Settle Down

It's my fault. 
I posted this on facebook knowing quite well that it might cause a flurry of excitement:


Warning: TMI. Update: 3cm dilated, 70% effaced. If you don't want to know what that means, don't look it up. :-)



I had no idea. 


People, please know that I am fine. Baby is fine. All is fine. The universe is a wonderful, beautiful place to be right now. Peace be with all of you.


Here's how I know:
The doctor checked everything out this afternoon. 


Dan even came with me to my weekly appointment. He hadn't seen an ultrasound in quite a few weeks, and I am glad he came along. We got to see our beautiful baby's face--looking right at us. It could have passed for the Gerber Baby. Seriously. (Let's see what a trip through the birth canal does!) :-) Our little peanut (or Phenom as one fb friend said last week) kept moving its hand in and out of the picture and passed its biophysical profile test in under 10 minutes. All that movement will come in handy in labor, I hope.


Dan watched the stress test and heard the child's heartbeat for about a half an hour. He smiled when he heard it move and watched my belly bulge and twitch. No surprise on the movements from me. However, no indication of contractions, either.


And my husband decided to stay in the room for the pelvic exam. He's brave. The doctor and I talked about the loss of the mucus plug, the possibility of induction, and the merits of 27-30 gauge needles (yup, I now have an opinion about such things). (That's for a later post.) And, voila, there was a pelvic exam. Doc measured me and did a little swipe of my membranes to continue to encourage dilation and effacement. Though I haven't needed encouragement since my membranes are distressed already--due to extra water in the swimming pool. Doc said it would be a matter of time. She gave me the diagnoses: a couple more baby-free days.


That's that.
In the meantime, I have to finish posting my final grades. I need to clean my classroom. I have my first meeting with my new yearbook editors. I have a student with special circumstances (think: big wig parents) who has not yet turned in her final exam even after setting her deadline twice. I have a few final yearbook-y things to do. And, there are probably a zillion tiny to-dos. There's the story of my life.
And, all of that may or may not be interrupted within the next 24 hours.
Only time will tell if "open swim time" is closing and the whistles are blowing to signal that it's time to get out of the pool. We'll do whatever the lifeguards say.

Ticking Time Bomb

I guess this is the part of pregnancy that gets kind of messy. Well, not literally. But it gets tricky to tell people how things are going without talking about what is actually happening. 

The science-y people get it, because it's simply biology.

The moms get it, because they went through it.

However, that leaves a whole heck of a lot of other folks out there in the world--an in my life--that I don't know how to quite explain what's just happened and what's about to transpire.

Here goes: at the end of pregnancy, there are certain things the body does to signal that the end time is near. Here's a link to a very straightforward list of signs of labor (not some lady's grossly detailed ranting blog--there are a few out there, let me tell you. These are not helpful.).

Here's what I will tell you: my body released the material protecting the baby's cocoon. I'll admit that I had a little internal freak out at happy hour when I discovered what had happened. (The virgin Bloody Mary was good before that moment. So good.) Fortunately, it was time to pay the tab and get home. 

At that moment I knew: all that separates this baby from the outside world is one distressed membrane.  I imagine that this is what it's doing up in there right now:

Our baby getting a good look at the world before it decides to make its arrival.

How long will the water balloon hold up? I did some online reading and discovered that I could go into labor in hours, days or weeks. Not helpful. I also learned that my body would repair itself in 1-2 days. I decided I was putting myself on "couch rest" to let that happen and to buy a little time between peeping-Tom-stage and head-through-vagina-stage. 

Heck, I'd hang upside down from the rafters if that meant babe and I could live symbiotically for seven more days. For now, I'll put my feet up, cross my legs (and fingers) and tell the universe that I need a little more time.

You do the math

This might get technical, so I'll do my best to stay in reality--and not to give you too many real details. (Some things are best left self-censored.)


I went to my weekly appointment today; I am 36 weeks, 4 days pregnant. What was different about today was that the doc had ordered a growth measurement in addition to my regular ol' ultrasound, and she would check my progress "down there".


I expected to walk away from the office with a "no news is good news" sort of thing.( I mean, I am not really tired of being pregnant, so I am probably not really ready to be done yet.) I thought wrong. Everything about this appointment was a surprise. I think I even told the doctor--multiple times: "I am totally in shock. Speechless. This was not what I was expecting today."


