consumer joy

The third trimester has arrived. Hard to believe. 

Back in February, Josh and I spent an absurd amount of money on a new mattress. It's king size and made of a material that is apparently all-natural and never degrades. I am dubious about this claim, but suffice it to say: it's newfangled and fancified. (And comes with a 20 year warranty.)

We'd been eyeing this particular mattress for a long time, and even went to the manufacturers showroom in Manhattan to try it out. Judging by the proliferation of online mattress purveyors, we are apparently the last of a dying breed: people who insist on shopping for a mattress in person.

We hemmed and hawed over the purchase for months, but pregnancy pushed me over the edge. The memory of how badly we both slept in the last few months of my previous pregnancy convinced me we needed to try and improve something about the sleeping situation. If I couldn't gestate the baby like an egg, we would have to try the fanciest mattress in all the land. 

Dear Reader, I am here to tell you that this mattress is the best purchase I have made in an extremely long time. Possibly my entire life? I am struggling to think of a purchase that I have enjoyed as much as I enjoy my bed. Maybe my car wins out, but only because of its sheer utility. 

Do I still sometimes snore so loudly that Josh has to sleep on the couch in his office? Yes, I do. The mattress is not magic, after all! But it's so, so, so much better than any bed I have ever had. It actually has me wondering: what else can I spend money on that would drastically improve my life? 

This is saying a lot for me: I am not cheap, exactly, but it pains me to spend money on things that are not really necessary. Occasionally, the internet will convince me that some company has invented the most comfortable jeans or the worlds best bra or a face wash that fixes everything. These products are invariably 50-30% more expensive than whatever off-brand version I'm currently wearing/using, and there is never free shipping. But like any red-blooded millennial I eventually succumb to the marketing and buy whatever it is, only to discover that it pretty much sucks. Then I return whatever it is and I'm out the cost of shipping, vowing never to be lured in by marketing again. 

I'm not saying that I will suddenly start buying everything Instagram sells me, but I am suddenly open to the idea that sometimes you get what you pay for. For example: I have never spent more than $400 on a couch in my entire life. What if couch comfiness is actually correlated with cost?! What if I spent 10x that amount and every second I spent on the couch was 10x better?! I spend a lot of time on my couch, guys. 

But please, someone talk me out of this before I end up spending all my money on surfaces I can lay down on. 

update

20 week scan is done, baby is still fine. He did not cooperate at all for the scan and kept his arms crossed over his chest the whole time, making it difficult to see his heart. They kept me for nearly an hour to get all the information they wanted, but everything looks good. 

I'm getting better at telling the doctors to leave me alone. During the scan they wanted to do an additional, more invasive, procedure — something to check my cervix for risk of preterm labor. Given that I could not get the baby out at all last time, preterm labor does not appear to be a problem for me, so I politely declined. No one cared. 

The last couple weeks have been extremely annoying: it rained nonstop, everyone in the family came down with some kind of hacking lung disease, and then I found out I need to replace the transmission in my car. I have also been extremely busy at work, which normally I like but is less fun when I am dead from coughing all night long. So I am tired, sick, poor(er), and overworked. Not a great time. 

The good news: I am no longer nauseous! And gosh, it's glorious. I am still ravenous every 2 hours, but I no longer throw up if I don't get food immediately and in the exact right proportions. And I'm not yet at the stage where everything hurts, so we're in that nice middle period where I can eat and climb stairs. 

And I am somewhat sad to report that Jonah has started to move out of the baby talk stage. "Walla" is now "water." And for a long time he would say, "help you!" any time he meant to say "help me!" which was very, very adorable. But now he understands his personal pronouns. He also speaks in complete sentences, so if you ask if whether he wants dinner he will say, "Yes, I do." It's almost disconcerting, really. 

That's not to say he's always intelligible. He will get very excited about something and try to tell me about it, but the words that come out of his mouth sound like, "um yeah then trashcan and then um cheese whale ocean show swimming." I know he knows what he's talking about, which is cute, but no one else would have any idea. His friends at school appear to speak in this same toddler language and understand each other, so I'm glad he has them. 

