In a Word: Midwives

Did anyone else hear Renee Montagne's report on midwives in Afghanistan on Morning Edition?

It's a moving story about a US organization training Afghan women to be midwives in order to reduce the infant and mother mortality rate in rural provinces in their country. 1 in 5 babies and 1 in 3 mothers die in childbirth in these rural provinces. These are women who typically wouldn't be allowed to work outside of the home but are being supported and chosen by their elders and villages to get the training needed to serve mothers in their communities.

"These women are like guardian angels for infants and mothers," says Zafaran Natiqi, head of women's affairs in Badakhshan.

We don't hear a lot of good news coming out of Afghanistan these days, especially for women and that alone makes this story worth taking time out for. Listen to it here.

It's a boy!

It's a boy! The labeling of the ultrasound gives us that impression anyway.

We had our ultrasound last Friday at noon. We had decided not to find out the sex of the baby in the office but had the doctor seal it up for us so we could open it at dinner. Ben had a lesson at until 6:30 which meant we didn't even leave for dinner until 7:00. The suspense almost killed me. We had a good laugh when we finally got to open the envelope and saw the labeling. We were expecting, "boy" or "male" but instead there it was in black and white. Penis.

While Ben and I were both hoping for a girl, for no particular reason, we both seemed to know it was a boy. We're unbelievably excited and now that we know it's a boy, it just feels right.

It turns out I'm possibly a week further along than initially thought so our due date has been bumped forward a few days to February 12th. Now we're just counting down the days until we get to meet him.

Is it a boy? Or a girl?

Our gender ultrasound is scheduled for this Friday at 11:45 AM. We cannot wait to finally have a gender for "the bean". The last time we saw the baby, at 7 weeks, it really looked just like a bean. I imagine it actually looks like a baby now.
Ben and I decided that we don't want the doctor to tell us the gender at the ultrasound. Getting the news in the office seemed a little anticlimactic. So, stealing this idea from some friends, the plan is to have the doctor write it down and seal it up for us. We're going to go out on a date Friday night and open it there.
Keep your fingers (and toes) crossed that the baby will be cooperating. If all goes as planned we'll make the announcement on Friday evening. Right now, I'm feeling like it's probably a boy.
Stay tuned...

Sweet Video

Probably the sweetest thing I've seen this year. Now I just have to stop watching videos like this at work. The sniffling coming from my desk is probably not very professional.

Baby Obsessed

--the picture with this post is my first official baby bump photo. 18 weeks and counting. That is one big belly but as Ben says, a good 8 oz of that is baby. The rest is the 3 bowls of apple squash soup and 2 vegan rice krispy treats I had for dinner.

I am, as indicated by the post title, baby obsessed. More specifically obsessed with MY baby not just babies in general. I think about the baby all the time. I kept this to myself for a while and finally broke down and told Ben last week. I hadn't mentioned it to anyone and it was driving me crazy. I was worried that my obsession might not be normal.
The all consuming baby thoughts make it nearly impossible to focus at work. I'd find myself zoned out at work; staring at the wall, glazed over eyes. If this happened at my desk but not the end of the world. Then it started happening in meetings. Meetings I really should be paying attention in.
One moment I'm running a presentation and the next minute I'm in baby land. Glazed over. My train of thought something like this:
Did I just feel the baby? No, it was probably gas. It didn't feel like gas though. It must have been the baby. Oh my god! I think I just felt the baby. There it is again! Oh, that's definitely gas. No, definitely baby. No, gas. No, baby. I should call someone and ask. But who? This isn't really important enough to bug the midwife with. Gas or baby? Maybe I can find something in one of books.
"Erin, Erin" my co-worker is nudging me in the side. "Can we go back one slide, please?"
Oops. No idea how long people have been trying to get my attention while I agonized over baby or gas bubbles.
Or there was the meeting a few weeks ago, equally as bad if not worse.
The one sided conversation I was having in my mind then: I feel really good this week. I wonder if anyone will ask me how I'm feeling. I wish someone would ask. That would give me an excuse to talk about the baby without just throwing it into a conversation at random. I wonder if I've been annoying people with how much I talk about the baby?
Someone breaks into my thoughts "Erin, what do you think? Will that work for you?"
Me, mouth opening and closing like a fish, making no sound but still thinking "He's asking about the baby, right?"
Must focus on work.
I've been reading a lot of pregnancy books, they all talk about the best way to present your pregnancy to your office, especially if you plan on being a working mom. Which I do. So, the books say to make sure to stay focused and work even more efficiently than normal. This is especially hard in an office that is 95% male. While I love my work family, sensitivity isn't really their thing. As evidenced by the fact that when a co-worker found out I was pregnant he said "Oh good. I figured it was either that or you had really let yourself go." Kicking him in the shin was my gut reaction. I pulled it together just in time. There would have been witnesses and I really don't want to get fired. He was lucky to walk away from that one unscathed.
My question is: How does any first time mom accomplish this? Is it just me or are all moms to be as obsessed with their babies as I am?

We're pregnant...and happy?

As anyone reading this blog likely knows, we're pregnant! We found we were expecting exactly one day after our first wedding anniversary on June 14th. If only I'd been paying attention I could have given Ben the exciting news on our wedding anniversary but, I wasn't. Paying attention that is.
The news came with great excitement and anticipation. I've never been a sickly person, I don't often get sick and when I do I tend to power through. Honestly, I find sick people incredibly irritating. Obviously I mean people with general aches and pains, colds and the flu. Not the truly ill. I just could never wrap my head around the idea of lying around and whining when not feeling well. So you have a cold? Get up and move around, trust me it will help. Lying around doesn't make ME feel any better when I'm sick so I can't fathom why anyone else would behave that way. That's not to say that I don't get the occasional flu that knocks me off my feet for a week. I do, but only every couple of years or so.
So, that said I thought pregnancy would be a breeze. I wasn't going to be sick or achy. I was going to keep my same routine, running, working, cooking, sewing without breaking stride. I was going to be a superhero pregnant lady. Things didn't quite turn out how I thought...
Let's just say my running shoes haven't seen any action since a half marathon at 7 weeks pregnant that nearly killed me and my sewing machine hasn't fared much better. Take-out pizza, Thai food or soup from a can are the norm for dinner these days.
I work, I nap, I occasionally get the dogs and myself out for a walk but mostly I have morning sickness, total exhaustion, heartburn, general abdominal pains, even bloody noses. I've had every symptom listed in my pregnancy books. Maybe I should stop reading those books. Might be the power of suggestion. I think I might be the most miserable pregnant person ever. At 8 weeks I was telling Ben "never again". Which I guess is a good thing since we decided a long time ago that one kid was it for us anyway. But that's the simple truth. Never again. I enjoy being able to bend over, sleep on my belly, run 5 miles, eat soft cheeses, have a glass of wine with dinner and drink multiple cups of coffee a day.
Every time a mom tells me how much she loved being pregnant I want to punch her. Maybe she really did love it, I'm sure there are moms who do have nice easy pregnancies, or masochistic moms who enjoy the misery, or maybe, like they say, she's just forgotten how miserable she was. The moms all tell me that too, that I won't remember. I won't remember the pain of childbirth (we're going the natural route) because of the adrenaline and euphoria that comes after. I don't believe them.
I know I will love my baby, when I hear that heartbeat in the doctors office I cry with joy every time. I know when I finally meet our little girl or boy I'll remember the misery of pregnancy and the pain of childbirth and it will all have been worth it. But that doesn't change the fact: Never again.