This may well have been our last Sunday at church pre-parenthood...
37 weeks with no need for a dinner tray--the belly serves a dual purpose although there's no guarantee of staying crumb free...
36 weeks
36 weeksSunday, September 27, 2009
By Popular Request...
39 weeks! Take a look now because this belly will not be around much longer...
Monday, September 21, 2009
September 2009 Update
The procrastination ends here--I'm finally writing.
The first news is that our baby is due in just two weeks! All seems to be going well. I’m not hating the third trimester as much as I could be… I’m still in pretty good health and the baby seems to be doing well too. She’s pretty active and those lungs seem to be developing—as evidenced by her daily hiccoughs. I wonder if she’ll be as hiccoughy when she reaches the outside...
I’m down to weekly doc appointments now. Got my first ever flu shot. Last appointment the doc did an impromptu sonogram to check the baby’s position; her head is down but her body is a bit oblique. Her butt is sticking out towards my left hip and her feet are pointing over to my right hip. Doc says it’s nothing to worry about, but we’ll keep an eye on it. Also, I’ve been pretty steadily gaining weight at about three pounds per week for the past month. That’s probably more than expected (by me), but I’m still within normal ranges. Last of all, I’ve been having some pre-labor contractions for the past four days or so. So far it doesn’t hurt, but it seems to wake me up in the morning and happens several times a day for maybe thirty seconds at a time. My belly just tightens up and gets uncomfortable for a bit, makes me a little out of breath, and then it slips away again. I’m pretty sure this is the “dropping” phase since the baby seems to be sinking down a bit lower.
Oh, here comes another little contraction…
In other less exciting news, our renters in our San Antonio house have been having trouble paying their rent. This hasn’t been a very fun situation for any of us, least of all for them I’m sure. We’ve prayed for them every day this month I think. We’re feeling bad for them but learning that we need to be a bit tougher so we can avoid falling into their situation. Paying rent here and mortgage there isn’t sustainable for too long. Still, I consider this month’s mortgage payment like tuition in a real estate class. It’s just like Grandpa Walch says “Well then, that’s your thousand dollar education!” Shucks. Also, I think I’ve gained a better understanding of the gospel concepts of justice and mercy. I sure wish some savior would come to give our renters mercy, and to satisfy the justice our bank account demands. Still, the more time goes on and the more we hear about their financial woes, the more it becomes apparent that mercy for them might be to have them move into a cheaper place. As for us, we’re grateful to be feeling the peace and protective power of paying tithing.
Lastly, just to mention a little something of our life in Fort Worth this month, we finally tried out Uncle Julio’s, a Mexican restaurant close by that always has a full parking lot. After a beautiful walk in the Fort Worth Botanic Gardens, we went to Uncle Julio’s and pulled out all the stops with a lobster and fajita platter and they gave us a complimentary plate of sopa pillas. So delish. I think that’s about the most we’ve ever spent on a meal, so it’s lucky our grocery bill came in well under budget this week. You know, if it weren’t for our usual diet of rice, beans, cereal and PB&Js, I think I’d feel guilty. Instead I’ll just settle for feeling grateful.
The first news is that our baby is due in just two weeks! All seems to be going well. I’m not hating the third trimester as much as I could be… I’m still in pretty good health and the baby seems to be doing well too. She’s pretty active and those lungs seem to be developing—as evidenced by her daily hiccoughs. I wonder if she’ll be as hiccoughy when she reaches the outside...
I’m down to weekly doc appointments now. Got my first ever flu shot. Last appointment the doc did an impromptu sonogram to check the baby’s position; her head is down but her body is a bit oblique. Her butt is sticking out towards my left hip and her feet are pointing over to my right hip. Doc says it’s nothing to worry about, but we’ll keep an eye on it. Also, I’ve been pretty steadily gaining weight at about three pounds per week for the past month. That’s probably more than expected (by me), but I’m still within normal ranges. Last of all, I’ve been having some pre-labor contractions for the past four days or so. So far it doesn’t hurt, but it seems to wake me up in the morning and happens several times a day for maybe thirty seconds at a time. My belly just tightens up and gets uncomfortable for a bit, makes me a little out of breath, and then it slips away again. I’m pretty sure this is the “dropping” phase since the baby seems to be sinking down a bit lower.
