Juliet Martinez

Sat, Nov 29 2003

Check this out

1) A great article about breastfeeding as the only way to have a healthy meal in a Burger King.

2) My baby brother Kit's new blog. No babies were harmed, however, in the making of the blog.
by Juliet Email me!

Thanksgiving was great...

Thank goodness it's over. Joel and I decided, maybe a little foolishly, to host T-day here at the house, to inaugurate our new home by having everyone in his large family (and a few last minute add-ons) over for a big pig-out. Well, I'm glad we got it out of our systems.

Thursday began with me up at five-ish, channeling my home decor worries into that day's posting about a free home makeover. I built up a head of obsessive steam for the coming day and woke Joel up around 8:00. From then on he, Mom and I cleaned, arranged, rearranged, shopped, chopped and even cooked a little. Fortunately I had made my sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce and apple cakes a few days beforehand, so all the cooking that was left was for Joel to make his famous corn with roasted red and green peppers. It's quite delicious and we just have to make it since Joel's relatives in Laredo, TX, gave us a big serving dish shaped like an ear of blue corn. That kind of gift carries a certain responsibility.

I can't even remember what all was happening after people got here. My mother- and father-in-law arrived early with the turkey. Romi helped aggressively while Jose enjoyed the peace of being the only guest in the living room. I plied him with RC cola, chips, dip, cookies, nuts, dried fruit, etc. while he watched the game and the rest of us continued to go like crazy in the kitchen. My father-in-law is a friendly and warm-hearted person, but not such a big fan of crowds (I relate). I tried to make his quiet time enjoyable, but it's more than possible I was just interfering with it.

Anyway, at some point people started arriving with their assigned dishes and everything just got more hectic. In the midst of last minute preparations and presentation, I was feeling all my 29 weeks of pregnancy: feet swollen, back hurting, TIRED. What was I thinking hosting Thanksgiving in my third trimester of pregnancy? I'll never know. The crazy thing is that a lot of people helped out in really important ways, but my own obsessive drive to have things perfect kept me going long after I knew I was out of steam.

The activity escalated to a fever pitch until we finally ate and got dessert out of the way. By that point I was just looking at it as stages in a marathon and I had to get through them in order to reach the finish line. That came around 8:00, when I excused myself and went to bed. The house was full of people, there was tons of cleanup to do, and I just went to bed. It was great! I read for a while and fell asleep, my ankles swollen like two salamis and my fingers like pasty breakfast links. Boy did I need that sleep.

Around 1:00 I woke up to find the house almost all cleaned, Joel watching Spinal Tap and Mom getting ready to say some prayers for the Ascension of Abdu'l-Baha, for which I joined her. I couldn't believe she and Joel were still up.

Joel mentioned a number of times how great he felt about having had his whole family (about 25 people in the end) over. I'm glad we did, too. I'm thankful for our house and loving families. But most of all, I'm glad it's over.

by Juliet Email me!

Thu, Nov 27 2003

Buddy, can you spare a home makeover?

Last night watching Queer Eye, I realized what I need to do. I need to go in search of a free home makeover.

Our lovely 1950's-era orange brick home, while extremely well-maintained and featuring some nice architectural elements, also has retained the yesteryear feel of its previous owners. Our living and dining rooms, for example, are carpeted with luxurious gold patterned shag carpeting. I know what you're thinking, and no, the previous owners were not pimps. A large, dark, anonymous impressionist painting of a cityscape in the rain graces the living room wall over the gold velvet couch (ensconced in high-quality plastic slipcovers) that the previous owners generously included with the house.

These oft-mentioned previous owners were extremely mild-mannered Polish-Americans who, for whatever reason, really liked the color gold. In their defense, the 30-something gold carpeting - like the rest of the house - is in amazingly good condition. The Perlinskis knew how to strategically employ a plastic runner.

And there's the middle bedroom, currently my mom's room, that I feel rather stuck with because it is painted a soft and feminine pink. The drapes are also, well, pink. I can't get rid of those drapes - they're too nice - but I also have little use for that color in any decorative palate I actually like. I'm at a loss.

Add to that the frilly curtains in the kitchen, the brown-and-tan pattern linoleum and the pre-Atkins bread-themed kitchen wallpaper, and we have a situation.

