Here Comes the Sun

My son Spencer is 5 days old today. He was born Monday, May 17 at 8:07am at Lankenau Hospital.

There's so much to say I don't even know where to start.

Let me just try...

I now understand why parents act like idiots.
I understand why they let their kids literally get away with murder and commit other heinous atrocities.

My son is amazing. He's the cutest most handsomest baby I ever saw. At a bathing class at the hospital on Wednesday, one of the other new mothers volunteered her son for the bath. I took one look at him and instantly determined that my son was better looking and much more interesting. I have no idea why. Some insane pride kicked in from I don't know where.

Also, I noticed myself talking to her baby like I talk to mine when he fretted during the demonstration. Also a reflex I cannot recall ever having before. I may even have spoken to my husband that way on the day we returned home.

I am highly emotional and deeply moved by the events of the last week. I am also the walking wounded due to the C-section. Any of you who know me will understand that right now I am as agitated as possible. My job for the next 2-3 weeks is to be a food source and to heal. I am more or less banished to the second floor of my house. Guy takes him outside to sit in the shade, walks him all over the house and is really looking forward to putting him in the Baby Bjorn for adventures. In fact, I've decided to share Guy's perspective for once. Below you'll read an email he sent to both our mothers Friday morning (May 21). I warn you, it's hilarious...

Hi all. In case each of you is wondering who the other email addressee is on this, you are the two grandmoms.

Beth Birch in Maine, you remember my Mom, Bunny Vilim, who is on Long Island.

Since the two of you have been nice enough to send emails and pictures to everyone on your respective sides of the family, I'm going to ask you both to keep doing that if people seem interested in updates.

Yesterday Spencer and Katie came home. Katie was feeling good and completely restless in the hospital - and I do mean REST LESS, ie, lacking in rest, without repose, not able to get any peace or quiet - what a madhouse! Her incision is doing well, so is she, and Spencer passed all his tests with flying colors, so we decided it was hi ho, hi ho, it's home from work we go. He had spent most of the last two nights in the room with her, so we also figured we were ready to take it on - you'd be amazed how care for babies in the hospital has changed - well, let's say I was amazed -- (I mention this because I always assume I know everything and therefore also assume that assume that if I don't know something then no one else can possibly know it either - in reality, of course, I'm sure you both know this already, but I'm still interested, so here goes:) I remembered no kids were allowed to visit new babies and basically, the baby stayed in the nursery and the mother stayed in her room - not anymore!! All visitors are now welcome at all ages and the babies are put in the rooms with the moms as much as possible - which I think is great - really allows the parents to get used to the idea of having him while there is still plenty of support around and it allows the nurses to look at how well the new mother is doing and watch for any signs of trouble in her ability to bond and care for him. AHHHH, Progress!!

The trip home, while hugely important and exciting and terrifying for us (I avoided every little bump in the road for the whole, interminable, nerve wracking 5 minutes of the ride), was uneventful when viewed in the overall scheme of the universe - I suppose I have to admit from an objective point of view that WWII and landing a man on the moon were more impressive accomplishments, but only because they had good PR -- the bastards. We got all set up and made a list of things that we needed, like Katie's pain pills, etc., and off Mack and I went to fetch. Up to that point, of course, Spencer had been a dream, gurgling and smiling and working his little arms and legs and napping. Once I was gone though, a reddish devil light descended into him and he turned into demon baby, crying and peeing and waiting til Mommy had his diaper off to deliver a wet and wicked load of baby sludge all over the bedding she had laid out - I knew something was wrong, even from a distance , when I felt a sharp pain stabbing into my back -- I really have to either get rid of that voodoo doll or at least get her some shorter pins.

By the time I made it back, sweet child o' mine had returned and he instantly fell asleep. He woke later and we took a little tour around the backyard, where I showed him all the red flowers in bloom - we realized from seeing him gaze at the Superman emblem (which is red) on one of Katie's tee shirts that he sees red very well and seems to love it - and he was duly impressed by my gardening prowess. No lie, he said so. He stared at the sky, is completely enthralled by changes in light from dark to bright and stares and stares up when we walk him from one light to the next.

Spencer and I then went down to the kitchen to make dinner while Katie napped and grew "The Breasts that Attacked Tokyo" - to say her milk is IN is ridiculous, I think her milk and all the milk of all the mothers in all the world is in there as well - no lie, she looks like one of the balloons from the Thanksgiving Day parade, so I'm afraid to let her outside in a strong wind, she could crash against a building and get hurt (I don't care what they say, those guys holding the wires on the street are only paid minimum wage and I can't see that their hearts are in their jobs, it's a scandal) - and if that happened, where would I be?

After dinner I had a long chat with Spencer, telling him all about all the B_S_ in life (don't worry, it wasn't all business, I took breaks from the serious stuff to laugh and explain the quantum theory of black holes and the time space multi-dimensional nature of the universe we live in but cannot see or truly experience - he seemed either confused by the last part or maybe he disagreed with the theoretical premise I asserted, since he spat up right about here, but they say Einstein was a little slow at first too), but I reassured him that he was going to be ok, because by the time I get done making up all the nonsense I can think of and feeding it to him as gospel truth, he won't know which end is up anyway, so no matter how upside down or ass backwards George Bush makes the world, it will always seem perfectly normal to him. I consider this my sacred duty as his father. Then he took my finger in his hand and squeezed it rhythmically while looking in my face, as if to say, "Thanks for the advice, Dad," and I thought back, "What a sweetie - already working on the curve ball grip I showed him the day he was born" - it doesn't get any better than that, now, does it? Then we watched the Yankees put a ass-whoopin on the California Angels. By the way, Spencer agrees entirely with the decision to get rid of Cracker Jacks at Yankee Stadium and replace them with Fiddle Faddle, but I can't see it, I'm a traditionalist (I mean, it's IN the Song - "Buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks" - Fiddle Faddle doesn't even rhyme). Anyway, I'm trying to make sure this does not cause a permanent rift in our relationship, but he is so stubborn once he gets his back up like this, so I don't know.

After a fitful night, he finally fell asleep around 3 and slept til almost 7, ate, shat, and is now sleeping again. So is Mommy (sleeping, not shitting).

And so it goes. I wonder what adventures we'll have today?

Also, there are pics to look at on my Mac homepage if you haven't already been sent some.

