Saturday, April 30, 2016

It Wasn't Supposed to Happen Like This

Well here we are. I never did make it to my afternoon work meetings the other day. Nope. Instead, I (we) am full of IV drips, dosed with what I think can only be a borderline legal amount of magnesium and steroids, and attached to a bajillion monitors. Me and him, him and me. We are in this together. My last words as I left my office Thursday morning. Be back in a couple hours! Schovillova out. OK, not that last part, but I'm fairly confident that was part of my inner dialogue. 

What the fuck. How did I get here? A measly 28 weeks and now 6 days pregnant and my cervix decides it's done with the whole cooking the baby thing. In the words of the world's best OBGYN, I have a shit cervix. What a shit head that cervix of mine is. At least it gave me until 34 weeks before my first sweet little person came upon the Schovillova scene. But this. I wasn't prepared for this. Who can prepare for this? I went into the world's best OBGYN's office for a check up and it went something like this:

WBO: So, how are you feeling? 
Me: (Auto tears) I feel weird. Low back pain, lots of it. And my stomach keeps tightening. 
WBO: Does your stomach tighten when your back pains happens? 
Me: Yeah, but just in one area. It bulges out every once in a while. (Yes, in hind sight I am slapping the hell out of me)
WBO: (totally calm and cool because she is the calmest and coolest cat) Well let's just take a look... (takes a look) Uh huh. OK, here's what's going to happen now. (again, totally calm and cool this cat, she could have rattled off her Christmas list, I wound't have been surprised. But I was surprised.) We're going to go ahead and check you in. 
Me: Check me into what?
WBO: Into the hospital. You are fully effaced and 2 cm dilated. 

For those of you not in the know. The term 'fully effaced' means paper thin. Means ready to drop. Like there's absolutely nothing holding that bad boy in and up. 

Me: Does this mean I won't be back for my meetings this afternoon? 
WBO: You won't be back for a meeting for.. quite some time. 

Side note: when I got to work Thursdsy morning with all the back pain the only thing that occurred to me was that perhaps I should stop wearing high heels. Yep. 

So here I am. Monitors for me and the little human male in my womb who is trying to escape. The magnesium makes me feel buzzed and numb and so fucking hot (as in over heated as in Texas in July). I can't walk a straight line and I have to call a nurse every hour to help me hobble to the bathroom every freaking hour. In the meantime I stave off a panic attack/nervous breakdown when I'm left to consider the worst case scenarios of our actual situation. Of his actual situation. 28 and 6 now. Not good but not the worst. I actually called the neonatologist (perhaps the kindest human I've ever met but oh so serious and severe, rightly so) out for being 'a downer'. 

I'm such an asshole sometimes but it was either that or it was collapsing to the ground and curling into fetal. He did an excellent job at painting the most realistic/horrific picture of  'Here's what we're looking at folks' for xx weeks. Current goal, keep me drugged and dosed to make it to 29 weeks on Sunday. Ideally 32 weeks would help us rule out a lot of complications. One day at a time. And for the love, do not Google this shit. For once in my life, I am not remotely tempted to Google this shit. 

My sweet perfect little came to visit today. I hadn't seen her in 2 days and I bawled like a baby when my in-laws brought her in. I missed her terribly and mourned the fact that she was (all too soon) about to not be my baby. My sweet little. I at least remembered to hide the wires so she didn't lose her shit completely. I was already doing that enough for the both of us. Oh sweet A. 

So here I am and here we are. Tick tock you guys. I need a few more weeks. He needs a few more weeks. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. 


Saturday, April 23, 2016

That time when Target did something awesome and then people turned into assholes.

Last week Target released an inclusive bathroom policy that allows people to use whichever restroom they identify with. In other words, transgender friendly. And not surprisingly but always surprisingly, the human race turned out in masses to protest, fearing that the lives and virtue of mothers and daughters nation-wide were now at risk. Target has given free reign to creepy predators to dress in women's clothing and walk in to any Target restroom without fear of repercussion. And what will they do once inside these restrooms? Well they will undoubtedly pray on our women and daughter folk of course. Yes, that is the argument and yes this is the 21st century.

