My first nurse's appointment: 1/14

Matt was so sweet to go with me to this. It was nothing, really. Their nurse is only in on Wednesdays, so they got us in as soon as they could to get my and Matt’s medical histories, go over some do’s and don’ts, tell me I REALLY ought to get a flu shot, and REALLY need to start exercising a little bit. (They asked whether I currently exercise and I said no. They said I need to exercise because at my height and weight, I should gain 30 pounds or fewer, and what I do gain will be hard to lose, so it helps if I do something mild to moderate three times a week, that won’t raise my core body temperature too much.)

Then they took urine and blood samples. The latter part took two nurses, one less sweater (thank goodness for the camisoles Mom got me!), a cold rag, some juice, a granola bar, and a good ten minutes. But one of the staff (I didn’t realize she’s not a nurse) remembered me from last time and made sure I had a place to lay down, and she did most of the work. They had a hard time finding a vein that works (they tied me up and tapped in three places before deciding where they MIGHT get blood), and then for whatever reason, it just doesn’t come OUT very well. So once they get in, they sit there for a long while waiting for it to trickle out. But my lady is the nicest thing ever, gentle and patient and sweet. I only have to do that part three or four more times. THANK GOD!

We see the doctor next Thursday. I can’t wait!! I really hope they do the Doppler so I can see a heartbeat. I just want PROOF that there is something living in there!

BTW, they loved Matt. Of course. When I was getting my blood drawn, they put him in the waiting room and when I started getting pale, they told me to think of that wonderful husband I had. How cute??

Trifecta of Disappointing News Stories

Following is a disturbing post from Iconoculture, one of the email blasts I receive.

The close of 2008 and the opening of 2009 brought a trifecta of disturbing stories that have food-aware consumers reeling.

One: The FDA issued a proposal saying (to paraphrase) that despite reports to the contrary from our country's own environmental agency, consumers should eat more fish — mercury poisoning be damned (Chicago Tribune 12.14.08). Consumers, already confused about seafood, don't know which governmental advice to trust, the EPA's or the FDA's.

Two: Turns out that one "organic" fertilizer company, California Liquid Fertilizer, was secretly spiking its stuff with synthetics. Its Big Organic clients didn't know, but the California Department of Food and Agriculture did— and did nothing to stop it for three years (SacBee.com 12.28.08). Yes, this means that consumers now have good reason to doubt the Certified Organic label.

Three: A reporter from the Seattle Post-Intelligencer found that honey labels are none too sweet, either (1.2.09). From place-of-origin to certified organic status to grade levels, Big Honey has been found to (often) lie through its comb teeth. Consumers currently have no way of knowing whether the label accurately indicates what's inside.

With money so tight these days, shoppers need something to believe in, especially if they're being asked to cough up a couple extra bucks for the "good stuff." So really: If we can't believe what we read on the label, how do we know what the good stuff is?

Disturbing!!! How do they get away with this??

Week Eight, Already!

I’m guessing that I’m rounding out my eighth week already. That would mean the baby is about half an inch right now; the size of a raspberry. It’s starting to look more baby-like and is even starting to develop a face, and webbed fingers and toes. Isn’t that nuts??

I still haven’t had any morning sickness, and very little heartburn. My mom tells me that she didn't get morning sickness with any of her three kids. What a relief! I get pains in my stomach (which are supposed to be growing pains), have been spotting a little each day (which freaks me out, but a friend with an eight month old tells me it happens) and my breasts are tender. But that’s it. We have a nurse’s appointment 1/14 and finally see the doctor 1/22. I’ll almost be through my first trimester by then! Matt said he’s going to try to go to all of our doctor appointments, even the quick check-ups. He kisses my belly when he gets home at night. It’s really sweet.

I told Matt I have a feeling it’s a girl. Apparently, pregnant moms guess correctly something like 75% of the time! Now we are debating whether we want to find out...

The Curious Case of Frying Panda...Zombies?

Carlos and I saw "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" on Tuesday. It was very, very good. It reminded me in some ways of Forrest Gump, in that epic-tale-of-one-man sort of way. I'd definitely watch it again. The only surprise was that it didn't make me cry... two of my male coworkers saw it and said their wives bawled and that even they got misty-eyed.