He knows that "big boys poop on the potty" but that's as far as we've gotten with potty training. I'll be honest, I just really, really don't want to do it. It seems like so much work and there will be poop everywhere and I'll need to nag him constantly about going to the bathroom! Could I just ignore this until the daycare teachers take care of it? That's totally a parenting strategy, right? 

Buying people

Genuine question: why can you buy a baby in this country when you can't buy an organ? I would not be allowed to sell one of my own children and yet it would be entirely legal for me to sell my genetic material and rent my womb to create a child for someone else.

It would seem to me that on the scale of things you should not be able to purchase, a kidney would rank far lower than a human. 

I am confused by the logic here. 

In which I am only slightly less grumpy

The update I'm sure you've all been waiting for: I got the drugs. And they (mostly) work! 

It was shockingly easy. Yet another medical mystery! I walked into my 16 week appointment, told the doctor I was still terribly nauseous, and he said, "sounds like it's impacting your quality of life, would you like some prescription medicine?" Um...yes?!! Did making it to the 2nd trimester unlock a special drug door, or something?! I was afraid to ask, lest he question his decision. But I do not understand at all. 

They also did a screen for various fetal abnormalities, based on some blood protein marker, and my results came back as "possibly at risk." At first the lab result really freaked me out (rare for me!). Then I did some research and found out the test is not diagnostic but just "screens" for a million things and could indicate basically anything. Most of the time, there is nothing wrong at all. UNHELPFUL. 

The doctors made a big fuss, though, and scheduled a special ultrasound today to check for any abnormalities. The baby looks perfect. I am happy about this, of course, but not surprised, especially given the fact that I have already had two ultrasounds, one of them just last week, and the baby always looks fine. 

The doctor who reviewed the scans told me I could take the blood test again to see if my levels were just briefly elevated, or I could get more ultrasounds. I told her I would be getting more ultrasounds anyway, since I am over 35. "Oh right," she said. "So, yeah, it would make no difference." Always comforting when the doctor doesn't even bother to check your age. Sigh. I will not be taking the test again. 

My disappointment with the medical profession continues. It's not that they don't help — if the baby did have spina bifida, I would be so grateful for the interventions of modern medicine! But turns out the best way to diagnose something like spina bifida is the 20-week ultrasound, which I was going to do anyway! Not this stupid blood test. 

They do all these tests and flag all this stuff and there is never anything wrong. If anything, the constant monitoring and fussing just stresses me out. (And I am not an anxious person! What must this be like with anxiety?) By the time I have an actual problem, I hope I still take the doctors seriously. 

In which I am grumpy and pregnant

The headline news, for those of you who don't know: I am pregnant, and it is a boy! Due in September. Overall I am happy about this, except for the following not insignificant problems: 

1) I am so nauseous I want to die, but instead I just crawl into bed at 8pm and try desperately not to puke

2) I do not handle heat well and am dreading being heavily pregnant in the summer

3) I never, ever, ever, ever want to give birth again, but that's the only happy end to this pregnancy and I am having trouble accepting this

When I told Ms. Self-Important that I was pregnant, she said she hadn't realized I wanted to have another child. This is a fair comment! I'm not sure how people communicate these wishes to the world, though? I mean, Josh and I talked about this and made the decision, but I wasn't actively making a vision board or anything. Mostly, I like my family and would be happy to have another person in it. And I think it's nice for Jonah to have a sibling — as the youngest in my family, I have a hard time imagining not having a sibling. 

Also, I shared this last time, but because I was told as a teenager that I might not be able to have kids, I have never been able to shake the conviction that I can't get pregnant. So for me, wanting a baby has always been very separate from actually having one. For some reason my immediate success last time didn't cure this. I mean, doing it once could have been an aberration, right? Everything I read online assured me that women over 35 (who are not famous) are basically incapable of pregnancy, so why should I — possibly infertile to being with — be able to do it? And then this time, at 37 (!) it happened just as fast as last time. I remain shocked. 

Not planning on testing my fertility again, though! This is it. Pregnancy is terrible. I didn't enjoy it last time, but I hate it this time. I love being a woman but this whole deal is the worst. I feel like I have a parasite that has taken over my entire body and is making my organs revolt. I knew right away that I was pregnant because I felt like something was very wrong, and that feeling has not gone away at all. Despite being totally opposed to this idea intellectually, if they created an artificial womb that allowed me to gestate my baby like egg I would absolutely do it.  

