Boring. Boring. Exterminate. Exterminate!

Why, oh why, am I blogging? I have realized that I'm not witty, I don't have funny stories, and I don't really have any problems.

I seem to spend a lot of time on the internet. I read blogs, I download music (only legal files, I swear), I email people.

I actually just got IM tho, so now I can talk w/ my fam back east more.

But one piece of great news is that my cousin finally moved out so we now have our whole basement back. I moved my computer and most of the Manling's toys down there as she was moving her stuff out. I will miss her being around, but it's so good to get the space back!

Saturday Night's All Right For Blogging

The problem with having an infant and a husband who is a manager in a retail big box store is that Saturday night's tend to be kinda boring. Not tonight, though. Tonight I found all sorts of really rad mp3s on the net. Many Colin Meloy and Decemberists songs, and some Jawbreaker and Modest Mouse covers. Check out some of the blogs I have listed in my new Lullabies link section.>>>>>
The Manling and I are having a sing-along dance-party.

I feel a little guilty because I blew off one of my friends tonight*, especially after the last two posts. I'm an asshole. I admit it.

*Edited to say, the friend I blew off by not answering the phone when she called, had left a message then saying her husband had made plans unbeknowst to her for the night. so I'm not an asshole, I'm just clairvoyant!

Dinner Party

Oddly enough, after that last post, I think I've had some improvement on the friends front. Wednesday night, Mark, the Manling and I went over to K&R's house for dinner, also meeting up with E&M, and each couple's baby. We met them at our birth class. The six of us have all said we didn't expect to make friends at that class; hell, we didn't expect to even like it!

It truly is wonderful to have some women to talk to who are going through the same situations that I am learning how to be a mother. We all are in our early 30s, all have first babies, and they are all sons. R. and I are breastfeeding and staying at home; E. was an exclusive pumper for the first 3 months and has since gone back to work part-time and has switched to formula. We shared dinner and drinks and talked all night about how the boys have changed us, emotionally, hormonally, physically, economically, career-wise, etc. This helped push back the nagging monsters in my head a bit.

The funniest moment came when the Manling was face to face with E&M's baby, A. He's the youngest and the smallest, but has the most hair. He was looking at Manling, reaching out, and chatting. For some reason, the Manling started looking concerned and started to cry. Every time A. tried to be friendly, Manling would cry. It was a riot. In contrast, the Manling was fine when he was around K&R's baby, L., who is the middle baby but the largest.

Mark and I talked when we got home about how surprised we are to have made friends like this. Normal people we call them- not barhoppers, punkrawkers, skateboarders, or deviants. And how good it feels. And at least on my part, I feel like they actually give a crap about me.

K. had made a comment at dinner about how it was nice to have "dog people" over so they wouldn't have to put their dog away. I felt exactly the same way about these "baby people." It's so wonderful to have friends who acknowledge my baby and want to see him and us.

And I'm not sure if it's because I'm a mother now: went through all the humbling changes during pregnancy and labor and learning how to love and care for an infant, but I feel like I'm softening up. I don't feel so bothered by the little stuff anymore; I'm more laidback, humble, and open to change. I still feel awkward when making small talk, but I think that will come in time. Plus I always have the Manling to talk about. I'm still too shy to try to join the local mommies group, though.

Both couples have the most amazing older houses that they've extensively remodelled. They are much larger than ours, and definitely less cluttered. Both women are also really good cooks. I want to invite them over, to reciprocate, but I'm really nervous. I feel inadequate in a few areas.

• Living room is tiny. There's no place to sit for 6 adults, and our couch/chair are mismatched, really old, and the cushions are messed up structurally.
• Dining room ditto on tiny. Have only 4 chairs. Not so big of a deal but they're bar stool height and I haven't found extras I like.
• Kitchen tiny as well, but that's not the issue. The issue being: I can't cook. At all. Seriously. What the hell would we serve????
• Bathroom is still being remodelled since before the Manling was born. Not an issue because we talked about that in our birth class introduction and we've been joking about it ever since.

I'm sure all this sounds not as serious as it is to me. I don't want to appear trashy. I want to keep these friends. I don't care about impressing them- that's not the issue. I just want to present a decent appearance.

I know "stuff" isn't what makes or keeps friendships. Me not working gives me more time to work on our house, just less capital to do it with. But the to work or not to work is another post. I'm content to be making friends for now.

