Take Me Out to the Ice Rink...

Well, 5 hours of much-needed napping later, I can officially state that I both survived and really enjoyed our little field-trip to Raleigh and the RBC Center to see a game in which the Hurricanes stuck it to the Devils and the guy in our net got a shut-out against his childhood hockey idol. Wooooooohoo! The game itself was very fun to watch since it went the way we would have wished, and Daniel and I derived special pleasure when the folks running the arena music used both of the songs we had privately declared necessary to the day: Mötley Crüe's "Shout at the Devil" and "To Hell with the Devil," by everybody's favorite Christian hair band, Stryper. Perhaps that was naughty of us to think and even naughtier to admit. Oh well...

Even if the Hurricanes manage to make it into the next round of the playoffs or even further, I think this was it for us, possibly until we have an older infant who is up to long drives and big crowds... assuming we can afford to buy our way into the building at that point! These are my top three reasons for this conclusion:

1. The level of noise in that building is off the charts, and it's not the sort of thing I want to expose baby to repeatedly since I am not sure whether it could damage his hearing or cause other problems in the womb (moms who are occupationally exposed to excess noise sometimes have babies with hearing damage and/or preterm labor); it certainly wouldn't do a newborn any favors. It was hard to tell if the noise really affected him at game time, because he seemed to go through periods of activity and stillness much like he does at any other time and place.

2. It really was something of an ordeal for me to survive the drive and then get to and from the car and to stand and sit repeatedly.

3. The day was a nutritional waste, because arena food is garbage, fast food on the drive is worse, and even the restaurant we went to before the game didn't really have Nikki's-pregnancy-friendly food. It was delicious as only garbage food can be, but it's absolutely not the way I am trying to live these days.
Since this was such a big deal for us and because it's baby's first game (one for the memory books, even though all he is likely to remember is a roar if anything), I decided to so something extra. I don't really fit into my Canes jerseys very well these days, so I hatched a plan to sew the baby's jersey onto the belly of one of my maternity shirts. At least that way HE would be dressed for the game. Better yet, I even pulled it off pretty well. Apparently, those smart enough to figure out what I had done thought it was "the cutest thing ever". I was told that at first glance it just looked like I had some strange apron on, but once other ladies figured it out, they were all smiles and asking me to show my team-spirited belly to their friends. In this way I met a doula and, a bit later on, a labor and delivery nurse, both of whom wanted to know where I was going to deliver. I can safely say will not be locally to them unless something very unexpected happens.

It was fun to be out in a crowd, especially realizing that our current looming health scare, if it pans out into pandemic proportions, so to speak, may make it harder to go to public events without taking on serious health risks. So, we enjoyed what could also be for us one last opportunity to high-five strangers and sit in close proximity to 18,000 other people without too much fear that death is on one of their hands.By the time the Canes had made the formal invitation to a game 7 and sent the Devils packing with their tails tucked, I was very glad that we opted for a local hotel room there by the arena, because even though it meant a very early drive back home and a short stay on a bed that I, while experiencing it in real life, described in a dream as akin to a "slab of concrete," it was really nice not to have to make the amount of driving in one day climb to 4 hours, since the drive is arguably the worst part of it for me. Once we were home, Daniel dropped me and our luggage off at home and went on to work, so I think he may be the worst off of the pair of us. I, for my part, settled down on my layers of memory foam with a couple of cuddly kitties to dream.

Go Canes!

Quick Update

Just quickly, aside from keeping an eye on my borderline-high blood pressure and my placenta previa, which we hope will have moved up out of the way by my next ultrasound, I seem to be in good shape. Baby also appears to be fine. He has a heartbeat in the 145 bpm range and does plenty of wiggling around at this point. No comment was made by the doctor on my weight gain or tummy measurements, so I assume those are unremarkable. I have gained 1 pound per week, which is pretty much standard at this point in pregnancy, although I can probably stand to gain somewhat less because of my starting weight.

Dan and I plan to make a mini-trip this Sunday into Raleigh for game 6 of the Hurricanes' quarterfinal playoff series with the New Jersey Devils. We have arranged to stay in a hotel within walking distance of the arena if necessary (we can also drive in and park if need be--how much walking I am up to at any one time is unpredictable) since the game will probably be at 7:30 pm (time is still TBA), and we'd rather get up early to drive back to Greensboro so Dan can get to work than make a really long day of it by driving up, watching the game and then driving back late. It will also give us a place to crash before the game so I can rest up for the exertion. This will also test my ability to be away from home for a night, since we'd like to take the "free" 2-night trip we won at Dan's Christmas party before baby arrives but haven't felt I am up to the trip. It's been a LONG time since we've been to a game, and we don't anticipate being able to go next season much if at all, given that we plan to have our hands full. So... count this as one of our last hurrahs for a while.