So I'm going to see if I can't get us onto one of those home-makeover shows, preferably something along the lines of Queer Eye, where they foot the bill for all the home improvements. I'm pretty happy with my straight guy, but if a makeover for him were the price I had to pay to makeover the house, well, we all have to take our medicine, right? He could use some new clothes.

The only risk of doing this is that Joel and I will succeed in getting our home made-over, only to find that the decorating sensibilities of the maker-over-er are not so in line with ours. I can think of numerous examples from Trading Spaces alone.

So off we go into uncharted territory. Wish us luck. Oh, and have a happy Thanksgiving.

by Juliet Email me!

Tue, Nov 25 2003

Easy relief for pregnancy complaints

If you are pregnant and have the following symptoms, you can use these tips to get some relief.

If you have heartburn, sleep with your head elevated above your feet.

If you have swelling in your feet, ankles and legs, sleep with your feet elevated above your head.

If your baby is face-forward, for you to sit up straight or lean forward can help the baby turn towards your back for an easier labor. Avoid resting in a reclining position.

If you have swelling in your feet, recline back with your feet up.

If you have swelling in your feet, do not lie on your back, which inhibits circulation. Lie on your left side.

If you are tired, take a nap or go to bed.

If you have heartburn, you must wait at least an hour after eating before going to bed.

If you have gas or heartburn, eat many small meals throughout the day.

If you have gas or heartburn, do not drink water or other beverages while or soon after eating.

A pregnant woman requires plenty of water, however, so you should drink at least two liters of water between your numerous small meals.

If you have swelling in your feet, drink more water.

If you have heartburn, gas, swollen feet, ankles and legs, a face-forward baby, are tired and thirsty, you are on your own.
by Juliet Email me!

Really really

Yesterday was the big test of how the baby was doing. I had an ultrasound appointment that would tell me if my amniotic fluid had stayed at normal levels or if my good news of two weeks ago was just a fluke.

My gut told me that everything would be fine, but of course some other part of me whispered that we might not be out of the woods yet. I hoped my gut was right, but had to wait and see what would develop.

Mom and I got to my appointment early, which gave us absolutely no head start. First I was mistakenly told I needed a non-stress test, then had my doctor's visit (without the benefit of ultrasound results to discuss), then ran to the lab to drink a disgusting sugar water mixture for a gestational diabetes test, then sat around wondering if I would be finished with the ultrasound before needing to be back to the lab for the blood-draw part of that test. All I wanted was to get that ultrasound, but at the doctor as in life, what you want the most you will probably get last.

With only about 25 minutes to spare before needing to be back at the lab, I finally got called into the ultrasound room. I heard that in a room across the hall, a couple was waiting to talk to the doctor about their results and I remembered waiting like that, fearful about my baby's wellbeing. I hope they and their baby are okay.

I finally got onto the exam table and the technician started the ultrasound. The baby's head was down (that's good - I don't want it to make its debut to the world feet first), and more adorable than ever. It was sucking its thumb! We could see its little hand in front of its face and the jaw moving up and down. I cried.

And the best part was that my fluid has stayed in the normal range. My amniotic fluid score is still a "10," comfortably settled in the normal range. That was the moment of truth, and unlike some times in life, the truth was good news. Really really good news.
by Juliet Email me!

Sat, Nov 22 2003

The Baby Page lives! I finally got my act together and have now posted the baby page to the site and even included a link on the nav bar to the left. It took me a little while, but in the end my html skills, though neglected, still apparently work. Enjoy!
by Juliet Email me!

Seven months

This week I turned seven months pregnant. It's still pretty weird to think that just six weeks ago I was hearing from doctors that my baby's prognosis was "very poor," and that Joel and I should Consider Our Options (you know the ones you hope you'll never have to consider). Thank goodness that, for whatever reason, those predictions don't seem to be coming true. I'm still a little apprehensive, of course, for Monday's ultrasound appointment. If they tell me then that my amniotic fluid is still in the normal range, I'll start believing we're really through the woods.

But meanwhile I'm enjoying a pretty normal transition into my third trimester. And even though that transition involves waking up around 4 or 5 in the morning with aches in my hips and back and getting so hungry that a breakfast of meat and veggie omelet, bowl of oatmeal, and two-scoop ice cream sundae (I'm not exaggerating) can hold me over just until around lunch time, I really do mean it when I say I'm enjoying this.