Let's start at the top: the baby's weekly quiz went well. Breathing: check. Large movements: check, check, check. Small movements: don't bother to try to count them. Let's just chalk it up to: this is an active baby. Because I have enough fluid in my uterus the baby has enough space to do all sorts of things, so the technician watched him/her open its mouth and breathe, purse its lips, and swallow. She said that was pretty cool since most of the time there isn't enough room for the chin to have so much space. (And, she reminded me that was because there was a lot of extra fluid. And, should my water break, "I would know". Great. Let's not have that happen in front of a room of 14 year-olds. Please. Please.) I want to avoid the scene that happens at around 1:40:

Then, she measured growth: femur, abdomen, head, and estimated body weight. I'll just give you the stats and you can do the math.
Reminder: the calendar says I am 36 weeks pregnant (I technically have four weeks to go)


Measurements are as follows: 
Femur: 37 weeks
Abdomen: 39 weeks
Head: 41 weeks
Current estimated body weight: 8.5 pounds


Sweet, Jesus. Holy, Mary. Benedicte! The technician said, "You aren't planning to push that out, are you?" This is exactly what I was afraid of--exponential growth. It's not just a theory. (Now figure in the fact that I have four weeks until my due date. You do the math.)


So, basically I am carrying around: 

After hearing all of that, I took a deep breath. In for four, out for four. (Childbirth class is already helping!) I told myself: this is what is. Then, I went to have my own mechanisms poked and prodded. Turns out, I am almost two centimeters dilated. When I hit 10, a baby falls out. Like in the first 45 seconds of this classic informational excerpt:

I asked Dr. Kelin if she wanted to just schedule the C-section now. Doc looked at me sympathetically and suggested we still go ahead with our birth plan. And, we'll just see if it all pans out. She said if there's still a baby in there at the end of next week, we'll try to get it on the books. 
I guess you just never know what's going to happen, do you? And, that is the best thing about life. Spontaneity. Surprise. Miracles. Now, all I have to do is hold on for the ride...and keep breathing. (In for four, out for four...)

Extraordinary ultrasound

At this point, I visit the doc every single week. The baby has a test to pass during the ultrasound: s/he has to demonstrate breathing proficiency, display large movements (arm/leg/body) and show small movements (hand/foot/head). It's heart gets checked. It's heart rate gets checked. We spy on the stomach and lungs to watch them in action, too. 

The babe's been a champ! The first two tests were passed in 12 minutes or less. Then one week, I had an ultrasound technician that I knew (she used to be an English teacher, of all things) and we talked about what happens when your baby is sleeping and doesn't move or doesn't move enough. Here's what happens: they set an alarm on your belly to jolt the child out of dreamland. No kidding.

I thought they might actually buzz the baby at the 35 week appointment since it was, apparently, nap time. 3:00 on a Tuesday seems like a reasonable time to nap to me! 

But, we got this beautiful profile of Baby K:

No hand-in-front-of-face-to-avoid the paparazzi, this time.

 And, the technician was able to get all the measurements and images she needed. She stopped to measure something that she hadn't measured before. All I saw were several bright white lines in a tangled mess: 1.5 cm long, she reported. Hair.

The baby mullet--or skullet. Time will tell.

I didn't really think anything of it until I went to the second part of my appointment: the stress test. On my way, I showed the nurses the images and they all gathered around to look. The ooohhhed and awwwwed. (I thought to myself: you people really love your job. I mean, you look at these cryptic images all the time! I'll also admit I thought it was great to have these acquaintances be so excited about my prospective child.)

I asked, "Isn't hair kind of normal? I mean, you either have it, or you don't. I bet you see this all the time."

My favorite nurse, Fran, replied, "They don't usually measure it. It's extraordinary."

I wanted to hug her.

To be surrounded by the love of friends

The day after graduation brought more celebration. My friends threw me an amazing baby shower. It was so wonderful to be surrounded by love and generosity; I am so appreciative of all the creative planning, careful attention to detail, and gracious hosting. The theme was Adventures in Babyland, and guests shared stories of their adventures in Babyland--either about their kids or other people's kids. There were some great yarns!

Speaking of yarns, here's where I tell about my adventures in knitting. Result: Barbie shawl. For real.

And, there was cake. Chocolate cake. Divine, sweet, delectable cake.

And, that cake was delicious. 

And, there were gifts. Fun, practical, playful gifts.

Just arrived attire: will be a hit at future parties.

Serendipitous: a mobile for the baby's room that matches the owl theme. Very wise, Deb!

Custom-designed onesies to be featured on future facebook posts--artists to be tagged, of course!

Additions to the new little library!

Jen, the gift attendant, had her hands full. Literally.

 

And, there were friends. Lots of friends. Wonderful, amazing, supportive friends.

Friends in chairs.

Friends in the kitchen.

Friends on the couch.

Even friends on the floor.

