I am not big on New Years. There is so much pressure for people to do a Big Night out. To have a great time. I think most people end up miserable. Or bored. I don't like resolutions because again, I think people promise themselves big things that they cannot live up to.

Last year's miscarriage on Decemeber 30th didn't make this time of year sweeter.

I made it through yesterday really well. I was and am proud of myself because I am still pretty raw around that experience. The only problem was that the Girl was pretty quiet yesterday. Not being as active. And I am terrible at counting kicks. At any rate she was still for most of the morning (typical) and I had flashbacks. To the dead embryo on the ultrasound screen. The bad news. The contractions. All of the blood in that bathroom. The emergency D&C.

But this pregnancy is not that pregnancy and The Girl is back to her normal tricks. I am 36 weeks on Saturday so she is almost fully cooked too. I had contractions last night, Braxton-Hicks, which kept sending J into a tailspin. He thinks I won't tell him if I am labor, or that I won't know.

I don't want to remind him that I had full contractions with the bleeding, that they told me that those felt very close to how the real ones would (this is how I know they motherfucking hurt plus no morphine this time).

I am feeling pretty lucky today (though tired, getting up for work this morning was hard after all of that).

Gratitude:
1. That it wasn't labor just yet. We really aren't ready. And The Girl really needs to stay put for at least a week because J is going to pick up his mom in California at the end of the week. And he needs to be here when she comes.
2. That it will be labor soon. I am pretty well done. My hips feel like they are splitting in two. My back is killing me. The BH contractions are really uncomfortable. Going to work is like torture (seriously, and I have a desk job, how do people who are on their feet do it?). I now understand why evolution had to make the third trimester suck so much. How else does squeezing an eight pound thing ever sound like a good idea?
3. The extra day off tomorrow.
4. Maternity leave. My company really does have a pretty good policy. I mean it's not Canada good but at least it's something. For this country that is amazing. And J and I are in a position where I should be cobble together 12 weeks off without sending us into the poorhouse. That is lucky and I am aware of how many women do not have this option.
5. My front loader washer and dryer. Taking on loads of baby stuff in a single bound.

Did I Mention the Cinnamon Buns?

This morning we went to Ikea to get the piece fixed that wasn't right for HomeGirl's dresser. And then bought a couple of hundred dollars worth of other stuff (a bed and bedding for J's mom who will be here in OMFUCKINGG a week). I am now completely exhausted from walking around. And sore. Because walking requires an elaborate musculature I just do not have? No idea.

But still. . .BEING POSITIVE, the gratitude flows for:
1. Ikea cinnamon buns. Who knew? Such deliciousness for a dollar. If they had more icing they would be perfect.
2. That my Mama and Daddy loaned me a car. J is taking mine to California Thursday and though I could probably get his to work (PROBABLY) it was stressing me out just thinking about it. If I wouldn't have to drive myself to my baby shower next week (location: THE ENDS OF THE EARTH) then it would have been fine, maybe. But I do and I am so glad I am not going to end up on the side of the road somewhere weeping about the clutch.
3. Brow powder. Somehow my eye brows have become really patchy and sparse. I've always used brow powder because they are so light but now I need it just to not look bald.
4. The 13's are here! Anyone not reading Julia's story, she has had a long journey to get here, including 11 miscarriages. But her twins are here!

Strong

I missed my massage this morning. Because I am a moron who lost her own keys. I managed not to cry though. Through great strength of spirit. I really wanted that massage though and so gratitude is very hard to come by today.

1. Online tetris. To pass the time I should have been getting a massage.
2. J's offer to rub my feet. Which I didn't take because I really wanted my MASSAGE.
3. That I really did manage not to burst into tears over not getting the massage. SUCH A STRONG WOMAN

I Am Squishy With Fluid

I started to panic today when I noticed my thighs were bigger and more ripply than they used to be. So far I have carried this baby all in front, just blasting my boobs and belly to ridiculous proportions but not doing much else (besides the inevitable hip spreading SIGH) so adding really super fat thighs to the mix (not like they were Heidi Klumesque before) was not helpful. Then I noticed that there was fluid just MOVING under the skin.

This is a joyous time.