Seriously, though. As the baby's getting bigger, I can feel it moving around more and it is taking up more space in my mind as well as my body. I like reading to it before I go to bed, even though that's around the time it gets really active with an insomnia-producing combination of calisthenics and hiccups. I talk to the baby a lot more, too, and rub my belly where the baby presses either its head or its butt against my abdomen as though determined to come out about three inches below my navel.

The baby's presence in my life is coming to resemble that of my paternal grandmother, Avoa, who died when I was 12. In recent years I have felt Avoa's spirit near me sometimes, or I have talked to her about things that I felt she could have helped me with. My grandma was a fantastic cook, and sometimes I call on her for help when I'm doing something difficult or potentially burn-producing in the kitchen. To me her presence is very real, although that sense of reality is admittedly extremely subjective and an article of faith.

Although the physical evidence of the baby literally grows every day, I find it occupies a similar mental niche. I talk to it as though it understands me, and I feel its emotional presence, but it requires relatively little from me. Its spontaneous reactions to things I might do or say are lost to me, so its mind and emotions, too, are articles of faith.

I think a lot about how this will change after the baby is born. It will need so much more from me. I wonder if I will lose that sense of the baby as a mind while struggling to meet the needs of its body. Or maybe being able to see its face and hear its voice, not to mention hold and nurse it, will usher it from the realm of "real to me" to making up my whole reality.
by Juliet Email me!

Wed, Nov 19 2003

"Narrowly averted"

This morning I am so relieved to hear that the Chicago Public School teacher's union has a new contract and will NOT be going on strike in two weeks. We've been holding our breaths about this for a number of weeks, and this morning on the radio I heard that the teachers accepted the new contract by a vote of 55% for and 45% against. I called Joel (he's in Pennsylvania with the Sones) to tell him that he'll be working this December. That was close.

You probably heard that the teachers rejected the last proposed contract a few weeks ago, on the grounds that the raises were too small, the contract too long, benefit costs too high and the work day lengthened. Teachers I spoke with were angry about being paid dramatically less than police and firefighters (also unionized city employees), even though public school teachers provide an essential service and do risk their safety in the line of work. They felt that the previous contract offer showed how little their contributions to society are respected.

As the new proposed contract came out, Joel brought home stories of how it would pay first-year teachers more than those with one or two years seniority. He said teachers would now have to pay 7% of the cost of any hospitalizations. He was angry and willing to go on strike. I told him to get it all in writing. It has looked to me like the informal discussions about the contract have reflected teachers' anger toward the Board of Education, not necessarily the facts of the proposed contract. It turned out I wasn't wrong.

As Joel began to bring home official documents describing the proposed contract, we saw that in fact first-year teachers will not be paid more than those with more seniority (but the base pay will increase and everyone's wages will reflect that). Teachers will not have to pay 7% of their hospitalization costs, but they will have to pay 0.7%. That's a big difference.

I still think the teachers are angry at the Board of Education, which in my mind accounts for the large proportion of "no" votes on the contract. And naturally I agree - not only because my finances depend on it - that their services are undervalued and undercompensated. But I'm glad they won't be striking over it this year.

So even though I was looking on the bright side of things and envisioning the fun I would have with Joel at home during a strike, the fact that we will be able to pay our bills AND our mortgage is definitely news I've been waiting to hear. Big sigh of relief.
by Juliet Email me!

Mon, Nov 17 2003

Back to the beginning Okay, not the beginning, but sort of. I got a call from my midwives' office today, and am happy to say that I will soon be alternating visits between there and UIC. I'm so looking forward to being back in that environment where birth is viewed as a natural and normal process, not a crisis waiting to happen. I just get excited about the possibility of giving birth in an environment where I'm encouraged to handle the pain of childbirth by reaching inside myself and finding the strength I will need to bring a child along in the world. It's an environment that reinforces my relationships with the baby, Joel, and the women who have birthed before me. That's what I want and it's what I'm praying I'll be able to have.
by Juliet Email me!

Things

When I first found out I was pregnant, I resolved to do as little baby shopping as possible,

to ask for only the bare essentials and seek out second hand baby stuff as much as possible. Well,

having weathered a mid-pregnancy health crisis that scared me half to death, my feelings have changed.

I now feel quite different about all those materialistic baby preparations. It gave me a lot of

pleasure last week to go test drive gliders at the store, to decide which one to register for. Looking

at the baby clothes and supplies, I felt a flood of relief that I can now reasonably expect my baby to

get to the point where he or she needs that stuff.

