think nought a trifle, though it small appear;

someday I'll have the brain to post real things again

2009-11-10T03:53:23Z

But meanwhile, here is a photo from this very evening, featuring both wee Claire and yours truly (also a brief appearance made by our bookshelves):

And a bonus! Here is Beth and Claire, from a couple of days ago, folding laundry together:

to a birthday princess

2009-10-27T13:44:17Z

Dear Beth,

Happy birthday! You are now, once again, older than me. Claire might find that confusing, so I suggest you don't mention it to her until she starts comprehending numbers a bit better.

Can I tell you how incredibly excited I am to live my life with you? We're mothers! We have a baby! That's amazing. And tonight, she sees fire for the first time! You call it candles, but I call it the Promethean leap. Because that is slightly more awesome than saying future pyromaniac. Though not by much.

And your presents! Let me tell you, your presents are fantastic. I know you don't believe me, and you won't until you actually see them, but they are legendary.

But really: I love you. You're amazing. I love watching you with our baby, and I love saying goodnight to you, and I love waking up with you, and I love talking and laughing and singing and signing with you. I love you, and everything that makes you you.

All my love,
-Cass

and now

2009-10-21T15:42:56Z

Happy birthday, editrx!

...said David Tennant.

infant ahoy

2009-10-08T21:59:47Z

Not surprisingly, the baby continues to smile. Also, she is considerably more stylish than either of her mothers.

riches beyond imagining

2009-09-17T00:22:40Z

Or: My library books have just come in.

I love requesting books. They appear, magically! Everything I want, ready for me to pick up! (This is slightly untrue. There are two books on Anne Lister, Regency lesbian superfox extraordinaire, that I happen to know the Metrowest library possesses, and they won't let me have them.)

I am now staring at my lovely collection of texts, completely bedazzled and uncertain which to pick up first. Help me, flist!

1. Naomi Novik, Victory of Eagles
2. Mary Jo Putney, River of Fire
3. Mary Jo Putney, Silk and Secrets
4. Pam Rosenthal, Almost a Gentleman
5. Laura Kinsale, The Dream Hunter
6. Laura Kinsale, My Sweet Folly
7. Elizabeth Vaughan, Warsworn
8. Elizabeth Vaughan, Warlord
9. Carol Berg, Flesh and Spirit
10. Carol Berg, Breath and Bone

And then there is David Kahn's The Codebreakers, which is my beloved nonfiction anecdotal history of cryptology, and is also active proof that I am only willing to go so far when it comes to writing a really historically inaccurate romance novel.

(Writing this reminds me that I haven't been keeping up with my list of read books; I feel a bit bad about that, since they're great fun to write and are helpful to have around. Perhaps I will start again with this list.)

and more birthday!

2009-09-11T20:25:24Z

Many Happy Returns, Skyfyre and Lifewater!!

I cannot believe I knew you both when you were...okay, I was going to say "this high" but "this high" is just about level with the top of my own head...how about "13 years old"? Is that better? Does it make me sound less silly? Yes? Okay.

I can't believe I knew you both when you were only 13! You've both grown up so much.

I feel so lucky to have married into such fantastic siblings.

Happy Birthday guys!

-Beth

birthday!

2009-09-11T16:08:13Z

Many happy birthdays to skyfyre and lifewater! You are filled with squids and joy!

yon bonnie bonnie road

2009-08-18T02:54:59Z

I have, in my possession, a small envelope containing the payoff for our car loan (saved honestly, if you're wondering how we came to have such a random sum in cash). It is to be deposited tomorrow.

How odd.

victory is mine! or, current projects

2009-08-15T03:01:11Z

Beth has foolishly agreed to let me write one historically inaccurate romance novel. Hurray! Now I need to think of a pen name. (This is very, very important.) I've always thought "Julia Doyle" would make a good Regency romance name, but it might be a bit too plain. Survey says?

Of course, this also means I need to go back through my files and find that knife-fighting X-Files AU I wrote when I was seventeen, and see if it's worth my time. (Answer: OBVIOUSLY.) While I was busily crowing over "Miss Wood's unfashionable red hair" and other such gems, I also looked at my current plate of projects to see what I have going on. The list has become... large.

The Historically Inaccurate Romance Novel
Also known as the X-Files AU, also known as The Lady Brave, also known by it's working (horrific) title My Love, Take Me Now.

"That is not the word," he said, "that comes instantly to mind."

Her breath caught as his grip tightened around her hand. She looked, and saw that her flesh was being squeezed white by his fingers.

"Now as we are, at the moment, in a somewhat open location, I don't think it would be wise of me to deal with you here. The terrace, the garden . . . the stables, perhaps. Do you have any preference?"

He's leading me to the doors, she thought. "Dealt with, Thomas? What..."

He pulled her tight against him, and his lips touched her ear. "Now, now, sweet lady. I am L'Ange, remember? Call me by the name you used to sell me to the French."