Continuing on my theme of gratitude:
1. Traffic this week--if I have to work at least the rest of the world is off and not clogging the I-5 corridor. Tonight I got home in less than an hour. On a Friday.
2. Wireless internet--this post brought to you while I am pooping (TMI?).
3. The massage I am getting tomorrow. Probably the last of the pregnancy but lo do I need it.
4. Peanut butter. Protein baby.
5. My I-Pod. I swore to J that I didn't need it and certainly didn't need the big one. I was oh so wrong. There is no way to quantify the amount of crazy that thing insulates me from on the bus. Setting aside the hours of music and electronic entertainment it has brought, the anti-crazy benefits more than paid for the thing.

Gratitude

Work has been such a clusterfuck of suck the last couple of weeks that it has made me angry and bitter. Add that with the general shitty feeling of the third trimester and you have some one who is really pissed off (and anxious--dear GOD the anxiety) all of the time.

So I am doing something cheesy but trying to focus on the positive (like that bright and shiny leave that comes with the baby--we won't focus on that whole labor and pain thing just yet or the whole no sleep thing). So today I am grateful for:

1. Strawberry ice cream. Every day. I am already fat anyway.
2. My knit gauchos (that really went out of style a couple of years ago but please they are so comfy and pass for work appropriate), we won't think about how J mysteriously lost them.
3. My Heavenly Bed (it's in the name)
4. Dachshunds who lay in bed with me for hours.
5. That J is putting together the dresser for the baby and not me.

Bright and Shiny Jews

This week we finished our conversion and, in the words of my friend L (who I won't bother linking because girl never blogs anymore) became "bright and shiny Jews."

It has taken us a long time to get to this stage, even though we have considered ourselves to be Jewish for a long time, the whole process has taken a couple of years. Most of that work was internal, if you were raised in a Christian home it just takes time to decompress and figure out if this is really what you want to do. It's a new paradigm of thinking and there are a lot of things that have to change about your life.

That being said, we knew that this is what we wanted for ourselves and for our family and I am due in six weeks so it was time to get cracking. I feel very fortunate that since our rabbi left a rabbi from another temple was so kind to help us. We felt so welcome in their community that the full court press we got about joining their synagogue didn't feel too much at all.

I was nervous. This shocks no one who knows me well because I get nervous about any situation that I cannot control ( or predict) and it's only gotten worse since I have a horrible case of the pregnancy anxiety jangles. I am nervous to do anything, even oh so complicated things like get up in the morning right now, and it's just part of the hormone shift.

All we had left to do was our mikvah immersion and we were all set. I'd never been to a mikvah before and had only a elementary understanding of them. Mikveh are Jewish ritual baths, created out of "living water" (in this case rain water is collected and filtered and heated) and used for purificated. The only mikvah in this area is associated with an Orthodox temple but also utilized by a number of communities and they are wonderful enough to allow it's use for conversions for Reform Jews (which a lot of communities do not allow). Having a mikvah immersion as part of our conversion allows it to be seen as kosher by a much wider scope of Jewish communities. It also allows us to be eligible for the Law of Return to Israel. I've read and been told that the mikvah can been very emotional and spiritually moving. Since I am just not that kind of person that made me all the more nervous, that I would be expected to feel something that I am just not hardwired to feel.

They had never done this sort of double conversion before (which makes sense, it is unusually to have two partners convert) and I think the rabbis enjoyed the novelty. The second rabbi was alarmed when he saw me since I know he was told I was pregnant but was not expecting me to be so large and alarming (I have become very accustomed to scaring people now). I have to admit I did have a moment where I was like WHAT IF MY WATER BREAKS IN THE MIKVAH? Since both rabbis and our third witness were men, I missed part of what they were talking about because I was in the women's section. They did let me into the men's section so they could explain what to do to both of us at once and also so they could show me that while they would be in the room with J during his immersion that the would just stand by the door for mine and wouldn't be able to see me. I do understand that people are modest and of course keeping men out of the women's section is very important in that community but I did think it was pretty funny how worried they were that I would think that they were going to peep at me. No one wants to see me naked at this point I am pretty certain.

