26 March: Genetic Testing (Jen)
It's strange to live, much less be pregnant, in an age with so much knowledge and so many options. You have to make decisions like "if we find out that the baby will have X (a problem), will we kill it immediately? Or will we hope that some medical procedure can cure it while in my womb?" Had my parents known that I would have a partially-clubbed foot, a shortened achilles tendon, and several bouts with pneumonia in my first year, would they have decided to just kill me and start over again with a clean slate? What if Ben's parents had known that his shoulders would be so broad that it would be impossible for him to pass through his mother's vagina? Ben and I just made the decision -- we actually didn't feel like we could have decided any other way -- to deliver our child no matter what we find in terms of genetic disorders. Furthermore, we've decided not to have the "Second Trimester Maternal Serum Screen" (aka "the Triple Screen") which would be totally covered by our Provincial healthcare. The Maternal Serum Screen estimates a mother's chances of having a baby with: Down Syndrome, Open Spina Bifida, and/or Trisomy 18. This was, strangely enough, a difficult decision for us. Ben is only interested in knowing of afflictions which would endanger my life, or are certain to end the baby's life before or at birth. I am, well, puzzled. I agree with Ben, that if delivering the child would pose a serious threat to my health, it might be best not to go through with it. But I'm not sure how "serious" the threat would have to be... and I certainly don't want to go through any more pregnancy discomfort than is "necessary." It just doesn't seem right to be able to choose not to carry our baby anymore -- no matter the reason.
12 March: Some things I don't recommend. (Jen)
I've tried all of these in succession, and they have very bad consequences. Trust me; don't do them. 1] Get your nose pierced after having had only a venti americano for breakfast, when you're three weeks pregnant (this may cause you to faint -- twice, making awful seizure-like movements for your frightened husband and the piercer who has never seen anyone faint before). 2] For the next 2.5 months, continue trying to pick your nose, including the nostril which is trying to heal from the recent piercing. 3] Scratch the healing hole in your nose in the early morning (around 5:45 am), causing your nose ring stud to fall out of your nose and on to your pillow. Especially don't do this 3 days before 2 of your husband's term papers are due. 4] If you happen to do this, don't yell an obscenity and then turn on the bedroom light, walk to the mirror on the wall, and try to put the stud back into your nose. This may cause your husband some alarm (after which he will be unable to sleep and will just have to start his day 2 hours earlier than usual) and recall that putting that stud through your nose without having breakfast was a bad idea the first time you tried it. You just might feel faint, lay on the floor on your back (the supine!), and stay that way for at least 20 minutes, while your husband tries to coax (and assist) you back into bed, which, in retrospect, will seem as safe an option as the floor, but in the moment, the thought of moving will be abhorrent as you try to fight the desire to give up and just pass out. 5] Don't go through the whole day trying to ignore the empty hole in your nose, wishing that your husband would just take you by surprise and thrust the stud back into its hole before you have time to faint. It won't happen like that (especially if your husband treasures your trust), and giving the hole all day to heal creates a no-win for when you want to put the stud back in at night. 6] Don't ask your husband to just put it back in as you're going to bed at 12:30 am. It's not as simple as "put it back in" and if he's tired and you're tired, you're just courting disaster. Plus, it's not nice or smart to ask the one who loves you more than anything to thrust a blunt object into a healed hole, causing you to bleed and potentially causing the stuff of his nightmares -- spasmodic fainting. Nor is it nice to moan and yell and let your body shake with the pain he's causing you. Oh, and don't ask to squeeze your cute little lamby stuffed animal and make it look like you're trying to rip its head off. 7] Finally, don't stop him in the middle to ask him to take a tic-tac, insist that he give you a break while the stud is about half-way in, and then insist that he try again, after your nostril has been swelling for about 20 minutes. If you do this, you're likely to just give up around 2 am because you can't handle the pain anymore. And then you and your exhausted husband will have to try to find a way to sleep after all that trauma and your rejection of him. In short, just wait until after the pregnancy to pierce anything, and never ask your husband to re-pierce your nose without a sharp piercing implement. Just never ask him to cause you that much pain; it's not fair.
05 March: Avoiding the supine, and other vocab words. (Jen)
First of all, does anyone ever use the word "layette"? I, for one, had never heard it until I started reading about preparing for babies. I googled it and found: A layette is a collection of clothing for a newborn child. The term "layette set" is commonly used in the United States to refer to gift sets of baby clothes. Nice; one down, many to go. At our last visit, our midwives gave us a large manila envelope of info pertinent to pregnancy. One of the booklets is about pre-natal fitness and yoga. This booklet, as well as many other books and websites, warns not to do anything in the "supine position". Why not? Well, it's the vena cava. Well, that's really helpful, ain't it? Oh, and when you sleep, you want to avoid the supine, as well. Same reason. I kept trying to make sense of these warnings without actually looking up the definition of the word -- surely, eventually, I'd be able to guess it from context. Nope. So Ben googled it: lying on the back; antonym: prone. What a fancy word for such a boring thing! Now, the vena cava... I got out our copy of Gray's Anatomy and did lots of reading (and looking at pictures). Wow. I think most of the knowledge in that book was gained from dissecting cadavers -- most of the illustrations show where the skin was folded back or cut open in order to reveal the organs studied. It's cool and creepy at the same time -- were some of those bodies illegally dug-up way back when?
