Head Butting? Flips?

Panchita started moving! I was sure it was baby over a week ago, kind of feels like I am getting head butted on the low pelvic area. It took almost a week for Noel to feel'm, but I did my best by eating a whole bag of sour gummy worms :) Within 15 minutes baby was squirming around almsot every minute!

The day after Noel was able to feel Panchita moving around the fetal doppler I ordered arrived. I want for for peace of mind just in case I ever don't feel movement for a day or so. Peace of mind costs $50 :) I found the heartbeat really low in the same place I feel the movement, which makes me think it is head butting as there feet do  not have heartbeats. Panchita is the size of a large mango.

You may have noticed I switched to calling baby Panchita. No we didn't find out the gender, and still don't plan to, but I decided that so as to not be surpised if Panchita comes out a girl I should switch off using the male and female versions of the name.

I also finally gained weight! Between 4 and 6 pounds, quite proud of myself actually :)

Bad days & Beer

Today is the first day since I got pregnant that I want a beer. I am 133 days pregnant. Today work was terrible, patients that could not be made happy regardless of trying, constantly admitting patients, haivng to listen to a coworker who I dub "a stress monkey" and only 1 break in 8 hours (but it felt like 16).

So I settled for a full size bag of Tim's Jalapeno Chips. Full size I tell you. Yes there are still some left and Hugo did help :) And some sour gummy worms. Delicious. So even if work calls me and begs I swear I will not agree to work. Probably better that I don't even answer the phone as I would be tempted by time & a half pay.

Here is a 19 week & half a bag of Jalapeno chips belly :) No, those are not maternity pants, just my uber-comfy scrubs that I bought for nursing school clinicals.

Speaking of belly. Yesterday at work a patient finally asked if I was pregnant! Under ordinary non-pregnant circumstances this would have been a little insulting, but as I had just eaten dinner and I am 4.5 months pregnant (and no one thinks I look it) for me it was thrilling. 

I wonder what Panchito will look like: eyes the color of honey, blue or brown? bubble booty like my hubby or flat like mine? moles or moleless? surprisingly blonde or expectedly dark hair? One thing for certain Noel and my child will have long legs!

 

Beginning of the bump (finally)

I am pregnant therefore I am lazy....My hematocrit must still be low because I am not feeling that supposed burst of energy you are supposed to get in the second trimester. Boo.

"Noel, could you take a picture of my belly, but without my bra, okay?" Not quite possible by hubby photographer. This is 16 weeks...not much change.

But at 17 weeks and after eating suddenly Bump! Waaa hah hah finally :)

Now I am approaching 19 weeks and have a little bump all the time. I can suck it in about 75% if I want but it's hardly worth it. Now at work everyone knows I am pregnant so it's everyone's business (nurses are sooo nosy, not that I mind right now, as I like the attention).

My memory is that of a flea. Sometimes I wonder how I get by on a daily basis with matching shoes, luckily it's easy to get dressed for work. And if my memory is that of a flea my energy level is that of a slug. I get everything done,  but nothing done quickly. I started taking my mom's highly recommended liquid iron (gag).

Upcoming stories from Honduras:
~La Llanta (The Tire)
~There are at least two other stories and I can't remember now! See memory of a flea...

15 weeks and annoyed to be bump-less

Yes this is in fact a different photo. I just want to see how different I look throughout pregnancy while in the same outfit. Noel made me laugh "There's nothing there!"

The Parent's Meet the Honduran Fam

Aren't we cute? My mom, Me, and Amanda (mother-in-law) in front of Inglesia de Los Dolores, Tegucigalpa. My mom always practicing her belly rubbing technique.

After about 1.5 years of marriage my parents took a trip to Honduras with me to meet Noel's family. It was amazing and I did not get too tired of translating Spanish to English and vice versa. We spent three days in the Comayaguela with the aunts and then 3 days in the village with the rest of the family. I knew by the first morning that it would go just fine because when I got up my mom was at the kitchen table with the neighbor boy (and Noel's godson) practicing her primitive Spanish and the neighbor girls were using all the English they know to ask my dad "What's your favorite______?"

The major difference between the city and the village is their city neighborhood is not safe at any hour for white people to walk around. While it is not likely anything would have happened to us (people were generally surprised to see us and don't think they could have come up with a kidnapping plan very fast, please note some sarcasm in this comment) we had to have a chaperone when in Brisas or when going to the market. Plus my Dad is huge compared to majority of Honduran men, they don't know that he isn't that intimidating :)  Amanda did decide it was okay for us to take the bus. We were never on it for more than 10 minutes and for the most part no one paid attention to us. Compared to the city we are free in the village. At any hour we can walk around by ourselves and will likely gather "holas" from every house we pass. I woke up the first day in the village to learn Mom had left on her daily walk awhile ago. She walked the length of the village and was joined by Noel's half brother when she passed his dad's store. Here are Noel's Dad and I.