Carlos and I also did our gift exchange. I got him a zombie book and I made him a pet zombie. I can't believe I didn't take a picture of him! Maybe I'll make another. Carlos made me a fist-full of CDs, got me a zombie book (!), an icanhascheezburger magnetic phrase kit (now I need to print out some pictures of Alex and Angel!) and a frying panda. I kid you not; it's a frying pan with a panda face on the outside. I used it just last night to make an egg. Yum!

What You Learn From Absence

The area by the boys' food and water bowls used to be littered with strewn about kibbles. I've seen both of them get distracted when they eat and drop food out of their mouths, but it must have been Alex who did the majority of the get-distracted-turn-to-look-and-have-food-fly-out-of-his-mouth, because there aren't many kibbles on the floor anymore.

It makes me smile to think of him.

Alexander Sebastian

We had Angel for about a year before deciding that he needed a friend. Matt had been to the adoption center in Petsmart and wanted me to see a kitten that resembled Angel. I did, but didn't click with him, or any of the other cats I saw.

But I noticed an empty, open cage, and the volunteer explained that each cat had time out of their cages, but Cedric was terribly timid, and spent his turn hiding under the stacks of cages. I got on my hands and knees and peered under there and saw two enormous green eyes peering out of a ginger and white head. I reached my hand to him, and he sniffed, nuzzled, then hit me with a forceful head-butt. And just like that, I found my baby.

To let him get used to us and his new home before introducing him to his new brother, we shut our baby in our bedroom with food, water and a litter box. But he had other plans in mind... as soon as we let him out of his cage, he dashed under the bed and there he stayed.

For three days.

I spend a lot of time on the floor those three days: laying where he could see me, talking to him, petting him, trying to encourage him to come out of his shell. On the third day, we left the bedroom door open. While in the living room watching TV, we heard Angel make the craziest, guttural growl ever heard. And when we looked up, we saw our green-eyed, pink-nosed, long-limbed, ginger and white baby cautiously round the corner. He was ready to join his new family.

We didn't like the name "Cedric" for our new baby. We wanted a name that suited him, that might give him some of the courage he seemed to lack. We flipped through baby name books, debated during meals, and finally agreed on something. Alexander Sebastian. Defender of the people. Venerable. Our baby.

Of course, Alex went by a dozen different names. The Baby. Booger Boy. Bunny. Dopey. Face. Fuzzy. Ginger-chin. Gingersnap. Oaf. Pathetic. Pest. Pigeon. Pink-Nosed Bunny Boy. Punam. Stupid. We called him Pigeon because when he purred, it sounded less like a motor and more like a pigeon's coo. It melted my heart every time. And his meow! I've never heard something so high pitched. Sometimes, he'd strain so hard to make himself heard that he'd shudder with the effort, open his mouth, and nothing would come out.

As he became more confident, he became more outgoing. He'd greet new people, demand their love, head-butt them affectionately. If you could read his thoughts, he was probably thinking, Hi! My name is Alex! I love you!

Quite the mischievous boy, he'd chew on pretty much anything left in the open. Shoes. Handbags. Pens. Ribbons. Boxes. Tissue paper was a favorite. He loved to lay on his back with his legs splayed open; we'd laugh and call him vulgar. He tore up at ate the carpet on his scratching post, screamed for tuna juice, ran off with my yarn, sat on my homework, picked fights with his brother, interrupted anyone who was getting attention. He didn't believe in idle hands; hands should be busy loving him.

He loved the laser pointer, and would jump to attention whenever he heard us pick it up. While Angel was a stalker, he's guilelessly chase it all over the place. We'd shine it on the ceiling and he'd get on his back legs and reeeeeeach for it, long fat tummy exposed to the world.

And yet, he was the laziest thing ever, napping constantly. In the kitty tree, on the sofa, on the recliners, on the dining room table, in a sunny spot on the floor, on the bed, in my closet, in the guest room, in boxes... wherever he had room, he had a napping spot.

