My Cerclage

In September 2005, I was pregnant with twin girls. I lost my pregnancy at 19 weeks apparently due to my "incompetent cervix." I became pregnant again and wrote all about it on this blog. I now have a wonderful son. Since bed rest, anxiety and cerclage were so much fun, I've decided to do it all again.....

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Happy 6 Months

Little Quinn turned 6 months old yesterday. To celebrate, we gave him some rice cereal. It didn't go over very well. I'm sure he ingested more dog hair yesterday than he did rice cereal.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Normal Is as Normal Does

I have been tagged by Sarah to write 6 weird things about myself. My first thought in this challenge, “well, that’s easy, but who wants to tell the world all the secrets?” I mean private lives are considered private for a reason.

1. I think everything is weird. I mean it. For example, sometimes I look at my dog, who is 75 pounds, and who has FUR and I think it is SO WEIRD that this animal is roaming around my house, sleeping in my bed and living, many would say, a very nice lifestyle. I mean, if a rodent were 75 pounds, I am sure I would have no interest keeping not one but two “rodent beds” around. So…sometimes I will say to the husband, “how weird is it that we think it is normal to have a dog?” He will then roll his eyes and say “here we go…” In fact, my list should consist of other bizarre aspects of my life: I live in San Francisco, I chose my friends, I chose my husband, I became a social worker…everything is weird if you think about it enough.

2. I have some weird OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) traits. This is odd in that very few would consider me OCD. I am not fastidious about cleanliness, organization or general day to day…anything. Even today, Q dropped his pacifier on the street and it was swooped up and back in his mouth in seconds with a mumbled “30 second rule” by mom. So, it is more than strange that there are a few things that I cannot abide. I already let you in on the truth about how totally disgusting toothpaste is. Now I shall tell you some bedtime freakiness (no, not like that). When I go to sleep, the sheets must be “smooth” when they are over me, and my feet must be under the covers. I need to fall asleep in a dark room and the even the husband’s breathing, yes not snoring, but breathing is a problem. I look like a corpse at bedtime--Eye mask, ear plugs, and lying flat on my back with the covers across me all serene-like. But my arms must be outside the covers since I experience an overwhelming sensation of claustrophobia if they’re in, yet my feet must be covered. This ends up causing many nighttime negotiations with the husband since he is the opposite: feet out and hands in. His approach is decidedly NOT smooth. What’s odd about all this is the sense of alarm if any of this is out of place. OCD, I tell you.

3. I am totally and completely addicted to coffee. Is this weird? I don’t know. However, it does take up an enormous amount of space in my life. You know, the attention towards needing my daily dose, the screeches if we are out of beans or, god forbid, milk. This addiction is purely a nurture thing. Everyone in my family is a coffee fiend; I think I was drinking caffeinated coffee by 7th grade. I even have this memory exemplifying how crazy my family was about coffee. I happened to grow up in a big rambling house. There were 5 kids. Anyway, one day there was no toilet paper anywhere in the house and it had been that way for a day or so. Even in the guest bathroom in “the back” where no one ever set foot was out of toilet paper. I ran into one of my brothers by the guest bathroom, both of us in search for toilet paper. The situation was gross and getting serious. We also were out of coffee. The next morning, I entered the kitchen to see 2 of my brothers closing in on my mother, one of them holding the empty coffee tin, the other looking murderous. My poor mom, hands up in surrender, was saying, “I know. I know. I am going to the store right now.” When understanding hit me, I looked at my mother with fury (poor mom. She was such the “mom” no one, least of all her, ever questioned whether she should bother getting our coffee.) She grabbed her purse, ran to the door and after she was out someone yelled an afterthought, “by the way, we have no toilet paper!!”

It’s so bad. You should see me every morning with Quinn, “and here are the beans, and here is the water and this is where we keep the milk….” The kid has no shot (no pun intended) at survival. But like a true addict, I don’t think I have a problem. I LIKE my coffee.

4. I take a bath everyday. I am a bath person. When I used to rent apartments, no bathtub was a deal breaker. I don’t understand it when people say, “yeah…I’m not really a bath person.” I soak with a book pretty much every evening before bed. My doc didn’t let me have baths on bedrest—something to do with the stitch. That was horrible (but you can bet I had some coffee while pregnant on bedrest). I take these baths in addition to regular showers. I won’t win awards for conserving water, but I might win some for cleanliness.

5. I really like weather. Not watching the weather reports, but weather in general. I think I can appreciate something about all kinds of weather. I remember running in Seattle in the winter when there was a soft rain. If I stayed home, it was depressing, but if I went for a run, I appreciated the beauty of the NorthWest—its special eeriness way up there in the corner of the country. Sometimes during these runs, the clouds would break and there was sun shining through, clearing some sky and allowing a glimpse of the Cascades. I’d come home to my roommates, who were watching TV trying to get through a dreary day, and I'd feel, truly, like Seattle is a beautiful place. Generally if I am somehow being active in it, I like all weather. It happens to be one of my few complaints about SF. While the weather is good, it’s pretty much the same all year round. I like seasons. I like weather.