And I am more than happy to oblige. So, in response to suggestions from some friends and loved ones, I will soon put up a little page on this site where you can find information on where Joel and I have registered for baby stuff, and comments about our preferences. You'll see that even though we have definitely given in to the pressure to celebrate the miracle of life by consuming major quantities of mass-produced goods, we are still as picky as ever and clinging to the illusion of being somehow above it all. Don't worry. Poopy diapers will take care of that.

I'll let you know when the page is up. When it is, feel free to look around and ooh and aah at the cuteness.

by Juliet Email me!

Thu, Nov 13 2003

Dazed...

I'm still a little stunned by my sudden change of situation. The great news about my increase in amniotic fluid has lifted a burden of anxiety off me, and I guess I'm not quite sure what to do with myself now. The last few days I've been trying to find my feet in what now threatens to be a mostly normal pregnancy.

One thing I'm trying to get on track with is regular exercise. I've never been big on it, but during my medically recommended period of "taking it easy," I indulged my inner couch potato and limited my workouts to stretching on the floor and making multiple trips to the bathroom. Now that my once hearty leg muscles have withered to a gelatinous mass, I realize I've got to get cracking or face labor and birth with the stamina of Montgomery Burns.

So today I got onto our Total Gym (more aptly known as a Partial Gym because not all of the parts made it through the yard-sale transaction) to do some squats and light upper body work. Yes, I actually got some exercise. And if my past is any indication, the devil on my shoulder will soon be telling me that my little stint today will certainly hold me over until the baby starts school.

However Mom has an altogether different view of it, and probably one I should take to heart. She says labor and birth are like an (American) football game that lasts about 24 hours. No problem, right? Just line up, run like hell, get clobbered, take a breath. Line up, run like hell, get clobbered, take a breath. Line up, run like hell, get clobbered, take a breath. And so on for the next day and night. It's like football and cricket combined in a test of pain tolerance.

Put in those terms, I have no illusions that a few half-hour sessions on the Partial Gym, a couple of prenatal yoga videos and a few walks around the mall will be adequate to prepare me for the coming football "game." Unlike some smart and motivated people, I didn't exactly come into this in great shape. Still, those things can only help me through.

The good thing about all this is that I absolutely face deadline pressure here. I mean, the birth is coming in February, ready or not. So along with all those strong, tough and disciplined athletes entertaining the sports fans of America on Sunday afternoons and Monday nights this winter, I will think of the next few months as the run-up to my own, personal, private and very long Super Bowl.
by Juliet Email me!

Tue, Nov 11 2003

Non-anxious insomnia

It's two in the morning and I'm up again, but this time I'm not worried about absolutely anything. I'm only up because I went to sleep early with a touch of sore throat and now decided to drink some hot tea for it. But I'm not worried for the first time in, well, about five weeks.

Today at my doctor's visit we got good news.

This was bona fide good news, too. Not the kind you work around in your head so it will seem somewhat positive - unquestionably good. My amniotic fluid score, which was six last Tuesday, was TEN today!

You'll recall that five is the danger zone that I had hovered just beyond since my first ultrasound on October 8. The normal range is anywhere from 8 to 24, so with this new result I am well within normal limits!

At first I couldn't believe it - I thought maybe it would turn out to be a fluke, artifact or other non-reliable positive sign. But the doctor who double-checked the results said they were good.

I'm sure you can imagine what a weight this lifts off me and Joel. Mom and I both cried.

Joel was already on a high yesterday because he performed with the Sones at Symphony Center in the morning. The band and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra brass played an arrangement of the third movement of Bach's Brandenburg Concerto together as part of a program for the Chicago Public Schools. Mom and I watched the concert, then went to my appointment. By the time we left the doctor's office, we decided it was one of the best days ever.

A particularly happy aspect of this good news is that - barring any serious drop in my amniotic fluid or signs of fetal distress in the next seven weeks - it now looks like I can realistically expect to have a normal, uncomplicated delivery at West Suburban Hospital. What a relief! The more time I have spent at UIC, the more I have wanted not to give birth there unless specific medical complications arise. The doctors are highly skilled and good-hearted, but their approach and facility seem oriented towards medical intervention, not natural childbirth in a supportive setting. This has been a major cause of worry for me lately as I've envisioned a low-amnio birth and wondered if I should choose the hospital with the high-tech capabilities or the one that offers me the kind of care I really want when I'm giving birth.