Oh, here comes another little contraction…
In other less exciting news, our renters in our San Antonio house have been having trouble paying their rent. This hasn’t been a very fun situation for any of us, least of all for them I’m sure. We’ve prayed for them every day this month I think. We’re feeling bad for them but learning that we need to be a bit tougher so we can avoid falling into their situation. Paying rent here and mortgage there isn’t sustainable for too long. Still, I consider this month’s mortgage payment like tuition in a real estate class. It’s just like Grandpa Walch says “Well then, that’s your thousand dollar education!” Shucks. Also, I think I’ve gained a better understanding of the gospel concepts of justice and mercy. I sure wish some savior would come to give our renters mercy, and to satisfy the justice our bank account demands. Still, the more time goes on and the more we hear about their financial woes, the more it becomes apparent that mercy for them might be to have them move into a cheaper place. As for us, we’re grateful to be feeling the peace and protective power of paying tithing.
Lastly, just to mention a little something of our life in Fort Worth this month, we finally tried out Uncle Julio’s, a Mexican restaurant close by that always has a full parking lot. After a beautiful walk in the Fort Worth Botanic Gardens, we went to Uncle Julio’s and pulled out all the stops with a lobster and fajita platter and they gave us a complimentary plate of sopa pillas. So delish. I think that’s about the most we’ve ever spent on a meal, so it’s lucky our grocery bill came in well under budget this week. You know, if it weren’t for our usual diet of rice, beans, cereal and PB&Js, I think I’d feel guilty. Instead I’ll just settle for feeling grateful.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Cottage Cheese & Apple Sauce
Louise: This cottage cheese and apple sauce is so tasty. You should eat some too.
Joe: I probably will when I'm older.
Louise: ...What? You mean only when your choices are more limited...
Joe: I probably will when I'm older.
Louise: ...What? You mean only when your choices are more limited...
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Pork: The "Other" White Meat
Joe: (singing in the kitchen while making tacos with some leftover roast pork) Pork-pork-pork-pork. Pork-pork-pork-pork...
Louise: You're starting to sound like a chicken.
Joe: Pork-pork-pork-pork. Eat more pork.
Louise: You're starting to sound like a chicken.
Joe: Pork-pork-pork-pork. Eat more pork.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Occasion to Laugh
A few weeks back, Joe had just gotten back from a run and was finishing up with some pushups. Meanwhile, I got a little ambitious and decided to drop and do a few myself. This immediately triggered my laughter because from this stance, a minute bend to the elbows caused my belly to be on the floor. Shucks... No pushups for me.
Friday, August 14, 2009
I'm blind – and I'm a good mother
The following article was published in the British newspaper, The Guardian, on Saturday, 8 August 2009. This is for any of you who might have been wondering...
"Amie Slavin lost her sight in 1997 and has brought up her two daughters by touch. This, she promises, is easier than you might think. Being blind does not make her an incompetent mother – and yet people assume that she must be."
Amie Slavin with her children Sophie (three) and Jihana (15 months). Photograph: Fabio De Paola
"Hard labour, as a lifestyle choice, has more to recommend it than I could have guessed. From those first few hours of holding Sophia, my firstborn, curled on my forearm learning to breastfeed, to the most recent round of pre-breakfast Ride a Cockhorse, bouncing two "fine ladies" on my tired knees, I have been a fan.
But I always knew that parenting would present different challenges for me, compared with more mainstream mothers because I have been blind since 1997.
The practicalities of bringing up children without eyesight are not, for the most part, nearly as hard as you might think. Changing nappies isn't especially difficult if you're used to doing everything by touch. There's no mystery about it. I don't explore faecal matter with my fingers, neither do I leave my baby half-cleaned. I simply use a combination of touch and smell to determine how cleaning is progressing, and if it gets out of hand and I begin to lose the will to live, well, 10 minutes suffices for a bath and change of clothes: foolproof.
Feeding is also achievable, if slightly more exciting. In the early days of weaning, I would collect a spoonful of food with my right hand while lightly resting my left hand on her right shoulder. In this way I could monitor the position of her head and use my thumb to assess the in (and especially out) flow. I didn't aim the spoon directly in but used my fingertips to detect her mouth and its degree of openness.