More to come soon, but right now my sleepy baby is lying next to me on the couch and I need to snuggle him before I explode.

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far

Number of strangers today who felt compelled to comment on my pregnancy: 0

This morning Guy spoke with his mother and found out that the birth weights of he and his 4 siblings ranged from 7.5 - 9.5lbs. He was 8.5 lbs.

Later on today my mother called to check in. She spoke with Guy and he told her about the whole birth weight thing and she informed him that she was 8.6lbs.

I did some last minute shopping and bought some "grannie panties" (since I will have an incision on my bikini line, I will have to wear higher cut stuff. No low-riders for me for awhile. I also got stuff to wear in the hospital.

I'm all packed now. I went to Border's too and bought the Story of Ferdinand. It's Guys and my favorite children's book. I wanted to have stuff to read to Spencer in the hospital and couldn't find any portable story books - compilations tend to be big, hardback and heavy. At least I found a really good core book that we know we'll keep forever.

I'm nervous now. It's like all these new things happening at once - my first surgery, my first hospital stay and my first BABY! In 13 hours, I'll have a baby boy in my face! And he's my son! From now until the end. That's so intense.

We're both just killing time until tomorrow. Guy spent all day landscaping and evicting carpenter bees from their homes under our porch. I spent part of the day in the car getting a good drive around and shopping. I confess I had part of a cherry slushee and a Snickers bar. I think I'll be eating mush for the next few days. I had to have some chocolate. I also had eggs bacon and toast this morning. I don't know when I'll get to eat bacon again.

I'm tired cause we didnt' get to bed til late last night and I didn't want to sleep late today. I'd love a nap but I know I'll end up being up all night. All I want is a few good hours of sleep tonight, 'cause I know in the next few weeks it's gonna be rough.

I'm having my last meal until who knows when: chicken and peas and corn follwed by sour cream chocolate chip cake I made yesterday with sugar free vanilla ice cream.

We'll take Mack to our friends' house tonight and finish getting ready for the morning.

I won't be able to write here for a few days, but I plan to detail on paper and transfer when I get back and can put things on my lap again ;)

Here's to new beginnings!

Spencer, OUT!

"Now, in the names of all the gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed,
That he is grown so great?"
- From Shakespeare's Julius Caesar

Number of strangers today who felt compelled to comment on my pregnancy: 2

Last night I woke up on the couch after having crashed there with Guy, and we went to bed and I tried to go to sleep. You'd think I was just transplanting myself from one sleep surface to another, but I was uncomfortable and anxious, having Braxton Hicks and more or going crazy via worrying. Guy comforted me and we talked until I could get it together and relax a little and finally around 4 I fell asleep. I had to go through it. I had to lose my mind.

This morning (Saturday), Guy sat down with me and showed me a list of questions he'd prepared for us to review with Dr. Brest. It was so cute - he did it like a formal letter. He worked on it this morning while I slept. It was HIS way of going through it. I go crazy, he writes letters and prepares. "Just the facts m'aam".

We spoke with the good doctor and he told Guy to stay away from unreliable Internet information. The truth of it is, we have a big baby, and there are serious possible risks involved with a vaginal birth, and he recommended the Cesarean under the circumstances. He answered all my questions about the procedure and how things would be handled and I feel good.

I will say that I haven't had a whole lotta luck finding reassuring or at least neutral information about C-sections. I will give a thumbs up to a forum I found on babycenter.com. Moms who've had the procedure have given some decent advice about what happens during a C-section, what to expect and what to ask for. It helped me straighten out my thoughts on the matter.

So the long and short of it is that we decided we're going for it, and Monday May 17 is the day.

I am going to nickname my son Ajax.
Ajax was one of the best fighters among the Greeks and was famed for his steadfast courage in the face of adversity. He fought during the Trojan War. We saw Troy tonight with our friends Richard and Cheryl and their daughter Lily. The actor who played Ajax was massive. Spencer doesn't have far to go.

Before we went to the movie we had dinner again at Bertucci's. Oy, has their food tanked in quality. Guy and I got there before our friends but walked through to see if they were already seated. When we found them and sat down, Guy proceeded to tell us that while we were walking through, a couple with a newborn was grabbing at us and trying to make contact..they appeared to know us and were insistent on getting our attention.... "Hello! Hello!"...so much so that they even pointed at their baby as if to say "See we got one!". I hadn't noticed cause I was looking for our friends. I missed the whole thing. We all laughed and I told my "Strangers Will Say the Darndest Things" tales. Later on, Guy pointed them out at their table and it turned out they were a couple from our birthing class. I was SO embarrassed! I waved and felt guilty for not having noticed them. I told Guy on our way home from Dairyland (yummy soft ice cream in Roxborough on the way home from the movie) that if I ever see them again I'll be sure to apologize for our obliviousness.

Note about going to a movie when 9 months pregnant: Bring a footstool or make sure you can put your feet up on someone. By the end of the 160 minute film I almost couldn't put my sandals back on.

It's late now and I am getting sleepy. Tomorrow will be a big day - gotta re-pack, etc. We go in Monday morning at 530 to get set up. 730 is when the procedure starts or as Dr. Brest said, it's "Tee off time". I am SO not a morning person. I hope I'm so tired I'm relaxed. This is my first major surgery of any kind. The only stitches I've ever had were when I had my wisdom teeth out. This is a far cry from wisdom teeth!

Size Matters

The proverbial dung has hit the fan.

Today I woke my pregnant butt up and drove it to the doctor's office for yet another round of "Whose Cervix is Not on First?"

Once finished with the standard conversation about the non-goings on in my body, we agreed that induction would commence next Thursday evening with an infusion of something called Cervidil, to "ripen" my cervix, followed Friday morning by Pitocin and the normal induction procedures to bring on the labor.

Then it was off to the Perinatal Lab for a Biophysical Profile and Non-Stress test to make sure my son was not living la vida loca in my uterus.

The ultrasound was performed by a fairly crabby technician who seemed obsessed with my due date. She was also keen on using the entire bottle of conduction gel on my belly; so much so that I found it on my underwear and pants at the conclusion of the scan. Thanks for the memories, lady.

She said Spencer "passed" the scans just fine and the ultrasound doctor (Dr. McSomething or other) came in to confirm all was well. He asked if my doc wanted the fetal weight and I said "I don't know but I'd love to find out if you have any idea". He went on to tell me that if my doc hadn't ordered it he won't tell me because there is a margin of error which makes it not the most reliable measurement. So much for THAT.

