Goddamnittohell

Three days ago I finished proofreading a 530-page book. Before shipping it back to the publisher, I thought, "I should make a copy of this in case it gets lost in the mail so I won't have to re-do three weeks' worth of work. Naw, that'll cost like forty bucks. UPS is great--they never lose anything."

I just checked the tracking info to make sure it arrived safe and sound. The UPS website said, "Tracking number not found. We have no record of receiving this package."

Oh dear God.

Ever Punch Yourself in the Face by Accident?

You know what totally chaps my ass? When you'd falling asleep, and you're all relaxed and starting to drift off, and maybe you're thinking about George Clooney naked (or perhaps Rosemary Clooney, if she's more to your taste), and anyway, you're almost asleep, and then...

WHAP!

You have one of those weird muscle spasms, and your arm totally flies up and smacks you right in the face. Damn! Then you're totally awake and your face hurts and instead of George Clooney, all you can think about is the fact that you just hit yourself in the freaking face, and how lame is that?

But you know what's lamer? When all of the above happens, but instead of smacking yourself, you smack YOUR WIFE. In the face. While you're sleeping. And you continue to sleep, while she is lying there, sore face and all, reflecting on the fact that George Clooney totally wouldn't do that to her if they were sleeping together.

The Return of Fun Search Terms

How about these recent entries?

love armpits
Ah, the armpit lovers are back. At least they aren't looking for Julia Roberts's armpits this time--I know my armpits aren't as gorgeous as hers, but I like them anyway.

eels in her
Okay, this one I don't get. I mean, I think eels and German Shepards are as sexy as the next crazy fetishist, I just don't get why I'm coming up on this search. Do I really write about eels that much?

survey folder vs. wadder toilet paper
This one came from someone at Texas A&M University. What are they teaching you folks down there?

I want to have a miscarriage
What, like, for fun?
But seriously, if you're pregnant and don't want to be, please, please do not attempt to induce a miscarriage. It's very dangerous. Go here and get help from a doctor.

What the Hell Was I Thinking?

Holy shit. I just gave the address of this blog to my ex-boyfriend, who reappeared out of nowhere after losing touch with me five years ago. (You know who you are. Hi! Please don't think I'm insane!) What was I thinking?

This is a guy who used to see me naked when I was 19 years old and had an absolutely perfect body. (Don't laugh, I did--you forget that I met that crazy girlfriend of yours. I was totally hotter than her.) Now he's going to be able to read about vomit, labioplasty, and lactation. Nice. (Hi, you! Thanks for visiting! Feel free to visit the archives, and please ignore the gross parts!)

You Know You're a Parent When You Have This Conversation

Me: You're never going to believe the incredible poop the Princess made today! It was bigger than she is!

The King: Wow! I wish I had been there to see it.

Me: Don't worry, I took a picture of it for you.

Sorrow

I thought I was being all funny and cool with my last post, and then I went and visited Cancer, Baby's blog, which I haven't checked out in quite a while. And found this. And now I don't know what to say.

I want it not to be true. I want some wonderful new drug to be used that will fix everything, and let her and her husband have a long, happy life together. I want it to be okay.

But she may not want that. She may be ready. And if she is, I hope that it is quiet, and peaceful, and holding her husband's hand. And I hope that all the children they never got to have, and wanted so much, are waiting to meet her.

Breastfeeding 101: For Cecily and Everyone Else Who Is Afraid of La Leche League

The following steps will get you on your way to a happy and healthy breastfeeding relationship with your darling new BAY-BEE!

Step 1: Stop thinking of it as a relationship. The kid doesn't have relationships; it just doesn't want to starve to death. Also, do not put that "I make milk--What's your superpower?" blinkie on your website. I make urine; does that make me a superhero?

Step 2: Immediately after the birth, hold the baby completely horizontally, parallel to the floor, with her stomach against you and her ear, shoulder, and hip aligned. When properly positioned, she will not gaze into your eyes for any sort of mystical bonding. She will be looking directly into your armpit and will bond with the stubble you have been too tired to shave for three weeks.

Step 3: Hold the baby with one arm and grab your breast with the other. Drag your nipple down the baby's face, from her nose down to her lower lip. This will hopefully cause her to open her mouth, and will also pull her lower lip into a flanged position, which is good. When baby opens her mouth, stick your boob in it.

Step 4: At this point, nothing whatsoever will happen.

