Humph. We got a letter in the mail yesterday from Main Bank thanking us for our concerns as “valued card holders.” They also wrote that their records indicated that our APR, which has not changed in two years (I went through our files and looked), was VARIABLE. Sure enough, when the statement came today, it had risen a percentage point. I called and tried to persuade them to change it to a fixed rate but they wouldn’t budge, saying they had changed the terms of our agreement several months ago and had sent us a notice to that effect. (Of course, no one reads those things.) According to the customer service rep, our only recourse is to write the company president.
We’ll see.
Friday, October 29
Thursday, October 21
We got our bill today for our main credit card and they have doubled our interest rate! It’s not enough that they spanked our hand by suspending our charging privileges and reducing our credit limit, but now they’re really sticking it to us after we’ve already been disciplined. They’re being far too high-handed and I’m not going to settle for it.
I may be pregnant, and I may be struggling to think, but I will dedicate what gray matter I have left to fighting the big banking conglomerate. No one messes with a pregnant woman and lives to tell.
Phew! I called our credit card’s parent company and spoke to a very nice customer service supervisor who is pregnant with her second child and completely related to having preggy brains. She is reducing our interest rate back to what it was.
I may be pregnant, and I may be struggling to think, but I will dedicate what gray matter I have left to fighting the big banking conglomerate. No one messes with a pregnant woman and lives to tell.
* * *
Phew! I called our credit card’s parent company and spoke to a very nice customer service supervisor who is pregnant with her second child and completely related to having preggy brains. She is reducing our interest rate back to what it was.
Monday, October 18
22 weeks
As my size increases, my privacy diminishes.
Complete strangers accost me on the street and demand to know the sex of the baby, the name, and worse, seem to be under the misconception that my stomach is a public talisman for them to rub at will.
Friends are even worse. They understand that babies are wonderful, yes, but they forget personal boundaries—that there’s a somewhat private matter of just how the baby got here—and hurdle that fine line like they’re pursuing a gold medal.
“Did you have any trouble getting pregnant?”
“Were you trying long?”
Then there’s the wondering if Chip and I were complete dunces for ten years and didn’t quite understand how the whole reproductive thing worked. Better yet, perhaps we had full grasp of the process and just slipped up: “Gee, you guys have been married a long time. Did you mean for this to happen?”
While we most certainly did, is that really anyone’s business? And what if we hadn’t? Someone uncouth enough to ask that question would also be likely to tell a child that he/she was unwanted.
In this day of instant access to any and all information, some people need to learn to mind their own business.
Complete strangers accost me on the street and demand to know the sex of the baby, the name, and worse, seem to be under the misconception that my stomach is a public talisman for them to rub at will.
Friends are even worse. They understand that babies are wonderful, yes, but they forget personal boundaries—that there’s a somewhat private matter of just how the baby got here—and hurdle that fine line like they’re pursuing a gold medal.
“Did you have any trouble getting pregnant?”
“Were you trying long?”
Then there’s the wondering if Chip and I were complete dunces for ten years and didn’t quite understand how the whole reproductive thing worked. Better yet, perhaps we had full grasp of the process and just slipped up: “Gee, you guys have been married a long time. Did you mean for this to happen?”
While we most certainly did, is that really anyone’s business? And what if we hadn’t? Someone uncouth enough to ask that question would also be likely to tell a child that he/she was unwanted.
In this day of instant access to any and all information, some people need to learn to mind their own business.
Saturday, October 16
Now that I know what to look for, I feel the baby every day. She’s particularly active in the late afternoon, right before deadline, shortly after I down a cup of calcium-fortified orange juice. I can just picture her in there, those itty-bitty feet kicking for all she’s worth.
I will never forget the look of wonder on Chip’s face a few days ago when he felt the baby move for the first time. “Oh!” he gasped, his hands on either side of my abdomen. “I felt something!”
I nodded. “That’s your daughter.”
“Do it again!” he said, his mouth against my belly.
Immediately our little girl complied.