Then down to the next part of the test - the non-stress test, where they monitor the baby's heartbeat, checking for movement and change of pulse during movement. Spencer got wise to this right off the bat and more or less went to sleep. They had me in a fuzzy red Barca lounger with a back that wouldn't stay put. I had two hockey-puck sized apparatus strapped to my belly which the technician had to move when Spencer decided his "left side of mommy's body" hang out was calling him. I was given a button to push whenever he moved. About 15 minutes into it, with things being fairly quiet, the technician (who was sweet and accommodating and spared me the abundance of conduction gel) asked me if I'd been keeping track of his movements each day and actually seemed concerned. I laughed cause this kid has been about as quiet as fireworks. And, as timing would have it, almost on cue he started bopping around and gave the technician all she needed to see. She took her readouts to the doctor and came back herself to tell me I was free and clear to go.

So, happy day for me. Baby good, I'm good, and I now have a deadline scheduled to go have my little man, so he's coming one way or the other. Time to shop!...or just find something light to wear for the next week since it's about 30 degrees hotter than normal. Did I mention it went up to 90 today?

I talked to my friend Donna and was planning to maybe go to a local mall to stroll around but when she talked about how weird it would be if my water broke in the mall and I had to have my baby at King of Prussia, I scrapped the idea and opted for local strip mall instead.

I hit Old Navy for a coupla tank tops and pajama bottoms that were stylish enough to wear out of the house. I bought some groceries and drove around a bit and headed home, where Guy was situating himself after a long day of depositions and "putting my shoe into a witness's mouth". Relaxed and ready to unwind, I found a crossword puzzle from the Philadelphia Inquirer and set myself outside on the chaise to attack it. Guy puttered around the yard and Mack was content to roll around and sniff the grass. Ah, Friday.

After about 30 minutes, suddenly above the din of some Adult Alternative music on WXPN, we could hear the phone ringing. In usual fashion, we ignored it in favor of the answering machine since telemarketers are notorious for calling near dinner time. Guy then thought better of it, thinking it might be the plumber calling back about finishing installation of toilet and sink in our new bathroom on the first floor (a project 6 months in the making). He went in and in moments was leaning out the screen door, waving me in...

"Your doc called and wants you to call him back about the test results today. He said it's nothing to worry about but call him."

NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT?
NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT?
I repeat....
NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT?

I immediately called and got his answering service. The ever-so-helpful-and-kind operator was more than happy to tell me to call back Monday. I almost had an aneurysm on the spot. She was more or less dismissive when I informed her that I was told he wanted to speak to me today and that I was 4 days past my due date. She reluctantly agreed to get him the message and I hung up, distraught. For 10 minutes I tried to go back outside and go back to the puzzle, but it was to no avail. I was WORRYING full steam. What could have happened between the tests and now? Did something show up? Was there not as much amniotic fluid as they thought? Was something amuck?

Back into the house I went, phone in hand and listened to the docs message to see if there was some kind of code I was supposed to give the operator or something so he would get the message. It turns out there was a little subtlety to it that I had not mastered, so I prepared to call again. Guy came in and sat down with me while I called. The operator I got this time was much smoother in her handling of the situation, despite her Benson & Hedges rippled voice. So we sat there for 5 minutes, both of us now WORRYING.

My doc called. By the way I don't know if I've mentioned it, but his name is Dr. Brest. Yes, an ObGyn, and his name is Dr. Brest. The comedy is not lost on me. So, Dr. Brest called back and proceeded to tell me the following...

All the results were fine, and the technicians DID take that fetal weight measurement afterall and the staff physician (Dr. McWhatsajobby) wanted to know if Dr. Brest wanted the info. Apparently with an ultrasound at this time, a larger size baby has weight measurements with a + or - 15% discrepancy. A LARGER SIZE BABY. They measured my baby as being a little over 4500 grams, or about 10lbs.
That's right, people. I may be carrying a 10 pound baby.
Now add or subtract 15% and this kid is somewhere between 8.5 and 12 pounds.
I have a giant baby.
Nowhere do Guy or I know of anyone in our families giving birth to giants.
I called my mom, she doesn't know.
Guy has renamed our son Moby Baby.

The not-so fun part of it is that I now have to decide between a scheduled C-section on Monday the 17th (Dr Brest had a slot for it and scheduled me in case I wanted to do it now) or waiting til induction and seeing what happens. There is no real exact science here, just alot of possibilities.

In the car on the way to pick up steaks and slurpees, Guy asked me to get out a pen and paper and start writing down questions to ask and look up. He's so logical. All I could think about was missing out on labor and having to lie there strapped to a table, and he was making lists. I was thinking about scarring and loss of my fun tummy I used to have and plastic surgeons and whether or not I'd be able to get up and down the stairs, and he was thinking about risks and health benefits. We were clearly Yin and Yang in the Saab with Mack in the backseat slobbering all over us. As I sit here now indulging my slightly clobbered ego, he is reading about C-sections.

So for the next 12 hours or so, we'll be home trying to decide what's best for us and my gigundo son. I already told Guy this kid better be an all-star, the likes of which noone's ever seen. I said "Do you realize by the time he's 4 he'll be taller than me?" to which Guy replied, "He'll be taller than you when he's born. He's already a month old in there". I also now realize that either half or all of the baby clothes folks bought us will probably be too small for him. He'll outgrow his infant seat in a month. I may have to change the name of this blog to "My Life with Hercules". Am I growing a superhero?

This is becoming a real melodrama, no?

Until our next installment, here's an interesting statistic I think I'll post from now on at the beginning of each entry 'til he's born:
Number of strangers today who felt compelled to comment on my pregnancy: 4

Wakey Upey!

I was just instant messaging with my cousin Cindy and we were discussing the delay in Spencer's arrival. Her mother just passed away and she was talking about our late Great Aunt Harriet (we called her "Hab") and how she'd be in Heaven playing cards or whatever. Cindy reminded me about how when we were little Aunt Hab used to have to come get us out of the pool or whatever body of water we'd be swimming in, cause we'd never want to get out. Then Cindy said this:

"Maybe Spencer just needs Hab to give him that final 'OK out of the water!' speech."