While I always had a special connection with Angel, Alex was always more demanding of our attention. He was at the foot of the bed when I woke up, he was at the door when I got home, he was on my lap every time I sat down. The opposite of the elegant, graceful feline, Alex was a klutzy, dopey guy. He'd walk across you and it felt like each step carried his entire weight. And he was restless on laps, walking in circles, laying down, stomping around some more. Sometimes, I'd get frustrated and Matt would tell me to make him get down. But I never had the heart to.

The mornings was Angel's time with mom; the evenings was Alex's time. When I got in bed, he would lay across my chest and stomach, pink nose in my face, pushing away books and magazines to get petted and loved. Then he'd stomp around the pillows, putting his butt in Matt's face, head-butting our heads so much it would hurt. Loving us so much, it hurt.

The weekend after Christmas, Alex threw up a few times. Matt had given him leftover turkey and he always had a sensitive stomach, so we didn't think much of it. By the third day, he hadn't gotten better, had become lethargic, seemed to be limping, and was hiding. We made an appointment with his vet at Falls Road Animal Hospital. An x-ray showed one atrophied kidney and one enlarged one. They said it could be something as benign as an infection and as serious as cancer. They gave him some fluids and put him on an oral antibiotic.

Back home, he didn't have the energy to fight me when being forced his antibiotics, and didn't run off when we were done. So I sat with him, stroked him, told him he was a good boy, assured him he'd be okay. There were no head-butts, no nuzzles when I put my finger in front of his nose. He didn't get in bed with us that night; I put a pillow on the floor and laid with him until he went off to hide in my closet.

New Year's Day, he vomited blood and had bloody stool. We rushed him back to Falls Road. He didn't protest.

I expressed my concern about the care he had received the day before, how the vet gave oral meds when he couldn't keep anything down, and should've kept him there for better care and observation. They agreed he needed to stay overnight; he had an ultrasound scheduled for the next day, and in the meantime, they could keep an eye on him, and keep some fluids in him. I told him I wanted him to be good and get better, hugged him, kissed him, held him. I almost cried when I put my finger in front of him and got one more weak nuzzle.

Friday afternoon at work, I spend a good deal of time on the phone with his vet, raising my concerns about his treatment, then repeating them to Dr. Kim Hammond, the CEO. They assured me they'd get his ultrasound as soon as possible. A coworker told me I should go there and lean on them. But I didn't. They called at 4pm to let me know they were running late due to an emergency. Then they called around 5:30, saying he was fading.

I rushed to the vet, begging that he hold on until I get there. But he didn't. I didn't listen to the advice of my friend, and he died without me there to hold him. I have a hard time accepting that he's gone. And I can't forgive myself for not being there.

Alex must have been the feline version of my Granddad: he lived honestly, loved purely, died rapidly. He left a hole in the hearts who loved him. He was thoroughly good. Unique. Irreplaceable. Missed. And loved.

Telling Mom

Matt and I went to my mom's house on New Year's Day, after taking Alex to the ER at Falls Road Animal Hospital. We were pretty stressed and worried about Alex, and I know I was ready to see my mom. We sat and knitted for a few minutes, and talked. I told her I wanted to get my knitting done so I could concentrate on the tome I was reading, then asked she get it out of my purse. She pulled What to Expect When You Are Expecting out, looked at it and asked with little hope, "What? Are you expecting?"


"Yes!"


And she got so excited, she cried, and threw her arms around me.

Bob came running out of his room, asking what was going on, and when we told him, he hugged me and sniffled, too. Then said, "I am so going to spoil that kid!" and retreated to his room.


I have a feeling he won't be the only one.

Christmas Morning

Christmas morning, I woke up early to go to the bathroom, and crawled back in bed to try to wake Matt. "You're shaking, baby" he said. Small wonder.

I got up and, ironically, put some buns in the oven for breakfast. A sweet treat for Christmas morning has always been a tradition. We opened our gifts from one another, then plundered our stockings. When all was said and done, I told Matt there should've been something else in his stocking, and went upstairs to get it.

"I found it! It's not wrapped, though. You'll have to close your eyes and put out your hand." And I placed the pregnancy test in his palm. Matt opened his eyes, looked confused, looked startled, and then shouted, "REALLY??" I told him I had taken the test that morning -- no wonder I was shaking -- and he put his arms around me and squeezed me tight. And sniffled. And said it was the best Christmas present he could've asked for.