Next would come the lightning transition from obliquely hovering spoonful to precisely administered tasty mouthful without jabbing the gums, touching the soft palate or twanging the lips or tongue.
Running my household is more complex, yet still not impossible. Recently, for instance, while sorting laundry, I flicked the corner of a duvet cover into Sophia's abandoned water cup, tipping it on to the floor. I reached for the kitchen roll and knocked over a brand new bottle of multi-surface cleaner which, defying its "sealed" status, sloshed its contents liberally over the kitchen's cork tiles.
Throwing kitchen roll on to the spilled water, I set about wiping up the surface cleaner. My wonderfully helpful (and terrifyingly valuable) new guide dog instantly joined in, diving first into the surface cleaner (to my panic) and then, on my rebuff, seizing the water-soaked kitchen roll and dancing off with it.
Flustered and swearing by now, I chased and caught the dog and paper, sending one from the room and the other to landfill; mopped up the surface cleaner, recaptured my laundry and began to congratulate myself on a household crisis averted.
Brimming with competence, I returned to make the supper I should have started half an hour earlier. Deftly chopping three huge garlic cloves in record time and hurling them at the hot pan … I missed completely!
Still, avoidance of these annoying minor disasters is possible by taking extra time and using forethought.
I am working hard to establish good enough relationships with my daughters that they don't get any ideas about taking advantage of my blindness. So far, I've come down hard on Sophia's "I've finished my food but I don't want you to feel," (obviously unfinished food then), and her plaintive aside to her father, "Don't let her touch my wrist because she'll make me wear long sleeves," and it seems to be paying off. I'm hoping to instil in them the understanding that I am able to detect bad behaviour by means more sophisticated than mere eyesight.
I'm unlikely to win future battles with my girls along the lines of "You're not going anywhere dressed like that." I'm actually quite at ease with the reality that they must be taught to respect and value themselves enough to make their own good decisions on dress and behaviour as they grow into their teenage years.
But the most difficult thing to deal with is not changing nappies, or feeding and cooking, or the exhausting minefield of sightless household management (even the most difficult of such things are possible to overcome by letting go of pride sufficiently to ask for help, if all else fails). No, the really difficult and demoralising challenge I face is other people's attitudes to impairment in general, and to blind parents in particular.
There aren't many blind parents and we are consequently marginalised. My health visitor tells me that while she can easily get me the free Book Start pack in any of 26 languages, there is no possibility of getting it in braille/print, a combination of print and pictures with braille text that allows blind parents to read with sighted children. There is, in fact, no source of such books for sale in the UK, despite the fact that they are relatively easy to produce.
Equally shocking to me was the absence of any of the NHS pregnancy and birth information in either braille, audio or electronic formats. I embarked on motherhood blind, in more than one sense.
B ut all of this pales into insignificance when compared with the way people treat me. Traffic slows down to watch me walking with my guide dog and children. Strangers, and even friends, will seize the slightest chance to ask my husband if I can cook and change nappies. People gawp shamelessly every time I wipe a nose or tie a shoelace and openly express surprise that I am not oblivious to my children's actions when they are not physically attached to me.
As Sophia grows bigger and cleverer, the suspicion among the general public that she is my carer is becoming almost tangible. Just last weekend, for instance, her adherence to the highway code prompted an admiring comment from a passer-by. I turned to smile at the onlooker, pleased that our road safety training was being appreciated, only to find the words being hurriedly bitten back, the person moving swiftly away, as they apparently drew the conclusion that the careful road-crossing was not for my three-year-old's benefit, but for mine.
I am regularly quizzed about my ability to feed and clean my children, the sceptical tone of the questioning barely concealing the suspicion that it's really my husband who does everything. Some people will even ignore my girls' cries for mummy, assuming that, with a mother like me, they must be meaning daddy (which has led, on several occasions, to a gratifying clarification as their screams intensify until they are returned to me).
The truth is that some aspects of blind parenting are a frustrating slog. It is, of course, harder for me than it is for other mothers to do all sorts of things. This is life as I know it, though. I am not surprised by struggle and difficulty. They are old adversaries for anyone determined not to be excluded from life by a severe disability.