My cousin is not one to go into lengthy diatribes or philosophical rants about life and such. Neither was my Aunt Hab. And it suddenly struck me that I haven't mentioned her lately or really thought about her in awhile. I've been so completely consumed in this baby business.

It really would help to have a few words from Aunt Hab right now.

"Wakey Upey" was how she used to try to get me up in the morning. She'd come in and clap her hands and be very enthusiastic. I couldn't take it. I have never been a morning person. Poor woman. She didn't have children of her own and I was like her semi-adopted ruffian since I stayed with her quite often as a child while my mother worked, etc.

She'd definitely have something to say about this situation - she was one of the first female pediatricians in the country. She died in April 2002 after a long battle with Cancer.

Hey Aunt Hab, if you're out there somewhere and you can have some influence over my current situation, I'd be grateful for some wisdom or some kind of kickstart into labor from the Great Beyond...

My "Density"

I woke up at 230 this morning crampy and thinking MAYBE. Then I went back to bed.
At 530 I woke up because it was too hot to sleep in our room. Guy put another fan in the room and by 8 I was getting back into bed to sleep until 930 with visions of Howard Stern partying in Las Vegas (I had the broadcast on this morning in the bedroom so it leaked into my dreams).

Awake by 930, I caved in and did the other curtain I needed to do...still nothing. After I was done, I cleaned up and put the sewing machine away - I felt it was symbolic in some way...started to feel crampy again...got excited. Came upstairs and sat on the couch and my belly was stickin out all wacky. My son's position resembles that of a watermelon swallowed sideways. He's not leaving. They're going to have to go spelunking and get him out. Eww, what's with all the cave references?

Well it's now 1130am. I have less than 24 hours to go into labor and avoid more waiting in doctor's offices. I would like to have him on the 13th. I would like to have him, period. Castor oil is becoming more and more appealing. Who is the child and why is he so content to hang out all cramped inside me? Am I that awesome from the inside out? My uterus must be like a 4-star resort.

The other day while watching a child special on Discovery Health Channel I saw a statistic flashed about average gestation for new moms compared to repeat moms. Apparently there's like a 20 day + difference. It's like 279 days for first time moms and 244 or something for repeat moms. I think that's what it is. How can that be fair? Is that like your biology checking your psychology? "You think you want this? You're gonna WAIT!" It's like the ultimate test of your patience and resolve and fashion sense.

I have no summer maternity clothes. I'm not Kate Hudson or Gwynneth or some starlet with my fancy shmancy designer 300$ maternity belly tees and low rider jeans. In suburban America it is not stylish to have your big old baby belly sticking out in the hot breeze with your belly button stretched out beyond belief and your linea negra appearing like a coffee stain down your middle. Let's not even mention all the surplus hair that's now covering you making you look like you're wearing a flesh colored furball strapped to you.

Have I mentioned I haven't had Dunkin Donuts in months and months?
I am dying for a coffee roll and one of those frozen latte drinks they make now.
I guess I should eat something.

I just read that sex may help bring on labor because "semen contains a natural prostaglandin that helps the cervix to mature, and orgasm stimulates rhythmic contractions of the uterus." This would be a far more entertaining method for "induction" at home than castor oil, no? I'll have to suggest it to Guy and see if he thinks he can help...

Signs

I wonder if my body will do anything to let me know I'm actually in labor.

Today I got my big self out of the house. Not before I talked to Guy's mom and assured her we'd call if anything happened, and not before I got a visit from the gas company threatening to cut off service even though we paid our bill in full a month ago. I was wearing my jammies which hardly cover me and I had to answer the door half covered with a rain jacket Guy has hanging by the door. Talk about self-conscious! Ugh. AND it's like a bezillion degrees out so I'm all hot and gross and semi-draped in blue ripstop nylon and this guy wants to shut of the gas when I'm about to take a friggin shower. Nice timing.

Nonetheless, I got out and went to meet Guy at a client's place of business and we went flower and shrub shopping for our newly manicured lawn. I learned that Rhododendrons are shrubs and Delphiums are plants. Guy says I have a memory block when it comes to plants. I don't know why. Must be something from my childhood. Because everything in life is from childhood. So I better watch it with this kid or he's gonna have a memory block about Rhododendrons.

I will say, one motivating factor today was air conditioning in my car. We don't have central air in the house and no units are up and running yet, so I realized I could get the benefits of AC right in my beetle. Brilliant! I couldn't really get comfy in my car seat, but hey, cars aren't meant for reclining.

So after purchasing some Impatients and Petunias, Guy stopped at 7-11 on the way home to get milk - when he got home he had Slurpees! yumm. I haven't had one since I got pregnant. I hope the baby didn't OD on sugar. We sat in our backyard in the grass. Mack rolled around and sniffed every piece of sod he sat on. We talked about where the new plants and shrubs would go. He got up and sat in the lawn chair and I had to get up by myself. It was like trying to stand up from lying down while carrying a load of wood on your back. I had like NO balance. Ridiculous.

Travesty on American Idol tonight. Guy has officially told the show to Talk To The Hand. He's had it. I don't care. I just want to have a baby.

Strange Instinct: I keep feeling like if I sit down at the sewing machine to finish the curtains, I'll go into labor. I'm tempted to go try but now that I've though about it so much I know nothing will happen. Have I mentioned I'm losing it?

My cousin from California sent us some sweet storybooks.
The card she sent was really funny too. It has a mom in a rocking chair singing "Love Shack" by the B52s to her baby and on the inside it says something like "Any song can be a lullaby"...so clever. I personally plan to sing Beatles songs.
I even have a music box that plays 3 different Beatles songs - my very first boyfriend gave it to me. I'm glad I kept it.

Is itching a sign that labor is coming? What about paranoia and slight halllucination? What does Castor Oil have that so many women will try it to go into labor? I'm getting tempted folks. I really am.

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart is on momentarily. I highly recommend it. Local news is a nightmare, and network news is sorely lacking in common sense and a sense of the ridiculous. I am living ridiculous right now.

And HOT. It's freaking hot in here. That would be another benefit of labor - air conditioned hospital!!!!!!!!!!

The Grass Is Always Greener

...when you first lay down the sod in the backyard.
Yesterday it was a dirt field, now it looks like something out of Home & Garden Magazine. My son has a pretty lawn to crawl around in...IF I EVER GIVE BIRTH!
Mack the pooch rolled around on approximately every piece. I would have but I seriously picture myself stuck on the ground like a cockroach until Guy got home from work...