Friends

My friends from college came to visit over this last week. I haven't seen C. & J. for a few years, but being with them really made me feel like I had only seen them just yesterday. Friendships like that are awesome.

I've been thinking a lot about the way to make friends since I read a post on that same topic on one of the great blogs I link to over there.>>>>>>
(Of course I don't remember which one since Babybrain has taken over.) Of course, my friends coming to visit and then leaving (assholes) made me consider my dearth of friends as well.

I've never been really good at making friends. When I was growing up, I was an only child, and I didn't really get too much interaction with other kids besides in school. And I was, and still am, pretty shy. Any one who knows me who would read this would probably scoff at that, and same I'm obnoxious and really out-going, but that's just a clever ruse to hide my inability to make small talk or invite people to do stuff with me. I've lived in Colorado for almost six years now and I think I have made about two friends who I actually call/hang out with semi-regularly.

I used to think I was seriously an alien from outer space. Now that I've given birth to an obviously human baby, that theory is shot and I must face up to the fact that I'm just socially inept. I think that's why I like blogging: I can say things, and read other things, and no one thinks I'm a weirdo (assumption is that no one has read this blog yet.)

Mark on the other hand, is completely charismatic and friendly. He can make friends like nobody's business in about five minutes from meeting them. I truly envy him and hope the Manling gets that characteristic from him.

C. told me that she started going to Adult Children of Alcoholics meetings. I was really surprised by that because she always seemed so together and with it, not to mention confident, friendly, and stable. I told her that both my parents are alcoholics and she said I'd probably benefit from going to meetings too. I just checked out the website http://www.adultchildren.org/ and found some interesting things in their description:

We had come to feel isolated, and uneasy with other people, especially authority figures. To protect ourselves, we became people pleasers, even though we lost our own identities in the process. All the same we would mistake any personal criticism as a threat.
We either became alcoholics ourselves, married them, or both. Failing that, we found other compulsive personalities, such as a workaholic, to fulfill our sick need for abandonment.
We lived live from the standpoint of victims. Having an over developed sense of responsibility, we preferred to be concerned with others rather than ourselves. We got guilt feelings when we trusted ourselves, giving in to others. We became reactors rather than actors, letting others take the initiative.
We were dependent personalities, terrified of abandonment, willing to do almost anything to hold on to a relationship in order not to be abandoned emotionally. We keep choosing insecure relationships because they matched our childhood relationship with alcoholic or dysfunctional parents.
These symptoms of the family disease of alcoholism or other dysfunction made us 'co-victims', those who take on the characteristics of the disease without necessarily ever taking a drink. We learned to keep our feelings down as children and keep them buried as adults. As a result of this conditioning, we often confused love with pity, tending to love those we could rescue.
Even more self-defeating, we became addicted to excitement in all our affairs, preferring constant upset to workable solutions.

I can relate to many of these things, and now I'm wondering if this might have anything to do with my inability to make friends. I don't think I'd ever go to meetings like this, however.

Little man is crying, so until next time....

Birth Story Part II

Stage Two
My next contraction didn't feel any more intense like I thought it would; however, I still had that feeling like I had to push something out of me that second or I would die. It seems like everything after my water breaking took only about 30-45 minutes so things were really progressing fast. I was definitely very fortunate in that aspect. W. hadn't left my side since I entrenched myself on the bed with the "gottapoop" sensation, and after checking my cervix when my water broke, started paging the desk to get Dr. M. there immediately. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, which had reverted to lizard-stage to cope with the pressure, I understood that to mean that I was going to pop that baby out really soon. It seemed like my contractions were coming one right after the other but I think that was because I still wasn't relaxing very well between them. I asked for drugs (only once more and I'd get them) but only as a means of making Mark realize how much pain I was feeling; I knew that at this far along I wouldn't be allowed to get any of those fine narcotics because they'd affect the baby.

Finally, it seemed, Dr. M. came into the room and put on his scrubs. As soon as he had, he came over and fisted me as well, although I could've told him I was definitely ready to push. And push we did. Meaning I attempted to hold both of my legs up in the air, while simultaneously holding my breath, pushing, and hollering. I wasn't so good at it. In birth class, we had practiced but I never did it at home. I was great at hollering, which got me immediate chastisement from W., Dr. M, and Mark. So W. and Mark both pushed back on the legs while I did the pushing. I will never think constipation is hard ever again - pushing was defintely way more challenging. During one "rest" between contractions, I asked how big the head was and asked what my chances were that I would tear. I then told Dr. M. that I'd take my chances on tearing, knowing the baby was not a giant, and opted out of the episiotomy.