J went first and I sat waiting. It was interesting to hear since both of our Hebrew is HORRIBLE. When it was my turn all four of them were crowded outside the door (they decided J should be nearby in case I fell that way they had some one to deal with the large naked lady) fretting like old ladies about the stairs into the tub. It was set up nicely for me though, with small stairs and a handrail (older ladies use it too so I imagine this is a good feature for them). And the water was fantastic for my back--not a spiritual note at all but man I could have stayed in their all day.

I had been talking to the third witness (who also worked for our temple but isn't a rabbi) who is also a convert before it was my turn. They were all curious about why we hadn't finished our conversion last winter like we planned. And I explained about the miscarriage and how it just stoppped our lives for a while. He said that a lot of people use the mikvah to recover from events like that--that he used it when he got a divorce and also when he came out a few years later. That the mikvah can help open new life stages.

I wasn't thinking about the miscarriage in there though. I was glad to be doing it pregnant, like we were all converting as a family together (though she will not be a convert which was the point of doing this before she is born). A weird note, your center of gravity while pregnant is different even in the water so I tipped over and splashed loud enough that the nervous Nellies almost sent in the Calvary.

The conversion didn't change anything for me (or for J judging from our conversations). Which to me means that we were definitely ready.

And I am unduly amused that J's Hebrew name ends in a sound that is very similar to yahoo.

Oversharing for the Holidays

I've been rolling this around in my head (obsessing about it endlessly) since we got the letter and though I have promised J I will move on (I will! But haven't!) I just can't seem to stop.

My parents send out a Christmas letter each year and this year it had two things that made me lose my shit. One angrily. And the other is sadness.

The anger one is slightly petty and I am almost over it. They announced our baby's name. They were just excited first time grandparents and I am sure it didn't occur to them that maybe her parents would want to do that. You know, on the BIRTH ANNOUNCEMENTS. We're glad that you are excited but could you just hold it in a little better?

The sadness one. . . let me preface this that while I acknowledge that my parents are not perfect and did many things I would do differently they are really great parents and I aspire to be like them. I grew up in a healthy home, felt loved every day of my life, had my needs met and more, and now have a great relationship with two people who are able to be my friends too. I know that my parents would never intentionally hurt me. But.

They put my miscarriage in their Christmas letter. And it broke my heart.

I know that it is almost impossible to understand if you haven't been through it. But losing that baby was the worst time in my life. And though this pregnancy helps (and it does even though it SUCKS) it doesn't replace that baby. I know that J feels this way too. It's a strange feeling, because we want this baby so much so it is pretty much impossible to wish that the miscarriage hadn't happened (because she wouldn't exist) but at the same time . . .It is just still a painful event, intensely personal and something that we haven't shared with everyone we know, not even people we know very well.

And my parents announced it to every damn person they know. Some of whom I have never met.

It's been a few days and I am still crying about it. My father wrote the letter and he treaded very lightly on the subject and was tactful about it. But, like the name only more so, it wasn't theirs to share. I forgive them, of course I do, they didn't mean to do harm. But I am not over it. I feel exposed and raw and just sad. It is ten days until the anniversary of my D&C and I really didn't need to read about it in my parents' holiday greeting.

Merry Fucking Christmas indeed.

RIP Croc

So . . .the Croc is closing.

That bang you just heard is the door slamming shut on my teens y'all.

I saw my first all-ages show there (illicitly!), I saw my first show using a fake ID there. I saw Nirvana there and a bunch of other Seattle bands. J and I just saw Everclear there last spring, the night that I am pretty sure Miss Thang was conceived (what? Art gets me hot I can't help it the man has guns).

After an ugly relationship I stopped going to concerts. Didn't really do that scene at all anymore. But I have a million memories (ok hazy nights) of that club.

POSITIVE

Last week I had a variety of discounts and coupons and bought the Fekkai Glossing collection for my hair. This collection gets rave reviews in magazines and on beauty boards for making your hair shiny and soft. Since I am currently not loving much about my appearance trying to make my hair look prettier (for the low low price of 18 dollars) seemed worth a shot. I got the shampoo, conditioner and cream. They actually seem to work pretty well, my hair certainly is soft and shiny. A lot of people made the styling cream sound like the Holy Grail and sadly no such thing. It's probably the best blow-dry cream I've ever tried but I think I want the unreasonable. I really want a cream to put in my damp hair that will keep it from being poofy if it air dries without any heat styling products. I thought this is what straightening creams were for (when they first came out I actually thought straightening creams would actually straighten my hair--I was so so blind) but I have never had one be successful.