I watched Birth Day on the Discovery Health Channel and there were two different women - one having her first child and the other having her 4th. They and their husbands talked about how hard it is and how emotional you become when you see your baby's face for the first time. Now I know why. Cause I won't BELIEVE I actually have him outside of my body!

Today I learned about Chaos Theory of childrearing from a family member who called to check in. It's the theory that if you have a chaotic life and don't give the baby some kind of schedule and dependable pattern to follow along with you, the baby will not know night from day and will never sleep and it will be harder to find out when things are really wrong because the baby will always be fussy.

I got some sympathy from a friend calling to see if the doc had found anything new yesterday. I told my belly that everyone's waiting to see him. That doesn't seem to matter cause I tell him all the time. He's not impressed by the attention.

Do you know how HARD it is not to tell people you're pregnant when you're arguing a point? I had Cingular Wireless on the phone today and I was reading a customer service rep the riot act about ridiculous reconnection charges totalling almost 90$ that I don't want to pay. I was this close to yelling, "I AM A PREGNANT WOMAN AND I NEED MY PHONES TO BE WORKING IN CASE I GO INTO LABOR, DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW CRITICAL THIS IS? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE PREGNANT? DO YOU?!!!?"
I didn't do it.
They put me on hold for 10 minutes to tell me they were sending me a copy of my contract...I still kept it together. I must be losing it.

Hey, American Idol is on. The theme is disco.
My choice of song would be "Don't Leave Me This Way"
Thank you.

We Don't Need No Stinking Due Date!

I sat in the doctor's office for 90 minutes today. I am 9 months pregnant and I sat in the doctor's office for 90 MINUTES today. I read the following publications:
 Philadelphia Magazine (2 issues)
 Time Magazine
 Newsweek
I tried to nap in the exam room, but it's hard to rest with your legs up in stirrups.

I feel so HEAVY. It's unreal now. Like in the last 2 days it feels like the baby weighs twice what he did last week. Luckily the scale at the docs office says I'm holding steady. I don't know how.

So my doctor finally walks in to see me, and says "So, anything happening?"
I just look at him like he's insane.
He checks for heartbeat and does his weekly probe...nothing doing.
I ask what next. He says "I was hoping you'd tell me"...he's such a joker(grr).
So he starts to consider when my next visit should be and I'm babbling about how I'm almost 7 days overdue and he stops and goes "I have your due date as May 10...we don't go by the due date they give with the later ultrasound, we stick with the earliest one"

MAY 10!!!!!! That's TODAY!!!!!!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

So there I am, half nekked, stuck to the sanitary paper on the exam seat, being made aware that I've been anticipating the joyous occasion a week early. How much more must I be made to suffer? To quote Guy quoting the Pope in Agony and the Ecstasy: "When will you make an end?!!!"

Guy is having sod put down in the backyard - the men were here today tilling up the soil and cleaning out the yard. Guy drew a "home plate" in the dirt with his foot - he's got plans for our little slugger one day. He's gonna play catch. A man with vision. I can't see past my belly right now.

I'm sitting here on the couch in Mu Mu style. It's getting hotter out and I am uncomfortable in everything. Last year I bought this nightie - it's like an elongated "wifebeater" tee - It actually fits. I can't be bothered with pants anymore, I'm sorry. I've had it with "belly" bras and over the "belly" pants and everything.

The laptop is heating up my thighs and making me even more uncomfortable. I think I'll finish watching the wretchedly edited TV version of Breakfast Club.

Heartburn is imminent. Thank you little chocolate doughnuts!

"Mothers" Day

I slept til noon today. Nothin' doin. Late last night Spencer was kicking and swimming around like a 6 month old fetus, not a 9 month old fetus. I'm starting to wonder if he can't get out.

Guy gave ME a Mother's Day card. Go figure. I'm a mother in theory. I hope I'm not jinxed now. I am definitely starting to worry. Why haven't I dropped? Why is my belly so huge and tight yet my son has all this room to wiggle around and lie in me sideways? Should I eat less so I lose weight and tighten up so he has to come out?
I have another doctor appointment at 3pm tomorrow. I don't want to go. If I could just go into labor I wouldn't have to go!

It's beautiful out today, so I sat outside and read New York Times Magazine - I think I was only outside maybe 45 minutes -- the top I was wearing didn't cover my belly completely and now I have a tan line.
  1. Bad for stretch marks
  2. I look like a dyed easter egg
Not to mention I see the beginnings on my legs of a sun rash that I seem to have developed over the last two years. I think that all started in Spring 2002 before Guy and I went to Mexico - I didn't think we were going so I went tannning. That summer in North Carolina I got the worst bizarre red scratchy rash all over. Now every time I lie out, I get it. If I recall correctly, it goes away if I go out enough but when it first starts it's ugly and hive-like.
Woe is me. I mean it people.

Guy also surprised me today by offering to take me to IHOP. I was ecstatic, but also, I'm a realist. It's Mother's Day and everyone will take their mom there after church or just because it's Sunday. So I think we're going tomorrow. I'm so happy! It's the little things at this point. I think I even recall him saying it was Free Tickle Sunday, so I'll have to take advantage of that later. "Tickle" is a light massage I like on my arms and back. It makes me sleepy and relaxed and quiet. Like a sedative might if I was into drugs. I tell you what, I may be start looking into non-placenta crossing drugs if this pregnancy continues on any longer.

Ever watch the movie G.I. Jane? At about 2 am last night I was watching it. I swear when Spencer's born I'm gonna shave my head and start doing crazy push ups and upsidedown sit ups like Demi Moore did. I might even run around the neighborhood carrying a bllow up raft over my head. Or maybe I'll just push Spencer around in his stroller.

(Chant the following loudly while marching)
"I don't know but I been told
This pregnancy is getting old!
Sound off : Spencer
Sound off : Be born
Spencer be born
Spencer, BE BORN!"

Well if nothing else, there's a new episode of the Sopranos on tonight.

"No Matter What They Say..."

Tonight we had dinner with our close friends Richard and Cheryl. Richard is Guy's partner.
We ate near where they live at a Chinese restaurant in Chestnut Hill called Cin Cin. Good eats.
We waited long enough for our table though, especially considering we had a reservation.