Let the (Mind) Games Begin!

I have read quite a lot about women having bizarre birth- and baby-related dreams in pregnancy, but aside from one miscarriage dream that I would classify as a nightmare (to me, a dream is only a nightmare if it bothers me to think about it when I wake up or I wake up in a state of agitation and fear, no matter how frightening or bizarre the dream may seem on the surface) and one bizarre baby-related dream, I haven't really had many. Well, make that I hadn't really had many. Usually my dreams involve an awareness that I am pregnant, but they stop there.

Perhaps it was a bit of undigested Pascha meat, but at 24 weeks on the dot (which was the morning after Pascha), I had what counts as my first birth-related dream or series of dreams. I'll spare you most of the details, but it involved, among other things, finding baby dangling out feet-first, at which point I called a nurse over, suggesting that perhaps the baby was ready to be born, albeit the "wrong" end first. I was quite calm about it in the dream, and upon waking the scenario struck me as amusing more than anything. If this is the extent of the anxiety I will express in my dreams, I have it made -- especially considering that my worry during waking hours is decreasing. I do realize, however, that is a rather big if!

Speaking of anxiety, I still worry a little bit about things I eat that I later discover are potentially problematic (like a dish essentially made with raw egg that I was served at a private home this week... this is what comes of not knowing what is in Greek foods and wanting to be a gracious guest) and I have been keeping an eye on my blood pressure, which has crept up a bit higher while managing to stay below my doctors' threshold of worry/treatment so far, but I don't feel the sort of crippling fear I did for the first several weeks of pregnancy. I think it helps a great deal to know that the baby would have a fighting chance at survival even outside of the womb from this point forward. Of course, I'm anxious to meet him, but I hope we don't for a long time yet! It's really nice not to be worried all of the time, and I consider the time I have without that oppressive feeling to be among the better blessings in my life at present.

The baby has become quite an active little guy. I discovered a few days ago that I can see some of his kicks right through my clothing. His favorite thing is still using my bladder as a trampoline, but he occassionally flips over and gives the top of my uterus a good thrashing. As of yesterday, Daddy Daniel has felt one kick, he thinks... but baby has an uncanny way of knowing when Daddy is watching or resting his hand on my belly and he immediately stops his acrobatics when he figures it out. We have discussed the need to establish a code word or something that means "he's kicking, come feel!" utilizing only writing or gestures that baby can't see or hear, because I would swear he knows when I am inviting Daniel over verbally if I didn't know better. I am thankful that his kicks and punches don't keep me awake yet, because, as it is, I have a very bizarre sleep schedule and covet every minute that I am able to rest peacefully, since I know it may be my last opportunity for undisturbed sleep for 20-odd years or more.

I go to the doctor today for my next regular check-up, so we'll see if I have been gaining weight at the proper rate and if the top of my uterus is where they expect it to be. Next Friday I have a follow-up ultrasound to determine the location of my placenta, which we hope will have migrated in one piece up and away from the cervical OS. The following week we have a "fun scan" scheduled, which is baby's first real photo shoot. It is an optional ultrasound (as opposed to the rest of them I have undergone with this pregnancy) with the aim of getting some good 3-D scan photos and even some 3-D video of our little guy before he becomes too squished in there to pose for the probe. Sometime in the next month they will begin to test me for gestational diabetes and other possible complications. I'm hopeful that there won't be any new ones, but I suppose we'll cross those bridges when they begin to loom.

I'll update with doctor's visit information when I have some to share. I'm very grateful for all the prayers and encouragement I receive. In the meantime, I need a nap. We'll see what nonsense my brain gets up to this time!

Today He who hung the earth upon the waters is hung upon the Cross.
Today He who hung the earth upon the waters is hung upon the Cross.
Today He who hung the earth upon the waters is hung upon the Cross.
He who is King of the angels is arrayed in a crown of thorns.
He who wraps the heaven in clouds is wrapped in the purple of mockery.
He who in Jordan set Adam free receives blows upon his face.
The bridegroom of the Church is pierced with a spear.
We venerate Thy Passion, O Christ.
We venerate Thy Passion, O Christ.
We venerate Thy Passion, O Christ.
Show us also Thy glorious Resurrection.

13th century icon of the Crucifixion from St. Catherine's Monastery on Sinai.