It seemed to take forever for the head to even get close to crowning, but I'm told that it happened after about three pushes. I was convinced that the baby was out by this point but instead was told that if I reached down I could feel the top of his head. I really didn't want to, but I did, only to feel this very weird sensation. It felt at first impression as if I has a few extra sets of labia, and then as though the entire Rocky Mountains were sticking out of my vagina but covered in hair. I'm assuming that was the skull plates all compressed. It wasn't thrilling in the least and all I wanted to do was get my baby out.

Birth
Two more pushes or so later, and the Manling was born. I didn't feel any sensation as he passed through the birth canal and out into the world as I thought I would, neither physical (except intense pressure) nor emotional. I think I was in shock - I've never had that intense pain before and I was too exhausted to even feel relief. I laid there just trying to get my breath back to normal to really even think any thoughts. I think I only acknowledged any of it by saying, "Don't forget to cut the cord, Mark." It wasn't until they wrapped the Manling up in a blanket and put him on my chest that I really understood that I had had a baby. And then I felt amazed at what had happened and started feeling some love towards this little person all my own.

10/3/2005
6 lbs 13.9 oz
18" long
12:32 p.m.

Afterbirth and other stuff
This next part is definitely not in any chronological order:
I had to get several stitches because I did indeed tear. Maybe 6 or 60.... some were at the perineum area and I also had a few on each side of my labia. I remembered hearing somewhere that it took a while until your body expels the placenta but I think immediately after the Manling was born and Mark cut the cord that Dr. M. pulled the placenta out by the cord. It was a delightfully non-pressure event and felt warm and painless. Mark says my memory of Dr. M. pulling it our hand over hand like pulling on a rope is wrong but that's how I experienced it. Dr. M. showed Mark all kinds of stuff about the placenta while I was lying there recouping and the Manling was getting checked out. I remember trying to look over and verify he had ten fingers and toes and genitals all in the right places and then just closing my eyes until they put him on me. Manling latched on right away and started breastfeeding and that was a relief. He had had an excellent Apgar score of 9.9. I could not believe I went through this whole process with no drugs. It was amazing to myself and to Mark. W. and Dr. M. also congratulated me for making it to my goal.

After some period of time I was allowed to get up and shower in that great Jacuzzi tub, even though I felt like Carrie from Steven King as I bled profusely everywhere. And then the fancy mesh panties to hold up the ungodly enormous menstrual pads - definitely very chic. I ate voraciously and then got moved to our recovery room, pushing the Manling's bassinet thing as I walked down the hall. I felt great, just very, very tired, and took a nap while Mark accompanied Manling to the nursery for his first bath. We spent that night in the hospital, feeding, changing the meconium- aka black tar-filled diapers, and in Mark's case getting hosed down. We were also interrupted about a thousand times by all the staff. When I woke up the next morning, I was dying to be released from the hospital , and we finally got the go ahead about 5:30p.m.

And that concludes my birth story. I am so thankful I had a healthy baby, a relatively uneventful pregnancy, and a complication-free and drug-free delivery.

Birth Story Part I

My due date was October 8th, and it was really accurate because I know when we conceived. The problem was: Mark and I were married October 5, 2002, and I was really concerned about sharing a birthday and an anniversary date. I know, I'm selfish, but I'd rather have the two separated by a few days. So October 1st came and went. I went to work that day, Saturday, but only stayed for two hours before

I went home.


Then Sunday October 2nd came. Mark was working, and after work I made
him go to a concert with his old colleague, and coincidentally, one of my managers, J., because it was his birthday and he had tickets to see System of A Down. I insisted Mark go because J.'s wife didn't want to go, and it was his birthday and all that. Plus, it was at the Pepsi Center, and was all ages so I figured he'd be home by 12:15 at the latest.