Step 5: Keep repeating Steps 1 through 3. Hopefully, about 24 hours after birth, the baby will get the idea and will grab onto your nipple and start sucking. When she does, try to keep perfectly still and don't screw her up or scare her by cheering, or you will be in a world of hurt.

Step 6: After the baby finishes eating, smear Lansinoh (or any other lanolin cream) on your nipple. Every single time. And use a lot of it--don't be shy. It will keep your nipples from doing any horrifying cracking/bleeding/other terrifying bad things. Trust me. Every time.

Step 7: Repeat Steps 1 through 6 every hour for the next six months.

That's it--you're a breastfeeding expert. It's really not so bad. Mostly, it's just really boring. Eventually you'll figure out how to read a book while breastfeeding. As long as you don't crack the kid in the head with the book, he or she probably won't mind. Good luck!

________
Edited to add: I love the LLL meetings in my town and highly recommend them to anyone. But if you've had eleventy-nine miscarriages or other infertility horrors and are afraid to do any sort of baby preparation before the actual baby arrives, wait and go to a meeting after the birth. Seriously, it won't make that much of a difference.

Did You Know...

...that diaper-rash cream is made of zinc oxide? That means it's basically sunscreen for your ass. That information could come in handy if I ever run out of Banana Boat.

Speak the Truth, Samuel

I love my country always, and my government when it deserves it.

--Mark Twain

I Should Have Been a Boy Scout

If you really need one, those nursing pads that go in your bra make great beer coasters.

You Can Pick Your Friends, and You Can Pick Your Nose, But...

You can't pick your baby's nose. The Princess has a huge booger stuck up her schnozz, and I can't get it out. It's a problem of the size differential between my finger and her tiny nostril. The only thing would be for her to get it out herself, but unfortunately, she's not coordinated enough to pick her own nose yet. Which means the scary, nose-sucking, medieval torture device. I hate that thing.

[tap tap tap] Erm, Is This Thing On?

So, yeah, I'm not dead. I've just been very absent for like, five months. (Five months? Can that be right?) The thing is, I had a baby.

Did you hear that? A BAY-BEE! Me! I had one!

The little princess arrived February 1 after 28 horrendous and agonizing hours of labor, and all my Bradley-Lamaze-Zen preparation be damned, after 20 of those hours, I got me the greatest epidural ever and managed to survive the big shot of Pitocin that was needed to turn my crappy contractions into decent ones. You see, after 11 hours of 5-minute-apart contractions, I graduated to 9 hours of horrific, scream-inducing contractions 2 minutes apart, which got me to a grand total of TWO CENTIMETERS DILATED. That was enough fun for me. Drugs, please.

So, that's why I've been gone. I am now the proud owner of a 3-week-and-1-day-old baby who is absolutely gorgeous despite the baby acne that makes her look like a 12-year-old boy with a penchant for McDonalds and who mercifully seems to be learning the difference between day and night, and which one of them requires you to be awake and screaming, and which requires you to lay quietly for at least three hours, I hope.

Coolest Legislator Ever

I sent out fourteen e-mails to members of Indiana's Senate yesterday regarding Patricia Miller's horrifying ART bill. Immediately afterward, I learned that Sen. Miller has withdrawn the bill. Oops. And yay! Although I was a bit embarrassed to have e-mailed all those folks for no reason, I got this lovely e-mail back from one of them:

Dear Queenie:

Thank you for your comments regarding State Senator Pat Miller's (Republican, Indianapolis) proposed legislation to establish a process by which some pregnancies would have to be authorized by the state. As you can imagine, it raised many concerns about the appropriate role of government in our lives.

As a member of the Health Finance Commission, I would have voted against this proposal. Thankfully, because of the public outcry over Senator Miller's legislation, she announced that she has withdrawn this proposed legislation from consideration. I want to personally thank you for your interest and your involvement in this important issue. I will monitor this subject closely during the upcoming legislative session in case this bill comes back in some other form.

--Senator Vi Simpson, Senate District 40

Oh, the Horror

I know I've been out of touch for a while, but things have been going along fairly smoothly on the baby front, except for the 18,000 DBTs* I had when the baby stopped moving suddenly and didn't start again for 36 hours. But all is well now.
And now I need your help. Go here and read about the horrifying new law proposed in Indiana that would ensure that no single person or homosexual person will be able to use ART to have a child. It will also require married couples needing donor sperm or eggs, or a gestational surrogate, to provide proof of their "individual participation in faith-based or church activities" to prove that they deserve to have a baby.