She slapped him. Whispers surrounded them instantly, as society dames and bored gentlemen turned to watch the two fight. It was well known that Windham was partial to the little bluestocking -- this was, perhaps, only a prenuptial argument, brought on by nerves on both counts.

Of course, she thought manically, most lovers' spats didn't threaten death at the end of the evening.

They'd stopped dancing. Thomas slowly touched his cheek -- it was red. He smiled coldly. "Oh well done," he murmured, so softly only she could hear. "You've effectively ruined any chance I had at continuing my life in England after your death. If you turn up missing at any point in the future, my nice, nondangerous persona will be compromised. I commend your innate sense of self-preservation."

"I did not slap you to complete some hard-wrought scheme of mine, Lord Windham, but to show my complete and utter feelings of disgust and betrayal."

"My many thanks for the explanation, Miss Wood; it would be better if I believed you, but let's not expect too much from a trust built on a lie, hm?" He bowed low before her, but his eyes never left her face. "It ends here, Miss Wood. Everything."

And then he turned, and left.

The Stupid Vampire Novel
My actual current project -- the sequel to Salt and Silver -- which octette is very patiently waiting for. One of the working titles was The Feast of Blood, because I am easily amused; the current one is The Doors of New York, because I am also terribly unimaginative.

Blood is blood, some sweeter, some saltier. It's the places it took him that were important. He tasted her, and in a voice only her soul could hear, he said, Let me in...

He opened his eyes, his other eyes. There was a forest around him. Different from the trees in New York. It was all tall, wide pines and broken undergrowth. There was snow, too, at least a foot around him. Blue-white, cold, and heavy. There was no sun here, either. He was on a mountain, and he couldn't help but wonder if the sun ever reached this side of it.

Alex looked around. This was just a gateway, a nuanced and symbolic representation of Emmy's mind. Somewhere here there would be a way to get to her thoughts, to every little memory and learned experience. Everyone had a door to their personal library hidden in their soul. It was just a matter of finding it.

It was fucking freezing here, though. His legs were aching in the snow, and there was a sharp wind. It picked the top layer of snow off the branches of the tree nearest him, and the crystals pricked at his eyes. He doesn't even know where to start looking. He wasn't really sure he could even move.

Okay. Fine. So she wasn't the friendliest soul. "Emmy," he said, the sure-fire key, and waited for the next door to open.

Alex waited, and nothing happened. Usually a door would appear, or maybe an animal guide, or the world would just shift to encompass the information he wanted. Instead, the wind picked up; the snow flew harder, almost burning his skin. What light there was started to fade. It was like being trapped in a malevolent snowglobe.

There was something behind him.

Alex tried to turn, but he stumbled sideways, thick snow pressing against his shins, keeping him from moving as fast as he should. He looked over his shoulder, and all he saw was darkness. The wind howled.

What kind of soul was this?

Who was this woman?

Alex felt a hand at his neck, and--

The Disability Novel
This is one that I can't futz around with -- it started originally as a story called The Ash and Oak Man, about a world in which superstitions now work. The main character was pulled through an ash tree and was cured of a coma (or something similar) before the story starts. He now has a strange affinity for superstition-magic. As of the current draft, as cool as his abilities are, it's actually massively disabling. And now, he fights crime! It's very exciting in my head.

1. Unless Professor Riefman says otherwise, there is to be no use of magic (or superstition, "iHacks," folk beliefs, etc.) in Professor Riefman's classroom, on the work you hand in for Professor Riefman's class, or on Riefman or any of his teaching assistants. The use of magic on yourself prior to being in Professor Riefman's presence is also highly discouraged.

2. If magic is being used for ambient or non-curricular purposes (general luck, contraceptives), and you are caught, you may be asked to leave for the duration of the class or, depending on the magic, you may be asked to permanently leave the class. Any problems this creates with your schedule or credit hours must be taken up with your dean.

3. If magic is being used for curricular purposes (grade hacks, test help), and you are caught, you will be reported to your dean and may be ejected from the class.

4. If magic is used on, against, or even on the behalf of Professor Riefman or any of his teaching assistants, and you are caught, you will be ejected from the class, reported to your dean, and legal action may be taken.

5. If you use magic, you will be caught.

The Serious Regency Romance Novel
This may also be just a straight-up historical novel. There's a love story, and it's the main thrust of the story, but considering the curtain!fic nature of it, I think it could be sold as mainstream. Anyway. Bah. Unfortunately, while I do know I've written a prologue for this, I seem to be unable to find it (augh, my nightmare). There's at least part of it handwritten somewhere -- it's a rather further-out project than everything else, so I have time to fret and research and tear through all my notebooks trying to find a measly three pages AUGH.