But it's a great blow-dry cream and my hair is very shiny and soft.

I also have a big giant stretch mark under my belly button. But we are focusing on the positive here.

The Real Survivor

I am now thirty three weeks pregnant. And really really want this baby to stay in for another month (once she is fully cooked she can feel free to fly her way down to freedom as far as I am concerned). But sadly, I kind of want to have her now because I really do not understand how I am going to make it another seven weeks. Or another seven days honestly. I am so exhausted from just going out with friends last night that I can barely move. And this week is the week that I stopped being able to breathe. Which is more troubling than you might think. Turns out that I really enjoy breathing. Who knew?

I don't know exactly how much weight I have gained--other than the rather vague A LOT. At least thirty pounds, maybe as much as forty, I don't actually want to know. I feel lucky that it's really all the belly and boobs (except for the HORRIFYING amount of fluid chilling in all my joints). The only issue with it all being in these spots is that I look like a cartoon (and scare people) and it's thrown off my body so much. My pelvis feels like it has been cracked in a million pieces, my lower back is swollen and bruised and while I can get up out of a chair pretty easily by myself (my chiropractor complimented my stomach muscles in that respect) it is pretty painful each time.

Billions of women have been through this and I am pretty sure they are all tougher than me. I am grateful for the experience, not because I really wanted to be pregnant (I have spent years trying to convince J that he should give it a go) but because we want a family and this is the right way for us to do this. I am not going to pretend at all that I have loved even a SECOND of being pregnant because I haven't. And this baby would be smart to come out very cute and also possible a good sleeper. I am just saying. I think that people who enjoy being pregnant for the most part have easy pregnancies. I have been sick every day of this time. I am in pain. I am pretty sure Miss Thang will be an only child. But I am sure she will be worth it. And we'll have our family. That's the important thing.

That and that somehow I survive the next few weeks.

A Week Later Is Anti-Climatic No?

This cold continues to be ugly--reducing me to a teary, weeping mess multiple times in the last week. FYI a sore throat and heartburn are very hard to tell apart and treating both simultaneously can cause crazy amounts of puking. Also, the third trimester is just sort of damp and we'll leave it at that ok?

I am having elaborate fantasies about not having to work much longer. Getting up for work feels like an unreasonable chore and my patience is so thin that I am white-knuckling a lot of human interactions. I am like a bomb ready to go off.

Mercy

Had a doctor's appointment today with fairly good results. All the things I've been doing, staying off my feet, resting, etc. are working and my blood pressure is down. The sour note? I am measuring at 33 1/2 weeks. Which would be groovy except I am only 31 1/2 weeks.

Oh little miss, please do not break my pelvis in two on your way out.

I Really Miss Lying On My Right Side

Things I used to do without any pain--or any thought at all--but now makes me whimper in agony:

1. lying on my right side
2. putting on pants
3. getting out of bed
4. getting into bed
5. waiting longer than half an hour to pee
6. wearing shoes
7. standing up
8. walking even at a snail's pace
9. laughing
10. breathing

Can you even stand the glamour of it all?

A Rant in Honor of Hanukkah

The miscarriage derailed a lot of things in our lives last year. And one of those things was our formal conversion to Judaism. We were pretty battered with grief for a long time and were not up to taking a big life step.

Of course, we hadn't counted on temple politics lending itself to no rabbi to help us. And that is how I found myself a few months ago begging around trying to find some one. We have, and our conversion is scheduled for a couple of weeks from now.

I have taken a lot of shit from many people, friends and busy-bodies alike, about "worrying too much about technicalities" when it comes to this conversion. And this pisses me off to no end. It is another case of people from one religious tradition (in these cases Christianity) and applying those norms to all traditions. And judging those traditions rather bitchily at that. Because in Christianity faith is the most important thing and the rest can be sorted out later. No child is born Christian and many sects require an adult baptism anyway--so not being baptised as a child is no big deal. But Judaism is defined by laws and traditions. The law is a very important thing. You can have faith and be part of a community but if you are not legally Jewish than you aren't--no matter what your identity is.

