Friday, November 13, 2009

Southern Hospitality-schmality

One thing I knew about moving to FL from OH was the fact that I had excellent prenatal care in the Midwest and had heard less than rave reviews about Southern care. I loved my crazy, cowboy, singing doctor in OH that gave me at least five ultrasounds and told me to go eat milkshakes and candy bars. We referred to the hospital where I gave birth as the country club as well. It's aesthetically-pleasing, clean, cherry wood piano-player-in-the-lobby facilities only had private rooms, and the day after leaving the hospital (which also offered mommy massages for the new mom) your very own nurse comes to your house to check on mom and baby. She was also a lactation consultant who came back twice to help me when I was having trouble with breastfeeding. I had a really great experience and was warned that it probably would not be the case here in FL. It seemed like we were always hearing about someone getting life-threatening infections in the hospital where I would likely have my next child. This was less than thrilling to me.

Yesterday, I finally had my first visit with my new OB (my first with Em was at six weeks, I'm now at ten weeks). I went in with a good attitude, excited to finally get this process started, and tried not to think back on how good I had it in OH. From the moment I walked in, things went downhill. I first had to meet with some new patient accounts person who told me that I would have to pay $719 by my fifth month of pregnancy, with adjustments made if I have to have more than one ultrasound. Ew. Our insurance at my husband's last company covered all but $250, which we were billed for after Emma was born. Makes sense to pay after the service is actually rendered.

Strike one.

I went up to the waiting room, where I waited...and waited...and then waited some more. After almost an hour of waiting, a nurse came out and apologized for the wait, there was an emergency. From what I could tell, someone had gotten sick in the back. Fine. I can handle that. But then I watched as every single person in the room was called before me. There were people there that had come in a good hour after me and went in before me.

So. Dang. Annoying.

Now, this was pretty much my first time out since I've been sick, and I had a sick little Emma at home that I wanted to get back to. As I watched the time tick by, the more annoyed I was. To top things off, I had an early lunch and wasn't feeling great. I reached my breaking point when the receptionist told me after my hour and a half wait, I would still have about thirty more minutes.


I tried to control the tears as I called Matt to explain my woes, but there was no holding them back. This was not how my first appointment was supposed to be. FL, you suck. I think the receptionist overheard my breaking voice because five minutes later I was in the back, now having to explain to the nurse that really, I was fine, and didn't even know why I was crying. Ugg, except for the fact that the reason I was crying was that it's depressing being stuck in your house sick for a week and now my baby's sick and I miss my family and just want to go home for the holidays, dangit. I figured this wasn't the time to go into that, however.

So I waited some more.

Aaand had to pee.

That would be one of the first things I would do before an internal ultrasound, right, after pregnantly waiting for so long? Well that would just make too much sense. I asked for my pee cup and was given two alcohol sheets to wipe with. Whhaaat?? Um, strike twelve. Who makes a person wipe down there with an alcohol swab?? Not OH. Since the lab at this office was downstairs, I had to carry my cup around until after my ultrasound too. Thankfully, after asking about this, one of the nurses stole the cup while I was talking with the doctor and put it in a bag. Plus one point for her.

I finally undressed in the freezing room, and told the doctor that I hoped he had some warming gel because if not, we may have some problems getting this exam done. I was feeling pretty sassy at that point. He gave me an extra sheet cover. Finally, I got to see my little alien growing inside me and hear the little heartbeat. At ten weeks he/she has two arms and two legs, which is a good sign. I got my pics and headed downstairs to give my five vials of blood and call it a day. Three hours and ten minutes from when I arrived, I headed out into the now dark parking lot.

Ohio, there aren't a whole lot of things I miss about you, but when it comes to having a baby, you win hands down. With thirty more weeks to go, FL, you have a lot of catching up to do. Win me over, baby. Win me over.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

I'm Pregnant..and am Surviving the Swine Flu

Now that I’m a survivor, I prefer to call the disease H1N1 because really, of all the nasty names you can come up with for a disease, throwing the word swine in front of it really trumps anything. I mean really, oh you have measles, mumps, gonorrhea (ok now that’s pretty nasty)?? Oh, well I have SWINE flu. You know, it originated with pigs. And to top it off, I just read that it not only has pig genes but bird genes, along with human genes making it a "quadruple reassortant." So really, I have the pig, dirty bird flu. Eeewwww.

Obviously, I did not heed the CDC’s warning to get myself vaccinated. I debated whether or not to. Given more time, I may have even been convinced, but saying you’ll be vaccinated and actually doing it is a different story when the vaccine seems nowhere to be found. Really, I don’t know a single person in my area who has actually received the shot. Chances are you’ve already had this pesky little flu or will get it sometime in the future, so to help you better prepare, let me share with you what it’s like. I’m sure you’re dying to know.