And finally:

The Austen Slash Novel
No, for real, this one's supposed to be serious lit. I can't screw around with the history on this one, so it's very back-burner, and compared to my other book ideas, it's a new kid on the street (it's only a couple of years old!). It has to sit around for a lot longer before I can even think of writing an opening (that will then be rewritten, discarded, dredged back up, rewritten again, and then discarded again, ad nauseum, until Claire can take up the mantle and write the damn thing for me instead). That being said, what I have plotwise is essentially: Mary Bennett. Anne de Bourgh. Those crazy kids. The end.

(True story: Once when I was but a wee sprat, I spoke unto pnh and said that I was mortally afraid I would only ever come up with one idea for a story ever.)

ETA: Oh, hell, I forgot the space opera one. Sorry, a4yroldfaerie.

ETA ETA: Dammit, and the "Christ as Tamburlaine" story that requires a pile of research and, uh, possibly a very fake identity.

someone has learned how to smile

2009-07-28T18:52:48Z

And we have photographic proof.

meanwhile, though, have more music

2009-07-22T19:18:26Z

There's no theme, here -- it's just stuff I'm liking right now.

Amy Macdonald - This Is the Life
I'm loving this right now. It's fast, and it's catchy, and it's got a story in it somewhere. "And you're singing the songs, thinking 'this is the life' / and you wake up in the morning and your head feels twice the size / where you gonna go? / where you gonna sleep tonight?"

Cowboy Mouth - Jenny Says
I heard this on the radio a couple times back in DC, and then never again. It makes me wonder if maybe there's a skeleton in this band's closet nobody's talking about. But then again, this is an awesome song, with a nice beat to it and an exuberant male voice. So... yeah. "I got no reason for the things I fear."

Paul Simon - You Can Call Me Al
Oh Paul Simon, you just make me happy. This one is quieter than the others I've uploaded -- you may want to turn it up. "A man walks down the street / It's a street in a strange world / maybe it's the Third World / maybe it's his first time around."

Johnny Clegg - Dela
Is this a song from the George of the Jungle soundtrack? Yes. Yes it is. But does it make me just shamelessly happy? Damn right. "I sing dela, dela / ngyanya dela when I'm with you / dela, sondela mama sondela, I burn for you."

Pyewackett - Moll Pately
This one's an instrumental folk piece from my writing mix. It's just the sort of song that inches under my mind and lifts very gently, right when I've learned to ignore whatever's playing... and reminds me, oh yes, this is what this story's about, this little weaving hum...

the following things are terribly unfortunate

2009-07-22T18:42:00Z

1. On the 27th, instead of enjoying my last few days of maternity leave, I'll be have an MRI and an EEG to find out if there's something going on in my head that causes my migraines (my doctor doesn't like that I get tics with them, and the neurologist that he sent me to doesn't like that I get full-on dreamscape hallucinations with them. Huh).

2. I have a short story with exactly one paragraph that refuses to gel correctly.

3. Neither I, nor anyone else, possess the Star Trek reboot on DVD.

4. Which comes first: my milk drying up, or the publication of a new book? Don't know. Don't know which answer I'd want, either.

5. The terrible historical romance I just finished reading was really, really terrible. And yet, Beth won't let me write terrible historical romances, even though they clearly get published! It is free money, Beth! And "history" is such a wishy-washy term anyway -- I am totally sure that no one notices the utter wrongness of a character wearing a bustle and a hoop skirt at the same time.

6. Also, if I don't have to worry about research or reasonable plotting or emotional honesty, I bet I could churn out something in no time flat.

7. Like, what if I pulled out that romance novel I started when I was seventeen? The one that started as an X-Files AU? There is codebreaking in it! And knife fighting! And French spies! It is AWESOME. Just give me, I don't know, a week, and I can clearly produce something someone will buy, Hatchette Book Group USA.

8. I seem to have killed Beth's soul.

once upon a time

2009-07-15T02:42:33Z

I have a writing icon -- it's the one labeled, unimaginatively, "writing". This is my secret writing icon (except the part where I've just said so).

It's a flickr photo I found because octette wondered aloud if there was a loa riding her. I said there was; I included the link. I saved the file, too, but I didn't save the photographer's name (if you find it, tell me). In any case -- eventually, I made it into an icon.

It serves a lot of purposes. Sometimes I use it when I'm commenting to octette. Mostly it's just fun. But in my head, at the moment, it's all about writing. Forget that it's a chihuahua (but you probably can't, now that I've said it). The shadows, the eyes. Maybe it's my loa, right now. The rider, the weight on the shoulder that leans forward and breathes against the neck.

That sort of breath can get very... persistent. Irritating. Maddening. Especially if it doesn't resolve into some sort of ecstasy.

Essentially: I am terribly, terribly annoyed.

bits and pieces

2009-07-12T17:50:27Z

I've been trying to update more often for a while now -- as it turns out, it's much easier if I'm at home all day (and when I have odd sleeping patterns).

--

Appearances for today have been cancelled, since wee baby had a rather good showing yesterday that ended with a slight over-stimulated meltdown yesterday evening -- she is now refusing to leave her trailer until someone gets her agent on the phone, dammit.

