Reduce temperature to 350…

and continue to bake for another 45 minutes.*

Too tired to post lately. And keeping my thoughts and prayers on a lot of ladies out there who are having a rough go.

But! 10 week scan today and all looks good! And at 10 weeks you get a good old-fashioned abdominal goo ultrasound.**

Head is to the right, et al is to the left. I am a little reluctant to speculate, but I think the Bean might be sucking his/her thumb. The little bugger is actually measuring a day ahead of schedule, but I think the measurements might be a bit arbitrary.

Vomiting is kicking my butt still. Things are more extreme: Really good days and really bad days. But overall, I’ll take “shitty occassionally” to “shitty all the time” any day. Oh! And I gained three pounds back.

I am actually reaching the point where I could consider doing this again.

We’ve been in Israel six months now. I still get a big kick out of the way Israelis pronounce things in English. Inside me there is, on any given day, a:

a) Fetus

b) Fay-toos

c) Fee-ay-toos or Fee-ahh-toos (accenting the second syllable)

d) Fee-tee-toos (totally my favorite – for the record, I mispronounced nudity until I was about 14 and I grew up speaking this language)

This country is the greatest.

More to come when I’ve had a long nap and more canned peaches.

* Yes, I just compared my pregnancy to the recipe for pumpkin pie that you get on the back of the Libby’s canned pumpkin cans. It’s better than what I was comparing it to a few weeks ago. Pumpkin pie sounds kinda good now…

** Or what fertile women like to call “an ultrasound.” The rest of us know better. “Ready for my closeup in room 4…”

Second thoughts. I haz them.

Nothing has actually made me miss living in the U.S. Until I got pregnant. And started craving things.

The cravings are not weird (I don’t think) but they know no time limits (yum! kettle corn at 6 in the morning!) and they are amazingly strong. Unlike anything else I have ever had.

The hubby is quite glad we a) do not own a car and b) live in a place where eateries and grocery stores close at night and do not reopen until morning.

I don’t actually want them (or at least I don’t think I do) but I think I might just give my left elbow for a giant plate of huevos rancheros smothered in green chile. Like the ones I used to get at Little Anitas in Albuquerque. And a big bottle of Orange Crush. Yum. Orange soda and chile. Okay. Maybe a little weird.

Or a big ass breakfast burrito from Dos Hermanos (also in ABQ). With beef. And cheese. I know, not kosher. But it sounds so good right now.

Such things do not exactly exist in Israel (okay, maybe the orange soda does – but they do not know from refried beans to the best of my knowledge). And the parasite mostly craves Israeli stuff anyway – falafel, shwarma, hummus, etc. It is a sabra at heart. I am just hoping it will teach me the Hebrew.

Mexican food would just make me vomit. Most things do. Pregnancy is by far the least sexy thing I’ve ever done – which is saying something for a girl who played ice hockey.

Go eat some for me.

PS – And sopapillas. Don’t forget the sopapillas from Gardunos. With oodles of honey.

Malady trifecta now in play

I have my first-ever urinary tract infection.

The sheer fact that I had never had one before amazed my doc. He said I must have really good hygiene and always wipe front to back.*

This, like pretty much every other illness, virus, disease, infection or complication short of Alzheimer’s, is more likely to occur in pregnancy. It has something to do with the extra glucose, protein and angst in your urine. I would have thought it had more to do with the fact that I pee three or four times a night, in the dark, mostly in the toilet, and would be hard-pressed to swear that I always apply due diligence to the toilet paper.

A urinalysis (my second one today!) and urine culture are being checked for the level of infection and type of infection. Results are due eventually – although the doc was a complete doll, I stopped listening when he said “UTI” and “antibiotics will make it better.” The tests are to rule out any infection in my kidneys: Basically, because I’ve never had one before, there is a concern that I let it go too long (unlikely – I whine early and often) and pregnancy and kidney infection mix about as well as pregnancy and dehydration. It’s only a matter of time until we find out if both are stocked at Kirby’s Corner Store.