Mark told me when he got home: he met up with J. who was hammered, and they saw SOAD and Mars Volta. Mark had never heard of either of the two bands, and didn't really care for them. After the show, J. wanted to go to Shotgun Willie's, a local strip joint, and his friend, a manager there, comped their food and admission. Mark then said the manager was dressed up in an Evel Knieval a la "Matt Knieval" outfit and had a small 50cc dirtbike in the club. J. had told Mark it was a 250cc bike so Mark said he definitely had to go see this. This being: he was going to jump it off a ramp over a cookie sheet with flaming Matchbox cars on it - IN the club. The first time, Matt Knieval jumped over the tray, crashed the bike into a table, and fell over. The second attempt, he cleared the jump, did an endo, and then crashed it into a table. Mark said it was hysterical. They left after that debacle and Mark had to drive J. home to Parker, which is a suburb very far to the southeast. Due to T-REX construction on I-25, several of the on-ramps were closed so they had to drive all over hell and creation. Mark finally dropped J. off only to discover the northbound on-ramps were also closed. So he called me, lost in suburban hell and related his adventures as he navigated home.


Mark arrived at 2:30am and continued telling me about his night. I was rolling on the floor hysterically laughing. Finally, he finished the story and I told him that I had polished off the delicious salsa one of his associates had made us, and that my stomach felt funny. I had been having very, very mild contractions for a few weeks, with no regularity. I told him that I was having kind of regular contractions, and he told me it was probably due to the salsa and that we should go to bed. He had to work at eight and was already thinking he wouldn’t get enough sleep that night. I wasn’t in pain so I agreed.

Early Labor
At 4am, I woke up – not unusual for a nine month pregnant woman, right? Except this time, I felt these contractions. They were uncomfortable but not painful. I woke up Mark who tried to tell me it was the salsa again. I told him he was wrong and made him time some contractions which were only 30 seconds long and about 5-8 minutes apart. Then, he said, “Remember in birth class, they said to try to sleep until the contractions are one minute long, four minutes apart, for one hour.” I tried to go back to sleep, but the contractions went from uncomfortable to painful, and woke Mark up again. I felt like this was probably “it,” but was pretty calm.

Mark snoozed ‘til around 6am, when I made him time more contractions. They were about 30-50 seconds long and 3-6 minutes apart. We decided since I was in pain but not unbearable, that we’d wait ‘til 7am to call Dr. M., so I took a shower, drank water, and ate pineapple chunks, which were the only things that sounded appetizing to me. I also called my mom to let her know.

Actually, I took about three or four showers. The steam and water felt really, really good. I also spent a lot of time sitting on the toilet thinking I had to pee. Nope. But I did get the “bloody show,” and that really made me think this was the real deal. What was Mark doing? Snoozing intermittently.

Finally, it was 7am, and I made Mark call the doctor’s office. Of course, they opened at eight so I decided I would try to make it ‘til then. I was convinced I was just at 1 or 2cm dilation and at birth class they said to try to stay at home as long as you feel comfortable so you don’t get sent home as being not ready. I took a few more showers and the contractions held steady in duration and frequency but got worse in pain.

Active Labor
Eight o’clock came and Mark again called the doctor’s office. What he claims he told me at the time but I don’t remember, so I only “found out” last month, was that Dr. M. was off that day. All I knew was that a few minutes later, I was talking to Dr. M. and he told me I could go into the hospital.

I was, of course, packed, and had been for the 2+ weeks since the low amniotic fluid scare when I was convinced they were going to induce me immediately. We set off for the hospital using Mark’s chosen route, which I had finally admitted was quicker after seven months of squabbling. I sat in the back seat where I held on with white knuckles because by this point I was very, very uncomfortable.

We got to the hospital and to the Baby Place... that's what they call it, really, about 9:30am. There was a clan of people st the registration desk who seemed to be taking forever. By this point I really was overwhelmed with all kinds of thoughts:

• impending death - fetal or mine
• pain
• epidural causing paralysis
• c-section
• and oh my god I'm having a baby!!!!

So I started bawling. The wait just sent me over the edge and I was hysterical. The nurses took me into the triage/examination area where they did my blood pressure and attached fetal monitors and asked me a thousand questions that I tried to have Mark answer.

I finally calmed down and W., the delivery nurse tried to put in the IV attachment thing: heparin lock? I, hating needles, shut my eyes. She put the rubber hose around my left arm and told me it would "work better if I opened and closed blah blah blah" as I had another contraction. I thought she meant my eyes for some reason so I blinked copiously until we all realized I was not clenching my fist. That ridiculousness took the edge of my tension and I relaxed. But then after rooting around in my left arm for what felt like ever, the nurse told me I had bad veins. I had always thought I had good veins because they pop out like crazy all the time. Apparently, I have gaskets every half-inch or so and the IV needle wouldn't lie in properly. On to the right arm where I was gouged and failed to get it in again. On the third try, we had success.