--

So at College of My Heart (and, I assume, other schools as well), there's this phenomenon wherein the anxious student (i.e., all of us) will procrastinate and avoid one class's work... by doing the work for another class. So even though the student is doing the right thing and working her tail off, she still feels guilty for skiving off.

Turns out, this feeling does not disappear after college. Which I sort of knew, thanks to the day job, but I'm being reminded of it right now because I am researching/plotting the sequel to Salt and Silver... while at the same time reading some Val McDermid books to study the style for a project of my own. They're both good uses of my time, but every time I get sucked into the McDermid, I feel hideously guilty. Hurray for anxiety.

(The McDermid is extremely appealing, but the sequel work is actually more pervasive. This includes drawing little diagrams in my notebook, reading a biography of Mary, Queen of Scots, looking up mythological mermaid variants from notes I'd taken several months ago, and actually writing. The mermaid thing might be a dead-end, but it's a start.)

--

Today's oddity: I looked in the mirror today and realized that, huh, I can sometimes be considered reasonably attractive. This is... extremely surprising to me. I was expecting a lot of things from and following pregnancy, but finding myself pretty wasn't really one of them.

Readercon appearances

2009-07-09T01:48:47Z

For those in the area, Beth and I -- and wee baby -- will be crashing the Readercon lobby/hallways on Saturday, starting around lunchtime (when we will abscond with Claire's aunt and uncles) and then for some portion of the afternoon. Further appearances will depend upon the baby's feelings on the matter, and whether anyone bribes us to show up at a different time.

things look funnier at 5 AM

2009-07-07T23:26:00Z

This morning it struck me how hilarious Claire can be while I'm changing her. She does this thing where her eyes are wide open and she's looking at me with full focus, stretched out, a pacifier in her mouth... and her hands splayed over her cheeks, just pressing against them as if she's saying "Faaaaaaace. MY FAAAAAAAAACE."

music in mind

2009-07-06T22:39:42Z

So I'm busy composing a grand labor entry -- but it's not done, and anyway, I want to post music. Therefore! There shall be music.

There are some songs I know I'm going to use as brain-food for storytelling. I know I'm often putting more in them than there sometimes is -- it's all about how they hit me, I suppose. Here follows five songs that either have or will directly affect something I'm writing.

The Nields - Gotta Get Over Greta
Someday (maybe with octette?), I will write a queer YA novel. And somehow, this song is going to influence it. It's angry, scared, manic, filled with memories both treasured and frightening, the status quo, the fight... Yeah, the fight, and sometimes losing it. "But as for me I live with the fear / I'll run into her down the line / It'll be the same thing / I'll shake and tremble / I'll lose myself / I'll remember, I'll remember."

The Eels - I'm Going to Stop Pretending That I Didn't Break Your Heart
I actually linked to this one way back in 2005 (college, man, wow). For this one, the lyrics are great, but in some ways it's more of the drag of the sound that gets to me. The whine and shuffle, the knowledge of failure, the regret-that-isn't. This is mood music, more than a prompt for a particular kind of story -- this is the song of mistakes not yet regretted enough. "I didn't mean to hurt you / I didn't know what I was doing / But I know what I have done."

Fall Out Boy - Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes
I've got the story for this one -- real-world fantasy with disability at the heart of it. I listen to this song, and I get into the head of the main character (or at least, part of his head. Mostly the depressed, "bargaining" section). The lyrics are all in this one, but funnily enough, I'm more interested in the misheard version than the real one. So the quote here is from, um, my version of the lyrics. Hurrah. "And I'd promise you anything for another shot at life / Perfect boys with their perfect lives / Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy."

Oyster Band - Gamblers
Another blast from the 2005 past. All my stories these days have, at some point, this song. Here's what I wrote then -- it still applies: If I could find the lyrics for this, I'd be able to better tell you what it's about. What it feels like is... well, it's like Constantine. It's a weird world, ("strange things kept knocking on my door") and this song has a fast, constant beat, ("the cards don't tell you 'bout the blackouts...") and there's a sort of love affair thrown in ("That was the year we caught the fever / all the world was running high"), except, do you really want to sleep with anyone when you're in a dystopic alternate universe? "We do not do that anymore."

Aqualung - Strange and Beautiful
Have I posted this song before? I don't remember. In any case, this song was a major contributor to an early version of Salt and Silver, or at least to my thinking about it. There's a particular verse that just -- it says a lot of things to me, and a lot about the kinds of people I end up writing (or wanting to write) about. "Sometimes the last thing you want comes in first. / Sometimes the first thing you want never comes. / I know -- the waiting is all you can do sometimes."

pistachio muffins for all!

2009-07-05T13:54:04Z

Happy birthday, octette -- you are the best friend and coauthor ever. Also, you are awesome. AWESOME. ♥♥♥

next thing you know, we're surrounded by sparkly vampires

2009-07-01T17:28:31Z

Since Claire's birth, we haven't had a single sunny day. Not. A. One.