There are bonuses too, such as my older daughter's burgeoning vocabulary, born of the necessity to make her meaning clear to me, and the extraordinary gentleness my reared-by-touch babies regard as the norm.
The only real killer is the assumption that I must be a lonely inadequate, incapable of functional living and normal family life. Sometimes, when I tell people about my children in their absence, I sense a moment's pause while they try to decide if it can be true that I have children. There is a drawing back, as though I may be in the grip of psychosis. The pause will end with a querulous countering: "But you can't see. How can you have kids?", as though I may not be aware that I am blind.
This was summed up for me recently when, escaping the mayhem of a family Saturday at home, I slipped out for an hour's quiet shopping. Lurking guiltily around the designer perfumes, I overheard a woman telling her child (with no attempt to lower her voice) how lovely it was for me to have a guide dog as, "It's company for her."
My response to this was, I confess, somewhat crisp."
http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2009/aug/08/blind-motherhood-disabilitye
"Amie Slavin lost her sight in 1997 and has brought up her two daughters by touch. This, she promises, is easier than you might think. Being blind does not make her an incompetent mother – and yet people assume that she must be."
Amie Slavin with her children Sophie (three) and Jihana (15 months). Photograph: Fabio De Paola"Hard labour, as a lifestyle choice, has more to recommend it than I could have guessed. From those first few hours of holding Sophia, my firstborn, curled on my forearm learning to breastfeed, to the most recent round of pre-breakfast Ride a Cockhorse, bouncing two "fine ladies" on my tired knees, I have been a fan.
But I always knew that parenting would present different challenges for me, compared with more mainstream mothers because I have been blind since 1997.
The practicalities of bringing up children without eyesight are not, for the most part, nearly as hard as you might think. Changing nappies isn't especially difficult if you're used to doing everything by touch. There's no mystery about it. I don't explore faecal matter with my fingers, neither do I leave my baby half-cleaned. I simply use a combination of touch and smell to determine how cleaning is progressing, and if it gets out of hand and I begin to lose the will to live, well, 10 minutes suffices for a bath and change of clothes: foolproof.
Feeding is also achievable, if slightly more exciting. In the early days of weaning, I would collect a spoonful of food with my right hand while lightly resting my left hand on her right shoulder. In this way I could monitor the position of her head and use my thumb to assess the in (and especially out) flow. I didn't aim the spoon directly in but used my fingertips to detect her mouth and its degree of openness.
Next would come the lightning transition from obliquely hovering spoonful to precisely administered tasty mouthful without jabbing the gums, touching the soft palate or twanging the lips or tongue.
Running my household is more complex, yet still not impossible. Recently, for instance, while sorting laundry, I flicked the corner of a duvet cover into Sophia's abandoned water cup, tipping it on to the floor. I reached for the kitchen roll and knocked over a brand new bottle of multi-surface cleaner which, defying its "sealed" status, sloshed its contents liberally over the kitchen's cork tiles.
Throwing kitchen roll on to the spilled water, I set about wiping up the surface cleaner. My wonderfully helpful (and terrifyingly valuable) new guide dog instantly joined in, diving first into the surface cleaner (to my panic) and then, on my rebuff, seizing the water-soaked kitchen roll and dancing off with it.
Flustered and swearing by now, I chased and caught the dog and paper, sending one from the room and the other to landfill; mopped up the surface cleaner, recaptured my laundry and began to congratulate myself on a household crisis averted.
Brimming with competence, I returned to make the supper I should have started half an hour earlier. Deftly chopping three huge garlic cloves in record time and hurling them at the hot pan … I missed completely!
Still, avoidance of these annoying minor disasters is possible by taking extra time and using forethought.
I am working hard to establish good enough relationships with my daughters that they don't get any ideas about taking advantage of my blindness. So far, I've come down hard on Sophia's "I've finished my food but I don't want you to feel," (obviously unfinished food then), and her plaintive aside to her father, "Don't let her touch my wrist because she'll make me wear long sleeves," and it seems to be paying off. I'm hoping to instil in them the understanding that I am able to detect bad behaviour by means more sophisticated than mere eyesight.