Funny how a crowded room full of hungry diners-to-be will ignore common courtesy and fail to offer the MOST pregnant woman in the room a place to sit while she waits. Not to mention that when we approached our table I had to squeeze my rotund self between two smaller tables. Noone moved to get out of the way. On my tippy toes I was able to get around them. And the staring again!

My husbands partner, Richard exclaims "Did you see everyone STARING at us?" and as Guy says "I wonder why", a woman behind me yells out "It's because she's BEAUTIFUL! Just LOOK at her!"
Everyone in the place could have heard her. I blushed. That was the first outright compliment I've received from a total stranger, and it was a mighty one. I felt womanly and almost powerful despite being so unwieldy.
I felt like pumping my fist in the air and cheering for women. WOOOO YEAH, GO WOMEN!

You know, as I type this I am noticing it's actually getting harder to reach the keys. I am sitting with the laptop on my lap and I almost can't reach the top tier of keys. T's are a pain.

Spencer is flying around in me like a crazy person. I think it was the Spicy Orange Beef.
Or, it could be residual effects of me watching Kill Bill Vol 1 at Richard and Cheryl's house.
He thinks he's an assassin now. Or (most unlikely), I'm going into labor and he's getting into position.
Such a last minute planner this one.

Finally for this evening, a question:
How do you stop a pregnant woman from snoring?

B-Day +2

I want to know who came up with the following Ole Wives Tale:

"If you have heartburn during pregnancy, it means your baby will be born with a hairy head."

Yesterday on the phone with a friend of mine, I mentioned that I'd been having some heartburn which is typical during pregnancy, just like Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, incontinence and swelling of the feet.
My friend says nonchalantly, "It's the hair".
"What hair, MY hair?", I reply, wondering if she's about to say what I think she's going to say.
"No, the baby's hair"
I was silent. Consternation. I had never heard of such a thing.
This morning, my mother-in-law emailed Guy to tell him about the same thing when he mentioned I was having heartburn. Where do they get this stuff?

Somehow, the hair on my baby's head is finding it's way into my esophagus?
How does that work? I'd like to see them sort that out on Mythbusters.
I think maybe it's all the hair that's grown on me since I've been pregnant. Now THAT would make sense.

Other labor-related wive's tales I've come across...

The following will bring on labor:
- Foot massages
- Drinking castor oil
- Driving over bumpy roads
- Walking
- Sex
- A full moon

I wonder if there are any records I could play backwards. Hmm.

Relatives and friends are stepping up the surveillance. We're getting approximately 2 calls a day now with people wondering where my son is. You'd think we were purposefully delaying labor. Today I even got an early Mother-To-Be Mother's Day card. It's amazing how the arrival of a new life makes people so interested in you. People are not all that interested in you at Christmas or Thanksgiving, or on your birthday, but have a baby and your family will display and interest in you that I cannot truly understand.

I was approached again today by strangers:

1. In Babies R'Us (no surprise really), by a woman with a lazy eye pratted on about how I should walk as much as I can and sleep as much as I can cause it doesn't get better and you don't get more sleep, especially with teenagers like she has. Such encouragement knows no boundaries.

2. In CVS in the shampoo aisle when a little boy whispered to his mom about my belly - must have asked her what was wrong with me- I heard her whispering "She has a baby in her belly". I turned and smiled and she was immediately apologetic. I smiled and said it was fine and joked to him that he was once in a belly. Then she came over and said "And last night he just asked me how the baby gets IN the woman's belly in the first place". I chortled. Some day I will be faced with the same question from my son.
I will say to him " Oh that's a great question for your dad, he knows all about things like that."
Heh heh.

TV/Media Note: The 10 year running sitcom Friends ended last night. Much ado about nothing, I'm afraid. Sopranos is so much more fun. One common thread: Joey and Chandler had Duck and Chicken. Tony has a thing about Ducks. What does it mean?

They Will Touch Your Stomach

Ok, this was one warning I got early on in the game - that once I had a prompt belly, strangers would want to touch it. Well it's only happened once, so I really can't complain. HOWEVER, what strangers tend to do endlessly is make commentary and engage me when I'm out.

Today I did some leisurely shopping at the mall for a new "black bag". I am notorious for shopping for the "perfect" black bag and today I experienced a resurgence of that desire, so off I went. Oh the staring. I actually took a look in a mirror while bag hunting in Strawbridge's. Holy sh** am I huge!

My belly is an eye magnet, the equivalent of large fake breasts. Infact, I've noticed that men, when speaking to me, tend to now address my belly as if it is breasts.

It was fun at the beginning when I was carrying around a 5-6 month belly. I felt like I was part of a club. Now I'm simply annoyed by of all the "Betcha can't wait to have that baby - When are you DUE?-Oh my gosh you must be getting close" commentary. I am pregnant and I am big, and I am tired and YES, I would very much like to be done with pregnancy. No need to bring up the obvious. I have nothing else to say, AND may I note that when you're at or PAST your due date, it tends to make people titter even more. You're doomed. Just lie. Say you're carrying big.

Speaking of carrying...I didn't find the bag I wanted. Boo.
I did, however, get the other Augusten Burroughs book, Sellevision, another Q magazine, CDs, and a handheld Tetris game to while away the late hours of my pregnancy. Perhaps I'll play Tetris in bed tonight.

Oh, and regarding outside lounging...the cushion on the chaise lounge was too wet to sit on earlier today. Guy said he'd bring it in tonight to keep it dry so I can sit outside tomorrow. I'm a giant queen bee...and I like Dairyland.

This Is The End (?)

"What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."
-T. S. Eliot

"This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning. "
-Winston Churchill

"Wisdom begins at the end."
-Daniel Webster

"The end may justify the means as long as there is something that justifies the end."
-Leon Trotsky

"The end of labor is to gain leisure."
-Aristotle

Well, we're now past the due date, technically. Spencer was originally due on the 10th and my ultrasound in December determined he was due on the 5th. SO, any day now.

In the meantime, I'm trying to find some kind of peace during this waiting.