Either this means that she presages the coming of the apocalypse, or she herself will become a dark lord of some kind.

Or we have somehow moved to Forks, Washington, and must be careful that she doesn't meet with any tall, pale, oddly obsessive boys out for her ~~blood~~ love.

In other news,

and the winner of the internet today is...

2009-06-24T01:45:55Z

polonius, with his excellent Cass macro.

announcing

2009-06-20T01:18:37Z

Claire Juliana

born 7:09 PM, Wednesday, June 17th, 2009
7 lbs. 6 oz.
19 inches

c-section

2009-06-17T22:59:18Z

C-section in progress. Baby imminent. More details later.

--lexelby

on being pregnant

2009-06-11T02:10:10Z

So, I'm still pregnant. Like, there is still an infant in here. On the other hand, I've reached 38 weeks and four days, which means I am totally term -- I could have this kid tonight and they'd let me take her home when I left the hospital.

I'll probably write up the actual story of the birth when it comes (not with, you know, details), and of course after there is infant in the house I'll want to talk about her and post endless photos -- or, more probably, sleep a great deal. And then post those endless photos. So now's probably as good a time as any to discuss the last nine months. I'd meant to write it up as I went along, but some bits were miserable, and some bits were boring, and most bits I didn't really figure out what was going on until later, so I eventually decided that I'd wait until it was almost all over before writing about it. And here we are.

Finding Out
We were the dumbest lesbians in the world -- we were trying to get pregnant, and the day came to take the pregnancy test, and we just decided, out of the blue, that it hadn't worked. "I don't think I'm pregnant," I said; "I don't think you're pregnant, either," said Beth; and then I didn't take the test. I proceeded to think, for the week following, that:

1. My period was coming, because my breasts were aching.

2. I had food poisoning, because I felt nauseated all the time.

3. I had a cold, because I was tired and felt ill.

4. It was totally fine that all I wanted to eat -- and, in fact, all I did eat -- was cookies.

Eventually I noticed that my period hadn't actually shown up yet, and I called up Beth. "I think maybe I should take the test, just in case. I mean, I know I'm not, but it'd assuage the crazy, anyway." Skip many hours, and an adventure in getting Chinese takeout. I take the test. The test immediately starts flashing the words HOLY FUCK YOU ARE PREGNANT in bright mauve. I show Beth -- somehow, the best response either of us can come up with is to swear. A lot.

We do manage to stop swearing before we call her mother.

(As an aside: Even though we were planning it, even though we were hoping for it, there was still a moment when I looked at the positive test and thought Oh no. Because that is apparently the immediate reaction any young woman of our era has to seeing a positive pregnancy test: the sudden knowledge of terrible error. Or something. The feeling was replaced very swiftly by more positive disbelief, but still. Weird moment.)

The First Trimester
--was filled with nausea. My mornings and afternoons were fairly okay, except for a lingering desire to eat nothing but cookies; my evenings were a hellish landscape of roiling tummies and blackout-worthy migraines. I went to sleep early a lot.

Come to think of it, I slept a lot in general. I once fell asleep on my desk with my head on a manuscript, my left hand clutching a red pen, and my right hand draped over my computer's mouse. I woke at some point after the 15-minute mark; my computer had locked itself from inactivity.

What else... oh, I didn't look pregnant in the least, I was freezing all the time, and I was disallowed both pregnancy books and internet research (I had the uncanny ability to find the worst possible things, like about birth defects and your partner thinking you're lazy and don't even get me started on the insanity and misinformation of Yahoo! Answers).

I lost weight rather than gaining it (see: cookies vs. nausea), and what times I did eat, it was weird. For instance, I didn't have strange cravings. What I had was perhaps one or two foods, in the vast spectrum of foods in the world, that at that moment didn't make me want to throw up. So, for instance, I would say, "I could have scrambled eggs. Or I could have a Fudgsicle. These are the options." The only foods I consistently wanted to eat (when I wanted to eat at all), were meat and dairy. This led to such famous work incidents as The Time Cass Ate an Entire Baked Ham Straight From the Wrapping; The Time Cass Interrupted a Group Meeting to Discuss the Desirability of Meat Poptarts; and The Time Cass Ate One of Those Gross Christmas-Basket Sausages and Was Actually Caught At It by Her Officemate.

Several of those incidents were referenced in illustrated form on the baby shower card I later received from work.

The big thing I remember about the first trimester, though, and particularly for the first 8 weeks, was all the time I spent being terrified of all the things that could go wrong (and which I was helpless to prevent). The big fears:

1. Was there actually a baby in there?
(For this, the doctors needed to do a blood test to determine the pregnancy hormones.)

2. Would the numbers be high enough?
(The answer: Yes, they certainly were.)

3. Would the numbers double like they were supposed to?
(After a few days, they take your blood again, to see whether the hormones have upped in number, suggesting that there is a rapidly growing kidlet happening. The answer here: Oh, was there ever doubling.)