I'm unlikely to win future battles with my girls along the lines of "You're not going anywhere dressed like that." I'm actually quite at ease with the reality that they must be taught to respect and value themselves enough to make their own good decisions on dress and behaviour as they grow into their teenage years.
But the most difficult thing to deal with is not changing nappies, or feeding and cooking, or the exhausting minefield of sightless household management (even the most difficult of such things are possible to overcome by letting go of pride sufficiently to ask for help, if all else fails). No, the really difficult and demoralising challenge I face is other people's attitudes to impairment in general, and to blind parents in particular.
There aren't many blind parents and we are consequently marginalised. My health visitor tells me that while she can easily get me the free Book Start pack in any of 26 languages, there is no possibility of getting it in braille/print, a combination of print and pictures with braille text that allows blind parents to read with sighted children. There is, in fact, no source of such books for sale in the UK, despite the fact that they are relatively easy to produce.
Equally shocking to me was the absence of any of the NHS pregnancy and birth information in either braille, audio or electronic formats. I embarked on motherhood blind, in more than one sense.
B ut all of this pales into insignificance when compared with the way people treat me. Traffic slows down to watch me walking with my guide dog and children. Strangers, and even friends, will seize the slightest chance to ask my husband if I can cook and change nappies. People gawp shamelessly every time I wipe a nose or tie a shoelace and openly express surprise that I am not oblivious to my children's actions when they are not physically attached to me.
As Sophia grows bigger and cleverer, the suspicion among the general public that she is my carer is becoming almost tangible. Just last weekend, for instance, her adherence to the highway code prompted an admiring comment from a passer-by. I turned to smile at the onlooker, pleased that our road safety training was being appreciated, only to find the words being hurriedly bitten back, the person moving swiftly away, as they apparently drew the conclusion that the careful road-crossing was not for my three-year-old's benefit, but for mine.
I am regularly quizzed about my ability to feed and clean my children, the sceptical tone of the questioning barely concealing the suspicion that it's really my husband who does everything. Some people will even ignore my girls' cries for mummy, assuming that, with a mother like me, they must be meaning daddy (which has led, on several occasions, to a gratifying clarification as their screams intensify until they are returned to me).
The truth is that some aspects of blind parenting are a frustrating slog. It is, of course, harder for me than it is for other mothers to do all sorts of things. This is life as I know it, though. I am not surprised by struggle and difficulty. They are old adversaries for anyone determined not to be excluded from life by a severe disability.
There are bonuses too, such as my older daughter's burgeoning vocabulary, born of the necessity to make her meaning clear to me, and the extraordinary gentleness my reared-by-touch babies regard as the norm.
The only real killer is the assumption that I must be a lonely inadequate, incapable of functional living and normal family life. Sometimes, when I tell people about my children in their absence, I sense a moment's pause while they try to decide if it can be true that I have children. There is a drawing back, as though I may be in the grip of psychosis. The pause will end with a querulous countering: "But you can't see. How can you have kids?", as though I may not be aware that I am blind.
This was summed up for me recently when, escaping the mayhem of a family Saturday at home, I slipped out for an hour's quiet shopping. Lurking guiltily around the designer perfumes, I overheard a woman telling her child (with no attempt to lower her voice) how lovely it was for me to have a guide dog as, "It's company for her."
My response to this was, I confess, somewhat crisp."
http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2009/aug/08/blind-motherhood-disabilitye
32 Down, 8 To Go
Today we took a tour of the Andrews Women's Hospital which is part of the Baylor Medical Center in Fort Worth. I came to find out that I'm going to deliver this baby in the poshest hospital I've ever seen, with all private rooms, private bathroom with some kind of jetted shower, TV, DVD, personal mini fridge, a plush sitting area and bed for Joe. It's like a fancy hotel room minus the carpet. If I weren't nervous, I might actually be looking forward to it.
The doc says I'm measuring exactly right -- 32 inches at 32 weeks. So far this looks like an average sized baby and I've gained 21 pounds to date. Sorry to bore my readers with the details (which I mainly write for my own benefit).
The doc says I'm measuring exactly right -- 32 inches at 32 weeks. So far this looks like an average sized baby and I've gained 21 pounds to date. Sorry to bore my readers with the details (which I mainly write for my own benefit).
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