I don't know how I've failed to mention it here before (oh yes, it must be that damned self-centeredness again), but my best friend, she of the baby showers and baptism bonnets, is pregnant again. She's having a boy. She's 20 weeks along, and has had some strange, consistent spotting for a few weeks now. She's at the perinatologists today to make sure nothing is wrong. I haven't heard from her yet, and neither has her mother. I'm trying my best not to worry. But it's hard, you know.
This little boy is my God son, even if he doesn't know it yet. So please say a few little prayers that both of them are just peachy keen.
Everything is fine. They couldn't find any abnormalities in the blood vessels or placenta, and the baby looks great. They saw a tiny anomaly near the cervix that is either a polyp that's growing due to the pregnancy hormones, but isn't problemating nonetheless, or it's an old clot that's slowly disintegrating.
Thank you so much for giving me those shout-outs from the great bloggy abyss. It's great to know that I have friends who not only read me as often as I manage to post, but who will prop me up when I come begging for it.
I'm going to add everyone to my blog list (if you weren't already there) as soon as I get a chance. Whether you like it or not!
Thank you all for playing along and pandering to my weaker side.
Onto the update: I've never felt quite so perky after being told that my uterus needs yet another operation! And let's face it, I've got all kinds of experience in that department.
Here's the skinny: Last time, my scarring was located on the fundus (or, for those of you who haven't the time to Google, upper part) of my uterus. That made things more tricky, and required a laparoscopy* (in through the belly button) to see the other side of my uterus, lest he poke through, or "perforate" as they say in the biz. This time, the scarring is on the side of my uterus. Dr. Smooth is 90% sure I won't need a laparoscopy - just a hysteroscopy.
This is good. This is VERY good. I hated the laparoscopy portion of the surgery last time. The bloating with gas that isn't actually inside your digestive tract, and therefore cannot escape. The belly button scar. The bruises. Blech.
But we're still in the baby steps (ha ha! I'm so punny!) phase here, people. Next up, decide when to schedule the surgery. I'll need to have a sonogram done to make sure my lining is still thin (since I'm on the minipill and haven't had a period in nearly two years now, we're betting it is) about a week or two before surgery.
Our options are a) right away, in a couple of weeks, or b) early June after my MIL has arrived to LIVE WITH US. Option B comes with better post-op child care. But Option A comes with getting this shit over with sooner.
As for the visit itself, it was awesome. I still worship the ground Dr. Smooth walks on. He was great with Hannah, and my husband reiterated that he has the best handshake ever. He said all the right things and none of the wrong, didn't rush us, and was all around lovely. As for the waiting room, there was only one patron, and we were only there for about three minutes. I made a point of sitting on the other side of the fish tank partition.
Well, that sums it up for now. I'll let you know what we decide on surgery dates.
And then... then... well, then I guess we'll have to decide about what we want to do with my uterus after it's all tidy and cooter-cobweb free.
*How funny is it that Typepad spell check kept suggesting "periscope" as an alternative to my surgeries. If only it were that easy.
In general, I try not to be too clingy or needy when it comes to my blogging. The adoration is great, but I try to remind myself that I'm really doing this for me - to help me move through what have historically been the most challenging and emotionally upheave...d? upheavaled? years of my life.
It's also fun to ask for advice on everything from raising my kid to coaxing my skin away from "blue" and closer to, um, "skin".
But lately I can't help but notice that no one is talking to me. I've tried hard to ignore it, but I used to average around a dozen comments per entry - and that was for the plain and mundane. On a really good post I could easily garner upwards of fifty comments.
Now, I'm averaging 1.5.
Is it me? Am I smelly? No, wait - you can't possibly smell that from where you sit. Did I do something? Offend someone? Have I really become that boring that you've finally admitted you have no less than twenty more important tasks - say, clipping your toenails - than reading my blog? Is it all the unnecessary em dashes?
Is it that you think I can read your thoughts, and therefore don't need to see them written down? (Not like I do that, or anything.)
I would say that I'm not begging for compliments here, but that would be pretty damn disingenuous.
Are you there, Reader? It's me, Julia.
Now, if I get a few decent comments, maybe I'll tell you about my visit to Dr. Smooth. What? You thought I was above bribery?
We're seeing Dr. Smooth this afternoon. And yet, I feel no need to sob. Nor do I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I'm not even dreading the waiting room, with it's beautiful, yet somehow austere fish tank.*
I'm hopeful that the news will be so-so. So-so is great. So- would rock my world.
*I am, however, worried about protocol for Banana. Shall I just leave her outside the office playing with Todd until they call us? Is that doing enough to not stomp on the other patients? Any thoughts on this are welcome.
After the Great Computer Fiasco a few months back, I've been struggling to rebuild my blogging lists. I've made an effort to clean up my blog roll, deleting those who've decided not to blog and moving people to various different categories.
So, if you're there, but something is wrong (wrong category, wrong info), let me know.
If you're not there, but want to be, let me know.
If you know of other people I should know about, but don't, let me know.
Also, new pictures of Banana on Flickr, if you're interested.
I was still mad at Real Simple for allowing Maidenform to run this ad a long time ago. This problem was made worse by botched gift subscriptions (both to and from me) over the past two years. But then I got my first issue from my Christmas subscription, and with one article, they've pretty much made it up to me.
You could probably read it in line at the grocery store, but if not, it's worth the purchase price. Go read "100 Years of Attitude". It's five profiles of women who've lived past the century mark. They're beautiful - some making my jaw drop in disbelief - and their wisdom is simple, sincere, and dead-on. My favorite bit was from Frances Johnson: "When asked the secret of her longevity, Frances says simply, "I keep waking up."
The other day I noticed that I'm no longer under Julie's "Girls Gone Riled". I'm pretty sure I'm still a girl, so maybe it's the "riled" I've lost. To that end, I offer the following:
Just before leaving town for Easter, I received an e-mail from my area Planned Parenthood, asking if I'd be willing to participate in an event they were hosting at a college campus. Since I wasn't going to be there, I did the next best thing: I sent my written testimony from last year's legislative session and a couple of pictures. The event went well and I received this message from the coordinator today:
"The event was great. The human stories made all the difference.
A few people who approached the table with an anti-choice attitude softened
their views after reading the testimonials, and ended up signing postcards and
petitions against any future abortion bans. Most importantly, many dialogues
were started about the very personal and emotional side of this issue which gets
forgotten much too often."
Here are a few photos:
So, I did my part while kickin' back on vacation. I urge you to go out and find a quickie way to fight your own good fight, too.