4. Is there still a baby in there?
(Imagine many weeks of constant checking-in between Beth and myself. "No blood?" "No blood." Miscarriage = an extremely big fear prior to the 8-week mark.)

5. No really, is there still a baby?
(After 8 weeks, you can see/hear a heartbeat on a sonogram -- heartbeat = significantly lowered risk of miscarriage. We wanted to get confirmation of that damn heartbeat. The midwife said, "Hullo, I do wonder if your uterus is a bit small for the level of growth that should be happening, why don't you get an ultrasound TO MAKE SURE THERE'S A BABY IN THERE BECAUSE THERE MIGHT NOT BE AT ALL. Please be sure to have to wait overnight before being able to get an appointment." Fortunately, the next morning's ultrasound revealed that there was a baby, that it was doing very well for its age, and that 8-week old fetuses look like sea horses. We exited the room with high-fives and cries of "Not dead!", which took the nurses by surprise until they got into the swing of things.)

The Second Trimester
I'd been told -- even promised, by several authorities -- that the second trimester would herald the end of my nausea. This was a lie. I spent at least another four weeks (WHICH IS FOREVER) in that state, and wondered idly if, perhaps, I would stay that way until the end of time. Which is, fortunately, when it stopped.

The second trimester didn't have the same sorts of constant fears going on; not in the same way, at any rate. At around 15 weeks I could feel the baby move -- it was weird, like a sudden swishing sensation where none ought to be. Later that week, I was sitting down and looked at my belly; I poked it idly; and it rose, like a leviathan, and I was creeped out. But by the next day, I was ready for it -- and that's how we started playing games with the wee baby, because if one of us tapped one side of my belly while I was lying down, it'd move to that side; and if we tapped the other side, it'd move over there. It was extremely cool, and oddly comforting that we had this sort of odd communication with it.

At 18 weeks, though, came the next ultrasound. The one that checks to make sure the baby's growing right, and is big enough, and what the sex is. The night before I had an enormous anxiety dream, coupled with the unusual reality of pregnancy dreams, wherein we went to do the ultrasound and it was revealed in short order that the baby had no head. I don't really remember the rest of the dream, but my god, why should I?

(As a note, most of the time my pregnancy dreams were pretty awesome. Like this one I had, where Beth and I were part of a big dinner with Obama and his team, and I was sitting next to Obama, and he got really bored by someone talking, so he started poking me with his pen and pretending he hadn't. I traded looks with Michelle, and she rolled her eyes and started talking to Beth, presumably about their mutual spouses. Somewhere in there, Rahm looked peeved that he wasn't close enough to throw something unobtrusively.)

The next day's ultrasound revealed that the baby did, in fact, have a head, probably didn't have Down's, had a good number of veins and such in the umbilical cord, had four chambers in its heart, had a lovely brain and spine, was ahead in growth by at least a week, and preferred doing a complicated tango to having its sex checked. We ended up scheduling another ultrasound, this time with one of those 3D places, just to get the sex checked, and that's how we discovered that the baby was a girl, and that she enjoyed playing with her toes. For something that looked like a sea horse a measly 10 weeks prior, this was pretty damn cool.

We'd already bought some clothes at this point, but now was the ever important time of going through it for the stuff that was a bit too neutral and trading them in for adorable dresses. Note: We do not do the pink thing. I mean, we have pink stuff, but that's really more an accident of availability than anything else. And we certainly have boys clothes, stuff that was just too awesome to not get (for instance, see this? The whale outfit to the right? Hell yes. And you better believe there's a matching sweater. We'll stick bows in her hair if we have to.)

The buying of clothing led to my second-favorite pregnancy game (after the poking game described above), which is essentially dress-up. With my belly. By draping the clothing on me, we could see if she was big enough or too small still for any number of outfits -- it was a great day when we draped one of the sleepers on me and realized, hey, she'd need to build up some baby-fat, but otherwise, she was indeed big enough to wear it...

What else? My eating returned to normal, though with occasional forays into MEAT, and I started to gain weight properly. I still didn't look particularly pregnant, unless I went out of my way to dress the part. Walking/standing for long periods of time was pretty tiring (see, for instance, Boskone). The baby showed preferences for certain songs and types of music, and I started talking and singing to her on the way home from work because I could actually feel her responding to it.

At some point in there, we also started birthing classes. The length was 7 weeks, one night a week, and I thought that was ridiculously long -- but by the end, it seemed much too short. The most important thing I got from it was not necessarily the information (I mean, that was okay, but I had most of that from Beth anyway), but rather meeting other pregnant couples, learning about all of our fears and mutual annoyances, and, now, watching with envy as one after another of them give birth. It's weird to suddenly talk about bodily fluids with a group of complete strangers, but after you do... well, you keep up with one another.