“Good parenting there, Chip.” I gave him a playful jab. “She’s minding you already.”
I will never forget the look of wonder on Chip’s face a few days ago when he felt the baby move for the first time. “Oh!” he gasped, his hands on either side of my abdomen. “I felt something!”
I nodded. “That’s your daughter.”
“Do it again!” he said, his mouth against my belly.
Immediately our little girl complied.
“Good parenting there, Chip.” I gave him a playful jab. “She’s minding you already.”
Monday, October 11
I felt the baby move today!
I was sitting at my desk, about half an hour from deadline, when a persistent little “bloop” in my abdomen registered in my consciousness. When I realized it was the baby, I placed my hand on the stomach in an effort to connect. I wanted to make contact, to let her know Mommy was there.
What I really wanted to do was talk to to the baby, but since I was in the middle of the newsroom and have already attracted enough attention by my odd behavior, I quickly nixed the idea.
As I sat there silently reveling in this latest pregnancy milestone, I realized I’d felt that same “bloop” (kind of like a bubble popping) over the past several weeks but had chalked it up to gas or just another one of those weird pregnancy side-effects. It never occurred to me that such a momentous occasion would be experienced as a gradual dawning instead of a specific “aha!” moment.
I’m so excited! I wonder if it’s too early for Chip to feel it too.
I was sitting at my desk, about half an hour from deadline, when a persistent little “bloop” in my abdomen registered in my consciousness. When I realized it was the baby, I placed my hand on the stomach in an effort to connect. I wanted to make contact, to let her know Mommy was there.
What I really wanted to do was talk to to the baby, but since I was in the middle of the newsroom and have already attracted enough attention by my odd behavior, I quickly nixed the idea.
As I sat there silently reveling in this latest pregnancy milestone, I realized I’d felt that same “bloop” (kind of like a bubble popping) over the past several weeks but had chalked it up to gas or just another one of those weird pregnancy side-effects. It never occurred to me that such a momentous occasion would be experienced as a gradual dawning instead of a specific “aha!” moment.
I’m so excited! I wonder if it’s too early for Chip to feel it too.
Thursday, October 7
I would say I’ve single-handedly ruined Chip’s impeccable credit rating, but that would be inaccurate, and for a reporter, unconscionable. Rather it would be accurate to say we— me and the grapefruit-sized accomplice residing in my belly who regularly feeds on my brain cells—have ruined his credit rating.
I’m still not sure if I misplaced the bill or if it never came, but somehow I missed making the minimum payment on our main credit card last month. I discovered it as I started to pay our most recent bill and saw that the figure was twice as much as normal. Chip called the company right away and they seemed very understanding and told us to just go ahead and pay the minimum balance.
Well, today we got a couple of letters from the credit card’s parent company telling us that they have suspended our charging privileges on one of our cards and they’re reducing our available credit on the card for which I neglected to make the payment.
Chip says it’s okay but I feel sick.
I’m still not sure if I misplaced the bill or if it never came, but somehow I missed making the minimum payment on our main credit card last month. I discovered it as I started to pay our most recent bill and saw that the figure was twice as much as normal. Chip called the company right away and they seemed very understanding and told us to just go ahead and pay the minimum balance.
Well, today we got a couple of letters from the credit card’s parent company telling us that they have suspended our charging privileges on one of our cards and they’re reducing our available credit on the card for which I neglected to make the payment.
Chip says it’s okay but I feel sick.
Tuesday, October 5
Chip and I are exhausted. We just got back from choosing the items for our registry at Baby Bazaar.
I never knew there was so much stuff for babies. I mean, I’ve avoided the baby aisle at the grocery store for years because it didn’t have anything I needed on it and, to be frank, it seemed a bit intimidating. After today, that grocery store aisle will never be unapproachable again.
When we walked in, we joined a platoon of other pregnant women at the registry desk. Now I know why I hardly noticed any pregnant women in public before—they were all sequestered from the rest of society at Baby Bazaar, trying to force their preggy brains to make sense out of the five-page list of must-haves for their future newborns.