One of Julie's brilliant commenters, Amy E, pointed out that this law would have prevented Jesus's birth, because Mary and Joseph weren't married. Ha. You can contact State Senator Miller, the lovely author of this insanity, here. Click the "to get a list of all Indiana elected representatives" button and you should be able to find her.

Updated to include:
I just found this at Susan's In a Holding Pattern blog. Thank you, Susan...

You can contact Senator Miller directly at (317) 232-9489 or s32@in.gov. But do use the link above to contact other Indiana representatives--as I understand it, this bill has already been introduced to the general assembly, which means we need all of them to know that we want them to oppose it.

Also, from Susan, "If you live in Indiana, the next meeting of the Health Finance Commission will be held at the Statehouse on October 20, 2005 at 10 am in Senate Chambers and is open to the public." Please go!

___________
* Dead baby thoughts.

Fun with Sound Waves

Drumroll, please...



It's a GIRL!!

We had the big ultrasound yesterday, and the little fetus was happily showing off all her stuff--she's very definitely a girl. I could tell before the tech even said anything. There was a tech-in-training who sat in on the ultrasound and seemed completely incapable of telling what sex the baby was, which was a little scary. I pity the poor parents who get her during her first few years of work.

The baby looked very healthy, if a bit skeletal. All her little ribs and femurs showed up bright and clear on the scan, and her face shot was absolutely terrifying--it looked like a tiny, dead skull. But she definitely isn't dead--she was wiggling and waving her little arms around like a mad woman. Which could have had something to do with the three Reese's Peanut Butter Cups I ate just before the exam.

The whole scan was amazing. The King was holding my hand so hard it hurt--I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. I cried. It was incredible.

WWM: The Competition Begins

Yesterday night, I thought I felt the baby moving. It's still very faint, so I held my breath and held very still to make it easier to feel. After several minutes of nothing happening, I realized that DEPRIVING THE BABY OF OXYGEN probably wasn't the best idea in the world for making it move around. I probably kept it from developing like five million brain cells. Now, if it can't ever learn the times tables, I'll know why.

I'm the World's Worst Mother, and the kid won't even be born for another five months. Now that's an accomplishment.

What Do You Think?

Will I go to hell if my child's first word is crapass?

Does This Sound Right to You?

The following is a snippet from a CNN article on Saturday morning:

"The Federal Emergency Management Agency worked to get the word out Saturday to victims of Hurricane Katrina that a program offering them $2,000 debit cards is quickly coming to an end.

FEMA said evacuees instead may receive $2,000 through direct deposits to their banks or through mailed checks. Families could apply online at www.fema.gov or over the phone.

People who have found accommodations are not eligible for them, however."

Um, how exactly is that going to work? Direct deposits don't sound too bad, providing the victim wasn't using a local New Orleans bank that doesn't exist anymore. And mailed checks? Um, mailed to where? And they're supposed to apply online? With the computer they presumably carried with them when they fled the city, I suppose. Because they were all rich enough to own a computer, of course. Because everyone is, just like you are, Mr. FEMA Director.

And people who have found accommodations--that is, the only people who actually might have regular access to a phone or computer--can't apply for them.

Seriously, am I the only person who is confused?

Go Read This

Go read this post about Katrina. And then, go visit Cecily, one of my most favorite bloggers ever and a complete genius, and read this and this. Not only is Cecily amazing and poetic and brilliantly well-spoken, but her commenters raise incredibly informative debates practically every day.

More real posts soon, I promise. But I just had to pass on the word about these great ones. And in the meantime, thank you so much for your concern about the scary contractions. They have mostly stopped, thank God (which momentarily convinced me that the baby was dead, but I've more or less talked myself out of that at this point), and hopefully won't start up again for many weeks.

From Sore Ass to Funky Stomach

I haven't posted lately because, although the enormous pain in my ass has mostly cleared up, for several days I've been having Braxton-Hicks contractions. I'm only having a few a day, so I'm trying not to worry. My nurse-practitioner was completely unconcerned on the phone, so I haven't gone to the ER about them, but it's definitely odd. I'm only 18 weeks along today, and they don't normally start until at least 20 weeks, or even much later, in first pregnancies. I'm trying not to think the words "preterm labor," "bed rest," or "premature stillbirth" at this point, although it's hard.