I went to two libraries yesterday - not too many years ago they were a place of solace and distraction for me - I'd walk down the aisles in Fiction and just look at book titles for something to stick out. I'd spend an average of an hour on any given visit. Yesterday was frustrating cause I couldn't find a book I wanted to take out and the ceilings were low and there was no real space to get around. The Borders and Barnes & Nobles of this world have effectively replaced the enjoyment of libraries - these stores have EVERYTHING you want and 90-100% of the time it's in stock and their magazine selections are out of control great, and you can buy CDs and DVDs, AND get a coffee, and noone really cares if you have your cell phone. AND you can get around in there. The Borders near me is spacious and mostly organized. I've been going there for 5 years. It's my library now and I have to go today and get another book by Augusten Burroughs. I started trying to read Wait Until Spring by John Fante, but it wasn't stimulating enough to keep me going.
I am ashamed to some degree. We have so many books in this house, my son will never need to go to a library or anywhere once he's old enough to read mature material. We have like every major work!
How many families have a gazillion books now because of Borders and Barnes & Noble? Ikea must be making a killing on FLÄRKE bookshelves.

As I mentioned, reading last night was not stimulating...so at 1230am I decided it was time to try sleeping. What a dismal failure. I laid there awake for almost 2 hours thinking about everything from teaching my son how to use the toilet, to burglars, to whether or not I should turn the light on and read something else, to how loud our dog is when he sleeps (he makes lip smacking noises like a person. it's so weird), to 'what is that crampy feeling in my back and is this the beginning of labor?', to 'what is that light burning/stirring in my belly...is that heartburn trying to come back?', and so on. At some point I managed to start staring at the faint red glow from the light switch on the opposite wall and focus on it enough to fall asleep. Or maybe I drempt that.

At 6am I was awakened not by heartburn (last night's trip to Dairyland for soft-serve must have been the cure-all), but by my bladder. Nothing unusual there, but then upon returning to bed, I was awake again and sat up for 45 minutes fuming because Guy was at his usual morning post at the computer and I wanted my feet rubbed or anything to make me go back to sleep. At 7 he came in and comforted me and listened to me whine, and when the thought of IHOP began prancing through my head he offered to make chocolate chip pancakes...or massage my feet. "You can make your own pancakes you know", he said, entirely aware of my indecisive nature. So he massaged them for like 20 minutes, at which point I became starving and had to make bacon and eggs.
Yummy. Eggs are my savior. It's like the one food I will not leave a speck of on my plate. To me a wasted drop of egg is like lost gold. Throughout this pregnancy I have leaned on eggs like a lifesaver. Almost every morning it's eggs. My son is going to BE an egg. So I finished eating, and suddenly, like a bear come out of hibernation only to snack, I was dead tired. Back up to bed to try a little light reading (Q Magazine, not that boring book), Guy gave me a kiss goodbye and went off to work, and I passed out. Should I have eaten eggs at 1am instead of reading perhaps?

Guy suggested I need some kind of physical exercise to wear me out so I'll go to sleep easier...As if walking around part of the day with a 20lb belly biologically attached isn't tiring enough. I'll get right out and try a Tae Bo class.

It's now 1230pm, close to 80 degrees out and sunny, and there's a chaise lounge outside with my name on it. Time to go to Borders, pick up that book and find my place in the sun until labor or dinnertime.

Hunka Hunka Burning...

Well, today is my due date. Happy Maybe Birthday to Spencer. He's a boy - we found out in December when I had my ultrasound, so my belly has been male since then. He's been so kind to share his testosterone with me... I've developed acne and randomly occurring body hair. No labor developments as far as I can tell except maybe...

Last night I stayed up all night and read Dry, by Augusten Burroughs the sequel to Running With Scissors, which I mentioned the other day. It was brillliant. I read the whole book in about 3 hours. Couldn't put it down. I finished reading about 3-330am I think, and put my head down on the pillow.

Then, it happened. RAGING HEARTBURN.
Stinging, acidy fire, pulsing up and down my esophagus. It started off lightly sizzling while I was reading and I sort of ignored it - I get it a little at night sometimes and I'm tempted to think it's hunger. Usually dissipates when I go to sleep.

At approximately 4am, (30 minutes after I fell asleep from reading), I am nodding off when our amazing Brittany Spaniel, Mack, bursts off his chair in our room and flies down the stairs out into the backyard barking as if an army of intruders was stationed there. Simultaneously, I feel the burning fire in my gut establishing itself as a force...yummy berry-flavored Tums are chewed, I whine, and back to bed go I.

Not even two hours later , the fire in my organs re-ignites and I am awakened again. Somehow the Tums had been assimilated by the Borg of Heartburn and is now attacking with vigor. Guy is now in stirring mode, having been so rudely awakened earlier by the guardbeast, so he goes to get me the Tums and then proposes I take his cure-all - Baking Soda in water. I crab at him, concerned about safety of Baking Soda in pregnant women and chomp my Tums while lying there in semi-sleepy misery.

Oh, and have I mentioned my hands are alternately falling asleep and the splint I'm wearing on my right wrist is just taking up more space I don't have to spare? Thank you very much "fluid retention". I don't get big old ankles, but my fingers are almost always tingling and when I wake up it feels like someone broke all my fingers and reset them.

I fall back asleep practically sitting up in the bed. Guy is nearby, trying to comfort me.

Now it's about 7 or so, and what has now become heartFIRE makes me prop myself up in the bed. It BURNS and BURNS in my belly and chest and I feel like someone poured acid right down my gullet. It's unbelievable. I get up and Guy is there to tell me that he researched online and it's ok to take the baking soda which is already prepared in a little dixie cup on the dresser. I gulp it hungrily and climb back into bed. Guy puts on Howard Stern and gets in bed again to hold me. He's trying, bless his soul. I'm actually glad he falls asleep at 9pm and wakes up at like 530 in the morning - doesn't make me feel so bad that I've been waking him up since 4.

The rest of the morning I spend tossing and turning, delerious from partial dreams, baby belly shifting and twinges of a possible third or fourth attack from within. It's now 1145am. I can feel it down there, lurking. I have what feels like sugary rawness in the lining of my cheeks - like when you eat too many Sour Patch Kids or drink too much Kool Aid. I think it's from the Tums. OR it's the tracks left by heartburn regimens trying to dissolve me from the inside out.

I am a walking biological battleground and child growth/storage unit. Am I a Borg?

Limbo

I am sitting at my laptop in my TV room with "Light Classical" playing on DirecTV's Music Channel 836.

It is 1255pm.

I woke up at 945am with a fairly annoying case of heartburn, no doubt brought on by last night's nutritious dinner of tortilla chips with Tostitos Salsa Con Queso, an orange and a chocolate chip scone with milk.