At my last visit with the UIC doctors, the resident who Mom and I spoke with about their labor and delivery facilities was both defensive and unconvincing about how UIC could accommodate my wishes for a natural labor. When I asked if I would have to have my legs in stirrups, she said, "Well, not necessarily." When I pressed her on it, she admitted that the labor and delivery residents "like the stirrups because then they can see what's happening." We asked about being attended by one of UIC's nurse-midwives and being able to labor in different positions, like squatting. She said, what if there's shoulder dystocia (where the baby's shoulder gets stuck in the pelvis)? Then the midwives won't know what to do, they'll call the high-risk doctors and I would have to get into stirrups anyway. I learned later that day at my childbirth preparation class that an easy way to address shoulder dystocia is to have the mother get on her hands and knees. This shifts the weight off of the pelvis and gives the baby some extra room to get through. So simple, and yet completely foreign to the highly-trained resident we spoke with.

However, I will say that in the unfortunate and improbable event that I have to deliver the baby before it is 34 weeks old, UIC definitely has the best facility available to me. As much as its normal labor and delivery organization seems unconcerned with unmedicated birth that promotes the health of the baby and its bonding with mommy, the neonatal ICU seems guided by an aggressive pursuit of every possible way to help the baby bond with its parents through physical contact, breast feeding and attention to the baby's development.

Needless to say, we're just very happy all around about this. The baby continues to move frequently, and as long as this sore throat isn't a cold coming on, I'll be moving more and getting more exercise, too (I really need it!). I'll definitely stick with what we've been doing in an attempt to increase my fluid: eating lots of protein and fresh fruit, taking calcium with magnesium and drinking plenty of soy milk and water. Other than that, all I've got are prayers of thanksgiving.
by Juliet Email me!

Fri, Nov 07 2003

Girl dreams

The other morning I had a dream that my parents and Joel and I were sitting in the front room discussing whether it was time for me to go to the hospital to have the baby. Mom said, "Let me check," and pulled open the top of my abdomen like a kangaroo's pouch. She peeked in, then reached her hand in and lifted the baby out. She held it dangling in the air by one leg for a heartbeat as she and the rest of us looked around with expressions that said, "Well, I guess there's no point in going to the hospital now."

I was pleased to find that the baby was a little girl with green eyes and jet-black hair. She looked just like my sister did as a baby, and everyone kept remarking on it. I suppose it's only fair that since my sister has children who look like me, I should have children who look like her.

In the baby's first hours, I spent a lot of time trying to get the baby to latch onto my breast correctly, but our house quickly filled up with family and friends who wanted to see me and the baby. My daughter's mouth was small and latching on wasn't going very well, and the fact that I was wearing a T-shirt and sitting surrounded by people wasn't helping. Over and over I lifted my shirt to put the baby to my breast, then pulled the neck of my shirt open so I could see if she had latched on right. Almost immediately people started making uncomfortable noises and telling me to cover myself up. It was exasperating. For some reason it didn't occur to me to excuse myself and go to another room.

As the dream progressed I found more and more things got in my way of being with my baby. For some reason I can't remember, I took a trip to a hardware store with my sister and ended up ditching her so I could take a bus home to the baby.

My sister-in-law Adele told me once that in one of her pregnancies people told her repeatedly that she was having a boy, but that she dreamed she was having a girl, and that was what she ended up having. I have long felt like this baby is a boy, but now have dreamt of a girl baby twice. The first time was just a little snippet of a dream in which I held a tiny (think doll-sized) baby girl dressed in a pink dress. In spite of being so small, she was wonderfully expressive and I loved her instantly.

I'm inclined to chalk these girl dreams up to my desire for a daughter more than anything else. I had an early intuition that this was a boy, and even though we didn't ask to find out from our ultrasounds, I wonder if I didn't see something. The weight of history is also on the side of this being a boy: on my mother's side the first born has been a boy for generations; my father is one of four boys and my generation has a preponderance of boys; Joel is one of five boys, and of his brother's children, only one in six is a girl. Joel's mother was the only girl in a family of six children, and went on to raise five sons.

Maybe that's part of the reason I want a girl. Maybe the feeling that some combination of history and biology could consign me to being the only female in my home just makes me a little jittery. My one reassurance is thinking about having a boy like my nephew, Brandon. Sure, at nine years old he is into a lot of stuff I don't really get. But he's also such a generous and affectionate person, and we've been through a lot together - I would do anything for him. Maybe having a son will be kind of like having another little Brandon. The thought comforts me.