The worst part is that nobody wants to give me any drugs to help with the unrelenting nausea. I know a lot of people don't want to take the drugs, but I am not that person. I want the drugs and no one will give them to me. Because nausea is normal and I am not puking every day, I apparently don't qualify for relief. No one seems to care that I am unable to concentrate for half my day because I am so intently focused on not gagging! I am utterly convinced that B6 and unisom are placebos that do nothing. What is the point of modernity if I can't get the drugs?! 

I was really not expecting this, but pregnancy and motherhood has utterly changed my attitude toward doctors. I never used to question them! (Remember: they told me I was infertile and I still believe it!) Now, I am intensely skeptical of doctors, so much so I basically assume they are full of shit until proven otherwise. I've already switched OB practices once, and while I'm much happier at the new place I still think they are basically full of shit. 

I'll never forget the discharge nurse at the hospital last time I gave birth lecturing me on using pain medication after my torturous c-section — she made me feel guilty asking for pain relief! I ask you: what is the medical profession good for if they can't give you pain relief after an abdominal surgery? (And the worst possible abdominal surgery, where you get no time to recover but are instead sent home with a small animal who wakes up every 3 hours to be fed?) Why will no one ever give me the drugs I need?! I understand that some people are junkies, but they are a small minority compared to the rest of us who just want help! 

In conclusion: I am uncomfortable and annoyed and I just want it to be October so the birth is over and I never have to do this again. Harrumph. 

College towns

I went out to dinner last night by myself, a glorious privilege! But when I left the restaurant, I thought I lost my keys. So I went back to where I was sitting to frantically search, and the people at neighboring tables very nicely helped me. 

In the midst of my search I realized the nice man who was using his iPhone light to help me look in the seat cushions had recently won a Nobel Prize. 

And my keys? They were in my bag. 

Two

A few months ago — early November or thereabouts — Jonah started losing hair on the left side of his head. It started gradually and then rapidly accelerated to the point where he was entirely bald on one side. The cause was very obvious: he pulled out his own hair. He has played with the hair on the left side of his head since he was a baby, usually while trying to fall asleep. For some reason, a few months ago he decided not just to twirl the hair, but to yank it out of his head. Probably he just finally gained the dexterity for it. 

Mostly I was amused, because he looked very silly without half his hair. And then people became Concerned. This included his daycare teachers, my mother-in-law, my aunt, and finally, the doctor. Probably my mother was also Concerned, but she knows me well enough to not say anything. (Also, she has rampant trichotillomania so it would be a little rich, coming from her!)

This Concern manifested as a question: "What do they say about this?" At first I was confused. "Who are they?" I would ask. As it turns out, it was the same "they" who had told me not to eat turkey deli meat while pregnant. The nebulous "they" who have Opinions about things that Concern us, including but not limited to: people on the internet, your random mom facebook group, strangers on the street, and medical professionals. 

The suggestion that I ask a doctor about this was particularly interesting to me. Do people really expect me to take my son to the doctor because he pulls out his hair? This did not seem like a medical problem, especially since I knew the cause. And don't people know that doctors are pretty useless unless you have a truly urgent medical problem? Every time I have taken Jonah to the doctor, even when he was very sick, the only help I received was advice to let him rest and drink fluids. 

When I did take him to the doctor for a routine check up, the response was exactly as underwhelming as I imagined. I got a long lecture on the signs of autism, though I expressed no concern that Jonah is autistic. The same doctor asked me if Jonah could talk, and Jonah, the very friendly, talkative boy that he is, answered him in the affirmative. (I will not be going to this particular doctor again.)

"Could he be anxious?" my Concerned people asked. "Could he be stimming?" The answer, in both cases, was no. How did I know? I’m not sure, I just do! No one seemed very persuaded.

In the midst of all this Concern, I took Jonah to the local SuperCuts and had the nice man there shave off all his (remaining) hair. Jonah didn't mind because he got to watch Bluey while he got his hair cut. He looked only slightly less silly than he did when half bald, but it totally solved the problem. Turns out, you can't pull out your hair if you don't have any.