Queen of Rambles

I need to get off my duff and get some work done, but instead I find myself frantically clicking refresh over and over again at the hospital’s baby picture site. I am desperate to see what my niece looks like, even though I’m sure she just looks like a baby and a mere picture is not going to satisfy me. I am trying to avoid desperately clicking refresh on Orbitz, searching for a low-fare out to Klamath Falls. I don’t think I need to take a cross-country trip twice in one month. That would be crazy. But I want to see my niece! I am kicking myself for not planning my trip later, but August is not a good travel month for me and I don’t think I should travel in September so I did the best I could and won’t get to see my niece until the spring I guess.

In addition to frantically clicking refresh, I’m suspiciously eyeing the names of all the poor babies born in my home town. How is “Isaiah 53″ a name? I know Isaiah is a name, but 53? How can a number be a name? And yes, I know it is an extremely important verse in the Bible, but it seems like a rather depressing verse to name a child after–all about the death of Jesus and his suffering. I think “J@yden Abcde” is even worse. Were the parents just so out of creative juice that they thought they would just string some letters together. I know it’s hard to come up with a good name for a little boy, and these parents had to come up with two (twin brother was T@vish Russell) but couldn’t you just stick a finger in middle of a baby name book and come up with SOMETHING? The rest of the names are certainly not the names my generation grew up with. I don’t even know how to pronounce a lot of them. If I get my way, I suppose my poor little boy will have a name that people aren’t sure how to pronounce on first glance either, even though it is actually a very traditional name in some cultures. I don’t think I’m going to have my way, though. In fact, I am almost 99.9% certain that I won’t have my way. I don’t know what we are going to do about a name.

I found out today that the doctor broke my niece’s shoulder blade when he delivered her! I know she was a big girl and it was hard to get her out, but I still want to go and find him and break his shoulder blade and see how he likes it. They are saying that it doesn’t hurt her if she doesn’t move it, especially since it is really more cartilage than bone, but it still makes me cringe to think of a sweet little baby with a broken bone. They didn’t even know it was broken for quite awhile! Last night the new nurse on shift noticed it and called in a specialist. Thank goodness someone there knows how to do her job. I’m glad I’m not giving birth in that hospital. It’s known locally as Murder West (real name is Merle West) and I have heard of enough screw-ups to think the name is well deserved. You know what’s sad, though? Between my grandma and my sister being in the hospital there, I actually have the number to the switchboard memorized yet I have no idea what my husband’s work number is.

I just realized last night that I haven’t been angsty in a very long time. That’s good. I think that my angstiness is about to take a big leap to levels of un-healthiness in the next week or so. I am freaking out about the upcoming issue of Mosaic Minds because we don’t have enough feature articles and we have only a very short time before we go live. Instead of doing something about it, I freak out and run around like a chicken with my head cut off and accomplish exactly nothing. I’m not sure what else I can do though. I’ve posted submission ads at every writer’s group I can find that allows for no pay submission ads to be posted. I just fear people are losing interest.

Then I have the whole “Oh my God, I’m going to give birth in 11 weeks and it is going to HURT LIKE HELL” angst. I don’t do pain well. Not at all. Plus, all the information I’ve read has said that the first and third trimester totally suck, while the second trimester is bliss. I’m only a week into my third trimester and I hate to say that the reports seem to be correct. I have suddenly become a beached whale and have a hard time standing up and rolling over. I have to pee very five minutes. I am not at all interested in food, yet I always seem to be hungry. I’ve been living mainly on granola cereal and whole wheat pasta with butter and cheese. I know it’s not healthy and I try to eat a few bites of meat to get some protein down my gullet, but I just about gag every time I force it down. I have taken to cutting up the meat in to really tiny bites and swallowing them whole like a pill. At the moment the baby’s muscles don’t seem to be suffering from a lack of anything. He packs quite a punch and never seems to get tired. I have to do kick counts every night. I have to sit and time how long it takes to get ten movements. If it takes longer than two hours I’m supposed to call the doctor. Last night I was freaking out because it was taking so long–15 minutes! Usually it takes under 10 minutes to feel all the movements. Sometimes it takes as little as three minutes, and I only count a kickkickkick as one movement instead of three. I think I’m really going to miss feeling him move around in there when he comes out. I’m not going to miss him giving me ute pains.

And now I better go and do some work instead of hashing out reasons why I may or may not crash into angst filled despondency this week. I like myself a whole lot better when I’m happy.

This entry was posted on Sunday, July 24th, 2005 at 10:20 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.