________

By the way, Mom ended up staying the night for observation in the hospital and having a stress test yesterday morning. Her heart did fine in the stress test, though she still has some overgrowth of her left ventricle. The main problem the doctors re-diagnosed was her high blood pressure, which happily can be controlled with medication. So it was good news, and definitely worth the hours spent in waiting room purgatory.
by Juliet Email me!

Wed, Nov 05 2003

True stories of life in the ER

I have come to the end of two consecutive days spent in two different emergency rooms, for two different reasons. Yesterday it was for me (everything was fine), and today was for my mom, who is also okay.

Yesterday morning after fretting for a couple of hours over my active, active baby and very sensitive uterus, I called the resident on duty at UIC's obstetrics department, who told me to come in if I was really worried.

So Mom and I packed up pudding cups (Mom's latest ploy for making sure I get enough calories), almonds and bottles of water, took our oatmeal in to go cups and headed to the ER. After getting whisked through triage, we were taken to Labor and Delivery for my ultrasound. In the dank little room where the nurse strapped on the fetal monitor, a poster detailed in line drawings the "Process of Labor and Birth." It showed the baby's head engaging with the mother's pelvis, the cervix dilating, the delivery of the head and body. The final frame showed the glorious culmination of this miracle of life: a newborn infant sprawled on a table while one latex-gloved hand held it still and another sucked the baby's nose clean with a rubber ear syringe. It brings a tear to the eye.

When the residents came in to check my amniotic fluid, the one in charge showed me that the pockets of fluid are just fine, my AFI is still six-ish, and the baby's head was down toward my pelvis. This was all very good news to me, needless to say. I commented that I was happy to hear that the baby's head was down because it had spent so much time lying across my uterus ("in the hammock," as my mother says), I had begun to worry that after going through all this with the low fluid, I would have to get a cesarean section to deliver a hopelessly transverse baby.

You know what the resident said to me? "Well, all that you really want is a healthy baby." I responded, "What I really want is a healthy baby and a normal delivery."

I reflected afterward on how diminishing her comment was. As though it were selfish or extreme for me to desire a gentle birth experience that doesn't include major abdominal surgery. I think it is unfortunate that someone who is providing prenatal care would make such an unfeeling remark to a woman who is going through one of the most vulnerable and miraculous times in her life. It makes me shake my head.

We got out of there relatively quickly, though, which I appreciate all the more keenly after today's adventure in the ER at the new Stroger Hospital of Cook County.

Mom has some diagnosed but untreated cardiovascular illnesses that she was supposed to be getting treated for in Puerto Rico right about now. But since she's here and her insurance doesn't cover her outside of PR, we've been trying to get her to Cook County so she could see a doctor there. We decided our avenue of entry would be an early morning trip to the emergency room, where, in our deluded fantasy, she would be whisked in to see the doctor and fixed up with meds and a follow-up appointment in no time. I don't know what we were smoking.

Our plan first went wrong when we got to the ER around 8:30, instead of the 5:30 arrival we had hoped for. At that point we heard people saying they had been there all night and not been seen. But we felt optimistic that a woman with a pre-existing heart condition (left ventricular hypertrophy) experiencing chest pain and trouble breathing would be bumped to the top of the list. And we weren't exactly wrong.

After about two hours, Mom made it through triage and was coded a 2, which is the highest status you can get without being in resuscitation, according to one of the nurses. We had come in with a few other people who were also twos, one man with chest pain and another with a broken arm or hand. Mom and I, the other twos, and the rest of the people who came in at the same time all took our seats in the waiting area and, as the name implies, waited for names to be called. We waited and waited and waited. And waited and waited.

Every so often a person in scrubs came out of the actual emergency room treatment area and called people's names. At these times everyone's attention turned expectantly, hoping that it was finally their turn. The messy-haired sleepers woke up, those craning their necks to TVs in the back of the room looked forward (in true Chicago patronage army style, the seats face away from the TVs) and those who hadn't bathed before coming shifted in their seats, throwing their scent around. Only the masses of stale-smelling coats that sheltered homeless people getting a few minutes of peaceful sleep on the benches didn't move - they weren't waiting for their names.