“If we don’t know what it is, do we really need it?” Chip looked up from flipping through the pages, his face hopeful. “That would eliminate half the stuff on here.”
I shook my head. “We need to find out what it is before we can disregard it.”
“That seems like a lot of work.”
Sometimes he’s such a guy. “I know, Chip, but imagine how much work it will be if we don’t have something we need and I have to run out and buy it while you sit at home with a screaming baby.”
He looked alarmed. “Good point.”
The woman seated behind the customer service desk finished with the couple in front of us and smiled as we stepped forward. “Hi. Welcome to Baby Bazaar.” She looked from the list in Chip’s hand to my rounded stomach. “Are you wanting to register?”
“Yes, but we aren’t familiar with a lot of things on this list.” I looked over Chip’s shoulder. “For instance, what’s a Boppy?”
Smiling, the woman held out her hand for the list. “We get asked that question every day.” She pointed to the heading on the page. “Do you see where it says nursing accessories here, and the aisle number?”
Chip and I nodded.
“That gives you a clue as to what the item is—something you would use if you plan to breastfeed. You can either look through the shelves in that section of the store to find the item yourself, or you can ask one of our sales associates to help you. In the case of the Boppy, you would go to the nursing accessories aisle and would find that it’s a nursing pillow that you can later use to help your baby learn to sit up.”
After she typed our names and due date into the computer, she reached under the counter and pulled out a scan gun. “We’ve made this as easy as we can on parents-to-be. If you see anything you want, just point, scan, and it will automatically be added to your registry. And if you want more than one item, scan the product the same number of times as the quantity you’d like.”
“You mean we get to zap stuff?” Chip looked excited at the prospect.
The saleswoman laughed and looked at me. “That’s another thing I run into every day. Dads aren’t too crazy about going shopping with their wives until I pull this out.” She placed the scan gun in Chip’s hand. “When you’re finished, bring the list and scanner back to me and we’ll print out your registry to make sure it accurately recorded what you wanted.”
I grabbed Chip’s arm as we left the registration area and headed to the first section of the store. “This makes it all seem so real!”
First we picked out items to baby-proof our home, like covers for electric sockets and safety latches for the kitchen and bathroom cabinets. Next we scanned the labels of pastel receiving blankets, wash cloths, hooded towels, and fitted crib sheets. We chose an electronic thermometer that determines body temperature in half the time of an adult thermometer, a folding washtub, a sleep positioner, and a nursery monitor. We scanned pacifiers, teeny nail clippers, a comb and brush set, and a beautiful eyelet-covered bassinet.
Since my and Chip’s tastes are pretty similar, we agreed in no time on a cheery lamb motif for the infant car seat, picked out a playpen (now called by the euphemism “play yard”), a collapsible stroller, and an open-top, battery-operated swing. My parents promised to buy us a light maple Jenny Lind crib and changing table for the nursery, so we skipped that section altogether.
Just about every mom I know decorated her baby’s room in either Pooh or Noah’s ark. I wanted our child’s room to be different from everyone else’s and chose a light blue and yellow plaid bedding for the crib.
Those were the highlights of our two-hour trek across Baby Bazaar. I didn’t look at baby blankets and clothes, since I’ve been told by numerous people that we will receive lots of those things at showers and as second-hand items from friends. It will be so nice, after all my trips to the department store to buy cute little outfits for my friends’ babies, to be the one getting the clothes for a change! There have been times I stood there in the middle of a department store, buying something for a friend, and had to blink back the tears.
Later I plan to scour eBay for a lamb border, lamb light switch plate, and lamb wall prints.
I never knew there was so much stuff for babies. I mean, I’ve avoided the baby aisle at the grocery store for years because it didn’t have anything I needed on it and, to be frank, it seemed a bit intimidating. After today, that grocery store aisle will never be unapproachable again.
When we walked in, we joined a platoon of other pregnant women at the registry desk. Now I know why I hardly noticed any pregnant women in public before—they were all sequestered from the rest of society at Baby Bazaar, trying to force their preggy brains to make sense out of the five-page list of must-haves for their future newborns.