Because that is where the predators go. Predators have been laying in wait apparently for the day to come when the skies rained free passes to stalk people in restrooms. Because they're not doing that already? Because it doesn't already happen in men's restrooms too? Sadly what people are failing to remember/realize is that almost all predators never have been and never will be found inside restrooms and that 75% of predators are actually people we know. You know. I know. Our kids know. They're not cross dressing and lurking in the shadows. They are in our families, neighborhoods, and classrooms. And while 1 in 4 girls will be targeted at some point in their lives, it is also 1 in 6 boys that will be targeted and the predators don't just have penises, but they have vaginas too!

So it's not about the restrooms at all. It's about continuing to deny basic civil rights - human rights - to our fellow men and women. It's about using fear as an excuse to be a total asshole. Why not let people go to the freaking bathroom in the same facility as people with whom they most closely identify? Instead people feel much better about showing their own children that discrimination is OK and that it is OK to fear and judge that which they do not understand.

Target's bold move was meant to send a strong message while some conservative governors recently signed legislation to allow individuals and institutions with religious objections to deny service to gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, and transgender people.  We need more bold moves like Target. We need more companies and politicians to show our youth that being different is OK, it doesn't make you a predator or a person to be feared until you do something to someone that is predatory or fearful.

I'd like to say that by the time the little human person is 10 years of age she won't have to see headlines about people being discriminated against due to their sexual orientation or gender identity. Who knows what hers will be? But then it was only 8 years ago when Proposition 8 was being disputed in California and even though 7 years later the Supreme Court legalized same sex marriage, we are still fighting battles against organizations and institutions that have also been given a pass to refuse service of any kind to those groups. As fast as laws are being created to include all the humans, just as many are being passed to discriminate and ironically, it's the people who rally to discriminate that I start to fear, rather than those being discriminated against.


Friday, April 8, 2016

Boy Oh Boy.

So the universe has spoken and decided to give us a baby boy who is currently living large in my belly. A boy. I totally called it from the beginning, only Special K was surprised. I've never seen my myself with a son. Always a daughter. What do I do with a boy?? I admit, I'm anxious about it. Girls I can navigate. Girls I can relate to. Girls I can dress and teach about hygiene and anticipate the teen angst that goes along with being an adolescent female. Ah, the angst. But a boy? Yeesh. I'm excited to feel the connection of a son. I see the father daughter connection of Special K and Adelaide and I love it and sometimes envy it. Will I have that with my son? My son who kicks all day and night in my belly, always reminding us that yes, he is real and it is happening guys.

Yes, I know and apparently sometimes forget that Special K will also be there to show our son - our son - the ins and outs of being a boy, a male in this world. Of the hygiene and the angst - do boys even have angst? Surely they must. Will I like his girlfriends? Will I be nice to them and warm? Or will I be nice with just enough coldness to let them know I know what they're up to. That I've got my eye on them with one eyebrow raised. In hindsight I forgive and empathize with the moms of my past boyfriends who, I felt, never really liked me or trusted me with their sons. I get it now and my son is not even out of my womb. Yes, these are the things I think about.

I'm not old but I'm older than I thought I'd be when I started bringing little people of our own into the universe. Not for lack of trying, just a different timeline and I'm OK with that. I think. I But I do worry. I worry that I may not have the energy necessary for a boy. Will I be able to keep up? Will I still be fun practicing soccer drills and going to the park and running around and climbing trees? Will I be expected to climb trees? What will that look like? These are the things I think about. We'll figure it out, of course we will.

I never imagined myself with a son, but I'm starting to. And as much as it scares the shit out of me, it excites me just the same. Boy oh boy we are in for it.