W. then fisted me, I mean checked my cervix. Amazingly, I was at 6cm. This was great news to me because I had made it so far with no drugs. I told her that my biggest concern was to avoid the epidural, but that I might consider narcotics. And so I graduated to a labor and delivery room. I was so relieved that I had made it half way that I started taking note of my surroundings. The Baby Place delivery rooms are very posh. Hardwood floors, decorative drop ceilings, CD players, wood cabinets, baby warmers built into the walls, and other amenities, including a Jacuzzi. I hopped immediately into it.

The Jacuzzi represented another personal milestone for me. I wanted to use it to relieve my pain since I had heard such great things during birth class, and I knew I could only use it as long I wasn't hooked up to/on any medications. The massage action, the sound, the water pressure, the cool side of the tub for me to lay my face on, the grab bar to clench, all helped the contractions to go by without being unbearable. To pass the time, Mark fanned me and read from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire which we have been reading out-loud to each other forever now.

Transition
After about an hour and a half (11am?), I started to feel intense pressure like I had to poop or push something out of my nether regions. I knew from birth class that this meant active labor was over and that transition was starting, and in class the instructor stressed NOT to push. The contractions became unbearable and I clenched up my belly muscles, screamed and hollered, and felt just plain awful. Mark got W. who fisted me again. She said I had progressed to 8cm. I decided to get back into the Jacuzzi until I went insane or demanded drugs, whichever came first.

For a while longer (time ceasing to have meaning for me), I sat in the Jacuzzi and tried to listen to Mark read, but the pressure was really, really intense. I finally couldn't stand it and laid on the bed while Mark got the nurse. I knew at that point that I wasn't getting out of that bed again. I was still at 8cm, and this was a crushing blow. How could I have stopped?!? W. explained she could break my amniotic sac and that would probably make me progress, but I told her no, knowing that the contractions would get even more intense. I knew I wouldn't be able to hold out from serious drugs if it got much worse.

I laid there, suffering, and couldn't get myself to relax between contractions because I was so tense from the effort not to push. I asked for drugs for the first time - I made Mark promise me I had to ask for drugs three times before I could get them, just like Susan & Steve in Coupling. W. told me to "go with it" and bear down to see if that would make my PUSH! feeling ease up. I bore down with the next contraction when whoosh! My water bag finally broke and spewed everywhere. It seriously was like someone had broken a water balloon from inside my vagina: same popping sound, same enormous amount of water, same amazed look on both Mark and my faces. It's good thing I had been covered by a sheet or else the fluid probably would've hit the wall on the other side of the room... seriously. W. fisted me yet again, causing the usual enormous amount of pain, but the good news was that I was at 10cm!!!!

First time always hurts

So I finally did it; created the blog. I'm such a procrastinator, and I wanted to make a record of my memories of my son since he was born. The first week went by, then the first month, then two, then three. Finally it was New Year's Day, and although I don't make resolutions... I mean, honestly, who keeps them?... he had passed the 90 day mark. Somehow it's six days later but I did it. Riveting stuff, eh?

From the beginning:
My pregnancy was pretty uneventful. We always joked that 2005 was the Year We'd Make Babies. January came and during my estimated ovulation time, we did the deed, for what I felt was merely practice. About a week later, I peed on the stick test just to see if we'd conceived, though I was sure we hadn't. I mean, besides "oops!" pregnancies, who ever gets pregnant right away? At least that's what I thought. The test was negative so I smugly told Mark he was shooting blanks. I was honestly relieved because I really wasn't sure if I was ready for kids yet.