Our real concerns the whole time revolved around the rain. My dad said it rained harder than he had seen anywhere in all of his 60 years! Everyone commented that this is a particularly wet year with the rain starting around noon almost every day. Mom and Dad were disappointed that the rain is not warm like in Hawaii. Mom learned this after the rain started while we went to an internet cafe. It rained so hard a car alarm outside went off continuously. After 20 minutes our patience (and our bladders) gave up. Armed with umbrellas we waded the 6 blocks back home! Luckily my parents were smart and brought Dominoes, "pigs" and cards so we were not stuck watching telenovelas indoors all day long.

The rain was an issue on our trip to the village as well. Based on Amanda and Eric (our chaffeur and Noel's cousin) left for the village in a hurry, skipping the bank (we had like $20 in lempiras) because if it rains hard enough the river we have to cross to get to the vilalge overflows and you can't get there. The 2.5 hour drive was punctuated with many comments revolving around the degree to which it was raining.

"Solamente son brisas" - it's just light rain
"Corre Eric corre rapidito" - Run Eric run fast (said in relation to driving faster)
"Que llovidera!" - What a rainstorm! (This was a new word for me as it never rained this hard my first two trips to Honduras)

This is the rain from Aunt Yolanda's porch in the village. We were pleasantly 'stranded' (albiet two houses from home) and had to stay to a lovely lunch.

In the village we took a walk up to La Loma, a beautiful viewpioint a few blocks above the village where you can see the whole valley. Noel says there are about  500 hundred homes in the village, I contest this as you can't see more than 100 from La Loma. Overall everyone agrees that there are at least 250 homes.

And this is what Dad did on vacation. Even if he didn't speak a lick of Spanish he is quite fluent in 'boy' and 'sports' so he set about to convert the village boys to baseball. All the equipment he took down took up half of a suitcase! At any given time he was surrounded by little boys, who would also stop by the house looking for him!

Honesty every trip to Honduras to visit Noel's family is soo satisfying to one's heart. We all had a big heart to heart the last night about how even though the aunts and Amanda just met my parents they already feel like family. What is hard is to have their boys so far away without the possibility of visiting. It is heartbreaking, but more on that a different time. To end, here is Mabocha, mother to 8, grandmother to 40+, greatgrandmother to ???? and one little half white half brown one on the way.

Thoughts on Ironing

It's not that I hate to iron. It's that I can count the number of times I saw my mom do it while I was growing up, so it really did not seem like an important area to excel in. We were more of a "toss it in the dryer with a wet towel" type of family. I will iron my own wrinkly clothes, but I do not generally iron Noel's because he tends to decide which shirt he wants to wear at 10:58 when we are supposed to leave the house at 11. I tend to pre-iron my clothes knowing that I will want to wear them in the near future.

One thing I do not iron is my scrubs. Actually I did once because the armpit area was soo wrinkly it was uncomfortable. The other day I grabbed one of my favorite tops out of the clean laundry bag. I could tell it was on the wrinkly side, so I did the ol' brush down the front with water and it looked semi-decent to me afterward. Note: this was after a week long vacation where I had done the laundry for Noel so he could have clean work jackets while I was gone. The dear man left it all in the bag (which means next time I will not do it for him, I really hate wrinkled sheets). He took out what he needed, which left my scrub top in a sad state. Later at work I heard two of my Filipina coworkers giggling behind me, "planchadora" was all I caught, which made me laugh because "planchar" is Spanish for "to iron." I tried to explain that I was just back from vacation and hubby hadn't put away the laundry for a week. Although I guess I am to blame as I did have other scrub top options available.

My top only made it til dinner when a piece of potato skydived back into my bowl and splattered my white wrinkly scrub top with little red fleckles. It just wasn't salvagable as red in the hospital generally means blood. At least I got a free small yet oversized hospital scrub top out of it, great for when I actually get a baby belly. Belly pictures forthcoming, I'm sick and avoiding the camera...

12 weeks & still bump-less

Seriously, where's my bump? I'm a skinny girl so why no belly still? Of course the day after Noel took this I started having severe stomach and low back pains FOR 3 DAYS straight. Turns out the round ligament muscles in my stomach decided to start stretching all at the same time. I guess that teaches me to complain about no bump. Yesterday at work I put Icey-Hot strips on my back and stomach, helped for a bit.

Now I am officially pregnant to the outside world, I started telling coworkers and let me tell you I totally get 3 breaks a shift now (previously unheard of except on super slow days). "You gotta go feed that cute little parasite." I do think calling Panchita a parasite is both cute and freaky, as we inherently think of parasites as negative. But Panchita lives off what I eat, takes me energy and makes me feel sick, so really it fits! My well-loved peach sized parasite :)

Here is my belly during the 3 days of s-t-r-e-t-c-h. Does it look any bigger yet? I guess it wasn't the Mayo that was making my tummy hurt after all....

Dear Mayo,

You see Mayonaisse it's not that I adore you or anything, but you come in many foods and do make many of them more delicious due to your oh-so-high fat content. For the last two days I have been feeling nauseous with tummy cramps and low back pain. The only thing I ate both days was you Mayo, Panchito must hate you, so in the interest of the fetus that determines my eating habits I am afraid that I have to cut you out of my life. Well, at least until I determine that you are not the source of all my current pains.

Honduran Pride for Panchito

My parents and I are going to Honduras in a few weeks. My mom speaks what I call "preschool Spanish," mainly consisting on commands ("Sit down" "Don't touch/eat that" "come here now"), names of objects in a classroom and I am not sure it will be that useful with adults. At least she is very very outgoing and has no shame in speaking poorly. My Daddy used to speak Latin, which could help for some of the root word  connections to Spanish. He is quieter and more of a listener than Mom. His plan for entertainment is to teach all the village kids jow to play baseball!

I had been asking Noel where I could buy onesies for Panchito in Honduras. Neither of us has a clue. But since I am a Google girl I found a website that has them here (albeit at ridiculous prices for small pieces of material).

Honestly I want one of each.... although the lower of the top two is my favorite!  http://www.cafepress.com/+catracho+baby-bodysuits?page=1  I haven't a clue why the pictures don't show up as onesies, but you get the picure.

Of course I couldn't leave off the "Honduran Pride" onesie! Hondurans call themselves "Catrachos." I guess now I will go eat the tamales Noel's cousin's wife made(yes its always that complicated).

First Real Nausea

I am having my first real bout of nausea. It hit at 12am. Now it's 2am and I am in bed watching TV on the computer. Thank goodness for Netflix! I think I'm nauseous because I have a UTI and am trying to cure it naturally. Bah humbug to natural. I miss those UTI pain pills that turn your pee red. Curing it naturally means drinking insane amounts of cranberry juice and coconut water, the latter of which has a strange smell (like dirty sheets? Or lightly sweaty gym socks?) and made me nauseous. The second half of the bottle is eyeing me. I am avoiding it for the moment, going with insanely concentrated cranberry juice.

In the one moment of no nausea I figured I could handle peanut butter toast as it sticks and won't come back up. This required opening the fridge. So it went eat 1 piece PB toast, eat 2 mini Klaussen pickles, then eat 2nd piece toast (in bed of course and completely against my rules, crumbs make it hard to sleep), drink more cranberry juice. Pickles and PB toast is a further cry than pickles and watermelon isn't it?

On a happier note today I went on a 3 mile walk in Discovery Park with my good friend Elise, followed by a maternity massage she got me for my birthday and dinner at Moonlight where two groups of people walked up to our table to comment that our food looked incredible. Funny since I did the same thing to someone ages ago and now order the same dish every time! It's the Moolight Vegan Special if you must know. Which says nothing about it being a make it yourself spring roll platter with to-die-for pickled bamboo shoots and carrots for only $12! Elise and I couldn't even finish it and it's supposed to just be an appetizer!

Bleth, back to my cranberry juice I go.....

Pickles & Watermelon: the perfect combo?

Last night I was eating my dinner at work when I realized that I had just eaten a pickle, then watermelon, then another pickle. It they both tasted delicious. Weird pregnancy eater, no?

FYI I only had pickles at work because I stopped the the grocery store in the way to work and as I abide by my Gramma K's law that Klaussen's pickles are the only acceptable pickles because they are kept in the refridgerator section I had to bring them into work to keep them cold. Hence pickles and watermelon.

Today I am 10 weeks and 4 days. My pants are tight, but I haven't gained a pound. I still have weird food aversions and follow the "smell it first" rule to see if I can eat something. But to date have not vomited. Halleluyah. I still have an amazing nose. I caught a patient smoking in their room the other day due to my super smeller. Of course they denied it but to me they smelled like an old lady who had spent the day at the casino.

Daddy turns 60!

When Mom said to Dad "Let's have a big party for your 60th!" He shot her down immediately, only to come back two days later with "I want a two day party with all the foods my mom would have had for a birthday party." We spent this weekend celebrating with 4+ types of hotdogs and sausages, mac&cheese, potato salad, and cupcakes made from a mix (the horror! Daddy insisted) with whip cream shot inside them just like his mom had done (honestly they were delicious). IIt was a piece of upstate NY heaven. The only old guy joke was an "old person crossing" sign with a graphic of an old man all hunched over crossing the street.  As he will never act his age he can handle a few old guy jokes!

And now everyone (even Daddy's golf buddies) know I'm pregnant. At least it didn't get out til the 10 week mark. There was lots of belly rubbing, Mom out rubbed them all. Example "This is Becca our eldest, she's a nurse and pregnant with out first grandchild *rub rub*" Then insert me telling them the condensed version of my life story. I have not talked about myself that much since my doctor's physical exam!

 Happy 60th Daddy!

I love my job

A few days ago I had one of those "I love my job" kind of days. These don't happen that often, although weekly there are moments that stick out. Normally a day loving my job involves adoring my patients and them adoring me. Doesn't matter if they are needy, just that we have some type of a caregiver-patient connection.

The day did not start off the greatest but when directly up hill. I walked into my first patient's room to be greated by "you are a terrible person." Excuse me?! This tiny 80 year old women starts into this tirade about how we are keeping her against her will and she has not eaten in two days. Well, I know last night she was hallucinating because of her UTI and that she might have bipolar, but this does not seem to fit. So I ask her to explain and I consult with our nursing assistant who would know if she had eaten. And it turns out she was supposed to get this test that you are not allowed to eat before, but for some reason she didn't get test and therefore no one thought to get her food. She hadn't eaten for about 20 hours, enough to make anyone (especially me) very very cranky. We order here a late lunch STAT (I had no idea we could do this) and her meal showed up in 5 minutes flat. After this we were best friends. She even wanted to send me a Christmas card!

The day just got better from here when I met my 94 year old patient. He looked like the skinny version of the old man in the movie "Up" complete with big bushy eyebrows. He was what I call a "young 94" which means he functions better than most 80 years olds. \He had even put up a new fence this summer! He had come in with heart attack like symptoms and was getting the 1-2 day cardiac workup. His only complaint was "the soap opera on in the next room." He was sharing a room and the family next door was carrying on just like a soap opera. "Well Sir we don't want you to have chest pain again so I will just get you a new room." We were lucky the unit was half empty, and off he went to a different bed. This got me lots of hand holding and cheek kisses. The one bump in the road was getting a call from his son asking about his dad's condition. Turns out Mr Adorable had gotten a little confused about his diagnosis somewhere along the line and had convinced himself that the leaky valves (regurgitation) that was happening to a mild degree in his heart was a leaky valve in his brain that was slowly killing him. We had a long talk and I wrote down in plain English the results of his tests, explainging that the regurgitation with his heart valves was mild and many people live at this level their entire adult lives. My most awesome nurse status was topped off by bringing him a cup of icecream and finding him a National Geographic as the poor guy had been sitting in bed for like 36 hours with one newspaper and was bored out of his mind. There was a lot more hand holding and a little "if I was 65 years younger...." before I took off for the night. When you have such a great rapport with 2/3 patients it doesn't matter if the 3rd is difficult and needy


Sometimes I wonder why I'm not in geriatrics because I love my oldest patients the most. But then I realize that most of the geriatrics I would see are not this healthy and have long long lists of problems. I don't think I have the patience to deal with it yet. I love seeing mostly healthy old people. They remind me of my amazing Grampy who is 92 years old and still incredibly active. While we aren't sure if he will still run races he is sharp as a tack (too much so in the math area, I immediately get lost) and reads voraciously (books I read as well!). His only weakness is fresh ground peanut butter. I think that the best way to be a young old person is to do what you love for as long as you physically can and to kee your mind sharp be reading and discussing. You'd be surprised how young it keeps you!

Still flat for the time being

Noel took this picture a few weeks ago and I think it should be noted that there is not much room for our little frijolito to grow, thus I should start having that chubby tummy feeling shortly. Actually it started last night. We'd been out all day in the 1 month of glorious summer that Seattle offers. But to go see a late movie I needed to put on pants instead of the sundress. And they were distinctly tight in the lower belly region. I guess I should start investing in super low rise jeans now! I am embarassed to admit I actually unbuttoned them for comfort during the movie.

Panchito's first picture

Officially dated: 7 weeks 6 days

I thought all ultrasound pictures were extra exciting with all the new technology. But all I can see is a little blurry bean (yes that little thing on the left in the mini amniotic fluid pool), heart rate about 160. I expect that Panchito's future photo sessions will be more exciting. So today, on my 28th birthday I am 8 weeks along and really really tired. The size of a mini bean and taking all my energy. To help with the lack of energy I now take iron twice a day, drink chocolate milk with molasses and apple juice with wheat germ (both surprisingly delicious).

Selfish placenta

I just talked to my midwife. Turns out despite my best red bean eating habits and taking those terrible ferrous sulfate pills everyday I only managed to get my hematocrit to 34 (and I ate a hamburger 2 hours before the blood draw!). Normal hematocrit for a regular women who does not have to share her blood supply with a selfish placenta would be 36-44. And with little me at 34 all this selfishness means mine will keep dropping (and it's never been higher than 35 to begin with, damn anemia).

At the hospital we don't give blood transfusions unless your hematocrit is 21 (whopping difference from 21). For those who don't know hematocrit is the portion of blood that is made up of red blood cells.  Its counterpart hemoglobin is what carries oxygen around the your blood. It one is down the other is to. Vitamin C helps increase their absorption from foods (meat or veggies). In pregnancy blood volume increases by 50% and the body needs alot of hemoglobin and hemotocrit to make all the new blood.  At the hospital we call them H&H. But for my patients are in the hospital, recovering from surgery, with bags of blood readily available. They are not growing babies.

So off I go to now take TWO iron pills a day (with calcium to increase absorption), invest in black strap molasses (supposedly the best bang for your buck iron-wise), and edamame (the highest iron of all veggies I can find). Wish my already slow intestines good luck :(  I say selfish placenta because it is still so much bigger than Panchito.

Moley Me

Almost a month ago now I got a 3 moles biopsied (90% removed). As I am the product of a moley man who tans well and a red head with freckles I somehow ended up in the middle with lots of teensy moles. To be precise there were 28 on my stomach, now down to 25. I had around 17 of them before we wen to Hawaii a few years ago and they multiplied after a burn. My skin doc said I should get 6 biopsied, but luckily since the first 3 were normal the other 25 are safe for now!

For anyone who has ever had this done, you can surely sympathize with the lack of pain during the mini procedure, and the ridiculously long healing time. I'd describe it as a semi constant throbbing pain for 2 weeks followed by a week of itchiness. I took out my own stiches (as doing it at work seemed unsanitary) which really diminished the itch factor.

Turns out the difference in the amount of skin removed between a biopsy and a removal isn't much. From what I can tell 99% of my biopsied moles are gone. The skin doc said with removal they take off all the extra round the edges. Lucky for me I can keep that 1%, which is pretty much hidden by the ridiculous scar (photos forthcoming). Really with how far surgeries have come these days something simple like this should not leave such a gigantic scar.

Pancho

The nickname has stuck. I am a little ashamed. But at least the only "Panchos" that I know of were great revolutionaries. Maybe it's a good luck pre birth nickname. It does sound better than "my little alien."

The food aversions have begun (dun dun dun)

If I had to eat one food for the rest of my life I have always said it would be salad, especially seeing as how salad comes with endless possibilities of toppings. If I said that today I would starve. For the last 6+ months I have eaten a gigantic organic fancy greens salad with a ridiculous amount of veggies in it. But now the greens make me gag, they are suddenly very acidic and I cannot swallow a forkful. Yesterday I ate half a bag of carrots and some romaine without hating life. At least I'm getting in some vitamin C! Just to clarify I have not actually thrown up, but the idea or more often smell of some foods really turns me off. and now in the a.m. I can't eat my red beans, somehow they are okay in the evening but not in the morning. I think I need more vitamin supplements, now to work up the energy to go buy them...

As for cravings, my little grape sized fetus really likes carrots, toast, milk, bananas, tamales and veggie soup. How much milk does one have to drink to gain 25lbs? I might be able to do it with a few tamales a day! I had my first appointment with the midwife the other day, she said "Since you are underweight we would hope you would gain 30-35 lbs." To which I broke into hysterical laughter. First off I'm not underweight for a normal person, just for a pregnant lady. My BMI is 19 something and I'd have to lose 7 lbs minimum to be underweight for my height, which wouild leave the pancake bottomed girl with nothing to sit on, so I think not to any weight loss. 

Speaking of weight, I bought a scale the other day. To which I must point out I have never owned a scale, we never had one in the house growing up and I have generally never desired to buy one. It's yet another thing to move for this frequent mover. Upon trying them out in Target I weighed 160, 112, 127. I went with the latter scale as I'm about 124 unclothed. Scales are weird, they get you fixated on what you look like, they could lead to eating disorders, and they can definately be off if even the basic kilter of your house' foundation isn't perfect.

"Do you smell pee?"

To preface I do work in the hospital and am around alot of bodily fluids. I had been thinking it was too soon to be have super smelling power...until today.

Case #1:  I am discharging the nice old gal who heart turned out to be just fine. We are in her room, I am explaining test results to her and a friend when I smell pee. Like how it smells if you are a "yellow mellow, brown flush it down" type of person. But she isn't wearing an incontinence pad and does not have a bedside commode. Hmmm. I lean closer to her, explaining her new meds. Still no smell. I give up on my amateur detective skills because it's time to send her home. I wheel her out to meet her friend to go home. Her friend comes around to her her get into the car, and like a wave the urine smell flows all over me. I hold my breath a little, it is the nice old gals friend who smells like pee. Luckily they are excited to go home so my smeller does not get tortured.

Case #2:  A coworker's patient motions for me to help him. I smell pee. Again no diaper, no urinal, no bedside commode. This nice guy who might have had a heart attack (or more likely just has acid reflux) smells like he passed out in an alley and wet himself.  I ask my coworker about the patient, "Doesn't he smell like urine?" "Not to me, we checked his blood alcohol level and there wasn't any."  I think this is confirmation that my smeller is super sensitized by this blueberry sized creature growing inside me.

Also: yesterday I bought cheese (gouda and havarti). I ordinarily love havarti and have a smell induced craving for gouda (Noel came home smelling like gouda, but swore he doesn't use any at work, but then I had to have some, although it was disappointing because in my hurry I hadn't realized that I actually wanted smoked gouda). But the havarti "smells funny," if something can smell "mushy" it does. So I cannot eat it, but haven't given up quite yet. Maybe I can bake it with something stronger smelling?

Things I am dreading smelling: the ER nurse who wears Lolita Lemptika (it gave me headaches before being pregnant), ER cheeseburger parties (there is something about the way a McDonalds wrapper smells), the coworker whose deodorant does not work, bowel movements of any patient.

"Panchito"

I am "finally" pregnant! It feels like a "finally" statement because we have been talking about it for so long, but in reality I knew I was by the 88th day off birth control (Saturday). Woo hooo!!! I actually did do little celebratory dance in the shower before I told Noel.  I am thrilled and refer to our embryo as "our little alien" as that big black dot of an eye and neck/body really do make it look like an alien. Noel refers to the embryo as "Panchito" and refuses to pick a less terrible name. I am trying to think of the name as a way to say "our little revolutionary." But seriously, "Pancho"???!!!  Noel is still in shock and is very worried about being a good dad and how we will afford a baby. Seriously, they aren't that expensive (are they??!!). Kind of like having a new car with the upkeep and whatnot, at least milk is free compared to gas ;)

Speaking of 88th day, dating a pregnancy from the first day of your last period is crazy, it adds about two weeks to your pregnancy. I mean take the first day of your last period, add a week and then add 9 months and that is your expected due date. But what if you don't ovulate on day 14 (like 80% of the female population). For me, who did not ovulate until day 32 (yes 32, not 14 like most people or up to 22 like the occasional other, but 32 due to, I feel, the weirdness of stopping the pill). So while the nurse practitioner at Planned Parenthood (Noel wanted "confirmation", like two positive home test weren't enough, so off I went to PP, the quickest place to get tested) said I was 8 weeks and 2 days, I am more like 6 weeks and 2 days (who do you think will be going wayyy over their estimated due date???).

As for pregnancy symptoms:
- nausea...nope
- sore breasts .... oh yes, ouch
- super sensitive to odors .... see next blog
- headaches ...none
- weight gain ... way too early for that, but I did buy a scale
- weird craving ... "Noel, were you cooking with gouda tonight? (sniffing clothes) "No, definately not"... next day I buy gouda cheese, all other cheeses smell funny

Pregnancy Vibes (Are you doing magic fingers for me?)

I quit taking birth control 3 months ago. Actually 85 days ago to be more precise. I actually wanted to be pregnant longgg before I stopped the pill but my dear hubby was less child bearing inclined.

Side note: Every week until we got married, especially when I was meeting his family in Honduras, he would beg, "why can't we have a baby now, tonight? to which I'd replay "I'm in nursing school, you're in Honduras, and anyways the pill stays in your system for awhile so tonight is not an option dear." But of course men are strange strange creatures and the day we got married he decided that he actually did  not want a little half him-half me yet. More on my outrage with this later.

Of course I was hopeful we'd get pregnant the first month. Even better on our anniversary 2 weeks after quitting the pill. But it is one of those catch 22s. Most women avoid pregnancy like the plague, and when they finally are ready and have a willing partner you find it just isn't as easy as many people make it look. I have a dear friend who struggled with endometriosis and infertility so I had a heads up that it might not be as easy and fun as it seemed. And of course it hasn't been, 85 days later my Noel will talk to my non-pregnant flat belly, but it's too soon to know if any of those little swimmers took hold this month. So now after two haphazard 'cycles' (if they can even be called that) I finally have more than 7 high temperatures in a row, proud to say actually 15, which means if my waking temp stays low for 3 more days I am most likely pregnant, downside is I have felt like I am getting my period for days. I am trying so hard not to take a pregnancy test for at least two more days. The potential is killllling me (figuratively).  As are the gazillions of pregnant coworkers at the hospital. There are at least 4, two of whom are in my teeny tiny unit. At least the baggy scrubs hide the bellies of the others so I do not die of bump envy. Grumble grumble.

The only people who even know I stopped the pill are Noel, and a couple of my close girl friends. I didn't want to tell my parents and have them ask allllll the time if we are yet. My friends are bad enough, let alone two almost 60s whose friends all have grand kids already. My close friend and fellow nurse Jade always says she is doing magic finger baby vibes for me. I will take anything that helps :)

Weird thing about trying to make babies and the whole associated not drinking alcohol thing. I have never before wanted a beer or wine sooo much until we started procreating with purpose. Trying so hard to be good.

I have been off and on the pill for years, blessedly it did shorten and decrease pain during my teen years. But I had not idea it made my hair thicker (although this makes common sense), as lately my hair looks dirty faster.Unfortunately the mask of pregnancy melasma is not going away. More on my 'mask' later, as pregnancy will most definately make it much worse.

Side note: Noel realllly wants twins. I gasped "Oh God I hope not" when he told me (there are none on my side anywhere and he has some second cousin with one set of twins). He thinks the best way to grow up would be with a permanent buddy who goes through all the same things. Whereas I cannot imagine how my 5'8 123 frame could handle this. Please swimmers, don't be too competitive, one will do just fine.

Pill Pusher

Most days at work I feel like a pill pusher. "Take this orange pill for your high cholesterol, this little white one to lower your blood pressure, these two big white ones for your chronic lower back pain, a big green one for calcium supplementation and this injection goes into your stomach to help prevent a blood clot from forming in your legs that could potentially travel to your lungs or heart and cause huge problems." I got into nursing because I am passionate about preventive health care. Yet here I am "pill pushing," granted I will say when patients question that they need a certain med, after educating then I do inform patients if they are uncomfortable taking some of there they have the right to refuse. But they rarely do because 1) they were already taking all these meds at home, 2) the doctor prescribed all these for them, so aren't they important?

Which leads back to doctors education and the huge HUGE influence US pharmaceutical companies play in which meds people take. Have you noticed the insane amounts of TV and magazine ads offering a pill to treat high blood pressure, atherosclerosis (say that ten times fast), high cholesterol, and depression? I will stop myself here because I could write for hours about all of this. If you are really interested consider reading "Overdosed America" or "The Truth About the Drug Companies", but take a different spin on how drug companies do not report all the research trials they do, just the ones that support the use of their, and these results are published in respected journals that doctors read to learn about the latest and greatest.

Back to the preventive education idea...Instead of giving the aforementioned pills I'd love to say (assuming this is not a critical patient) "Here are some supportive running shoes, walk a mile a day to decrease your blood pressure, lower your cholesterol, and stop eating high fat, highly processed foods, increase your calcium intake through leafy greens. And in 2+ weeks your lower back should not hurt as much, you should feel your mood has improved and additionally you may see you have lost weight, which would make all the problems you were taking pills for better as well. Oh and as for anticoagulant, if you are over 60 or have a history of heart problems take a baby aspirin everyday (as long as you do not have a clotting issue). By eating well and exercising you should see that you save well over $1000 a year in medication costs."

But why don't we do medicine like this? Because it takes more time to counsel someone on lifestyle changes than it does to write a prescription for a pill that might solve the problem at hand. It is not just the doctors and nurse practitioners that are to blame (and some really do benefit form pills). The vast majority of people do not want to put forth the energy to change their lifestyle. Taking a pill is easier, it is culturally acceptable, even encouraged, especially by our media heavy society. But the most healthy are ordinarily those who take the least amount of pills, using diet and exercise to achieve health.

Every few weeks I have a patient in their late 90s. I love them and think we really need to honor older people more than we do. The healthiest older patients I have generally take less than 5 medications, of which 3 of these are vitamin supplements and at least one is a prescription eye drop. They are at the hospital because of an infection that needs IV antibiotics or because they broke their hip, but we don't expect them to stay long.

Sad case: I had a patient who came in with chest pain, so we were working him up as a "cardiac rule out" to see if he had a heart attack or not. He had all the risk factors for multiple health problems: heart attack before he turned 50, high cholesterol, insulin dependent diabetes, high blood pressure, smoker. This man benefits from meds for his conditions. But his health would be greatly improved by diet and exercise. I had a long talk with him about changing his diet to minimize his risk factors for illness. What broke my nurse heart was his response, "I want to eat better, I do try, but with how little money I make I cannot afford to eat fruits and vegetables daily because they are expensive while my meds are covered by insurance." For me this is a reality check. I am so fortunate to be in good health, with reasonably healthy genes, with the financial means to all the fruits and vegetables I want (albeit I cannot afford organic). I do take 3 pills daily: a prenatal (kidless at present, but I plan ahead), folic acid (I was anemic years ago), and Vitamin D (because all people in Washington are deficient in D).

The Dreaded Pansa

My hubby is getting a panza, a little belly, and it bugs me. He joking calls me his flaca vacita, skinny little cow, which I do not take to heart as I am not fat. But my formerly flat stomached man is approaching 30 and I am afraid is on his way to getting the dreaded panza. 

Ever since I first started interacting with Latinos I have noticed that males over 30 years are afflicted with a terrible condition. THE DREADED PANSA. Not that it seems to bother them. But by the time they turn 30 they have a belly, not necessarily big, but enough to stick out over the waist line. Noel grabs his little panza, saying "Where did this come from? I eat healthy!" to which I respond "Chelas (Honduran for beer), it's a panza de chela," and launch into telling him about how many calories a beer has, how many calories a day the body needs, and that a panza is what happens when you drink beer and go straight to bed. I am sure the fact that we eat late at night plays a role as well, but I can't help it as I am always hungry when I get home from work at 12:30 at night and when I eat he does too. But primarily I blame the panza on chelas.

Me: "If you drink 3 beers before bed that is roughly 600 calories, which is at least 1/3rd of the caloriesyou need for the whole day. To gain one pound you have to consume 3500 too many calories (blah blah blah)"
Noel: "Ehhh (nonchalant grunt with shrug), no me importa, no me molesta la panza (takes drink of beer)."
But I know it bugs him, as he grabs it weekly while looking in the mirror. Unfortunately, there is no energy left for working out when you work 6 days a week. Thank goodness he walks alot at work! Clearly my years of nursing training and daily on the job patient education on how to eat a heart healthy diet to minimize risk factors do not apply to him. No way I am an expert or anything. In one ear, out the other.

Does anyone else have this experience with their Latino? Does the dreaded Latino panza just show up at age 30? If so Noel has two more years of full ability to see his toes. The one exception I know of in Noel's family is his brother, who turned 30 last year. But he is incredibly superficial about looks, does not have a girlfriend, does not drink and doesn't like to cook, so his panza inducing factors are pretty well minimized.

Spanish words for belly: panza, panozona, timbon, timburiaco/a, barriga 
How to use them:
"Jose es muy timbon" ---- Jose is big bellied
"Amanda es timburiaca" ---- Amanda has a little belly
"Que panza tiene Manuel" ---- What a belly Manuel has!
"A los 6 mese Elena tiene barriga pequena" ----- At 6 months Elena has a little pregnant belly

Honorary Catracha

The biggest compliment I have ever gotten was from Noel's cousin (one of my favorites). We were arranging some get together, making a list of people who would attend and I semi sarcastically pointed out, "I'm the only white girl," to which he responded "But you're practically Honduran, you are our Honorary Catracha."

*Insert* me full of pride as I know just how proud all of these men are of their Honduran heritage.

To be Honduran is to be hard working, love your family, and be incredibly loyal to those you love. I guess I will take this Honorary Catracha title :)

 

4th of July 2009: Primos and I (they were at the Honduras soccer game in the afternoon)

My husband's huge family

 

The Dona of Noel's dad's side

When I am old I will wear purple...

 

So if your dad's mom had 9 kids and your mom's mom had 5 and each of them had between 3 and 6 kids how many cousins do you have?

That is how my relationship with Noel started out. Everywhere we went; dancing, eating, visiting, he would introduce me to his primos (cousins). I thought he was taking the translation non-literally, in that "we are all Honduran" sense of cousins. But noooo. They are ALL related, albeit with some second cousins. In the beginning I thought he was related to every Honduran in Seattle. Not quite, but most of them are from Tegucigalpa (capitol of Honduras) or Urrutias (his little home village).

I tried to map out a family tree on my first trip to meet the family, but an 8x10 paper was incredibly inadequate. Now when I meet any primo I ask "Which side are you a cousin from?" and "Who's son are you," as I primarily know the women's names.

Ironically, in such a large family Noel has just one blood brother. And one first cousin who he calls brother as they shared a house and bed for 10 years. Their sense of family is amazing, and humbling, as Noel calls his brothers every night, just to make sure they are okay.  To quote him "Who needs friends when you have family? Family will always stick up for you and you trust them. You never know what friends will do." Followed occassionally by choice words about how my friends are not good enough becauase they are not family. Oh hubby I am sooo sorry I don't have gazillions of primos to pick my friends from. I have one sister, she is great, but in this culture I am sure she doesn't want to know about allll parts of my life.

Oh, wait! Noel does have 1 friend. He has known him for his entire life, grew up in the little village, did all of school together and he lives in Seattle as well. One friend in 28 years! But 50+ primos to make up the difference.

My Life

I have a good friend with a blog, and as her many kids keep her hands too full to hold a phone it is nice to be able to check in on her blog to see how her life is going. I decided to do the same so my family and friends can keep abreast of what I am up to. But then I became a nurse and want to integrate stories of patients and how to not end up in the hospital. So I am still not sure where this blog will end up. Be patient with me okay :)

Me: The Basics
~In my 20s
~Married to a Honduran national, Noel, in April 2009
~Plan to move to Honduras permanently by 2016
~Born and raised in the Great Northwest, Seattle and around
~Nurse by profession
~LOVE Latin America and speaking Spanish
~My family is awesome, very united and supportive of my endeavors