If there is infection in the kidneys, I have to have IV meds and – gasp! – a couple hours in the hospital for bloodwork (kind of like a glucose tolerance test except for infections).

It’s time to open the betting pool back up again. Their are excellent odds on which malady will complete the Kirby pregnancy malady trifecta.**

In other news, I am having a hard time remembering which pills I am supposed to take when, since I’m on such boatloads of them now. And no, I’m not too cranky about the UTI. I stopped getting cranky after the broken rib. At this point, I can’t help but find it comic how vastly different my life is in comparison to what I thought pregnancy would be.

And just to warrant use of the poop tag: My rectum appears to have formed a “solidarity” movement with my bladder. Meaning, there is no movement to speak of. There is a large link or two missing from my circle of digestion. If something doesn’t break up by bedtime, I may take extreme measures (read: enema). There is some concern that I would explode otherwise.

* I want that on a first-place blue ribbon: “Always wipes vajayjay properly.” I would wear it to shul next to my “Ask me about my non-Orthodox conversion” button.

**Okay, God forbid, but … Smart money says high-blood pressure from the salt in the mashed potatoes I now frequently shovel down my gullet. Also rans include gestational diabetes from the gross amounts of sugar in the sweet tea I currently live for. Dark horses include choriocarcinoma and Parkinson’s.

Ungh. Need bed now.

 I am completely exhausted, so this is going to be short.

Weekend was a mess. Vomited more than I would have liked and didn’t eat enough. But potato products are my friends and most of the time they stay down.

First day went well. Need to be on bus at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow (!) , so am going to go pour myself into bed in a few minutes. Ate a big lunch. Kept it all down. Have diarrhea as a result. Too much fiber.

Having falafel for dinner. Almost certainly will regret it. Should be fun to watch.

More updates when I can stop drooling on the keyboard.

Am not really hungry for dinner, but going to try and eat anyway.

Whew! Found the perfect baby announcements

Started looking early. Never know how long it could take. Somehow, I don’t think these will go down very well.

‘Specially if we have a girl.

Hat tip to Saras-P at the Island for the link to someecards.com.

I think I’m going to cry

I had been brainstorming this big post on how I hate my job. And how I hate to hate my job, since I kind of knew when we moved to Israel that it was going to be mandatory for me to work full time and take whatever fell in my lap since my husband was going to school full time for at least two years. And how fortunate I was to find work that paid pretty well in my field 10 days after getting here. And I’m the only income we have, so it’s not really an option for me to get my panties in a bunch and quit.

In a nutshell, we lucked out on a major level. It could have made our first few months in the country very difficult, but instead there was my job to pull us through it.

But I don’t like it.* It has exceptionally little to do with my employer or even the people I work with. It has everything to do with the fact that I am sick of working night shifts on a news desk at a newspaper. I want a normal job with normal hours and normal perks and normal everything else.

So I took a technical writing retraining class. It trains you, in a nutshell, how to be a technical writer, which is an industry in Israel where good grammar and native English skills net you a hell of a lot more than working nights. But I started cycling half way through my class and I missed a few classes here and there and I still have unfinished homework and I was basically a big disappointment to myself. I thought I would shock and awe everyone – including the instructor, who is a bigwig in tech writing in Israel – with hitherto unsuspected skill. I had hoped she would pick me up after the course for some freelance work, the goal being to pick up a bit of extra money while I got my feelers into this new field. Build some contacts. Find a good employer. And then make the real leap of quitting my job as an editor.

I just got off the phone, which just started to ring again. It’s been wonky for a few days. I answered a number that I didn’t recognize, mainly because my husband is getting dinner for us and I am convinced he will, chas v’shalom, get hurt.

It was one of the bigwig’s coworkers. They are bringing me in on a project. The details of how many hours and when and where are going to be worked out at the first team training session next Sunday, but I am being offered at least a month of solid work (which will be extended to two or three months if they like me) and am going to be paid about 20 percent more than I am getting in my current position.