Incense hung in the air tonight, as the lights were put out, the kneeling faithful held single glowing candles to combat the darkness, and the cross was carried around the room. I began to cry as the image of Christ's passion was made present. Then Christ was hung aloft on the cross before the altar -- the final, perfect sacrifice, and we came to present our candles and gifts of flowers while the chanters sang of Christ's suffering. We bowed our bodies before him, the living God, who, by his voluntary death, has robbed death of its victory and the grave of its sting, loosed the captives, freed us from sin and restored all of creation.



This is a video from another Greek Orthodox parish last year. The moment I speak of begins at 1 hour 30 minutes in the video, which can be reached by moving the slider at the bottom of the player. In this video, much of the chanting is in Greek, but the chanting beginning at that point is the text that begins this post.

Blessed, No Matter How Big

Palm Sunday was really neat. The church was packed, as was the choir loft. The choir swelled to about 21 people. Mind you, this choir can fill the room with the more usual 8-10 people, so the sound was huge, and I loved it! I also loved knowing that I probably couldn't be heard even if I belted the music out. That's really nice when at least some of the music is brand new most Sundays.

As we were filing out of the church, we were given blessed palm crosses by the priest. Well, bits of them, anyway. There were so many people there that by the time we meandered out (the choir members are usually the last to leave since we sing while other people are walking out) Father had resorted to cutting the palm crosses up. Daniel got 3/4 of a cross, and I got a little segment of palm about an inch or so long with Father's apologies and his promises to make more crosses next year. As he put it: it's blessed, no matter how big it is!

After church, there was a free luncheon of fish, potatoes, fruit salad, a sort of dairy-less coleslaw and assorted beverages. We sat with an Ethiopian couple who have two adorable little girls (4 years and 11 months) and happen to live right up the street from us -- literally on our same street. I hope we get the opportunity to get to know them better. I think they usually attend the Ethiopian church in High Point, but they do come to the Greek Church for some services. It was nice to meet an Orthodox couple with young kids, since it doesn't happen too often for us here.

After church we also received an invitation to join a choir member's family gathering this next Sunday for Pascha dinner. That was really nice -- and unexpected. We probably would have been having a rather quiet Pascha at home with something easy to cook. Now, instead, we'll have to have pleasant company and leg of lamb! (I think we'll live!)

I think I counted 17 services at church this week for Holy Week. We've missed one last night already, and considering that Daniel looked more zombie than man this morning after a very rare-for-him fitful night, I have a feeling we may miss tonight's service as well. Ah well, be that as it may, I think we will still have reminders aplenty that we are looking towards the cross and the glorious resurrection this week, whether or not Daniel appears at a chanter stand and I appear in a pew.

We'll be making a special effort to attend all of the services towards the end of the week, and Daniel has taken Friday off from work to that end. We'll also be attending on Wednesday night for sure, as our bishop, whom we have yet to meet, will be present for that service.

The time away from church will hardly be wasted, though... while at home, we're going to be spending time working on learning some of the 60 or so pages of music (some of it in Greek) that will be sung late this week with settings that are new to us or just modified from what we are used to singing. That learning itself is an undertaking, especially since the choir only rehearsed some of it, of which most was sung through only once at our single holy week preparation rehearsal. That's no big deal for the majority of the choir members, but for a newbie, it means a whole lot of music that has to be learned in a huge hurry, especially since much of the music will be sung after midnight on Saturday when the brain cells are not typically at top form and when the other aspects of the service will be overwhelming the senses.

Another lovely little surprise this week came from our Russian-Jewish neighbors. They gave us a baby-themed "your first Easter" card with best wishes and congratulations for our whole family in heartfelt broken English. It was one of the sweetest Easter greetings I have ever received, and it was also a good reminder of something I believe anyway: this really is our baby's first Easter. At this point, he can hear, and he eats whatever I am eating. He'll be at whatever services I attend. He'll be experiencing at least part of the feast right where he is.

Most of all, the joyful truth of Pascha and Christ's triumph over sin and death is a promise for our unborn child as much as it is to any of us who happen to have already been born. We must not underestimate that. After all, St. John the Baptist leaped in the womb when the Virgin Mary came to visit. Perhaps it is a bit like Father said about the palms... we are all blessed, no matter how big we are.

We're Getting There... Just a Week Behind!

I suppose when your church, for all intents and purposes, remains largely unchanged for centuries, which indicates its resistance to change, it is forgivable to get to Easter a week later than the rest of the western world, right?

I found this video a few months back and decided that I would post it for Pascha, but I will do so now for those of you who are going to get there before we do.