But as the day wore on we began to hear about people who had been waiting ten and eleven hours. Mom and I took turns walking around so that she wouldn't get stiff joints and I wouldn't get blood clots in my legs. We pooled our change for a V8 and an Almond Joy (for her) from the vending machines, only to find the Almond Joy both opened and melted when it came out of the machine. I tried briefly to get a refund, but I knew it was hopeless. I finally walked to the gift shop to buy Mom and I a "picnic" lunch of Doritos, apple juice, a granola bar and an unopened, unmelted Almond Joy.

By 3:30 we began to wonder if there was any point in us staying. We had heard someone say they had checked in last night, gone home, come back this morning and not lost their place in line. So I went to ask how many people were in front of my mom, and the very annoyed clerk finally told me there were "several people" in front of her.

"Some of those people have been here for fifteen hours," she said. "They are in front of your mother." Great.

About an hour later, I finally couldn't do it any longer and reluctantly told my mom I needed to go home. She had actually been trying to get me to go since around 1:00, but I didn't like to leave her there. I was extremely tired, though, so we hugged goodbye and I left. Right before that, a man was called back to see the doctor, and when I asked, he told me he had been there since 5:30 this morning - eleven hours.

When I got home I called Mom and she told me that after I left, right as she was thinking of searching out the cafeteria for some dinner, she got a strong feeling she needed to stay put. At 5:30 her name was called, and when we spoke she was lying on a bed in a treatment room, still waiting for someone to see her. At least she was more comfortable. A couple of hours later when I called, she said a medical student has been taking her history, asking her questions and ducking out to ask his superiors what her answers mean. She has now been at the ER for 13 hours.

Unfortunately it seemed all too clear to me why some people in this country resist the idea of a single-payer health care system. It might mean that instead of being whisked through triage, or waiting a short time next to good-smelling people, we would all get to wait a medium amount of time next to followers of, em, different hygiene regimens. But I imagine that most hospitals would still function more efficiently than our shiny, new Stroger, because most hospitals employ people who can lose their jobs if they perform poorly. I didn't get the feeling that is the case at Stroger. Good old Chicago.

The plan tonight is for me to go to bed and Joel to go pick up Mom when she's ready to go. I hate that this is her only option for medical care, and even with my cynicism, I can't believe that Stroger Hospital's ER is not equipped to deal with an average flow of sick people in a reasonable amount of time. At one point the charge nurse told us that they were simply out of beds. It makes me sick just thinking about it.

The up side of this, I hope, anyway, is that when Mom gets home tonight she will have a refill of her blood pressure meds and maybe an appointment to go back and see a cardiologist. I'm hoping that getting into the system was the hard part, and the rest will be easier.
by Juliet Email me!

Tue, Nov 04 2003

Worrying...

It's 3:30 a.m. and it seems I can feel it every time the baby wrinkles its nose. That wouldn't bother me, but I'm also so very thirsty. Since 7:30 last night I've downed five liters of water and am going strong. I'm getting a feeling that my body just isn't able to hold onto the water I drink. Does the fact that I can feel all my baby's tiny movements mean that the fluid has decreased?

According to my limited understanding of Chinese medicine, people's diseases are caused by imbalances of heat, cold, dry, damp, and other yang and yin qualities. In the past my Chinese doctor, CJ, has diagnosed me with conditions stemming from an excess of heat and dryness (stemming in my case from a deficiency of the cooling, moisturizing yin quality). Some of the signs of this are excess thirst, dry eyes and dry skin, though of course my doctor also uses other diagnostic methods like taking my pulses and looking at my tongue and nail beds. These dry symptoms have tended to be aggravated in the fall and winter as the air becomes less humid. They have been getting worse in the last few days.

I'm also worried because Mom and I were reading something about why most women experience swelling of the hands and feet in pregnancy. It has to do with the increased blood volume that supplies the uterus and placenta with the oxygen and nutrients they need to nourish a growing baby. Since I've been pregnant I haven't experienced any swelling of the hands or feet. I hear other pregnant women talk about how they retain so much water, can't fit into their shoes, can't get their rings on or off their fingers; meanwhile, no matter how long I have been on my feet, or how much salty food I have indulged in, I have absolutely no swelling.

It leads me to wonder if my body is able to absorb the water I drink and channel it into my placenta. I mean, after consuming vast amounts of water all that happens is that I make amazing volumes of pee. And I mean amazing. Other pregnant women at my stage are feeling a lot of pressure on their bladders and peeing a little bit every hour or so. I pee like a damn racehorse every hour (and I've already been checked for diabetes - don't have it).