The best part? I really like these people. And I was told they have high hopes for me, that I am an excellent prospect as a technical writer. And they know I went through infertility. And they know that I am pregnant. And they still want to hire me – now. Not a year from now.

I have to figure a bunch of things out (such as, how I am going to do both jobs at once for awhile and how to get to the training place in Kfar Sava), but I’m not worried. I’m filled with hope in a way that I haven’t been since I learned we were moving to Israel. This is a chance at a career, not just a job. And I don’t have to wait until everything else works out to pursue it. I’m so happy I could cry.

* In fact, I would have killed for this job just five years ago. I work for a really highly respected newspaper that is a boon to have on my resume. The level of writing is excellent. People in the industry would argue that I work for one of the top newspapers in the world. But I’m sick of nights. And to a lesser extent, I’m sick of working at a place where I don’t believe in the politics that we’re publishing. This is not my employer’s fault. This is my fault for taking a job at a place where I wholeheartedly knew what I was getting into. When I told a couple folks where I was working – people outside of Israel that have know me and my politics for years – they thought I was kidding.

Yes, it’s true that most newsrooms in the U.S. are uberliberal too. The difference is that in the U.S., I really didn’t give a damn about most of it. My heart lies (and has for years) with Israel, and now I find myself having a very strong opinion on a whole mess of things. I care more here. And that makes it just too hard sometimes.

Followup

Some context for yesterday.

First off, I have lost 18 pounds, but let’s remember that I started out at 206. Am at 188, which is still a lot. And yes, pretty much everyone who hasn’t seen me for a couple weeks always starts with “wow, you lost weight,” but for the most part I am feeling better. I am far from miserable and almost have a normal life most days. I haven’t vomited yet today and I didn’t wake up in the night to vomit (yep, that happens too). I do not vomit more than four times a day, which is still considered within the normal range according to my doctor. I am back to peeing pretty frequently, which is a sign that I am getting enough fluids.

I am off the Endometrin, which makes me a happier camper and will in theory help with the nausea and exhaustion. I am still taking folic acid (duh) and Pramin/Reglan.
I have been cleared to sit in hot things and use a heating pad as long as my body temp doesn’t hit 102. So I take my temp occasionally in the tub.

Having had broken ribs before, I’m pretty sure I cracked one on the right side. The doc concurs but, of course, they aren’t going to do an x-ray since I am a) pregnant and b) you can’t really do anything to treat ribs even if they are broken. He poked around a bit and thinks that’s what it is. The biggest downside is that most of my bras fall right around that area. Note to self: Get new bras. Your old ones really don’t fit anymore. I’ve been stalling since my breasts haven’t grown much (I guess due to weight loss) but my ribcage is definitely bigger. I pretty much just live in sports bras.

As for curbing the weight loss, the doc said I should eat anything that is remotely appealing to me and eat as much as I want regardless of the nutritional content. If the morning sickness doesn’t go away by the end of the first trimester, they will create a plan for weekly or biweekly IVs in an attempt to prevent me from being hospitalized, which is nice.

And I’m starting to get weird cravings. I had a hankering for McDonald’s sweet and sour sauce the other night. Not McNuggets (gah! chicken) but just the sauce. I tend to crave salty things and sugary things, but not so much the fat. That’s still pretty unappealing.

Upon showing the hubby the ultrasound last night, he immediately said: “Oh yeah, there’s the head and there’s the butt.” And he picked the exact opposite of what I thought. So maybe it’s not quite as clear as I had hoped.

And thanks to everyone for the kind wishes and positive thoughts. It is really appreciated (especially the SMS messages from Vietnam).

 Read more >>   Options >>  

Graduation Day

This has to be short since I’m at work.

Scan went well. Dating 7w6d as expected. Good strong heartbeat. Can just begin to make out a head and a bum, though I’m not quite sure which is which.

Started having some chest pains this morning under my right breast. Doc thinks I might have cracked a rib from vomiting. I’m hard core. It’s been bad the last few days.