Our community doesn't much care about it's members being Jewish. But other communities do. And there are many rights that are afforded Jews that are not non-Jews. Since we are going to raise our daughter to have a Jewish identity, than I feel like I owe her those opportunities and protections. Liken it to being a citizen vs. having a green card. Citizens have a lot of protections that are just not available to others. Being legally Jewish could mean that for her, she would have her life cycle events within the temple if she chooses and has rights to the Law of Return (the rabbis in this area take care to make converts eligible for this). This is especially important in our current political climate (for those who think I am being paranoid look at what has happened to Muslims in this country since 9/11)--I just don't think that anyone can guarantee that Jews will ALWAYS be safe in this country.

I make a sincere effort to recognize the differences in structures between Judaism and Christianity so that I can understand where my friends, family and colleges are coming from. And I do recognize that this is easier for me since I was brought up in a Christian home. But goddamn people, have the ability to accept differences between people and their beliefs.

It's the same thing with Christmas. I recognize that many people, including Jews, celebrate a secular sort of Christmas with Santa Claus and presents and I am glad that this works for those families. It doesn't work for us. We'll do Christmas with my parents in a we-celebrate-this-with-family kind of way. And we won't be celebrating Hanukkah as a Christmas substitute. Again, the holidays are not related and are not the same tone at all. Pretending otherwise is really disrespectful to both Jews and Christians. And getting up in my face like I am scarring my kid who isn't even fucking born yet is just annoying and sanctimonious. In my experience Santa is all about the parents. Little tinies don't understand Santa and are frightened of him. Then there are a couple of years where kids enjoy it. And then they figure out that he isn't real and there is this weird betrayal time (which is an interesting thing to do to a kid in connection to a religious holiday--Santa isn't real but God is trust me would I lie? OH WAIT).

I don't judge parents for doing Christmas, regardless of their religious beliefs. I don't judge them for doing Santa. I don't judge anyone for raising their kids with the value system that they feel most comfortable with. People do what they think is best.

It's weird how these things don't apply to those of us with beliefs outside of Christianity.

Cake = Divine

100% of babies agree.

He Promised

I haven't really gotten dressed in four days. Even yesterday, going to the chiropractor and Target, I just did the Tim Gunn horrifying sweats thing (with a thermal and faux Uggs!) and now today even though the snow is melting we are just chilling at home in our PJs.

My main activity today is waiting for J to make a cake. HE PROMISED.

What? Target Is Exhausting

It's snowing like a motherfucker here. It'll probably (hopefully) all be gone tomorrow, but for now it's making staying inside and napping all the more appealing. As if I needed something else to make it appealing.

This morning I went out for the first time in more than forty eight hours. I went and got a neck adjustment and massage and while my head is still sore, it is worlds better than it was two days ago. I am not wanting to die at this point which is a lovely improvement. I am trying not to take any medication for it today, just to see if I can. The meds make me so sleepy and so out of it that they won't work for a word day so I am trying to do all the right things to get ready to work on Monday.

Missing work stresses me out, not because anyone says anything (they don't) but because I am desperately afraid that they are going to fire me. I know that this is a pretty baseless anxiety but I can't seem to help myself. My boss has asked me if I want to go down to six hour work days and I can't help but worry that means she is trying to ease me out. WHY AM I LIKE THIS?

It doesn't help that people think I am huge. Well I am huge. I am carrying entirely in the front, which is a good thing I think, but there is no escaping the big giant belly. I look nothing like the glowing Heidi Klum. I just look large and threatening. At the chiropractor's office this morning the receptionist thought I must be due in December (I keep rounding up and telling people late January). The chiropractor himself said, "But you are SO BIG!" He is a doll and meant it nicely but really folks, I had an early ultrasound, my dates are not wrong. My mother carried this way too and so it isn't a huge surprise to me. But it is pathetic that when I get into an elevator the other passengers look a little panicky like they might be forced to deliver me.

I do think that I will probably be a bit early (which means I have DOOMED MYSELF to a late delivery) just because she is so large. And if I feel like this, so tired and worn, than I won't even be attempting a natural birth (that sound you heard is J laughing since he plans on forcibly medicating me if necessary). I have no desire to feel the pain or anything, I just kind of believe that it's best to not have too many expectations (FOR ME). But yeah, I don't think I would be making it very far as of right now. I get worn out going to Target.