When I talked to CJ yesterday, he recommended I run a humidifier in the house and drink fresh juices of pear, peach, melon and grape as a way to increase my body's ability to hold moisture. Tonight I'm wishing I could implement even one of those. The humidifier that is part of our house's central air is turned to its highest setting, but of course the air is still bone dry (how does that happen?). And Joel's old "Juiceman" Juicer is on loan at his brother's house. We'll get it back, but not before morning.

I think we might have one of those drug store humidifiers in the basement, though. You know, the kind that has a little repository for Vicks Vap-o-Rub? I think I'll go down and get it, set it up and and try to get back to sleep.
by Juliet Email me!

Mon, Nov 03 2003

Letter from Emi I got a wonderful, 3-page handwritten letter from my friend Emi in California this weekend. She also sent me a beading starter kit for when I'm taking it easy (thanks, Emi!). She said something in the letter that really hit home. She said she's been reading my blog every day and keeping me, Joel and our baby in her thoughts, but not getting in touch to let me know what's going on with her. So true! Then today I spoke with my friend Nilufar, who said something similar, that reading my blog is like having a one-sided conversation... So if you are feeling the same - that you know all about what's up with me, but I haven't heard from you in a while - get in touch and let me know how you are doing. I'd love to hear from you! :)
by Juliet Email me!

Sun, Nov 02 2003

9 months of labor

Thursday night Joel and I went to our childbirth education class all the way on the north side. Traffic was exceptionally bad and it took us two hours to get there, making us an hour late. We arrived in the middle of a video about medical interventions in childbirth and why a non-medicated birth in a supportive environment is better for medically simple deliveries.

For the rest of the class the teachers discussed the different complications that can occur in childbirth and the ways they are accommodated by midwives and doctors. They discussed mechanical and physiological problems the baby can have in childbirth and when cesarean birth becomes mandatory to save the life of the child.

All this scared the crap out of me. After my doctor's visit on Wednesday I was already feeling a lot of anxiety about where and how I would be able to give birth. I want to go back to West Suburban hospital and have a nice, low-key birth in a comfortable setting, not stay at UIC where I feel I'll be hooked up to an IV, placed on my back and in stirrups, and surrounded by bright lights, doctors, nurses and residents whose schedule I will need to accommodate. But of course, if there are any known complications going into the birth, or if I need to be induced before my due date, I want to be where I will get the best possible medicine - UIC.

UIC still scares me, though, not least of all because if I am giving birth there it will probably mean that something is wrong.

When we got home I started telling Mom about what class had covered and my fears about it. She worked her mommy magic, and before long I was on her bed, crying into her shoulder about my worries and how I had cherished the idea of having a birth like what I saw her have with my little brother: relaxed, friendly and incredibly powerful. I want my passage into motherhood to affirm my life and union with Joel, and most importantly to reinforce our bond with our child. I want to be able to labor on my own schedule, with nobody looking at the clock and judging my performance. I want to labor surrounded by people who greet my moments of fear or despair with love and confidence, not offers of medication. When my child is born, I want her to be placed between my breasts, over my heart and in my arms, not whisked away for a Johnson and Johnson's "baby" scented bath. Nobody could possible love my child more than I do, so he cannot belong anywhere more than with me.

Mom called Joel into her room, where my tears had wetted the yellow comforter. He sat down next to me and we talked about where I'm heading in my pregnancy, and my current options for birth. The two of them said at this point it looks like everything will be normal, so we'll plan on going back to West Suburban and having my case "co-managed," as the doctors say, between there and UIC. Joel said he also wants for me to give birth in a gentle, low-intervention environment if possible, and that he was going to believe that we could do it until we see some evidence to the contrary. By the end of our conversation I felt confident again that the birth we want is at least within our reach.

I remembered something from the video we saw at childbirth class. A midwife was explaining that in a home birth, the only people present are there because they can support the birthing mother. When she feels afraid, in pain or discouraged, she can look into the eyes of her trusted birth team and feel the courage and confidence they have stored up for her moments of weakness. Buoyed by that love and encouragement, she can press forward with the birth of her child and her birth as a mother.

I felt like even though I'm months away from giving birth, this part of the labor had already begun for me. I need all my emotional strength and confidence to be focused on this baby's well-being, but in my moments of weakness my team is there to hold my courage in trust.

by Juliet Email me!