Finally, Beth mentioned one day: Have you tried expressing any colostrum yet? Colostrum, for those not in the know, is the sort of pre-milk you get right after the baby is born, the stuff with all the immunities and so forth. Turns out, you can sometimes get it beforehand as well. So, I tried. And, um. DUDE. I CAN TOTALLY CREATE FOOD FROM NOTHING. There's apparently a line from Murphy Brown that describes it as "like getting bacon from my elbow." This is ENTIRELY ACCURATE.

The Third Trimester
Which brings us to now. The birthing classes ended a couple of weeks in, which was sad. But the big thing that came with the beginning of the third trimester was the lovely discovery of Braxton Hicks contractions. What are these? These are "practice" contractions that your uterus decides to do for fun (or practice. whatever). They're not that painful, more like a strong squeeze, but it's not something you want to turn more serious when you're still a bit too early for such things.

I finally started to look pregnant -- really, really pregnant -- during this bit, though I still had a bit of the "stealth preggo" vibe. See me from behind? See me directly from the front? I look a bit odd, but it could be anything. See me from the side -- instant pregnancy! Very exciting.

At 33 weeks we had an ultrasound, because the midwives were concerned the baby hadn't turned head-downwards yet (a lie. She totally had. She flipped moments before the midwife checked her, and flipped back almost immediately after, because she is a weasel. That being said, we wanted an ultrasound, so, you know, props to baby). This ultrasound showed she was, in fact, not breech, and two other important facts:

1. We could, ever so briefly, see her face. She already has round cheeks and, unfortunately, my chin. Beth is convinced she looks like me, which I am not at all certain of. This has affected naming decisions somewhat, since I'm still rooting for things like Amelia, and Beth is now heading towards names that would have suited me had I not been one of nature's Cassandras. (Note: I am not one of nature's Cassandras. I am rather one of nature's [insert my name here]. Beth, on the other hand, is both her real name and a Beth, which is delightful.)

2. At 33 weeks, her body was measuring the size of a 34 1/2 week-old. Her head measured at 35 weeks. Babies gestate for 40 weeks -- HOW MUCH BIGGER COULD HER HEAD GET? The answer: Will be determined shortly, god help me.

Aside from all that, though, this is, for me, the most boring part of the pregnancy. (Beth would disagree; she thinks large swathes of the late second trimester were snooze-inducing.) Boring, because AT ANY TIME THERE COULD BE BABY... so why isn't there baby now? Or... now? HOW ABOUT NOW. Ugh. Waiting takes forever.

But wait! says my body. Why wait... when you could have PRODROMAL LABOR?

As if the Braxton Hicks weren't bad enough, starting on Memorial Day weekend I started having prodromal labor, wherein a body essentially goes into labor and then stays there forever. From 15 minutes apart to 2 minutes apart, I get medium-to-ouchy contractions -- constantly -- every day -- all day. When I'm walking; when I'm sitting; when I'm sleeping. For the last two-odd weeks, I've had nightmares about getting contractions... and I wake up to discover it's because I'm actually having them. I get them at work; I'm even having one right now. RIGHT NOW AS I TYPE THIS. They're constant. And really, really annoying.

I was always under the impression that one day, I would suddenly start having contractions, and that would be baby day! I no longer have this certainty in my life. Any day could be baby day. This prodromal labor is very (very) slowly dilating my cervix and getting the baby lower, but honestly, I won't have a clue what's going on unless my water decides to break. I am more than a little concerned that I'll just accidentally give birth in the bathtub, because what do I know? It's all the same.

(Note: At this point, I WOULD GLADLY GIVE BIRTH IN THE BATHTUB JUST TO GET THIS OVER WITH.)

Baby herself is doing her best to get things moving -- as of last week I am, thanks to her, 80% effaced (which means that by this point my cervix is... well, it's really ready to have a baby through it, okay?), and the baby's at "zero station" (which is another term that means that I, essentially, am walking around with a honeydew melon nestled just south of my hips). She also spends a great deal of time kicking against my ribs in order to bash her head repeatedly into my cervix, as if, if she hit it just right, maybe this time someone would LET HER OUT. And bless her heart, if it actually works I'll give her cookie. You know, when she's able to handle solids.

Also happening at this point is a return to the fear of yester-trimester, wherein I spend all my time worried that the baby is too low, is losing oxygen, is not moving enough, is running out of room, has the cord around her neck, is going to suddenly die while I sleep, is going to be born too soon, is not going to be born soon enough, and, as always, MAYBE SHE WON'T HAVE A HEAD. (Note: We've seen multiple ultrasounds. She has a head. But nevertheless.) I'm also having lovely depressive episodes that involve all these fears and the all-encompassing belief that I will, in fact, be pregnant forever. It's a smorgasbord of happy over here.

