Medical Advice

Folks, we are getting SO close.
SO uncomfortable.
SO anxious.
SO ready.
We're at 38.5 weeks and I'm told that any day now I could go into labor and into the hospital as Mary works her way out. At this final stage of pregnancy, it's all about getting ready for judgment day - those hours of pain in the hospital, which I know won't be pleasant. But I believe I have a great support network around me, ready to help me through it - a network that includes my doctors.

Over the past nine months, I've really come to like my OB group. There are six doctors in the practice, and I have seen all but one of them. For the majority of my pregnancy I saw the three senior physicians who have been bringing babies into this world for a combined 110 years or so. Each of them made the process less overwhelming, added his own sense of humor to our medical dialogues, and had an affinity for Notre Dame. Three winners.

For my most recent appointments though, I made an effort to see the women of the practice. I wanted to make sure I at least knew the face and manner of the doctor that could be in the room with me at the final hour. Not surprisingly, both were very thorough. In fact, I was a little taken aback by just how thorough Dr. R. was on Thursday afternoon.

Our post exam conversation went a little something like this ...

So, do you have any questions?
Am I just going to keep getting fatter until Mary arrives?
It's mostly water retention at this point. You will notice increased swelling.
My ankles already noticed it.
When do you think I will go into labor? 
It's hard to say. But sometimes, some women build such a nice home for their babies that they don't want to come out.
(I knew she liked the morning runs!)
We generally let women go till 41 weeks. If they haven't made progress at that point, we will schedule an induction.
I read that inducing labor isn't ideal - that it's better for you and the baby to go into labor naturally. (Yes, you'd be proud - I've been reading.)
True. And there are ways that you can entice labor to start. Some of these are wives tales, but generally, they work. Let's see ... keep up the running and walking. Drink red raspberry leaf tea. Sex. And something else that can help is having diarrhea. The contractions of the bowels can spur on labor. Try White Castle. Lots of women have been having success with White Castle. Now, I'm not saying go to White Castle every day for the next two weeks - but give it a try.
(Mouth agape. My doctor is literally telling me go to White Castle to get diarrhea. Thank heavens she didn't tell me to try McDonald's.)
I nodded. Thanked her for her sage advice and got dressed.

Yesterday, I tried a couple of the tactics, but to no avail. It's still early after all, and I still have stuff to do: a couple more finishing touches to put on the nursery, a bag that needs to get packed, a few more chapters to read ...

And several more meals, just for two, to cook. Peter's birthday Clam Chowder, made by me, but under the guidance and coaching of my husband, was the best of this week. 

When it comes to 40+ weeks though, for the first time in my life, you might just find me pulling out of the drive-thru with a bag of sliders and a milkshake in tow. And if the mission is a success, I plan to suggest a new marketing slogan to White Castle - 'medically proven to make little miracles happen for the past  92 years.'

Lo.

A House Divided

When a Pitt girl marries a West Virginia guy; a Carolina fan marries a Duke fan; a Michigan cheerleader marries an Ohio State football player; a Texas Barbie marries an Oklahoma farm boy, or a Yale nerd marries a Harvard nerdier, family and friends shake their heads in disapproval, ask them if they're sure they've made the right choice, and fear for the worst. The couple claims that they can see past their collegiate differences - that they are more than their Alma Maters - that when the big game comes around, they'll love each other for good or for worse, through win or through loss, all the days of their lives.

When this Notre Dame girl, who comes from a family gilded by the Dome, married that Boston College boy, I expected a lot more incredulous questioning. But honestly, there wasn't a lot of concern in the minds of my friends and family. I'm thinking it's likely due to the fact that both of our teams haven't been in the running for a National Championship in nearly two decades. Perhaps if I had married Peter back in 1993, there would have been more "you've got to be kidding me, he went to BC?" commentary. As it is, the mediocre at best football teams that we halfheartedly cheer for, have never really spurred a fight between me and the Super Fan.

But, every so once in a while, there is a certain house divided scenario that pops up. It's not about sports, it's about everything else.

The argument is over whose school is better. Not at football. Just at being a college. Peter, who went to both schools, one for undergrad and one for his MBA, claims that he has the superior perspective, and that from his perspective, hands down, BC is the better school. He also claims that Domers have an insecurity complex when it comes to Boston College - the team that has beat them six out of the last nine years. That Domers are so insecure that they can't help but say things like, "Jiminy Christmas Trees and God Almighty, it's only BC!" (yes, these were the domerific words that I truly heard on Saturday at the game.)

While I roll my eyes and drown out his commentary, I do put together a little analysis to battle my own inner insecurities.  

BC versus Notre Dame
Academics: ND's back-up school versus ND. (I'm going to get it for writing that.)
Student Life: Boston versus South Bend.(He wins.)
Food: Grilled to order steak versus a portfolio of fried pastas.(He wins.)
Housing: The cockroach infested Mods versus the slumlord, Cramer's, mice infested shanties.(Draw)
Nightlife: (Apparently) thriving versus a nearly dry campus due to the administration and the SBPD. (He wins.) 

On Saturday, as staunch supporters of our respective undergrad Alma Maters, we drove down to South Bend for the holiest rivalry in college football - Me dressed in green and gold, Peter layered in a collection of Boston apparel.

While we walked around campus, we debated the finer points attached to the supremacy of our colleges. I said a prayer for a win. And we didn't budge in our convictions.

At halftime, just about when the band was spelling out Chicago as they played, "Saturday in the Park," I asked the trumping question of Peter. "Why didn't you go to BC for business school if it is so much better than Notre Dame."

He replied, "because I wouldn't have met you."
With that ... I won. (And I just so happened to win on the rink and in the stadium as well this weekend.) Notre Dame is better than BC because it has me.

And as the winner of the debate, after we reunited our divided house I made the loser wear his new Coach Kelly t-shirt and make me clam chowder for dinner. And as the good sport that I am, I did all the dishes.

Lo.