My appetite has gone berserker since last Weds. I haven't eaten like I was (lost a pound according to doc's scale) and my taste buds are demanding sugar. This morning I ate the last of the Pop Tarts (frosted cherry). I long for unfrosted cherry, but for some reason they just weren't as popular so the folks who make Pop Tarts discontinued them (like 10 years ago and I'm holding a grudge). This reminds me, what happened to the Chopped Beefsteak Sandwich that McDonald's used to make like 20 years ago? I hate when things I like disappear so thoroughly that noone else but me remembers them.

I digress. You do that when you have nothing left to do but wait.

This morning I changed the sheets on our bed, marvelled at the amount of dog hair that's accumulated in our bedroom since Guy vacuumed last week, and spat nails worrying about my infant son inhaling dog hair and either dying or developing horrible asthma.

I took pictures of our dressing room area to potentially send to a production company developing a new home design reality show. It's so bad in that room they won't be able to tell what it looks like from pictures. I may have to resort to some other drastic measure.

I've come to realize today that my husband (Guy) is right about me. I can't stand to be cooped up in my house. It would be one thing if my body was in normal shape and I could go pull out the cushion for the chaise lounge and drag the heavy iron thing across the lawn and set myself up with some reading materials and beverages...it's a gorgeous day out. HOWEVER, I am a walking baby house with a limited range of motion, and I don't last long on my feet. I can't start up some class or group or something because at any moment now my body could decide "it's time".

Yesterday I realized I was hurrying my baby along- becoming annoyed and impatient that he hasn't already sprung out. He's not due until tomorrow, May 5, so technically it's really sort of rude of me to have such lofty expectations. Guy and I will sit there and talk to my belly, pleading and cajoling with him to come out. Sometimes, Guy just yells at my belly.."Hey you in there, get out here already!" I felt guilty for putting pressure on my unborn son, and decided patience would be smarter, and perhaps less stressful than constantly thinking about my dilemma. I would just go on about my days and live my life until the day arrived....good attitude to have.

Ha.

__________________________________
Tue May 04, 7:20PM

Forty minutes away from another mindnumbing installment of American Idol.

As I mentioned earlier today, I was having some serious concerns about the presence of dog hair in the room where my baby will be temporarily sleeping soon. I found an article from 2002 about the actual benefits of having dogs present around babies - the contribution to their resistance to allergens later on...well I'll be damned if I didn't stumble across ANOTHER snippet about the same subject in this month's Consumer Reports magazine. There was a study done in Feb 2004 that seems to support the same idea.

Meanwhile, today I was crabby and resentful about the state of my home. It's messy folks. I won't lie to you. We're borderline packrats and I was also worrying about how that would affect my son - would he become like us? Would he hate us for being sloppy? Self-loathing got the better of me and I was stomping around teary, cursing dog hair and dust balls and change in the dryer and plaster dust.

Then, later on, pondering over the last book I read Running With Scissors by Augusten Burroughs, I sort of realized that no matter how crazy my house looks, as long as we love our son and care for him and teach him love and trust and confidence, he will love us and grow up ok. As long as we're a happy family - as long as there is love, it won't matter so much if a sleeve of Saltines has been sitting open next to the box in the pantry for a week. It won't matter that there's a cobweb in the bedroom. It won't matter that the drink glasses we had in the tv room last night are still sitting atop a speaker as I write this. It will be petty and mostly insignificant stuff and one can't really dwell on it and have anything positive come of it. I don't know if I'm ready to accept that being a sloppy housekeeper is part of me, but it seems that parenting involves letting go of some things along with acquiring new skills and attitudes.

I am instantly profound and ridiculous. I can see Guy laughing as he reads this.

Counting Down The Days....excerpts from emails to family

Tuesday April 27 -
I went to the salon and had my hair highlighted. It looks awesome (and it was safe)

Weds April 28 -
Nothing new happened at docs office. No developments.
I started feeling a little funny in the belly, woke up in the middle of the night Weds night/Thurs morn with heartburn,...

Thursday April 29 -
Most of day I was useless.
Achy and crampy and wondered if it was time ...couldn't eat either which is totally opposite of my entire pregnancy.
By late afternoon I realized I felt feverish and tummy was upset - so I took my temp and it was 99.1.
I called the doc, they said Tylenol and watch it and I kept hydrated...had a litle soup later on and rested.
Fever dropped.

Friday April 30 -
Fever was gone by this morning and I'm eating again.
We went out for dinner - we're sitting there and Guy can SEE my belly moving through my clothes.
Spencer (that's his name) decides to bop around, and my husband can see my belly from across the table moving around all on it's own. Unbelievable. This is not a baby getting ready for departure.

Monday May 3 -
(ED NOTE: For some unknown reason I've taken to graphically describing my varying medical conditions to family.)

To my knowledge he has not dropped, although who knows.
Yesterday i thought i might have had water breakage, but then i realized it couldnt be cause there was no show (mucus plug), and it was only a one time little dribble that didn't happen again or continue, and i've been having lots of regular discharge so i think it's that, and i didn't start contractions of any kind. I must say I've had good bladder control up to now. I hope I don't lose it.

I've had problems with numbness, pain and tingling in my hands - carpal tunnel syndrome says my doc - brought on by fluid retention. Right now, the tips of the middle and ring fingers on my right hand are tingly and usually are all day. He said it should all go away when Spencer arrives. No major swelling anywhere though and my feet only seem to get going if I'm on them too long.

I think I've been having Braxton-Hicks contractions (practice contractions) for awhile here and there, and one or two crampy type feelings that will probably become contractions, but it all seems like some kind of internal "systems testing" to me.

Last night Guy was convinced I was gonna go today. So then of course I got all anxious and it took me hours to get sleepy. I will say this...my appetite is feeling like it's slowing way down. I don't think I'm eating near what I was eating - I can't. I think I'm also craving sweeter things now. At the beginning I wanted salty things.

Someone told me full moons are a common time for many women to go into labor - there's one on the 4th, so we'll see. Yesterday Guy's brother Glen and sister in law Laurie called me to check in - they said if I go tomorrow I should expect the hospital to be super busy with moms in labor. ha ha.

I'm bored.
I was thinking I might go see a movie...don't know if I can tolerate the seating issue, but I don't know how much more sitting around I can take. I do have a doc appt at 430 today so I'll go for a walk after, but JEEZ oh MAN!