To be surrounded by supportive women is a gift. It is one of the best gifts I have ever had the privilege of experiencing in my heart. Sometimes women spend time, energy and effort cutting each other down when we should spend more time lifting each other up. It's an amazing thing to be a woman.

It took me a long time to come to that. 

I thought that you had to have children to be an amazing woman...or to be considered a woman at all. Sometimes I feel like that's in the conversation out in the world--you're not a real woman until you've birthed a person into the world. There were years when I wasn't sure I would have children. I wasn't sure I could. I wasn't sure I would get to make that choice and it took me a long time to be okay with that.

What I came to realize is that you don't have to have children to be an amazing woman. You already are. You are the source of all of life on the planet. You are the energy and power that hold up half the sky. You bring life to all living creatures and care for them in all that you do. You are a woman and that is amazing. You are amazing.

That is why it is truly a gift to be in the presence of and surrounded by the powerful energy and love of women. There really is nothing else like it in the world.

Thanks for being who you are in the world, ladies. You amaze me by who you are. And, for that, I love you.

Dr. Liz

May 19: a great day to graduate.

Susie, Kelly, me, & Mary carrying our hoods into the ceremony.

 

It was sunny and warm and beautiful and wonderful and amazing. 

My family was there, which always means a lot to me. Celebrating something wonderful together is much better than alternative reasons for gathering. I prefer to try to find fun reasons to come together--this was a good one. Even the nephews made the trip from Bismarck. Rumor has it that they had the best seats in the house--behind the bleachers--AND they got hauled around in a golf cart to and from the car. Tory shouted, "Sucks to be you!" when they got picked up and carted away. (Seen here from the left: brother Nick, nephew Jeff, Dad, nephew Tory, and Mom. And, of course, baby bump!) When the wind blowing in my favor, I'd like to think the black robe hid "my condition" a little more discretely.

My family. Aren't they the best?

The Kellers were there, too! It was very special to have Maggie and Pam there as well. Seriously, I don't think I could have better in-laws than this!

Who could ask for more a more supportive family than I have? Seriously.

I have come to really know the power of a partnership. This is my adviser, Vivian. The acknowledgement written in my dissertation can never do justice to convey her spirit. She is an amazing woman who is steadfast, reliable, challenging, engaging, funny, witty, caring and committed. I can never thank her enough for the phone calls, office meetings, emails, advice, hugs and understanding. She really is inspiring and "full of life". I think I might just name my firstborn after her; let's hope it's a girl. (Or that we move to France. Vivian is the male version. Vivienne is the female version.) :-)

My support team's captain: Vivian Johnson, the best adviser a girl could ever ask for.

It really was a lovely ceremony with a fabulous commencement speaker who talked about the power of service to others and to community. He shared stories about revolutionaries that were applicable to each group of graduates. (When he mentioned Wendy Kopp, I bit my tongue. I almost had to cover my mouth so that words would not shoot out. Not all revolutionary ideas are carried out as intended.) 

And, after everyone was hooded, it was great to remove the regalia and enjoy the freedom of completion and the moments of celebration.

When you see him, ask him about his shirt. :-)

Looking forward to celebrating the next Dr. Keeling in the family--in a few years.

Nephew Jeff tries out the tam. It's a good look for you, kiddo. As Tory would say, "What's up Doc?"

Childbirth: Part trois. La classe finale.

The final childbirth class of the three part series is complete. But, not without incident.

I was feeling pretty confident about the whole labor and delivery gig. I felt like I knew my options post-hospital confinement and that I was ready to labor as long as I could (before succumbing to an epidural). 

There were still things that I didn't know/hadn't decided/was unsure about going into class. Then, we watched another birthing video. (Seriously.) In this one, the woman is delivering naturally (of course...those are the only videos they showed...I guess a woman lying on a table dead from the waist down isn't as interesting). Once she gets to the end stages of active labor and moves into "transition" (when the baby comes out), the midwife brings in a full-length mirror. No kidding. She proceeds to set up said mirror at the "business end" of the bed so that the woman can watch her child enter the world.

As this is happening on screen, I elbow Dan forcefully and run my fingers across my neck while shaking my head from side-to-side emphatically. No way. Unfortunately, we were sitting in the front row of class this week. Everyone in the back saw what had happened and giggled. I heard one mamma say, "Oh, Liz.") 

One thing about delivery became abundantly clear in that moment. There is no way in hell I will have a full-length mirror display the miracle of birth for me to watch. No way. I'm planning to keep letting it live on like a mysterious miracle.

And, though it's no doctorate, after three sessions, I feel like I earned this: