Dear Placenta,

I am sorry for cursing you out the other day. I know you're still able to do your job, transferring food and oxygen to Bimp, even though you're in the WRONG place. Was that a left-handed compliment? Sorry.

Dear Cervix,

Thank you for doing your job perfectly. For staying firm and tightly closed, like any good girl should. I hope I have not shamed you into performing well.

Dear Visitors,

I hope my temper tantrum did not hurt your feelings. I am very grateful for your visits. Just be aware that I am new at this whole helpless patient thing and am not used to being in bed 24 hours a day.

Dear Bimp,

Thank you for performing PERFECTLY during your test strips. You're a trooper. Thanks for not caring what's going on with my body. For moving around as much as you do, putting on a lively show for the docs and nurses. For making ME look good.



Dear loopy high-strung night nurses,

Fuck you. And fuck your power trips. Fuck your own sick need to "serve (control)" your patients, and your own neediness, which you just end up transferring to your patients via horror stories and and detailed descriptions of how needles work.

Dear Ovaries,

I am putting you two on the pill RIGHT after Bimpie is out. THANK you for giving me Bimp but oh my god, I don't think I can do all this again.

Dear nurses who are calm and easy-going and emotionally independent/mature,

God bless you. Have you been watching the Dog Whisperer? Cause I swear you and Ceasar have the same philosophy. Thank you for listening and really keying in on what I need to hear and what I do NOT need to hear.

Dear Blog readers,

Thank YOU for not freaking out on my freaking my shit way out about my freaking out about all this freaking my shit so far out there.

Dear Students,

Thank you for being OK with my not answering all your e-mails. I just don't have the energy to think about work/design/art or anyone BUT myself. I'm as selfish now as I've ever been - I am just too scared to look beyond my own navel right now.

Dear Eggshells,

Can you just move out of the way already? I'm sick of trying to walk on or around you.

Dear food service cafeteria people,

Good god, please stop asking me what I want for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I really don't care anymore. And I'm sorry, but as nice as you guys are, the mere sight of you makes me nauseous. And whatthefuckisthis? A snack? Are you serious? Soft bread on a plastic plate wrapped in saran? You guys get texture thing all wrong. In fact, you have no concept of texture. Not everything has to be mushy and vegetables don't like it when you cook the dickens out of them - unless they're mashed potatoes, which WANT to be mashed. It's bad enough not being able to use my abdominal muscles, but thanks to you and your shenannigans, my jaw muscles are beginning to atrophy, too.

Dear Bladder,

I know it's a lot to ask, but just because I still have bathroom privileges does NOT mean I want them every 30 minutes. And when you DO decide to empty, can you do a little more than a teaspoon? Come ON now, put on a good show, will 'ya?

Dear Docs,

Thank you for staying way far away from my vagina. See top illustration and visit this fantastic blog entry for another take on the pleasure of all things fertility and a very witty placenta previa primer.

Dear Clitoris,

Sorry for the lack of attention. I miss you. So does Doug. Porn doesn't help any longer now, does it? What's the fun in watching some naughty girl get some if we can't have any?

And I think that's about it for now. I got to see Bjorn yesterday and will write a more upliftting and less toxic post about that later.

~:W H A T 'S • F O R • D I N N E R:~

Dear placenta. Fuck you. Thanks a whole lot for ruining this pregnancy. And whoever it was who took my first baby, fuck you, too. Fuck you, Nurse Ratchett. Fuck you, nightmares. Fuck you to cavalier doctors who do nothing but smile. Fuck you to my nerves. Fuck you, me. You're pathetic to think that you'll be the only previa patient who won't ever bleed again. I've just talked to a nurse, who I like, who answered more of my questions about bleeding, the c-section, etc. Fuck being brave. I am sick of being brave. I am sick of being polite. Of making the best of this, of being cheery and cracking jokes with the nurses. I am sick of writing funny posts. I am tired of anticipatory dread. I am tired, tired, tired. But I can't sleep. I'm too anxious. I don't ever want to be pregnant again. This is crazy. Hospitals are crazy. Every time I close my eyes, I expect to wake up bleeding again. What do you do with that fear?

Hi! My name is Anne and any second now, I'm going to bleed on you.
Hey sport! Mind if I bleed for a while?
Oops! I'm bleeding!
Did you see that!?? She's bleeding! Gross!

I have no choice. I am sick of not having choices. I am sick of being asked what color my pee is. "And how are we this morning?" Fuck you. That's how I am this morning. I am a 38 year old mother - stop patronizing me. I am not fucking five years old. And if I cry, just leave me the fuck alone. I am sick of trying to be clever. The techs push these little carts down the hallway ALL DAY LONG that make this maddening squeeky noise. They come around to take your pulse and temp - part of their undying customer service, I guess. Something I'm paying for, I guess. Honestly, I just want to go home now.

I am sick of people who pray BADLY. You know, there's a right way to do it. And most people really suck at it. "Dear God, we know we're all sinners and that we deserve to be punished. Thank you so much for giving Anne (the bleeder) these challenges. You are just so big an awesome and cool, God. You're just swell. The shiznit."

I am sick of well wishers. Visitors. The woman (who is just doing her job, I know, but fuck her, too anyway) who comes around from the kitchen to take my meal order for the next 3 meals. This picture is what arrived for lunch yesterday and was the trigger for an evening of nausea. Thanks a bunch. What IS that thing? A breaded organ? A hand? A foot? A nose? Whatever it is, I don't want it on my plate. Not even in my room. This is how helpless I feel. I eat and stay in bed. every hour, there's a knock on my door. I'm a fucking INTROVERT, people! That means I don't wanna see you! Nope. Not even you! Or you! You, neither. And especially not you.

If this is life, I don't want it. If this is what's on my plate, I don't want it. I don't want "whatever's best" because that's just another phrase for, "look at it THIS way, suckkah. You're screwed! Smile anyway! Chin up! Yer fucked!"

After feeling like a rock star in "group" yesterday, (yes, I was in a wheelchair, but I was the smartest dressed person there, the only one wearing lipstick, showing any kind of cleavage and was the farthest along out of all 10 of us) I was on a high. These other women had sad stories like I did - but they were all slightly different. I was just grateful to have survived my own version thus far. And thought very highly of myself for having done so and for still getting to shower every day, walk to the bathroom, shave my legs, dry my hair, put on something cute, and sit up in bed. Noble flash of mature character, I know. Like what really counts makes me happy. NOT.

One of my favorite nurses answered some questions I had today for her. I asked her to be frank: They expect me to bleed. Again and badly. Worse each time. They're getting ready to do this thing called "type and screen" where they take my blood AGAIN and make sure there's enough of its match in their bank here IN CASE I have another bleed that would warrant a transfusion. They expect this. They fucking expect this. The closer I get to term, the bigger bimp grows, the more my uterus stretches, the more likely my placenta will bleed again. And more. Once I get the type and screen, I'll wear a little red arm band that says so and I'll have this lovely looking IV plugged into me that gives them easy access to me for blood, fluids, whatever. The ONLY reason why they removed my initial IV was because I didn't have another big bleed since arriving here and because asked to have it removed. It fucking hurt and ached and they put it on my right fucking hand right at my wrist. Nice huh? Every time I tried to hold something it ached. To think that they want to put in another one "just in case" and have it in me for the next 3 weeks is infuriating. Here's the truth - it makes their job all that easier. Creating an IV tap would be one less thing they'd have to do should I bleed badly again. Fuck them. I am so mad I could scream. I want to fly down the hallway and drive myself home.

I

AM

NEVER

HAVING

SEX

AGAIN.

~:B R O U G H T • T O • Y O U • B Y • T H E • M A K E R S • O F • A M B I E N:~

A: Your hands look like a bunch of castles.

D: Really.

A: Yes. It's like a puppett show.
One man Is grey and the other is pink.

D: (chuckles)

A: Listen here, Mr. Six Mouths.

(pause)

Mr., Mr. Twelve Eyes.


Check out the latest of our Northside Hospital HRP stay photos and what Bimp sounds like when riding a horse!

~:I • B L A M E • H I M:~

January, 2006. A new year. After a two years of trying to create, let alone maintain a pregnancy, we are successful on a cold January morning. Doug's on his way out da doh for his day, having just ran and showered. I've just come upstairs from a peaceful morning of knitting with Bjorn and the cats. I'm due to meet Marlis and Molly for our weekly coffee gig at Java Monkey. The sun is out and pouring into the bedroom. It's a little chilly. It's Friday and am relishing in the joy of working for myself, rather than the big man. Life is good.

So you wanna try real quick? I had been charting my temps for a while and thought this moment was perfect.
Sure. I gotta be at work soon though.
Yeah, and I'm meeting the girls for brunch.
OK .
Hold on a sec.
And poof, we laugh, get dressed and go on about our day.

My advice to infertile couples? Do it on a sunny Friday morning before you go to work. Don't even think about it. And make sure you do a lot of laughing.

Next thing I know, I'm peeing on a stick on a mid-morning Saturday thinking, "This is stupid that I'm even looking at this thing." Yeah right. Like I could actually BE pregnant.

I see 2 faint lines.
Two this time.
And I know.
And I put my hand over my open mouth. And I am happy.
And petrified.

I stand up and walk over to the window where I will find Doug in his work clothes setting up a ladder in the driveway right below our bedroom window. I crack open the window wide open and shout out to him, " Catch!" And throw him the stick. He catches it, looks down, covers his mouth, looks up at me again and falls to the ground, clutching his heart. Within 10 seconds he's back in the house we are crying in each other's arms. And the saga of a second pregnancy begins. It's a miracle.

Bimp is here. We hang on this time and decide to wait until after the 1st trimester to share our news. Nausea has the best of me for 2.5 months. But I am beaming inside. I even have a couple of students ask what's up with me? How come you're glowing? And friends who could just "tell" whose response to the eventual news was, "I KNEW it." or "You were pregnant in my dream last night."

Now we come to the present.
And I have just returned from a group meeting on this floor where I met other HRP mothers in much the same situation as I. It was touching to hear other stories and feel strength from other people. It felt really good to cry and to watch other women struggle with the same emotions. Many, many of them had had previous miscarriages. I wish I had known them 2 years ago when we had ours. I would have felt less alone. And there's nothing like the support you get from common experiences.

Tonight there were 2 other women lying on their sides on stretchers. Everyone else was in a wheelchair like me. Nearly everyone mentioned some kind of faith based strength, which I thought was nice. Half of us couldn't make it through the whole meeting without leaving to pee at least once. We laughed and we cried. Mostly, I listened. There was a lot of love in that room. And a whole lot of patience.

I am amazed at the process of motherhood. I am humbled by it. My dear friend Gray came to visit me yesterday and he actually complimented my hormones for doing their job. Hormones not only effect you emotionally - preparing you for a lifetime of sacrifice and work and joy, but they're the things that tell your uterus to get ready, your brain to start thinking differently, your ligaments to loosen up. It's all connected. This involuntary network of things that need to be done to create a life - a new person.

Another thing I talked with Gray about was the new kind of love and admiration I have for Doug. It's like falling in love all over again. This love is NOTHING compared to the initial infatuation I felt when we first met and were dating. This love is something altogether different. I want to see him as a father more than anything else. Seriously - more than my need for motherhood. Just to be a part of providing him with the fatherhood role is really amazing. I feel incredible blessed. It's more of a turn on than anything else I can think of. I've always known I wanted to have children, but never in my life did I think it would be this much fun to give a child to a man. Makes me wonder if children should come first before marriage. I know it sounds crazy. I feel crazy saying it. But oh my God, the wedding, the meeting, the dating - all that feels so trivial compared to this baby. This is where the real fun begins. And I can't believe I'm saying FUN while here in the hospital.

Dougie Fresh - just LOOK at the mess you got me into. Knocked up in the hospital - my freedom, my job, my home, my pets - all taken away from me and replaced with an army of nurses whose job it is to ask you the most embarrassing personal questions, ALL DAY LONG. All dignity lost. I cry in front of everyone.

Yes. I blame this man.

And I thank this man.

For sticking with me.

For making me a mother.

~:33 • W E E K S:~

Latest update: Bimp scored 8 out of 8 again on his ultrasound this morning. He's doing very well. I took a shower and am wearing a new pink bathrobe and nightgown Mom bought for me. Bonnie is coming for a visit today. Sharon is coming tonight. I fixed my hair today. Doug bought me some fancy Aveda bar soap for my shower. The ultra wax Minus Five bought me is kicking major ass here in room 220. That shit don't play. I love it! I have my fave nurse today named Kristin. Bimp has turned once again. I still have contractions now and again - they stop them if they get too much. I pooped twice this morning. Peed a million times since then, too. You should all be proud of me. :-)

~A L L • A B O U T • A M B I E N:~

Conversations with Doug under the influence of Ambien.

A: Can I give you a kiss?

{Doug bends to kiss me}

A: Now you're pink and red and close.

D: Whose the President of the United States?

A: G. W. Bush

D: Whose the Vice President?

A: Dick Cheney

D: Good. Very good.

A: Now you're an "eye face", you have one nose, four eyes and two mouths.

{Pressing this control panel of buttons on my bed that adjust angles, call nurses, control lighting and sound in the room - all at the end of my fingertips.} I wonder if I'm hurting anyone when I press these buttons? This looks like an alien abduction mothership control panel. This button above the figure like beams him up. This one below him is like the one for the anal probes.

{Doug smiles as he records my observations.}

A: Your hair looks like a heavy duty stapler - the top part. You should be punishing me like a principal. With a switch or a birch or a paddle.

{Doug raises an eyebrow.}

A: Now you're black and pale peach,

Doug: Now whose the prez?

A: George Wuuuu... George Bush

D: You're spacey.

A: I'm not spacey. You're LOOKING very spacey.

A: You know, my uterus is pretty mad.
{By the time I begin to express anger and sarcasm, Doug keeps an eye on the monitor they're using to measure Bimp's heartbeat any my contractions - which are effected by the intensity of whatever emotions I'm feeling. A nurse the other day told me that the uterus is the most finicky and sensitive muscle in a woman's body. It reacted instantly to whatever I said. Amazing. Now we know why relaxation is so important - why patient care really makes a difference. }

Uterus: What's so bad about contractions? All you fuckers are taking my job away from me! I'm supposed to have 9 months to practice and build muscle strength.

A: Wull, yeah. It'd be nice, huh? You're not the only one whose natural born job and bodily functions have been monitored and then taken away. Talk to the placenta.

Talking to the placenta: You, my friend, have fucked up. Thanks for ruining this whole experience for me.

Uterus: I gotta fight this bitch who owns this body. She's going to fight against what I'm trying to do. Maybe I'll get lucky and be able to get everyone down and out like I'm supposed to. I MIGHT could do my job if it weren't for those two motherfuckers - the placenta and um, YOU, Anne.

Uterus talking to the doctors: Oh, you gonna cut me? Look here you ass wipe. Make sure you take your time stitching her up. You think twice before you cut me and fuck it up and do a c-section.

{Using Tony Soprano's toughest voice after an unpleasant conversation with nurse Marva, who tricked me by waiting for me to swallow the 2 Ambien before telling me she wanted to give me a shot of fucking morphine, to stop my contractions, the majority of which were caused by her own nervousness and patronizing bedside manner}.

Placenta: Now you wanna give me morphine to emasculate me?

FUCK you PEOPLE.

This is when we fired Nurse Marva.

~:H E R E • T O • S T A Y:~

Well.

I'll be here for a while. I actually (can't believe I'm saying this) am a little relieved. After having been an unwilling participant in recreating the set of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in our bedroom Monday night (I shit you not), I am a bit relieved to be in an environment of trained professionals poised for such an emergency. In short, I am in good hands here at the Hospital.

So no more classes until well after Bimp is born and I am back at school. I'll be taking the rest of this quarter off (but please continue to e-mail me work if you need a second opinion on your pieces or um, if you just miss me). I already miss you guys. Hmmmph. We had a ladies brunch shower for Bimp planned later in September that will have to be postponed until after Sir Bimp's arrived.

But Bimp is fine. He's REALLY fine in fact. Scores very well on all his tests. I'm fine, too. Just kind of walking on eggshells. This dern placenta is such a pain in the ass. I"m not in any pain, I'm just nervous. The thing about previas is that they're so unpredictable. The best we can do is be prepared for another bleed. Which is why I'm here. They are not necessarily linked to bleeding because of a direct response to my movement. But in general, the less I move, the better. Walking and stair stepping irritate the cervix, which is this thing that thins out and stretches in preparation for birth. Normally, the placenta is well behaved. It implants up high in the wall of your uterus and provides food and oxygen from your body to the baby. When it decides to implant lower, it can be completely covering the cervix or even if it's next to it, it can cause problems. The very edge of mine is covering the cervix. So it's a problem. It bleeds unpredictably, which can cause contractions that lead to premature delivery or I could bleed to death. Not pretty.

So I am here on this bed. The doc told me this morning he'd feel safer if I were here. I should be supervised 24 hours a day. He said we could schedule a c-section delivery as soon as 26/27 weeks. That's the end of September! That's so close! But so far away. Since I'll be here for a while, they have put me on the list for a larger room. This is an exciting development.

A bit about my scehdule: Every Friday, Happy Tails comes for a visit (well-behaved therapy doggies with their owners. Every Thursday, I have the option of being wheeled to a support group somewhere on this floor and would get to meet the other patients here. I am really looking forward to that. Adult visiting hours are from the morning til around 9PM. I would welcome any visits from any of you. I'm in room 133, when that changes, I'll let you know. The room phone is 404.459.1133. Just call and let me know when you're coming. And if you can - do what sweet Tania says and bring chocolate, cheetos, milkshakes (fresh cut fruit and veggies are great, too) - whatever! I have a mini fridge in my room. :-)

Today I was visited by two dogs and their owners from Happy Tails. A nice diversion. Mom and Dad came by, too. I got a shot of steroids. That was fun. I've had more fun with Ambien. Expect a list of interesting phrases Doug recorded during one of my hallucinations soon. I get to have two every night. Boy, do I sleep well. I can also have this stuff called Ativan. That one's fun, too. Not as strong but really takes the edge off reality. So very handy.

Another thing I am learning to do is to be more assertive about my well being. There's something about being in a bed that inhibits my ability to look out for myself. I just assume that everyone around me knows more than I do and that I am not to question anything. Makes me feel like a child. In my last post, I mentioned a nurse from hell. Her name is Marva. Feel free to send a condescending curse or two her way. I got up the guts to complain about her and as it turns out, I am not the only patient who was upset by her. She got me SO upset, that when she monitored me, I had contractions which were exaggerated by her tom foolery - a bad idea. I'll post the whole story for you guys soon. It will be a fun one to tell. Long story short is that I was able to request not to be seen by her ever again. I am very happy about that.

Oh! One more thing is that I am seen by a handful of doctors (depends on whose on call, etc) but they're all from the same group. My head doc is named Dr. Feng. He's cool. AND a MAC user. He advised me this morning that Apple put out a recall of batteries (there were a few that have overheated)- mine qualifies. "Just don't rest it on your belly" he said.

I'm quite moody these days. I guess that's natural. My toilet backed up this morning and I just about jumped out the window when they said, "Don't worry - we'll bring you a bed pan if you need it." FUCK THEM. I kept calling until someone came to fix it (within an hour). That was great. But it took another hour for them to get out here to mop the floor. Hmmph.

I CAN say that the majority of nurses and staff have been tremendously supportive. But because I am so limited, even the tiniest inconvenience is very upsetting. Sometimes I feel like listening to me must be like watching an episode of Deadwood. COCKSUCKKURS!

Above is a new picture of Bimp. I get to hear him twice a day. So far have had 3 ultrasounds since we arrived Monday night.

I think that's about it for now. I miss everyone. I can't wait to be a Mommy. I can't believe I'll be out and about in 2 months with a baby in my arms, a cooler breeze in the air, maybe a sweater over my shoulders, a husband by my side, Bjorn at the end of a leash, ON my feet and not walking on eggshells. Glorious, glorious vision, I must say.

Promise and Price:

More contractions last night. They're keeping me for another 24 hours. Shoot me now because I so want to be left alone and am sick of this hospital - tired of being a patient. Tired of being asked to be patient. Had a troublesome nurse last night that I wanted to strangle. We had her replaced with someone who actually spoke english. Isn't that nice? A nurse who speaks english.

I am learning how to be pushy. Good practice for motherhood, I think.

I am anxious. If one more person tries to comfort me once more with the promise of all being well soon - that I'm doing all this for my baby, that it'll all be worth it and to not worry because of the promising future, I will scream. The promise and the price of achieving my goal are 2 completely different simultaneous experiences. One does not negate the feeling of the other, or relieve the pain.

I feel trapped and I trust no one.

Say a prayer for me? I'll keep you posted.

~:C H I L L I N G • A T • N O R T H S I D E:~

Dear All,

Doug, Bimp and I have had quite a few dramatic days of late. Everything's fine now, but we had quite a scare. Doug drove me to Northside Hospital again in the early hours of Tuesday morning after that wonderful thunderstorm we all feel asleep to. I am fine now.

Once we arrived, they hooked me up to hear Bimp's heart rate, which was fine. I however, was having mild contractions, which are normal this late in the 3rd trimester, but due to my condition, they decided to stop them. So they gave me an injection of something to make them stop. Doug called this drug, "NoContracto". I was then given an IV for fluids for all the blood I had lost. Ooftah. It was really scary. I've had IV's before, given blood, taken allergy shots for years, but nothing prepared me for this IV. This late in my pregnancy, there is 50% more blood in my body to keep me AND Bimp going at once. So when she pricked me to find a vein, I looked down (stupid idea) and then had a vision of that scene from Carrie where she's soaked in pig's blood at the prom in her pretty silk dress. I freaked. Almost fainted, then threw up and then immediately felt better. The nurse I had was very sweet, but why, in God's name did she put a fucking IV at my WRIST on my RIGHT hand? I haven't been able to knit or write or type or anything. So they removed this for me this morning. Thank god, I can make stuff again. I kept whining to the nurses, "Is this really necessary? I can't KNIT, TYPE or finish my sudukos." And in the back of my head I'm thinking, "shut UP Anne. Your baby's fine and you are, too so just be grateful and deal."

They will continue to monitor Bimp and me throughout the day, this evening and part of tomorrow, during which they will let me go home again if things continue to go well. This is good news. If, however, I have any more problems, they'll put me right back here and this time it will be to stay until my pregnancy ends.

So many people have assured me of the fact that placenta previa cases are so unpredictable. Yes, the best thing I can do is sit still, but that's still not a guarantee that I'll not have further complications, even if I do all the right things. The uterus needs to stretch and grow as they baby does. How and when it does that really isn't up to me. But the fact that my placenta is so low-lying makes the stretching and growing a dangerous, iffy thing.

By the way, for those of you students who are reading this, be glad that once I described my in-home teaching situation on bed rest to my Doctor, his face lit up at the mere idea of it. He has for a long time doubted the efficacy of strict bed rest for high risk pregnancies. I am still able to be productive, which relaxes me and knowing I can make even a small contribution gives me more peace than you can imagine.

So I sit here today, after having taken a nice shower this morning and brightened up my face for the day, I am feeling very close to Bimp and the reality that he is really coming. One nurse described the OR situation during a c-section and she said it takes only about 45 minutes and that if all is well, I'll get to see my little boy right away. After I turned a little pale at the description of the prep for surgery and the surgery itself, once she told me Doug will get to hold Bimp and walk him right over to me and hold him close to my face, all the fear I had in that moment melted away and I was fine. Picturing my husband as a parent is the warmest thought I can imagine right now. Giving him that moment and many more like it just seems so incredibly satisfying - there are no words.

Right now, Bimp is curled up inside my body, listening to the encouraging whispers of all our parents and siblings who have passed on - who we cannot see any longer. Bimp is separated from my world of air and trees and things to do and rules to follow, by less than an inch of tissue. Just enough to see the sun shining through. Just enough to know that there are others who will let him go when it is time. He will be handed from from community of love to another.

Even in my most fearful panic on that stormy Tuesday morning as I stood paralyzed in our darkened bedroom, one arm on either side of the bedroom door frame, I clutched my Bimp. I may not be able to control my body, but I can my heart and I can my mind. In a moment of utter peace and clarity, I breathed deeply and told him we were going to be fine. And I knew it. I still do.

~:3 2 • W E E K S:~

So I am feeling pretty proud of myself, having reached 32 weeks. I can't really take much credit though, for carrying Bimp safley thus far - it is through of the generosity of friends and family that Bimp and I are safe. The Dykes and the gang (Jeff & Bonnie, Mom & Dad, Jim & Anita, Catherine & Bob, Gray & Jean) threw us a lovely shower last night and we're all still reeling from it. Thank you to everyone who helped pull this together and who came to celebrate with us. We love you all and are grateful for your friendship.

Doug and I sat in the nursey for most of the day, sorting through Bimp's new baby booty (as Doug calls it) putting things in drawers, talking about how much fun last night was. Bonnie's the master of all things entertaining - we were lavishly fed and her sangria kept everyone cool and comfortable. I was able to enjoy a bit of it, too. Oh, what a luxury that was. Better than the Ambien!

Take a look at the fun pictures we took at the shower. And thank you again to everyone there.

Much love,

~ Doug, Anne and Bimp

~:P I T • P A R T Y:~

Yep! Minus Five Enterprises came to town for a visit and on her way out, stopped by to meet Bimpie and me, escorted by the lovely Tania. Kinda cool to have been in the same room with these 2 troublemakers after bravely attacking the blogosphere for so many months together. They even got to see the BjornMouse in recovery, who was happy to greet them, although not looking his prettiest.

Minus came bearing a most generous assortment of fun gifts for Bimp and me. Thank you THANk you! Shoes from that fab NY store, infant wear and some badly needed product. Oh, I cannot wait to try everything!

Doug took several flattering pictures of the three of us to choose from - this was by far the favorite pose - chosen in honor of Mary. :-)

Here we have a lovely picture of Bjorn and one of the TWELVE (I had the count wrong yesterday), not six bladder stones. This was the largest one they removed. We brought him home today after having lunch with Mom and Dad. Our morning was spent at the OBGYN for another ultrasound. The darn previa is still there. I'll blog (complain) about that later this weekend.

It's been medical week here at the Elser household. Poor Bjorn's been put through the wringer. So has our bank account. I don't even want to tell you how much money we've spent on this little monkey since we first got him. We've got to keep him still (no stairs, no jumping on furniture) for the next 10 days until his staples come out. He's not very happy right now, but is glad to be home, rather than at the vet.

His recovery makes my own bedrest more complicated. He can't use his little doggie door anymore. You should see his belly - all red and shaved and stapled up. It's scary looking. They shaved his arms, too. Looks like he's wearing socks now, which is kinda cute. So I am now reliant on someone coming over to let him out to pee. This means our poor neighbor Tom will be summoned every few hours. So I am once again more dependent. Anything for the Bimpster, though. I just hate asking.

If you're interested in a few more pictures of the Mouse in recovery, go here.

~:S U R G E R Y • F O R • B J O R N:~ Little Bjorn just got out of bladder surgery this afternoon. Poor little guy had 8 bladder stones removed! One really big one and the rest were smaller. I feel so badly for him. But the surgery went off well without any complications. He's fine now and will rest there for the night. We'll go pick him up tomorrow with instructions for a new diet. Apparently, bladder stones can be more common in small breeds. He should be feeling much better pretty soon, though, which relieves me.

All this time we were thinking he was peeing more often and in strange places to show off, to mark his territory or to just be naughty. Last night Doug noticed his urine was darker and I saw him crying at the the door we made him to let himself out. Poor baby! It must have really hurt to pee. A warning to all you pet owners out there - if your pet does anything different, even if you think it's just behavioral, consider that there may be a medical explanation out there.

One funny thing I should tell you is that before they wheeled him into surgery, he was laying there on the cot with the little blue paper hat on and little Totes footies on all 4 paws, looked up at me and the nurse and then asked if while they were down there, could they give him an enlarged peenie. Oh, we all laughed. That Bjorn. Always joking.

A shout out to da BjornMouse - we love you and are tinkin' about you!

~Anne

~:Y U M M Y • C H O C O L A T E • G O O D N E S S:~

Some of what I've been busily up to these past few days. White ink on yummy chocolate envelopes for a friend's wedding. Mmmmmnnn. I'll post the invites after they're mailed. They are equally delicious, I might add.

~:T H I R T Y • O N E • W E E K S:~

This was taken after we had breakfast. Think I ate too much maybe? Bimp loved every bite and kicked to tell me so, the little taster.

So I am fine. Sorry to have worried a few of you after not blogging for a number of days. I had just had enough of everything this week and really took it easy. The computer can be depressing after a while - as can tv, my couch, clutter, dust bunnies, Bjorn bunnies, bjorn turds... stacks of books, paper, ink nibs. Oh, I could go on and on about all the little things I want to straighten up and can't. Patience, Anne. Patience.

But things are fine. So far this weeks gone by without any hitches - that means no alarming calls to the doctor's office. Maybe I was just walking on eggshells, I dunno. We are all fine.

Took our first childbirthing class together last Monday. Had a god time. I was the only previa case there. Hmmph. But our teacher said that around week 3 of the class, many of the previa cases she has have been cleared up by then. So we'll see! We'll go to the specialists next week on Friday for another ultrasound. THIS time we're bringing a VCR tape and will have it transferred digitally so you guys can see the Bimpster moving! Kewell!

I had my first intense experience with Braxton Hicks contractions the other night - a good time to practice breathing. Whoa - they were painful. But went away after an hour when I went to bed.  Felt like really bad cramps and this incredibly tight feeling all across my tummy. Breathe, breathe, breathe, Anne. They say these are designed to give your uterus a practice go for the real thing. They can vary in intensity. If you've been more active or have not had enough water for the day - that can trigger one. So I've been drinking like a fish ever since.

Mom took me to have lunch with my grandmother Nonie on Friday. Being wheeled into an assisted living center was a bit strange. There's my 80-year-0ld grandmother zipping around with her walker busily chatting with her friends and here I am, a 38-year-old lame duck in a fucking wheelchair. Very ironic.

Afterwards, Mom took me to look at silver porringers, baby cups and spoons. I fell apart and broke into tears when I saw them. Really fun to choose patterns and to picture feeding applesauce to Bimp. I think that's what made me cry.

Something I've learned about fear: that it can hinder the progress of your labor. I think that's true in any situation. Fear is designed to bring you to a crossroads. It forces you to make a choice, which is a good thing. My mother told me she became the pain - she rode the pain of labor. When you tighten up and fight it - it hurts more. So I will try to remember that.

I've been working on other knitting and needlework projects this week, so will post some other photos of my progress for you to see soon.

XO,

~Anne

~:W E E K • T H I R T Y:~

So we are at week 30 now. Another milestone. Yay! Tomorrow night we begin the wonders of child birth classes. I will be escorted by Doug and 2 firm pillows to class tomorrow, during which we'll get to meet other soon-to-be mothers and fathers. I'm REALLY looking forward to it.

I can feel bimp move even more now. The larger he gets, the stronger his movements. During our last visit on Thursday, the midwife showed me how to tell where he was positioned. Most of the large movements are happening on the lower right side of my belly - it's wonderfully creepy. I can nudge him gently now and get him to nudge me right back.


I spent a little bit of the day yesterday downloading lyrics of some very old and beautiful Scottish folk songs I fell in love with a long time ago. Anyone heard of the King's Singers? They've been around forever. One tune has been a favorite of mine for a long time - the Skye Boat Song, witten in 1884. Check out a snippet of the Skye Boat Song on this page. I never understood the historical background of the lyrics until yesterday.

Charles Edward Stewart, the Young Pretender (Bonnie Prince Charlie), lost a battle on Culloden Moor in 1745, trying to claim his right to the English throne. He managed to escape to the Island of Skye with the help of a Jacobite heroine named Flora MacDonald. He was exiled in Rome, where he died. So he never did manage to get back, in fact he died a miserable drunk. Oh well. I shant sing that part to Bimp.

Skye Boat Song
(Sir Harold Boulton, 1884)

Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward, the sailors cry
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to skye

Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar,
Thunder clouds rend the air;
Baffled our foe's stand by the shore
Follow they will not dare

chorus

Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep
Ocean's a royal bed
Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep
Watch by your weary head

chorus

Many's the lad fought on that day
Well the claymore could wield
When the night came, silently lay
Dead on Culloden's field

chorus

Burned are our homes, exile and death
Scatter the loyal men
Yet, e'er the sword cool in the sheath,
Charlie will come again.

Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward, the sailors cry
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to skye
Over the sea to skye
Over the sea to skye

This is the only tune I've been humming to him so far. Anyway - interesting that most of the songs I love, are already considered lullabies. Now that I've got the lyrics, I've got some memorizing to do.

godhelpme i am so fuckingbored right now

oh godhelpme

~:S U M M E R • Q U A R T E R • E M O T I V E • T Y P E:~

This first quarter group is doing very well and we are all enjoying ourselves out here in Dunwoody. I've taken more photos of their progress and experiments here.

Also made a little movie of ink in action as they warmed up to the Dirty Word Book assignment. I did not have to do any coaxing to get them into this idea. Everyone jumped right in. Check out da little film here.

Cheers!

Peter sent me this little movie today. I had forgotten about it. He made it for Doug and me as part of an invite for a couples wedding shower back in 2002 he and Mary threw for us. Peter wrote and performed the song and um, searched for the photos. We found most of them under Mom and Dad's bed, actually. And today I'm sharing it with you. All comments and questions welcomed. It was a great party, by the way. :-)

~Anne

This one goes out to Mary.

Thanks for the encouragement, chicas.

XOXOXO

~Anne

What Baby Center says about Bimp at 28 weeks: By this week, your baby weighs a little over 2 pounds and measures about 14.8 inches from the top of his head to his heels. He can open his eyes — which now sport lashes — and he'll turn his head toward a continuous, bright light from the outside. His fat layers are beginning to form, too, as he gets ready for life outside the womb. If you are a new mother over 35 and on bed rest, try putting a hibiscus bloom in your hair to visually distract from the fact that you now weigh a startling one hundred and fifty freaking pounds.

~:T A S T E • M E:~

Dear Bimp Fans,

Went to the Dr. this morning for a check up ultrasound and got back these wonderful photos. I am feeling more at ease. Bimp has turned into the correct birthing position, though he's likely to move around and shift positions again as he's not as cramped as he will be in 3 months. His head is down and feet up. This photo is of his beautiful face. Little monkey was looking right at us. I can't tell if he's got a Doug or Anne face. Probably his mouth is from my side of the family - but does he have the Elser nose or jaw line - chin? Mom? Auntie Becky? Can you guys tell?

Next time we go back in 3 weeks to see if the placenta has moved. It still has not as of today. In fact, upon closer inspection, it appears to be a full placenta previa. That's not good. Things are still uncertain as to whether or not it will resolve. The closer we get to 37 weeks, the more we'll know about whether we'll have a c-section or not. We still have to be patient. Arrrg.

They congratulated me on making it to 28 weeks with no overly alarming symptoms. So my activity level is good. I have all my fine students to thank for that - as well as family and friends who have come over to help out. Every little thing you guys do ensures Bimp of a healthier birth and life. It's like every step I do not take on my feet counts as one less percent of a chance for complications. So I thank you all. We both do.

I can't tell you how amazing it was to see his little face. Looking right at me. His mouth moved open, then shut. His little body squirmed. He looked so very cozy up there on the screen. This little chubby boy in my tummy. And he did the cutest thing. He sucked on his arm. NOT his thumb. His arm! We saw his little tongue move, too. Boy, was he happy.

When my baby brother Peter was an infant, Mom used to "taste" his arm to get him to fall asleep. She'd give him little soft horse nibbles on the inside of his arm. Put him right to sleep. "Taste me?" he'd say after a story. Well, his little 2 year old daughter Mia does the same thing now. When she gets tired, she offers the inside of her arm to you. "Taste me!" She's a little more forceful about it. Cutest thing.

So you can't imagine what fun it was to drive home from the appt. and call Mom to tell her Bimp was tasting himself for us. Little hungry bird sure is half Dusenberry!

I am having a happy, happy day. I got to see Bimp.

~:T H E • S K I N • I'M • I N:~

So I had a really creepy dream last night.

There was this preteen boy who was born without skin. All of his organs and tendons and muscles were showing. It was scary to look at. His Aunt had decided to help him. She gave him the skin on her face. I didn't see him after the transplant surgery, but I saw her. She used to be an attractive woman. But now looked very strange with scars and stitches and transplanted pigskin stretched over her face, neck and head. She was in the mall, shopping. She had no more hair. And I remember admiring her for such a sacrifice. To live the rest of your life out looking like a burn victim, just so your nephew could feel a little more comfortable, was remarkable. She was out shopping for scarves and hats and wigs. She was happy to do it. The way she looked didn't seem to phase her. It was her maternal instincts that kicked in to try to help this boy. She saw the bigger picture.

And here I am, worried about how I look. Feeling fat and bloated. My face doesn't look like my own anymore. At least not to me. My hair is too think to style it the way I want to. My thighs are twice the size they used to be. I am thinking I'll never be the same. Envious of people jumping in and out of their cars, zipping around, standing tall, in movement, getting things done.

I am still. I am heavy. My back hurts constantly. I am getting tired of eating the same thing. I am tired of eating. All I can do is sit. And wait. And complain. Rather than bask in the joy of maternal love and sacrifice, I cry because I am afraid of the worst outcome and I complain about what I am giving up and about how badly I feel. I can't do half of what that Aunt in my dream is doing. Or maybe I can and don't know it yet.

Yesterday I felt Sir Bimp hiccup for the first time. And I counted fifty three of them. It was lovely and silly and ridiculously fun. Then he kicked me so hard that my thighs jiggled. Really. Tomorrow we go in for another ultrasound and check up. I get to wear real clothes! And shoes! So we'll see if he's shifted and where to. I can feel larger, more broad movements. Eeek! We have also reached our 28 week goal, which means the first two trimesters are finis. yay! We have made it to the third. Time to celebrate. Sitting down, of course. We'll keep you posted.

~:I N K E D • W I T:~

We had another great day out here in the PC Dunwoody campus. Started out the day with Calligraphy and ended with Promotion Design. Two very sharp groups of students. The morning group arrived with bagels. Thank you! We presented concepts first and then moved on to calligraphy demonstrations and tacking those gorgeous copperplate capitals. Take a look at these close up photos of everyone's work.They're all catching on FIZAST! Dave got extra points for matching his layouts. Larry bonded with Bjorn, who camped out on him for a mid-morning nap.

Mary began forming whole words out of the beautiful letters we're mastering. Interesting choices she made. I've got 2 questions, though. What is a Penis Wagon and who is Richard? Her anonymous commenter, perhaps?

In the afternoon we had a delightful discussion in Promotion Design about apple and technology and all that comes with it - more importantly all that doesn't and should come with it. We bounced around a bunch of killer ideas. On a lighter note, take a closer look at the pink photo collage up top. What's up with Boris's sketchbook cover? {grin}

~Anne

Hey, bed rest isn't so bad! Clizasses today went splendidly well. The first quarter group installed their first Emotive Type word experiments on the wall, followed by presentations of their flip book concepts. Hanging the dirty words in 2 weeks should be fun. Remind me to take those down, tho before inviting my grandmother over for tea. Anyhow, this sharp group catches on FIZAST! Fun to watch. Mick heated up some delicious soup and tossed a salad for my lunch before leaving. Such a nice guy.

Click here for more photos of our fun together.

Then came the 3rd quarter Type is Mass group. Also lotsa fun. We read scripts together before each person presented their concepts. Noah (now recovered from last week's emotional scarring) chose Scent of a Woman and won the prize for the most passionate delivery. He does a mighty convincing Al Pacino. Who knew? Hannah's type collages were beautifully done. She's doing Amelie with a twist of Art Nouveau flavor. That'll be fun. Everyone's delivery was great. So expect some great playbills this quarter. I'm excited!

Tomorrow we have the Calligraphy kids and will be focusing on the upper case letter forms. Then comes the Promotion Design class, who will be putting Apple to shame. Stay tuned.

~:B I M P ' S • C R I B:~

For the past 2 weeks, Mom has been in and out of the house, checking up on me, feeding me, cleaning and blitzing the house, shopping for groceries and buying furniture for the nursery. God bless her. Dad's also been helping her and checking in on me. When she started, we had an empty nursery. But today we don't! After moving a few choice pieces of furniture around, we had the room pretty well set up. It's amazing how quickly things come together. Ummm, especially if you're sitting and just watching it happen. I am very lucky.

One of the cool things we did at first was to purchase a vintage Hoosier Kitchen. This is a piece of furniture called a kitchen, before a kitchen was a room. Just a cabinet with tons of drawers, cubbies and cupboards. There's a flour bin and sifter on the far left, with a tin drawer for storing bread on the right. There is also a handy movable tin shelf you can tuck in or pull out. I've got one in my studio that I make good use of. I grew up with this thing in my bedroom for years. We decided instead of a dresser or changing table, one of these cool pieces would be ideal for changes and baby equipment. Got this piece in Clayton, GA before I was doomed to bed rest. So we built the rest of the room starting with this one piece.

Mom went to an all-things-baby resale shop called Cribitz. That's where she got everything else you see here in this lovely photo. There are more detailed photos for you to see if you'd like to take a look. Pretty cool. She found custom made curtains (the long pieces on either side of the window) that matched perfectly the red toile valance I made years ago. Uncanny. The ochre walls screamed for natural wood and a hint of red accents, which make the room warm and soothing without appearing blanched or dusted with white, which is not what we wanted. Also custom made was the crib bumper and dust ruffle. Beautiful pieces you can't buy at BabiesRUs. Everything you see here was gently used and at a terrificly discounted price. We even got 2 strollers (one for us, one for Mom and Dad - remember that they live less than 2 miles from us and will be watching the Bimp while I teach at the beginning of the week!) and a rocking bassinet for our bedroom.

Woo hoo! We spent the afternoon in this new lovely room just looking around and soaking in the space. I feel a great relief at having this stage completed. Only thing left to do is fill it with toys and clothes and gear, etc. And continue to let Bimp gain weight in my peaceful belly. Oh! One more thing I want to do is to paint a big black beautiful "A" above Bimp's crib. Think I'll ask my auntie Kris to do that one for me, since I'll be sittin' for a while.

Thanks to the generous help of my friend Molly, who has just made it through the first few months of her baby girl Suzanna's life. Molly guided me through the BabiesRUs labyrinth and helped me choose the right gear. I've got 3 registries set up, one of which is full of all the storybooks I loved as a child. Things are starting to become real and very, very fun.

~:B I M P • W E A R:~

BimpFans, I have begun in earnest to monogram as much clothing for Bimp as possible before he arrives. Now that my feet are of no use, my hands are picking up the slack. Because I am a show off and love to share, I've added this collection of monogrammed attire for your viewing pleasure.

We have decided on a name! But are not ready to share. Sorry? Sorry. So we can't tell you what the "A" stands for. Only that it's fo sheezy NOT one of the following names:

Aakarshan
Abbott
Adolf (um... I think that one's been taken)
Abundiantus
Ace
Achilles
Adonis
Agamemnon
Akeem
Alistar
Amadeus
Anakin
Antwon
Apple (WHAT was she thinking?!)

~:H O M E S C H O O L I N G:~

We began classes here at the Portfolio Center Dunwoody campus Monday morning at 8:00. Everything went really well. I opened up about what's going on with the pregnancy to all my students (Mick just about fainted when I told him what a placenta was) and then we had a very entertaining and enlightening discussion about what makes each one of us tick. It seems we're all in this together and while my current challenge may be unique at the moment, we're all struggling together to illuminate ourselves. That's what learning's all about. Next to that struggle, I enjoy very much the discussion of it. So I have to say that even more so now, while I'm limited as to what I can do physically, teaching is one of the most fulfilling things I do. (um, and it's just about the ONLY thing I do now!) Poof - my day flew by. And I slept very soundly that night.

FIRST, I have to thank Rachel from Baton Rouge for fixing me soup for lunch on Monday and the lovely ladies of Calligraphy for lunch on Tuesday - Colleen, Mary, and Audrey. : )

Bjorn also really enjoyed himself - giving everyone an enthusiastic greeting as they walked up the door. We had just one injury. Noah, god bless him, walked right through the 2 foot chicken wire fence we put up for Bjorn. Poor guy. We heard the scratch of wire against pavement, his art bin tumble and rattle with its contents. The twwwwangggggg of his metal ruler, (which thank goodness did not impale him) the rustle and wrinkle of the pages of his sketchpad - all followed by an exasperated sigh. Oops. Sorry, Noah. And then laughter to see him bent over like a swiss army knife across our front walkway. Lucky, he was not seriously injured. Noah did, however, manage to nick his shin on the sharp edge of my coffee table and also successfully startled Bjorn enough to get a growl and possible nip from his miniature papillon fangs. Bad dog! Again - sorry Noah. I laughed so hard (as did the rest of us) that Hannah suggested I stop before possibly giving premature birth.

I am sorry I do not have a picture of this. But rest assured. We will make our fence more visible, as unsightly as it already is. It was at this point that my husband suggested we get more liability insurance.

The photo you see here is of Jordan, who graciously made brownies. Little did I know, Jordan's a vegan. What a nice guy to break 2 eggs without saying a word.

I also must thank Jeff for delivering the contents of my cubby from the school to my house very early that Monday morning. All the time smiling and cheery. And I must say that Justin makes a FINE copy boy.

Day two of teaching was just as lovely. Rose emptied my dishwasher without my asking her, which really, REALLY pleased Doug, who cringes at the sound and texture of his fingers touching warm squeeky clean glasses. So he thanks you.

Mary brought me a very educational vintage "how to be a mother" book printed by the Georgia Department of Health. Apparently, I have to put my hair in braids and wear a smock from here on out. Interesting! And Doug can't be anywhere around. It really must be strictly a girl thing.

So thank you to everyone who helped. Next week should be really fun, as we look at concepts and discuss our options. I'll be updating the PC Home School Page as the quarter progresses and promise to take lots of fun pictures.

Back to my sudoku. XO

~Anne

Um. I would like some attention, please. I will stare at you until I get some. I will have it. I will HAVE the attention.

Give it to me. Let me get a little bit closer. Here. Like this. I can stay here all night if I have to. I will not give up. No sirreeee. I will be a patient and quiet husband. And you will give me the attention. Give it to me. Give. Give it.

I'm still here. Staring at you. Give it. Give me the attention.
Attention. Atten.

Tion.

Att. Ah.


Wuh.




Hmmphnh.





Damn!

Um. I would like some attention, please. I will stare at you until I get some. I will have it. I will HAVE the attention.

Give it to me. Let me get a little bit closer. Here. Like this. I can stay here all night if I have to. I will not give up. No sirreeee. I will be a patient and quiet mouse. And you will give me the attention. Give it to me. Give. Give it.

I'm still here. Staring at you. Give it. Give me the attention.
Attention. Atten.

Tion.

Att. Ah.


Wuh.




Hmmphnh.





Damn!

~:2 6 • W E E K S:~ Well, the Bimp is Coming page has now been updated. We are at 26 weeks. In 2 weeks, we'll officially be over the second trimester and safely into the third, which is a huge milestone. The nurses said I had several magic numbers to make it to, 28 being the first. I already have a hard time picturing being any bigger than I already am. Mary mentioned in a recent post the importance of living in the now. This whole experience is forcing me to do that.

Tomorrow Doug goes to PC to rummage through the Elser cubby for supplies and books. We'll be setting up shop Sunday night to be ready for the students by Monday at 8:00AM. As long as I stay in one place on the couch, I should be fine.

Doug took Bjorn today to the groomer. Found the greatest little place in Dunwoody called "Robin's Groomingdales", right next to the knit shop I waste our savings on. Groomingdale's has VERY reasonable prices. He got a bath, and trim for just $20.00. Pets are People, Too charge a fortune, and they're not available every day of the week for grooming. PetsMart is expensive, too. Anyway - I'm sure I'm boring you all with these details. Honestly - I just love the opportunity to keystroke information. And to talk about my BjornMouse - WHO has has a tough time adjusting to being ignored. I have not picked him up all week and only was able to brush him twice. He's looking a little lonely. Has not had a walk in way too long. So when you guys get here - play fetch with him? Poor guy. But he looks great. Smells great. They gave him a little blue bandanna with motorcycles, lighting bolts and red flames. He looks mighty masculine and threatening now. Oooftah.

I did my nails today. And I helped fold laundry. Something productive that you can see! Other than sit still for Bimp. I'm camped out downstairs with Doug in the living room today - looking out the window at our dogwood tree. We keep our Christmas lights on the trunk because we are lazy and it's such a pain to take them off. I am thinking that because my view of this tree is one of the few I see these days, that we should light it up again at night.

Dat's about it. Lots of hugs, kisses and a wave hello. I'm about to watch the Porn documentary. Expect a full report soon.

Ah ha! Presenting ANOTHER panoramic shot of my room. You know, if I kept this up, I could have a one man show at the High. This is getting ridiculous.

So here we have Jason and Ian, who came to bring me lunch and movies today. Very kind of both of them, especially considering that Jason himself is a new Dad, Ian himself is a new person and Jason's busy trying to get his final book made and finished in time for graduation. Busy doesn't even cover it. So I thank you for coming to see me. I know what kind of sacrifice that took.

My next door neighbor Tom brought up some ice water for me. He's there at the ring of the phone. Really nice guy.

Been threatening rain all day, but nada. At least it's a bit cooler upstairs for me - BjornMouse has camped out with me and is now sleeping in a new favorite spot of his - the white chair. You can see him in 2 spots in the picture. Crazy how that happens.

Today I have decided to show my foot. And that's all. Notice how it's not all swollen. That's because I don't use my feet any more. Heh.

Wull, as it turns out, you can't rent real porn from Netflix. This is the next best thing. Hmmmph.

So I've had a pretty nice day so far. I put on lipstick! And shaved my legs. Carefully. You know this weird thing happens to your body when you're on bed rest. I look different to myself in the mirror. I'm used to seeing myself smiling back at myself, being pregnant and all. But it's a little different now. I'm clutching my belly, I guess to protect myself. I dunno. I look pale. And the inside of my mouth gets really dry and pasty - no matter how much water I drink. Chapstick is my best friend.

One cool thing though is that my boobs are still big. Yay. Oh - and there's not so much laundry to do any more. Though, how would I know cause I'm not the one doing it any more. : ) Other nice thing is that because my feet are up all day, no more Miss Piggy ankles.

What's really nice are visitors. People are coming out of the woodwork to call or visit or bring food. It's really wonderful. A student came today bearing gifts. She even brushed Bjorn, which he loved. Thank you Rose. Mary came by with lunch from Wright's Gourmet. Thank you, Mary! And lemon cake. And squash soup. Mmm. Tomorrow Mr. Puckett's bringing some movies (NOT porn), his new little boy Ian and a burger from Wendy's. I am very excited.

Yesterday I did calligraphy and it was heavenly. Really made a difference in my day. I did a little bit more this afternoon and a client's coming by to pick up the work. Clients have been great, too. Very understanding. Very gracious. It's just been beautiful.

For an introvert, I am suddenly very interested in doing stuff. Talking on the phone. Listening more, TALKING more to people face to face.

Everyone says they know someone who's been on bed rest. And all have a good outcome to share. I am beginning to believe that this doesn't have to be so scary. I am making a life. Isn't a few month's sacrifice worth giving for that?

OK. Back to the porn.

Gentle readers. I know you're all just dying to see another shot of my bedroom. I am here to please. Doug had to leave the hizouse early this morning for work, so Mom came over to cook me breakfast. Ever attentive and helpful and cheery, she made me an omelet, coffee, english muffin with marmalade & butter, sliced fruit and then sat with me while I told her all about Brittany's vegetable dyed hair, Nicole's possible pregnancy, Reese Witherspoon's non-pregnancy, and Tori Spelling's feud with her Mother. My, things are very dramatic out there.

Mom decided a good way to cheer me up would be to wash the 2 bedroom windows. Inside and out. So in this lovely photograph (and yes, don't you think my panoramic skills are improving?) you see her stepping in and out of the window, out on the roof of the sunroom out back to wash the outside of our morning window. Devoted, isn't she? While on the other side of the room, she could only wash the inside panes, I am assured now that the afternoon light in this room will not be muddied by years of neglected grime. Little BjornMouse will have a crisp patch of sun in which to bathe for his afternoon nap.

Thanks, Mom.

My exciting plans for the day:
I will venture to my desk in the studio at the end of our upstairs hall after lunch today to calligraph some labels for a client. My Dr. said it was OK to sit at a desk for a bit. I am walking slowly and gingerly. Without reaching or bending, I'll be ever so careful.

Last night I had a dream that I was in a very old city made of marble, crashing down around me like it was ancient Rome. I fled the city with everyone else, while remarking on how surprisingly fragile and undependable marble was as a strong building material. You assume because it looks so strong, that it will last forever and never break. But it's just as brittle as any other material. I fled for safety. Can't remember how I got out. Or if I did.

They say places in your dreams are metaphors for your own body and mind. I am thinking that my body should respond to this pregnancy perfectly and without a hitch. There's nothing wrong with Bimp. And I am fine. My life is fine. It's just that the placenta decided to attach in a not-so-ideal location. And that's all. Gravity, chance and stress are working against me here. And I am having to reframe this experience. I am not abnormal. I am adaptive. And will be mother to this child.

When I feel alone, I remember that I am not alone in this bed.

Bimp is with me. And we will make it together.

~:B E D * R E S T * T H E R A P Y:~

Doug brought three trashy gossip mags home with him yesterday. I get a call from him, "I got a great stack of mags here I want to run by you: Time, Fortune, National Geographic, Better Homes & Gardens, etc."

A- "No, too serious. Like I actually want to LEARN something about the world? Ha."

D- "OH, right. How about more fashiony girly stuff like, Vogue, Self, Cosmopolitan?"

A- " You think I want to look in a mirror and compare myself to all those beauties with flat tummies and shoes, walking around in the open air, enjoying themselves? No matter how well I shower or do my makeup, being in bed and reclining never makes one look beautiful. Bed head cannot be fixed when you've got short hair, hon."

D- "Oh, right. I see. Nothing character building or motivating in any kind of way, shape or form. Maybe I'm in the wrong section of CVS.

A- "Try up front where the candy, batteries and mints are."

D- "Oh, where all the impulse purchases are?"

A- "Y E S. The crap that makes everyone ELSE look bad. The gossip. The trash."

D- "Star, People, Us? "

A- "Perfect."

~:B O R E D * B U T * T H A N K F U L:~

First of all - thank you for your e-mails and responses to my drug-induced post. Collin - your response made me laugh out loud. You all have been wonderful. So we've made some changes around the house.

I spend the morning upstairs and am allowed to take a shower if I want. Staying in bed. Not as fun as it sounds. And I'm an introvert!!! So far I've been in bed mostly up here - stuff sprawled all over the mattress. iSight s hooked up, as you can see - though bed head really isn't my best look. But I'd love to see you guys.

My sweet neighbors Tom and Pat have offered to check in on me. Mom and Dad stop by, too and are errand runners and meal makers. Moral supporters as well.

Doug's been a dream. Of course. Last night he and Tom put up a 3 foot quick fix chicken wire fence for the BjornMouse in the front yard. Just a small section. Doug cracked open one of the front windows that goes outside to serve as a little doggie door so he can let himself out to do his business. We put all the cat stuff in the back screened-in porch so Olaf and Gunther can't get out and are safe. Though I miss seeing them - this is the best situation for now.

On my bed I have 2 phones, a Sudoku book (the easy version), the iSight camera (which I have renamed the iSigh), my laptop doggie treats, Forever Amber, knitting for Bimp sweaters, jordan almonds, chocolate and caramel covered popcorn, a variety of pillows in all sorts of shapes and sizes, chips, DVDs and more.

Mom will come in the afternoons for lunch. We knit together. She's knitting a darling alpaca sweater and matching leggings set for Bimp. He's going to be one cozy sweater baby.

I am bored. I hope to get used to this. Need to maintain some kind of schedule or I'll go mad. The term REST really is deceptive. Resting makes me more tired. Isn't that strange? I feel if I were a less selfish person, every time I have an ache or worry, I'd be talking to the Bimp in a reassuring tone - telling him I'd do anything to keep him safe. But I moan and groan and cry myself to sleep. Feeling ever so human. Fragile. Selfish. I hate being so dependent. So aware of my body - of fragility. The possibility of losing the baby is looming over me. Every step I take, every motion to shift positions keeps me on edge. I expect to be taken to the emergency room again - it's hard not to think about that. Hard to stay positive. I tell myself that this is only temporary. That life even without a baby can be good. That I can make good out of any situation.

Makes me wonder how people who deal with illness and handicaps cope. I suppose one makes a decision to deal with fear of the unknown with a healthy perspective. I don't feel angry. I feel afraid. Weak. Unsure of myself. I feel anxious. Helpless. My mouth opens and I want to cry.

My chest aches. I know that's stress. I wish I could do yoga again. I will ask the Dr. if I can play the piano again. That is the only natural remedy I have for headaches and tension. Chopin nocturnes and Satie do wonders. I think the Bimp would love the soothing music, too.

Oh, what I wouldn't give to zoom up and down the stairs again - go get anything I wanted, take a walk, bend over, run an errand, go to Yoga class, go see a friend, breathe without hurting or crying, bake some bread or cookies, get the mail.

So that's it for now.

Oh - on a funny note: Doug reported that he found an original Degas sketchbook from tongue brushing in the shower this morning. Wow! Silly man.

Love to all.

~Anne

~:T A K I N G * I T * E A S I E R:~

Sunday afternoon UPDATE: We are home! Doing much better. Click here to see a little movie Peter made of us at the Hospital.

We checked in at Northside Hospital early yesterday morning at 3AM for bleeding. Little Bimp decided to give us a scare - or rather, my body did. I am still diagnosed with a partial placenta previa. When that happens, there's not too much you can do about it, other than taking it easier (no jumping jacks or plowing fields), kind of thing. Since everyone's body is different, despite my lack of emotional NEED for exercise, too much was too much for me. I had gotten nice and busy this summer with freelance work - and on top of teaching, it's too much for me at the moment. Not to worry about Bimp - he's fine, though I will be taking it much easier these days. Will be teaching my classes this quarter from home - so it'll be a fun party for all involved and I won't have to get up and go about, etc. But still be with my students, which makes me happy. Doug promises to make a fresh pot of starbuck's coffee for my morning classes and hey - you guys want to mess with the kitchen? Cool! Boris - give me a grocery list and feed us. And Mary? I hear you've got mad skills with home made pesto pizza or something?

I was just now given 2pills of Ambien, which I am told will help me sleep realy well. They are taking effect nowe as i'm badly typing.

The staff here have been stellar. Kind and assuring and straightforward when you need it. I feel very safe. We zipped in here at 3AM this mornin, was given a shot of steriods and will be given another shot at 11am which will increase Bimp;s chances if breathing better, shoud he arrive prematurely. He will have a good rate of survival, should that be the case. Then well have a chat before I leave about how well i did here and what portions of my work I can slack on - give up temporarily or what I can still safely do. I am hpoing the Docs will think having classes at my home would be swell. Truthfully I'd miss my students all too much not to teach at all - not to mention missing out on all the good conversations! I'll keep you posted.

Drugs rule! After no alcholhol for all these months, the Ambien theygace me are making me silly. SO Im real relaxed nd happy and fun.

This new room they put us in ROCKS. I ;m at the HILTON over here.

SO until we meet again , I am loving all of you and learning how t to a better job of letting the little stuff go, , relzax more, and not to have t be perfect.

I am sad about not taking Holgers; clss, tho. After just one class, I was hookrd right back into doing Tommy. .Lost 2 mights sleep over that promising concept, pulsing with excitemrnt . UNder the current curcumstances, i will takae his class a following quarter when I aam ready. Sorry Holger.

I will be cuttin way down the calligraphy and freelance design work. Learining to take it easy and let others help me more.
hard t o do.

getting real sleepy here.

Much love,,,

!ANne
and Bimp

~:J U L Y * 4 T H * W E E K E N D:~

We had a family blast this year for the 4th of July weekend. Glo, Peter and Mia came to town, so did Yaneeeechkah with her parents Matt and Marcela. Lukie and his lovely girls hosted dinner for us on the 3rd and on July 4th, Nonie and Manning joined us for burgers at Mom and Dad's house.

~:W E E K * 2 5 * T U M M Y:~ Ever since coming back from our little vacay I've been depressed. I think the combo of returning to a lot of new calligraphy work (which was my goal, so I'm grateful), pulling together another set of PC syllabi for Summer quarter and looking at an empty nursey got me panicked. Not 10 minutes into pulling in the driveway, my fucking legs start to itch!! I am a wreck. A control freak. All this new and wonderful stuff that I've dreamed of happening IS and what do I do? Every few weeks, I freak out. Guess that's just how I deal. Funny thing is - I don't know I'm freaking until a bad dream hits to tell me I've got crap under the surface that needs addressing. Dreams are great that way. Or as Minus would say, dreams are cool like that.

One dream was about my legs itching while at PC. I'm doing a painting. Pacing back and forth on my feet. Really into the creativity. I look down and poof - I've got this basketball size blister on my ankle that's all gross and bloody - looks like a placenta. A student takes notice and admonishes me for standing on my feet. "You just can't do that now."

Creepy.

So I tell Doug the dream the next morning and he says, "Sounds like you think you can't be a mother and an artist at the same time." And I start to bawl. Which made me feel a little better. Just knowing the fear I'm not admitting to myself is empowering.

I panic about identity. The change of that. And my emotions are getting more and more intense. Last night Peter made me laugh so hard I almost wet my pants. It was wonderful fun, until those tears turned to real tears and it took all I had in me not to cry furiously at the table. It's really INTENSE and weird to feel so fully. It's all or nothing. I am a vessel. This organic creature, pulsing with life, anticipating a change I cannot fully prepare for. Who am I. Who will I be. What will change. What will I give up? What will I gain?

After all this figuring out of life in the second trimester, at 25 weeks, Doug takes me down the hill to take this picture. By the time we walk back up the hill, we are holding hands, I am out of breath and return to this house in Clayton to dinner cooking and my family waiting. Glo says she'll take me to target tomorrow to begin a baby registry. I'm giving her the gun.

Excited and joyful beyond description, powerless against the fear of this wonderful change, I remind myself that none of us are alone. And at the end or should I say, the beginning of this journey is Bimp.

~:W I T:~

In this month's issue of Premiere, comedy is the theme. Several comics say really smart things here about the intelligence of being funny. The first things that struck me was what Monty Python's John Cleese said.

" There was a fellow called Harvey Orkin who was an American agent in London; he worked on the old Phil Silvers 'Sgt. Bilko' programs as a scriptwriter, and he was probably the funniest man in London in the 70's. He said to me, "John, comedy is about meanness and jealousy and anger and frustration. If you show me a comedy about Francis of Assisi, I'll show you a bummer." And that always stuck in my mind.

There's a lot of truth to that. I once taught a class on Wit in Design and boy was it tough to be funny on purpose. Once people got more risky and mean - it came a lot easier. Sarcasm is a wonderful tool.

My all time favorite comedy is Young Frankenstein. "Yes! Yes! Say it! HE VAS MY BOYFRIEND!!!!" Remember Steve Martin talking about how to fold soup in his book Cruel Shoes? Brilliant. I read that in Highschool in the 80's and remember falling to my knees on the kitchen floor laughing.
A few years ago I hear him on NPR. he talked about his very beginnings noting that when he looked around, all the big stand up comedians were bitter and angry. (George Carlin, etc) And he thought he'd try a different approach. "I'm gonna be silly." And oh, how brilliant he was as that very silly person. We just loved him. Still do.

Remember him in The Jerk? Here's a bit from the movie quoted in the Premier article: Navin Johnson (who's new money tude has managed to piss off everyone he loves, including his wife and all the money he ever wanted... he's at his depth of despair and decides to leave his home: Well, I'm gonna go then. And I don't need any of this. I don't need this stuff, and I don't need you. I don't need anything except this. (picks up an ashtray) And that's it and that's the only thing I need, is this. I don't need this or this. Just this ashtray. And this paddle game, the ashtray and the paddle game ans that's all I need. And this remote control. The ashtray, the paddle game ans the remote control, and that's all I need. And these matches. The ashtray, and these matches, and the remote control and the paddle ball. And this lamp. The ashtray, this paddle game and the remote control an the lamp and that's all I need. And that's all I need too. I don't need one other thing, not one -- I need this. The paddle game, and the chair, and the remote control and the matches, for sure...And this. That's all I need. The ashtray, the remote control, the paddle game, and this magazine, and the chair. (walking outside) And I don't need one other thing, except my dog. (dog growls) I don't need my dog.

So what about you guys? What are your favorite comedies/scenes/actors?