But I started feeling strange. I had this weird metallic taste in my mouth all the time, and when we'd go out to bars, I'd have A (as in one) beer which I couldn't finish because it tasted odd. Mark and I were supposed to have a long weekend off together (we both worked retail so that was a rarity) but someone else had taken it off at his work so he couldn't. I finally decided to fly back to Pennsylvania (PA) for my stepfather's surprise 60th birthday party. I talked to my mom one day on the way home from work, and she said she had told Lee (SF) I was coming home because I was going to tell them I was pregnant. She didn't know about 2005 being the Year of the Baby-making, and I had had that negative test so I just laughed. When I got home, since I had to pee really bad, and I still hadn't gotten my period (but I wasn't worried since I'm not too regular), I peed on test #2 and set it to the side. I was thinking just in case I was pregnant I didn't want to go back East and tear it up with all my friends from college. I finished up and picked up the test, expecting it to be negative. Well, it wasn't. I looked at the double pink lines and thought, "oh. wow. hmm. look at that," in a state of disbelief almost while everything fell into place.

Telling them:
I yelled for Mark to come into the bathroom, handed him the test, and said, "what do you think that is?" Keep in mind I hadn't told him I was taking another test, and did have a negative one already. But he says, "I don't know.... a toothbrush?" That totally took the shock away from me and I started laughing. He explained later that since I was leaving for PA the next day he thought I had gotten a travel toothbrush. We, of course, were ecstatic, and a little sad I was leaving for the weekend. That's me; impeccable timing.

I went to PA and ended up throwing up all over things in front of my parents right before the party. They kept giving each other significant looks that I missed because I was vomiting. At the party, which was a surprise, I spilled my guts; both literally and my secret. Everyone was surprised after all. And I ended up not having morning sickness but a very violent double-ended stomach virus.

The First Trimester:

• Cranky
• Pukey
• Big swollen boobs
• Bad taste in mouth
• Started looking at names- baby provisionally called Cletus the Fetus
  

No great anecdotes. Well, no funny ones.
Some memorable ones: Mark got to see my cervix, and cried when we first heard the heartbeat. I, of course, remained stoic.

The Second Trimester:

• Still cranky
• Big swollen boobs being met by swollen stomach
• Depression over not fitting into my clothes anymore
• Pukey through 4th month
  

Highlights:

• 17week Ultrasound: showed a human not an alien!!! We chose not to find out the gender.

• PA Baby Shower: lots of friends, relatives, and loot!!!! Plus my friend Eve did this crazy New Age pendulum thing over my belly and predicted a boy. I was pretty convinced I was having a girl, but my dreams at night were always of a boy.

• Blood test: for Down's etc showed little risk!!!! I was a bit worried about that, and was a nightmare the week between the test and the results.

• Birthday: turning 30 wasn't so painful because I felt miserably pregnant and that took my mind off of it. Plus I got some fancy diamond stud earrings. Bling!

The Third Trimester

• Fat
• Crankiest
• Hot as Hell
• Insanity struck and I began to play XBox
• Insomnia
  

Highlights

• Bathroom Remodel: still not done yet but slowly coming along

• Birth Class: we thought this would be a nightmare, but instead we loved it!!!! Janet Grabe taught us and 9 other miserably pregnant couples all sorts of pain mitigation techniques and loads of information about labor and delivery. We love Janet. She's a doula and I would highly recommend her. Not only that, but we actually like two of our Birth Class couples.

• Jesse Dayton: played at Benders Tavern and I waddled out to see him. He talked to Mark and I after the show and rubbed my belly like a Buddha.

• My Mom Visited: we had a great time and went to a Chili Festival and saw the Railbenders.

• Bad News: the doc said I looked pretty small for my gestational age at 35-36 weeks. I thought he was nuts since I gained almost 40 lbs. He sent me for an ultrasound to measure my amniotic fluid.

• Ultrasound #2: Since I had been running around with my mom and not drinking enough water (Hello- no water in means no 300 zillion trips to the can to let it out. I'm not dumb. Or so I had thought.) I did indeed have low amniotic fluid. Which meant:
  

• Bed Rest and freak out: for a week while I guzzled water, lay on the couch, watched movies, sweated, and played XBox. No work was awesome but staying still was intolerable. A week later:

• Ultrasound #2 cont: I had told the technician "we hadn't found out the gender at our earlier scan, but if we (meaning Mark or I) saw anything today, it was ok." WE did not include the technician, who before we knew it, told us we were having a boy. The waterworks went on again with Mark. My first reaction: "oh no, TUBESOCKS" aka the bane of my existence. I didn't mind knowing by that far along in the game, and we kept it under wraps from most people. At least we could work more on the name.

• Fetal Stress Test: a week more of low-key activity and then back to the hospital where we passed this test with flying colors.

That's enough for now- it brings us up to October- the Month Where Shit Went Down.