There's not much going on, except for the waiting/terror game, and the constant "nesting" (wherein I decide that really, I should spend the next three hours washing the walls. NO REALLY, give me back my sponge!). So, to end this section, here's a brief overview of Kinds of Contractions I Have Had:

1. Tension -- Much like having tense shoulders or a tense jaw, I realize I'm all tense in my lower belly (below the navel), and I consciously relax it. I usually only notice these after the contraction is over, so I can relax it; if I notice this before the contraction is over, no amount of "conscious" will make it calm the hell down. If they go on for a while, it can be likened to taking a thick pinch of your arm -- it doesn't hurt, really, but after a while you're kind of like, "Hey, that is starting to ache, and also, is super-annoying. Please stop it."

2. Twisty -- Okay, so, can you make your tongue into a W, or a clam, or whatever the kids call it these days? Do that. Kind of uncomfortable, because you don't usually do that with your tongue (though perhaps I am making an assumption here), but generally okay. Now imagine that, only flipped vertically, in your belly.

3.Tension w/Twisty -- Mix those two crazy kids together. This can sometimes lead to odd hip pain as well, or back pain -- while it may seem as if the contraction itself is not actually worse/more painful, having other muscles come into play usually means that the contraction is stronger.

4. Wave -- It starts with the tension really low down... and then ever so slowly all the muscles of your entire abdomen get caught up in the tension, rising up from below until it hits your breastbone. Then, after a moment, it recedes again. This one's almost calming, honestly.

5. Ow -- I get this after walking for too long (Note: "too long" defined here as "going to the grocery store"). It starts as just the tension contraction, and then gradually builds to blinding bursts of pain that encompass not just the belly, but also the lower back and even the upper thighs. For fun, maybe the baby is bashing her head in time. The best thing for this is to stand very still while being supported by Beth ("'Beth' not included in your home edition"), with a little gentle counterpressure from her hip, until the pain lessens just enough to keep walking. For approximately five feet. Then repeat.

Finally, Seven Extra Pieces of Info (Or, So TMI You Wouldn't Believe It, I'm Not Even Joking, Don't Click Unless You Really Want to Know)

1. Mucus. Since the start of this pregnancy, my life has become about mucus. Blowing my nose constantly, being stuffed up every night... these are only the things I can talk about in polite society. Cervical mucus is a constant and never-ending companion, and one that you generally don't get to bring up at parties (I may, again, be making an assumption here). For many months it had the consistency, and general properties, of wood glue. These days, as my cervix ever-so-microscopically dilates, I get bits of mucus plug. For a full discussion of the mucus plug, please read this essay, which really does a far better job than I could (no, really, go read it. It's funny. And gross). For a description, imagine someone blowing their nose in your underwear. There. That is what I am living with. Daily.

2. One of the charming side effects of constant labor is that it affects my digestive system as well. I thought I had food poisoning in the first trimester? I DID NOT YET UNDERSTAND THE MEANING.

3. On a similar subject: Urine. It is constant, it is in ridiculously small amounts, and there are times when I know I have a fuller bladder than what has been evidenced and yet there's just no way anything else is escaping.

4. It is incredibly disturbing to not be able to see my own pubic hair. FYI.

5. Peeing in cups for various medical purposes: Equally difficult.

6. Night sweats. Every night, I'm having the height of menopause drop on me and render me, my jammies, my pillows, the sheets, and the bed soaking wet. To which I can only think: poor, poor Beth.

7. And lastly: Colostrum is still really cool. But I can tell the day is coming that I'm going to taste it to see what it's like. What if it's gross? WHAT IF IT'S DELICIOUS. This is my greatest conundrum.

So... any questions?

fun / not-fun

2009-05-15T00:04:44Z

Fun: Writing ~~essays~~ blog posts about esoteric stuff and writing, as if I am at all worth listening to in this regard.

Not-fun: Writing these blog posts because I am putting off worldbuilding and such, despite very much needing to do so.

Fun: Knowing the baby is going to come in around a month (or less. or more. hurray for the imprecision of infants).

Not-fun: The sudden desire for a hovercraft with which to maneuver through life. You'd think that wanting a hovercraft is a normal and reasonable thing. Perhaps. But when one really wants it, and knowing it is cannot be yours, you find yourself much less charitable with the world.

Fun: Something, I suppose.

Not-fun: The lack of ice cream, omg.

it's out, it's out!

2009-04-29T14:09:39Z

Shameless promo ahead:

Salt and Silver, hot off the presses and already arriving in people's hands! Get yours today (and then don't read any of the bits involving bugs!).

For a glimpse at the REAL cover for the book, as well as the place where all this shameless promo is going to go from now on, and anything writing/research related we may decide upon, check out Anna Katherine's silly blog here. You may notice a striking similarity in the second post to something I wrote here ages ago, but that's just because I think everyone should be conjuring fairies all the time. Hurrah!

Oh! If you want to add the blog as a feed, friend it with this handy widget: annak_blog. That way you get all the news and rants regarding... oh, who knows what, but without having to click away from LJ. (My number one reason for loving feeds.) Yay!