“If we don’t know what it is, do we really need it?” Chip looked up from flipping through the pages, his face hopeful. “That would eliminate half the stuff on here.”
I shook my head. “We need to find out what it is before we can disregard it.”
“That seems like a lot of work.”
Sometimes he’s such a guy. “I know, Chip, but imagine how much work it will be if we don’t have something we need and I have to run out and buy it while you sit at home with a screaming baby.”
He looked alarmed. “Good point.”
The woman seated behind the customer service desk finished with the couple in front of us and smiled as we stepped forward. “Hi. Welcome to Baby Bazaar.” She looked from the list in Chip’s hand to my rounded stomach. “Are you wanting to register?”
“Yes, but we aren’t familiar with a lot of things on this list.” I looked over Chip’s shoulder. “For instance, what’s a Boppy?”
Smiling, the woman held out her hand for the list. “We get asked that question every day.” She pointed to the heading on the page. “Do you see where it says nursing accessories here, and the aisle number?”
Chip and I nodded.
“That gives you a clue as to what the item is—something you would use if you plan to breastfeed. You can either look through the shelves in that section of the store to find the item yourself, or you can ask one of our sales associates to help you. In the case of the Boppy, you would go to the nursing accessories aisle and would find that it’s a nursing pillow that you can later use to help your baby learn to sit up.”
After she typed our names and due date into the computer, she reached under the counter and pulled out a scan gun. “We’ve made this as easy as we can on parents-to-be. If you see anything you want, just point, scan, and it will automatically be added to your registry. And if you want more than one item, scan the product the same number of times as the quantity you’d like.”
“You mean we get to zap stuff?” Chip looked excited at the prospect.
The saleswoman laughed and looked at me. “That’s another thing I run into every day. Dads aren’t too crazy about going shopping with their wives until I pull this out.” She placed the scan gun in Chip’s hand. “When you’re finished, bring the list and scanner back to me and we’ll print out your registry to make sure it accurately recorded what you wanted.”
I grabbed Chip’s arm as we left the registration area and headed to the first section of the store. “This makes it all seem so real!”
First we picked out items to baby-proof our home, like covers for electric sockets and safety latches for the kitchen and bathroom cabinets. Next we scanned the labels of pastel receiving blankets, wash cloths, hooded towels, and fitted crib sheets. We chose an electronic thermometer that determines body temperature in half the time of an adult thermometer, a folding washtub, a sleep positioner, and a nursery monitor. We scanned pacifiers, teeny nail clippers, a comb and brush set, and a beautiful eyelet-covered bassinet.
Since my and Chip’s tastes are pretty similar, we agreed in no time on a cheery lamb motif for the infant car seat, picked out a playpen (now called by the euphemism “play yard”), a collapsible stroller, and an open-top, battery-operated swing. My parents promised to buy us a light maple Jenny Lind crib and changing table for the nursery, so we skipped that section altogether.
Just about every mom I know decorated her baby’s room in either Pooh or Noah’s ark. I wanted our child’s room to be different from everyone else’s and chose a light blue and yellow plaid bedding for the crib.
Those were the highlights of our two-hour trek across Baby Bazaar. I didn’t look at baby blankets and clothes, since I’ve been told by numerous people that we will receive lots of those things at showers and as second-hand items from friends. It will be so nice, after all my trips to the department store to buy cute little outfits for my friends’ babies, to be the one getting the clothes for a change! There have been times I stood there in the middle of a department store, buying something for a friend, and had to blink back the tears.
Later I plan to scour eBay for a lamb border, lamb light switch plate, and lamb wall prints.
Monday, October 4
20 weeks
I’m not sure what Beck was thinking when she gave me the assignment. I still don’t know, now that I’ve completed it and turned it in. But it sure does seem odd that she would ask me to be the one to write the article on SHARE, a support organization for women who have experienced miscarriages, stillbirth, or newborn loss.
