Today started out with a lot of excitement. I found out that there are midwives delivering in one of the local hospitals -- and they take my insurance.
What's great about that is that is satisfies Paul's desire for a hospital birth with my wish to avoid a surgical birth. The C-section rate for women in the midwives' practice is 10 percent, which is about a third of what's typical in the U.S. right now. Although I am found of my OB, the reality is that trained surgeons are more likely to see surgery as a way to fix a problem, even if there are other ways that might work as well.
But, before I got too excited, I figured I better call them. Sure enough, they won't deliver someone my age, despite my darn good track record with regard to birth. The midwife I talked to did suggest that the labor and delivery nurses at their hospital are used to working with midwives and are committed to low-interventions births, so that's definitely good news.
Now I have to do more research to find an OB who is definitely comfortable with low-intervention births as well. Instead of just asking the OBs (including my own), I have my spies out.
As Paul approaches 60, he has become more worried about death. The pregnancy hasn't helped, of course. It also doesn't help that he's just a few months younger than my father was when he died -- and just a couple of years younger than his own father was. He's in much better physical condition than either of our dads were, but that doesn't stop the worries.
So, he comes up with extensive plans for me, plans in case he dies. (Yes, we can categorize this under our "weirdness.") We also talk about what he should do in the case of my death. The reality, of course, is that neither of us would do what the other says we should. We're just that ornery.
He worries about finances, particularly with the new baby coming -- partially because he makes me look like a spendthrift and that's his natural concern. Without the baby, he would have fewer worries, as he knows I'd have no trouble supporting the family if I needed to. He knows how intensely I get into babies, however, and I would have tremendous trouble leaving one, although I did it with my eldest. Paul was the caregiver, and that didn't bother me as much.
He tells me I should leave town and go either to someplace much cheaper or where my relatives are, which is cheaper but not much cheaper than L.A.
So he then starts thinking about what kind of guy I should date. As if I'd have any time. My focus would be on the kids rather than on that kind of stuff. Plus, a mourning, mid-40s woman with five children wouldn't exactly be a hot ticket.
Although health concerns and a conscious awareness of mortality are happy little subjects that have pervaded our marriage (thanks to a scare early on), we had had a bit of a break from them since I lost weight. The baby, particularly with the kind of medical fussing I've received this time, has kick-started some of the worries again.
This is supposed to be "A Song from a Band You Hate," if I were perfectly following the rules of the 30-day Song Challenge. Except I messed up and did that one on Day 2.
The Beach Boys would qualify as a "band I hate" except that Pet Sounds is one of the best albums of all time. What I hate, though, is their "surf music." You know, "California Girls," "Fun, Fun, Fun," "Be True to Your School." Unfortunately, however, that's the majority of their stuff.
"Surfer Girl," however, is one of the worst songs ever.
A favorite band? I've got tons of favorite bands. Picking one? Not very easy.
But, the band I have the most natural and long-lasting affection for is the post-punk-pre-grunge-alterna-band The Replacements, who I found in 1986. They broke up about five or six years later. They're not particularly good musicians, and they tend to be sloppy or drunk so they can sound even worse than they are. But they have their flashes of brilliance, and I think this song, "I Will Dare," is one of them.
Now, my son loves them, of course, too, so I'm getting exposure again.
OK, I'm not quite halfway through this pregnancy, and -- suddenly -- I'm not just out of my heels, but I'm waddling.
I don't remember waddling this early before, but, once again, it's been so long that my memory is hazy.
I'm starting to eye maternity clothing, as I'm anticipating a day coming soon where nothing will fit. Weird stretchy stomach panels also have returned to maternity clothing, unfortunately. I was able to avoid them in the past; this time it will be harder.
I'm also in a strange land between medium and large now. My past maternity clothes were all large or XL. I was a lot bigger then, though. I have unfortunately gained a cup size or so, so I might be large on top and medium on the bottom. Most women like that aspect of pregnancy. I hate it.
I mistakenly bought a pair of Large maternity leggings, just to be safe, and they've been a disaster, as they fall down all the time. I should've gotten the Medium.
I've lost 90 pounds since October 2007. And I still have more to go. There are lots of great things about having lost the weight; there are other things that have been difficult. I also write about my running and activity -- primarily so I have a record of it.
Now, though, I will be gaining some weight again -- as I'm due with my fifth child in early December. People (quite rudely) ask if I were planning to get pregnant. I'm 44; I always say we were "shocked but happy." I'm still following my diet plan; exercise has tapered off a bit, but not completely.
See the link to the plan I'm following below. Per FTC disclosure laws, I will mention that I received the elementalyou services for free. Additional services I have received free from Tiffany include her being the doula at my third child's birth as well as her providing child care and educational instruction to my children and her making me countless meals and margaritas (before I went on plan).