After returning from a run a few nights ago, I complained to Matt of discomfort in my chest, which we attributed to running in the cold. I mean, it had dipped into the sixties. Other than that I felt fine, went to bed and awoke the next morning to meet a friend at the gym. I felt a little weird when I woke up but figured exercise would do me good. The closer I got to the gym the worse I felt, and had to text my friend that I wouldn’t be coming and call my mother-in-law to see if she could take Emma while I slept this off. I was overcome with nausea and was sure it was just pregnancy hormones finally catching up with me. I dropped Emma off, went straight to sleep, and woke up throwing up and miserable. I couldn’t stop coughing (and puking) and suddenly my body was aching and I had awful chills (even though it was 80 degrees in my house). I threw on a sweatshirt and blankets and fell back asleep. Emma came back home to nap, as I fell back asleep and realized that this probably was a little more than just pregnancy hormones. I gave the doctor a call, and my symptoms and pregnant state gave me a free pass to an appointment (turns out they’re diagnosing most people over the phone). That evening when Emma awoke from her nap I was almost in tears at the thought of taking care of her feeling like this. Thankfully my mother-in-law is just a few minutes down the road and was able to take her (and still has her might I add). I slept most of the evening away and went to bed early. The next morning I felt quite a bit better and was off to the doctor. I was directed by my mom and pharmaceutical rep friend to demand a swab test, but thankfully they gave it to me willingly. So, my nose was violated with two long swabs, and I was told that even if the test comes back negative it doesn’t mean I don’t have the flu because it only shows up 50% of the time.


I went back to sleep and awoke from my slumber to find out that I indeed did have the dreaded swine flu. Gross. I headed to the pharmacy to fill my prescription for Tamiflu (after reading about it on the Internet and calling my OB for more confirmation that it was safe). By this time I was starting to feel pretty bad again, so I was thankful to get my meds from the nice pharmacist who also assured me that the CDC recommends that all swine-flued pregnant women take Tamiflu. Ok then. I took my pill and headed back to bed only to wake up an hour later to an awful afternoon of yacking my guts out. I went back to the pharmacy with the anti-nausea prescription that the doc had prescribed me but didn’t think I needed and proceeded to repeatedly vomit at the nice pharmacist's window. Embarrassing? I’d say so.

So, now I’m on day three and think I’m on my way back to the land of the living. I still get achy and tired and have coughing fits here and there, but the nausea/vomiting has subsided. I’ve been slowly trying to disinfect the house before Emma comes back home and sleeping a lot still. I woke up from an afternoon nap wanting food other than crackers or chicken noodle soup for the first time. A cold chocolate shake sounded so good, so I threw on a bra and headed out with my greasy hair to grab one. Unfortunately, I came home bawling because it didn’t taste good at all and fell asleep on the couch to my husband’s understandable confusion. After I woke up we headed over to his parents' house to pick up some soup, and I gazed in the window from the back porch to watch Em play. Turns out she’s doing fine without me. Tomorrow I think I’ll be ready and hopefully de-germed enough to pick up my daughter. Though now Matt is complaining of not feeling good. Ehhh, so it goes.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Keep Ten in Real Life, Shave If Off in Photos

At the gym yesterday, I read this article (not in Self, we'll come back to that though) about how when you're in your 60's it's actually healthy to carry around that extra ten pounds, making your BMI between 25-29%. I don't really remember the details, but something about how the skinny, um, mature ladies, were 23% more likely to die. I imagine there's probably a bit more to it than that though (details, shmetails). But anyways...

Cha-CHING!! Hello, guess who can't wait for her 60's now!? I think that's reason enough for 60 to be the new 20.

Because you know, I love how celebrities that are in their 40's and up are always saying, "Oooohh, I love who I am now. I'm so much more confident in my (enter old age) than in my 20's. I feel beautiful and so much better about myself now." Blah, blah, blah. Well hello, of course you're more confident now. As the ladies around you keep aging, you remarkably stay the same. There's a confidence booster for ya. A little nip and a little tuck. Silly celebrities.

Now to Self magazine.

Awhile ago, Kelly Clarkson was their cover model looking beautiful and confident and...skinny. It was quite obvious that the admittedly non-twiggy Kelly had been skinnified (it's a Hollywood insider term, thank you). Okay, this wasn't a surprise to me. Whatev. What really blew me away was the editor's response. If you want to read it, go to

It's pretty long but worth reading if you don't mind your blood boiling a bit. I'll just give you the jist of it. Basically, she said that cover pictures are not meant to be accurate representations of reality but a projection of what your best self could be. She went on to say how she ran a marathon five years ago where she worked her butt off, but then would only put up pictures with her hips a little "shaved off." Awesome. Way to add to the ridiculous insecurities that women deal with on a daily basis, Self magazine. Instead of focusing on her hard work, shave off those dang hippos.

Ug, the madness.

So, the moral of the story and my new pregnancy goal:

Do not let myself get to the point where I have to Photoshop off chunks of my body.

Ohhh, to be 60.