Maybe she thinks I’m a big girl and, as a reporter, I should be able to put my personal experience aside, bow into the wind, and do my duty. After all, how could she have known that the person I would wind up interviewing would have miscarried at twenty weeks… exactly the same place that I’m at in my own pregnancy?
It was so sad to hear the woman, Sherry, and her husband, Roy, recount their story. It was their first child (another similarity to my pregnancy) and they were so excited.
Everything had been fine, there was no warning, and then… BAM! On the day they went to the doctor to find out the sex of the baby, they not only found that they were to have a girl, but they also learned her kidneys had ceased working. What should have been a day of rejoicing became a day of sorrow.
It’s been seven years since that terrible day. They went on to experience two more pregnancies, neither with any complications whatsoever. Now they are the parents of a vivacious, beautiful girl named Mallory, 5, and a towheaded youngster who is the epitome of “all boy,” Harry, 3. And yet, there is still a pallor, a sadness, that hangs over this couple.
I don’t dare tell Chip any of this, as he’s an even bigger worrywart than I am. I’m trying to keep the emotions about the story at bay, to stop drawing any more comparisons, and I’m certainly putting the kibosh on dwelling on this any more than I have to.
But at the same time, I wish Beck had exercised a bit more discernment in assigning me this task.
Maybe she thinks I’m a big girl and, as a reporter, I should be able to put my personal experience aside, bow into the wind, and do my duty. After all, how could she have known that the person I would wind up interviewing would have miscarried at twenty weeks… exactly the same place that I’m at in my own pregnancy?
It was so sad to hear the woman, Sherry, and her husband, Roy, recount their story. It was their first child (another similarity to my pregnancy) and they were so excited.
Everything had been fine, there was no warning, and then… BAM! On the day they went to the doctor to find out the sex of the baby, they not only found that they were to have a girl, but they also learned her kidneys had ceased working. What should have been a day of rejoicing became a day of sorrow.
It’s been seven years since that terrible day. They went on to experience two more pregnancies, neither with any complications whatsoever. Now they are the parents of a vivacious, beautiful girl named Mallory, 5, and a towheaded youngster who is the epitome of “all boy,” Harry, 3. And yet, there is still a pallor, a sadness, that hangs over this couple.
I don’t dare tell Chip any of this, as he’s an even bigger worrywart than I am. I’m trying to keep the emotions about the story at bay, to stop drawing any more comparisons, and I’m certainly putting the kibosh on dwelling on this any more than I have to.
But at the same time, I wish Beck had exercised a bit more discernment in assigning me this task.
Sunday, October 3
Ugh! I have a strange growth on the inside of my upper arm. It’s like a deflated, flesh-colored balloon.
Why didn’t anybody mention this sort of thing? I have to believe it’s pregnancy-related, although neither What to Expect nor my favorite week-by-week Web site mention anything about weird growths.
I’ll have to ask Dr. Simmons the next time I’m in.
Why didn’t anybody mention this sort of thing? I have to believe it’s pregnancy-related, although neither What to Expect nor my favorite week-by-week Web site mention anything about weird growths.
I’ll have to ask Dr. Simmons the next time I’m in.
Friday, October 1
Month Five: October
Well, thanks to the archives of Web MD, it’s official. As my stomach grows, my brain shrinks.
According to the article, a woman’s brain diminishes three to five percent during pregnancy and doesn’t return to its normal size until approximately seven months postpartum.
Intrigued by this bit of information, I promptly linked the article to my Facebook page and invited my friends to comment. They were unanimous in their affirmation of the information, save Bonnie.
“Ellie, don’t you believe a word of it,” she wrote. “Mine never did grow back.”
According to the article, a woman’s brain diminishes three to five percent during pregnancy and doesn’t return to its normal size until approximately seven months postpartum.
Intrigued by this bit of information, I promptly linked the article to my Facebook page and invited my friends to comment. They were unanimous in their affirmation of the information, save Bonnie.
“Ellie, don’t you believe a word of it,” she wrote. “Mine never did grow back.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
