risk OB put it “It’s not OFF the charts… it’s just not in a great position ON the charts’. What does this mean? Who knows? It can mean a birth defect, but they cannot for the life of them find one, although I did feel my OB’s bedside manner left something to be desired when he said ‘sometimes there is a birth defect that you don’t see until the baby comes out’. Ouch. It can mean that I have gestational diabetes, but my pancreas passed the test with flying colours (my sugar should return to 130 within an hour, and mine was 107), plus I have no other symptoms. It can just be ‘idiopathic’ which I hope is the case. But… it requires monitoring. Because a sudden increase in fluid (to off the charts level) could be very bad, and it can affect fetal growth negatively. So, they want to ultrasound me weekly.

Yeah… not so happy about that. Not so happy about the effects of WEEKLY ultrasounds on Firework, and honestly? Not so happy about missing – effectively – 1/2 day of work a week on top of my regular appointments. Sigh. And not happy, because I do honestly believe that this is a US medical system fail. Extra amniotic fluid = increased risk of breech, which = increased risk of C-section, which = increased risk to mother and baby. It also can = increased risk of chord prolapse (as the chord gets pushed out by the force of all the fluid) which = increased risk to baby and an emergency, panicked C-section. Now, ultrasounds do not prevent this, AT ALL. They give no indication, of whether these will happen. What they do allow (IMHO) is high risk OBs to make a heck of a lot of money if something does go wrong, the OB to say ‘well we did everything we could beforehand’. Sigh. At least Wes comes with me, and at least I get to have cute pics of Firework (except this time I didn’t because he kept turning his butt towards the ultrasound, and when when they did finally get his face, he put his hands up in front of it).

Ultrasound

I also found out Firework is still breech! My OB will NOT do breech for a first-time Mum, and with my teeny-tiny pelvic arch i.e. vaginal canal (which I not only wish OBs would stop commenting on, but especially wish they would stop commenting on to my HUSBAND, and asking for verification. HOW PERSONAL). I am told not to worry until 36 weeks, but as it is rather late by then, I have put into place, a plan-of-action a lot based around ‘spinning babies‘:

Breech tilt. FYI – ACOG recommends you only do this 12″ off the ground. This is for illustrative purposes only. I actually use a much lower surface.

-A week of daily breech tilt inversions (20 mins twice a day).

-A week of almost daily rebozo sifting

-Sitting on a balance ball at work

-Occasional knee-to-chest positions

-As much cross-legged sitting as I can be bothered with.

I don’t have a great chance, to be honest. Risk factors for breech include: small pelvic arch, septum in uterus, excess amniotic fluid and an anterior placenta. I have all four! My OB doesn’t do ECV, but if I decide to go for it, my high risk OB (based at Baylor) does. He says there is an ~80% success rate, which can drop to ~50% in my case. Worth a shot I say! Before that: if it doesn’t work by Tuesday, I am actually going to try daily moxibustion for a week. YES. Actually. And frozen peas on my fundus. Fingers crossed for me guys.

Wes preparing for Moxibustion. He is ridiculous.

NB: We have checked everything with my OB for safety. Even the rebozo sifting. He thinks it is all quite bizarre, but quite safe ๐Ÿ™‚
The only other upshot of all the fluid, according to my OB is that my body is working extra hard to create / replace it (which normally is stopping by about now) and extra hard to carry it around. Which equals tiredness. Really, I feel OK, but this has hit at a time when work is crazy, with me aiming to write four grants in a month (some are small, and some have some cross-over). I think that, more than anything, is wearing me out. especially as my work hours are generally 8.30-8 at the moment. Suffice to say, I come home tired. Actually, generally, too tired to even wash my hair (it was a WEEK until Wes rescued me and did it tonight – yuck) and can rarely do much more than eat a few bites of dinner and collapse on the sofa. Which is not terrible, but not great or general productivity. Hence why I owe many friends many emails. It’s also odd for me: I am not a morning person EVER, but I have always been able to pull out emergency stretches of night owl behavior for grant time: working 10am-2/3 am for a few weeks was not a problem. Now, it is just not an option.

Sharing one of my duvet-evenings, Walter says he is very tired by pregnancy and grants too.

But, a reduced work schedule, without compromising results, and makeup-free / yesterday’s clothing days and unwashed hair is just something I am going to have to get used to in Mummyhood right? It’s all good practice.

More fun update: My Ma sent us a crib! She has already sent us the stroller of our dreams. But then found out that we were planning on getting a pack n play for sleeping as we are trying to save money. So, Mum found an awesome crib and shipped it to us ๐Ÿ™‚ Now we get to go bedding shopping – that’s when I will upload a picture. Then, I think we have everything we NEED…. which basically only amounts to: crib, changing table, stroller, infant bouncer, blankets, babygros and hats and socks. We think. ๐Ÿ™‚

Wes’ Mum didn’t want me to have ZERO baby shower (new place… no long term friends etc) so she also sent us a very cool and stylish baby bouncer. It has got a solid wooden base, and we got the brown and light green one which works really well with our decor. I read wonderful reports about kids absolutely loving it as soon as they are able to support their head, but in the meantime:

Bobby says it is amazing ๐Ÿ™‚

Dinah also says the infant bouncer is great.

More cat tales.

I know I owe everyone a full wedding rundown, and I am 1/2 way through that, with links to the vows, recipes and thank yous (thank you thank you thank you) we owe everyone for giving us our absolutely perfect day. But, in the meantime I had to share Bobby’s latest adventure. You remember Bobby, right? He of the pee-ing on Wes, wall licking, fish terrorizing fame?

Delinquent.

He has now excelled himself. Today I got home and realised I needed to run to the closest store – it is about 1/2 a mile away. I put the dog on a leash and set off, amused that Bobby decides to tag along.. and along… and along. Walking with us, the whole way. Until I get to the shop, tie the dog up outside and go in – whereupon Bobby bolts in with me. I decide to ignore this and hope no one notices but Bobby has other ideas than discretion, and decides to yowl at my feet the whole way round. So I pick him up to shut him up (not looking like a crazy cat lady AT ALL) and proceed to make my purchase. At the checkout I say apologetically “Geez, I am so so sorry, the cat just followed me here”.

“Hmmm…” is the response “yes, he is actually a health CO violation… luckily I don’t see a cat, at all, just a stuffed animal”. I thank her profusely and scarper, collect the dog, and then decide I have to carry Bobby across the road. Again, I don’t look weird at all walking a dog and carrying an inquisitive cat. Once across, I put Bobby down and he runs ahead of us, stopping every 50 yards or so to make sure we are with him. When we go too slow (like when the dog has to poop and I have to clear it up) he yowls and yowls until we get there. He goes past home into his favourite alley, but when we don’t follow (but go in) he runs up to the door and comes home, sits at my feet and purrs contentedly.

Basically, he wants to be a dog. He has already freaked us out by experimenting with panting (yes, it is really weird) and he has clearly decided that he is going to act like a dog, regardless. Sigh.

Out. Of. Control.