Anyway, more of Gray's Anatomy to come. Until then, the (inferior) vena cava. This is a major vein (it carries de-oxygenated blood back to the heart) which runs parallel to and just inside the spine, or "vertebral column". It is primarily on the right side, I guess, so pregnant women are supposed to lay -- and try to sleep -- on the left side. Under Pathologies associated with the IVC, Wikipedia says "unconscious pregnant females should be turned on to their left side (the recovery position), to relieve pressure on it and facilitate venous return. In rare cases, straining associated with defecation can lead to restricted blood flow through the IVC and result in syncope (fainting). Occlusion of the IVC is rare, but considered life-threatening and is an emergency." Well, there are a lot of vocab words in that short snippet, but it's time for me to head to bed, where I'll avoid the supine (this might explain why I sometimes wake up with my hands or arms asleep, I guess. Good thing I now know what to avoid.). But now you know, if you find an unconscious pregnant woman in the supine position -- especially if she's on the floor in the bathroom stall next to you -- just turn her on to her left side and maybe consider dialing 9-1-1 if she doesn't seem to wake up after a reasonable time. Her enlarged womb probably just occluded her inferior vena cava, which blocked the flow of de-oxygenated blood from her lower body (and her babe) back up to her heart. Maybe, if turning her to her left side doesn't work, you should try elevating her legs above her heart -- but don't put her in the supine just to do that...
03 March: Lent, Advent, pregnancy, and weighting. (Jen)
Now that we're a good way through Lent, I'll finally write down some of what I've been thinking about: Lent, Advent, and Pregnancy are (lengthy!) times for preparation, learning to wait, and strengthening our desire for deliverance. In them, we realize that we cannot and do not will to do what we ought. We are too weak. In short, we need to be delivered. That word, delivery, is pregnant with meaning. Forgive the puns, but the more I read these words, the more I love them -- how fruitful their usage might be, if we only knew them! I used to think of "being delivered" only in the sense of needing "to be delivered from our sins." This limited understanding has really impoverished my readings of Scripture, of poetry, and what happens in human reproduction. In September, when I (hopefully!) deliver, I will not only be delivered of a heavy burden, but I will deliver to my eager husband and family another one of them. I will deliver to the earth its priest. As Creation moans to be delivered, I will deliver one to it whose vocation is to voice Creation's praise of its Creator. My prayer is that our son (yes, we both want a son really badly!!) or daughter will grow in love of our Deliverer, that his life will be a long Advent in which he prepares himself and Christ's bride, learns faithful patience, and desires more than anything else to behold the beauty of the Lord. Ben and I (and our family and friends!) are now one-third of the way through the waiting, and there are clues all over and in me that our waiting is not in vain -- there will be a child. Father, make us ready for our delivery. Make these next 6 months fruitful. And may Your kingdom come soon! Amen.
A week after we found out we were pregnant, I started weighing myself every two weeks. That was Week 6. Now that we're into Week 12, I decided to weigh myself this morning. I've lost half a pound. How is this possible?! My body is, in all ways, larger than it has ever been before. And Ben and I have started taking long evening strolls together at least 5 nights a week. I don't think the walks can account for my weight loss, but at least they might mean that my weight loss isn't due to muscle loss...? For the first time in... well, at least ten years, I've stared eating buttered toast every morning; I've been consuming at least one avocado per day; I just finished a 750-gram container of "Mediterranean" style yogurt (18g of fat/serving); we eat homemade pizza at least once a week; and I try to eat not only when I'm hungry, but when I think I should be hungry! I guess I am doing a lot of work making this baby, and making my body bigger...? Maybe it's all the water I've been drinking lately...
02 March: The Churching of Women. (Jen)
Ben just read to me from his 1899 (or earlier) copy of the Anglican Book of Common Prayer. On page 321, just after spelling out the service for "The Burial of The Dead", it spells out the service for "The Thanksgiving of Women After Child-birth; commonly called The Churching of Women." It begins:
The Woman, at the usual time after her Delivery, shall come into the Church decently apparelled, and there shall kneel down in some convenient place, as hath been accustomed, or as the Ordinary shall direct: And then the Priest say unto her,
Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of his goodness to give you safe deliverance, and hath preserved you in the great danger of Child-birth; you shall therefore give hearty thanks unto God, and say, ...
What follows is the 116th Psalm, about God delivering the one who calls upon Him in danger, and the 127th Psalm, about God the Father as the ultimate home-builder, protector, and provider. The 127th is the one often quoted about children being a blessing and a gift from the Lord. It's beautiful. What beautiful Psalms to recite as the new mother rejoins the Body of Believers! Then the minister prays: O Lord, save this woman thy servant; Who putteth her trust in thee. Be thou to her a strong tower; From the face of her enemy. Lord, hear our prayer. And let our cry come unto thee. Wow! I'd love for our priest to lead me in this. What a rich heritage we have! And what an honoring of child-birth and delivery. It is a holy mystery.