This song was written and performed to raise funds to rebuild a medieval monastery. Translated, it proclaims:

People rejoice, all nations listen:
Christ God is risen! Let us rejoice!
Dance all ye stars and sing all ye mountains:
Christ God is risen! Let us rejoice!

Whisper ye woods and blow all ye winds:
Christ God is risen! Let us rejoice!
O seas proclaim and roar all ye beasts:
Christ God is risen! Let us rejoice!

Buzz all ye bees and sing all ye birds:
Christ God is risen! Let us rejoice!
O little lambs rejoice and be merry:
Christ God is risen! Let us rejoice!

Nightingales joyous, lending your song:
Christ God is risen! Let us rejoice!
Ring, O ye bells, let everyone hear:
Christ God is risen! Let us rejoice!

All angels join us, singing this song:
Christ God is risen! Let us rejoice!
Come down ye heavens, draw near the earth:
Christ God is risen! Let us rejoice!

Glory to Thee, God Almighty!
Christ God is risen! Let us rejoice!
Glory to Thee, God Almighty!
Christ God is risen! Let us rejoice!

Shouted:
Christ is risen! Truly He is risen!

Do This! Don't Do That!

I want to do pregnancy and birth "right." This means that I do plenty of reading about what the experts say -- enough reading to make me think that while I need to eat, I must avoid eating any number of things; I need to sleep, but not too much; I must take vitamins, but I need to avoid too much of certain ones; I need to take 5 classes and read 10 books and choose between things that my grandmother never had to think about, let alone her mother or grandmother.

And to think that live babies came into the world before we knew of the harms (caffeine exposure, saturated fat) and benefits (happier babies, lower risk of dangerous pre-eclampsia) of chocolate in pregnancy! Then again, if my grandmother had been Chinese, she may have been tempted to rub a cooked chicken tongue on her new baby's lips to make it a good talker. Or if she had been an Aztec, she may have been horrified to view and eclipse, fearing that it would produce a cleft lip in her child.

We know better than that. Information is a good thing. Isn't it?

For someone like me who is prone to over-thinking and worry anyway, I'm not sure the proliferation of "wisdom" in the information age is an unqualified benefit. My very busy CPA father offered to come unplug my internet connection as soon as tax season is over, since I keep reading scary things that cause me to second-guess. His point is a good one: I need to just do what I know is right and trust God with the rest.

I've been working on that... really! Actually, the last few weeks my stress has been lessening. Each day brings us measurably closer to the point at which the baby would have a fighting chance to survive if he arrived on the scene unseasonably early, thanks to modern medical advances, and that is reassuring to me. It also helps that I am finally feeling quite a lot better physically, except for the worsening reflux and hip pain, which mostly bother me at night.

Ultimately, it helps that I realize that as careful and vigilant as I might be, I cannot control what will happen. At this point I bring to mind the carton of pistachio ice cream that I had a taste of several days ago, before pistachios became the latest villain in the salmonella saga. I don't even eat ice cream as a rule because I am trying to be good. Daniel offered me a bite of his. I took it. Nobody told me not to eat pistachios. Now they tell me not to, when it is too late to go back and undo what I did! (By the way, I read a moment ago that another size of the particular brand we have in the freezer has been recalled!)

I'm pretty sure that our ice cream is untainted, but that little carton of creamy, nutty goodness represents something much bigger: until I am omniscient, try as I might, I just cannot do everything right, because we humans will always have to rely primarily on hindsight. I suspect that really accepting that fact is the beginning of peace, so that's been my goal. It's not a bad one, I don't think.

Still, other questions loom. Will I have to have a c-section? Will I want to use painkillers in the birth process? What about the vitamin K shot for the baby, or the whooping cough vaccine for me? Assuming an uncomplicated pregnancy, will I choose induction of labor in week 39 to have the doctor I trust present, or will I take my chances on the doctors and let nature take its course? Do I need to write a birth plan? What about circumcision? Should I hire a midwife in addition to relying on a doctor, given that the doctor is rather important with my present complications? Should I use cloth diapers or disposables? If I can't breastfeed, what formula would be best? Would I have other options? I'll stop there... for now to ask just one more question: What happened to a mother suffering through a "lying in" with a midwife at home, and then lifting her child to her exhausted breast?

Knowing more is great! I mean, considering that placenta previa can cause fatal hemorrhage in a mom, and knowing it is there can save her life, I'm glad to know that I have it so that my doctors can save my life if it comes to that. But I also feel rather lost sometimes in the bewildering maze of what we think we know.

If pressed, I would tell you that I am glad to live now and to know what I know. I think.

*sigh*

In closing, I offer some rather brilliant social commentary on childbirth and modern medical culture from the inimitable Monty Python.