Graduated to having a real doctor today, but I still have to go back to my clinic in two weeks for another ultrasound and have to call them twice a week with my weight since I am still losing weight. My goal is to make it past 10 weeks so I can start seeing a different doc in town (who does not have a scale) and then get a free pass on the weight loss stuff. I am down 18 pounds since I got pregnant.

It’s all right here

For the record, I napped earlier and couldn’t fall asleep now if you paid me. And I ate a whole bag of potato chips. An Israeli bag, much smaller than the vats we used to get in the U.S. And I would give my left kidney (I’m seemingly more fond of the right one) for a chicken queso burrito from Qdoba right now, which is unfortunate since a) it’s not kosher in the least and b) they don’t have Qdoba in Israel (why? see part a).

Lately, I’ve been getting a lot more folks who found me through search engines. It’s time for another round up of how you found me:

Why would I ovulate early: Lots of potential reasons. Hoping yours isn’t the same as mine … eg. my doctors are morons.

Why does endometrin leak out three hours afterward: Because otherwise you might have slept soundly feeling as though you were adequately treating whatever condition it was prescribed for.

What to expect with the lupron cycle: For me, headaches. But otherwise I felt much better on lupron than on Gonal F, which is exactly what my nurse said wouldn’t happen. I have since concluded that I am made for menopause.

What temp bath when you are pregnant: Umm. Jury is still out. My doc said it won’t cause you to bleed, but simply put, warm water thins your blood so it sure as hell won’t help you to stop bleeding either. I am back to taking scorchingly hot baths (as in, your skin turns bright red) and my last ultrasound showed the subchorionic hematoma thingee supposedly went away. B’ezrat Hashem, tomorrow’s scan will show the same.

Six weeks and four days: It’s not just for Abraham Lincoln speeches anymore. In other news, a house divided against itself cannot stand. I had to try and explain that to my British and Israeli coworkers the other night, to no avail.

Bourekas in Queens: Man, you did not get what you wanted. But don’t miss my posts on Italian cheeses.

What to expect when you’re pregnant: Less shots, ideally, than when you’re not pregnant. Also see Feeling nauseous and a 99 temperature below

Pregnancy wife tail: Hope you meant tale and not tail. That sounds like a personal problem.

Lasagna+meaning+nasty: Heh. Bet you got way more than you wanted.

Do electric blankets raise your core temp: Only when you turn them on. In our house, a heating pad is an adequate substitute for central heating. So I think the core temp is remaining about the same.
Feeling nauseous and a 99 temperature: Welcome to my world.

Zir hemed: I didn’t even know what this was until I looked it up. Funny, it’s on my blog. They help folks with infertility in Israel. Unfortunately, they don’t seem to have a Web site, since I’m the second hit for them on Google (right behind Nefesh B Nefesh). Edited to add: Spelling it correctly helps – try searching for zir chemed and they do have a site (duh – they’re Israeli).

You’re doing it wrong

First off, it’s really cold here. As in 15 degrees Celsius inside the house. And if you don’t know what that means in Fahrenheit, lemme just tell you. Any good conversion calculator will come back with “so cold your nipples just broke off.” As someone who is originally from the frozen tundra of northern Wisconsin … I want my money back. I was promised warmth or something.

Rarely do I feel the need to share random crap I come across on the Internets (those of you who are friends with me on Facebook can now say “bullshit”) but this site has become one of my absolute favorites in the last few months. It always makes me laugh and updates regularly.

Here’s one of the latest posts from LOLCats:

Click to view more.

In a nutshell, it’s a site where people upload photos of cats and caption them using poor grammar. I am generally opposed to poor grammar, being an editor and all that shit, but this is worth desecrating the English language.

In other news, my baby’s the shit. Tried to come up with a way to stop saying “she or he or it” and just truncated it to shit. Or SHIT as it were, since it’s an acronym and British people be damned, I think we should capitalize all of the letters.

Next ultrasound is Tuesday morning. Check back later for the news.