6. Weird or not, this last bit is true. No matter what if I “shoot it out” like “once, twice three, shoot!”, I loose. I tried "Rock, Paper Scissors". Same thing. NO MATTER WHAT. The husband has figured it out so if there is ever a task, like taking out the garbage or attending to the crying baby, he always hopefully suggests, “I’ll shoot you for it?”

Alice! You’re up. 6 weird things about you!

Monday, February 05, 2007

Clear Eyes, Full Hearts Can't Lose

I have written about my TV addiction, right? It sounds like I watch a lot of TV. I actually don't watch a horrendous amount, but I have my "shows" that I am shamelessly addicted too. See, the English major in me used to be all "Who me? Stupid TV? That wasn’t me you saw watching Party of 5, I am too busy reading classics!" Then one day I decided to stop the lies and in my effort to be truthful, I became, and still remain, annoyingly proud of my TV watching. It is very silly.

During the half marathon that I FINISHED in 2 hours and 20 minutes on Sunday (about 11 minute miles—not my old pace, but who cares, right?), I had bit of a hard time around mile 10. I was looking for inspiration and thought to myself that I should have rented that Mathew Modine wrestling movie, Vision Quest, to get myself psyched up. You know, where he goes running in a silver sweat suit? So good. But since I didn’t think to rent Vision Quest (this isn’t a joke, this thought process happened), I tried to think of something else inspirational. That's when I began chanting the cheer from Friday Night Lights, my current TV fave. “Clear minds, full hearts can’t loose!” At first I thought of it jokingly, “wouldn’t it be funny if I started saying ‘clear minds, full hearts can’t loose’ to get through this, like on Friday Night Lights?" Unfortunately, desperation is powerful, and eventually I was chanting sincerely. Pathetic! Truthfully, it didn't really work since Friday Night Lights is only fronting as a football show. It’s really teenagers having sex. It’s the OC repackaged. Genius.

I have given up on 24. It is the same thing every season and I don't care anymore so I have no Sunday show. Monday night I watch Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. Tuesday’s I don’t think I have anything (usually Monday’s TIVO’d Studio 60) Wednesday is Friday Night Lights and then Top Chef or whatever Bravo incarnation they are doing. Thursday is a triple whammy with The Office, Grey’s Anatomy (sucks I’m not also watching Scrubs since it conflicts with Grey’s) and ER. I have been watching ER for over a DECADE. I think I started in ’94. Is that possible?? So…that’s my regular TV line up. It’s’ not too much, right? Oh. I also don’t watch ANY during the day. For some reason TV in the daytime makes me depressed. Like I am home sick, or on bedrest.

In other news, the very controversial Supernanny started today for half a day. She was fantabulous, and I was happy to have a few hours to myself.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

The Running Life

I can't believe I am going to write this post about running because it is so weird how much space--emotionally and physically--running has taken in my life. Seriously, it's strange. In high school, I was part of a running team that was nationally known. My coach was recognized as one of the best in the country and I ate, slept and breathed running. I actually went to running camp. I even told stories about running camp (the shame!) Fall was cross-country which eventually gave way to winter and spring track. I was a sprinter, hurdler and high-jumper and also I was very average on this team. But it was a HUGE part of my identity and I still recognize myself as a "runner" today. It's in quotes because "runner's" don't see themselves as "jogger's" and runner's wear "running shoes" and not "sneakers" and "runner's" give each other a nod of solidarity on the trails, the "runner's wave" if you will. I am a "runner" (huge dork).

Hahhhahhahhahhahhahhhhaaaahhhaaaa! It's funny that I have this totally pretentious thought process about a sport, the reality of which is that I have no business identifying with. I waddle, barely the pace of a shuffle in "running clothes" from high school or freshman year of college (only a novice still runs in a cotton t-shirt. No wicking fabric for me) and come home so spent and claim, "I just went for a run." Well, this delusional me signed up for a half-marathon 5 months ago that takes place this Sunday in Golden Gate Park. I have, in my shuffle state, actually gotten myself through two 8-mile runs, the last one being a few weeks ago. Now. Since I am seriously deranged, I often think I can do more than I can because I've been a "runner" for 20 years and have a history of finishing half-marathon's (remember Vancouver, Alice? That was the last one!) at various points of my life. Since I suffered through 8 miles somewhat recently, I am telling myself that if need be I can workout and extra two to make 10, at which point I only have 3.1 left to complete a half marathon.

Call me crazy, but since I paid the fee, I am showing up this Sunday morning to see what happens--waddle butt, two jog-bras (thank you new milky pregnancy boobs), cotton-tee and a grim set of my jaw as I say to myself "I am a runner. I am a runner...." Wish me luck!