some unspecified number of weeks

I had a doctor's appointment today. Everything is going well, I've had zero spotting and no significant cramping, and the baby's heartbeat is still perfect. The doctor said even my belly button weirdness is normal! Whew. My uterus has hardened enough now that you (that's a theoretical "you," by the way, not an invitation to my reader) can feel it from the outside, so my doctor measured me. I don't know the specifics, but I am apparently measuring bigger than my 16 weeks would suggest, and that combined with the fact that the fetus measured large three weeks ago led my doctor to schedule an ultrasound on Monday to "reassess" my due date. I am anywhere from 16 weeks to 17 and a half, I would think. Although we weren't planning on finding out the sex until the big 3d ultrasound in March, this means we'll probably get to see in just five days!

Also, I had the last round of genetic screening done today--at least I think it's the last round. They only call if something is wrong, so hopefully the next 24 hours will pass without any news.

15 (and a half) weeks

(I'm going to stick with my original due date calendar, but I may be a week ahead of that. The baby is measuring big--which MUST mean that I'm further along than they thought since I simply refuse to have a big baby.)

Not much has changed in the last week. Except for, you know, THIS.

WHAT!? I knew I'd grow a lot in the next few weeks/months, but I didn't realize the baby would absorb my butt. It's gone! I was about 134lbs before, and now I weigh about 141. I feel like that's a reasonable amount for a woman to gain over four months of pregnancy, but the online chart I was following says it's at the high end. So I stopped following it. Bastards.

Also, my belly button is being bizarre. I know that it will (eventually) pop out (which is gross), but it's just kind of hardening around the upper edge right now, and there's a thumbprint-sized dimple right above it. I haven't read anything online about this, so I am a little concerned. The good news is that we might be able to feel the baby move. I think I've felt it, and Dallas is positive he has. He said he felt something--like a knee?--move across my stomach. I'm still unsure. I'm waiting for a sensation that couldn't possibly be anything else. This next appointment (February 9) cannot get here quickly enough. I know it hasn't been THAT long since the last appointment, but I need to hear the heartbeat or see the baby squirming around or something. I get a little more anxious and panicked every day. I need to know it's okay.

Check out this bedding. We're not buying anything right now, obviously, but I've been looking around with some help from Dallas's sister. She found this on Etsy, and I love it. I would do some combination of F,G,H, and K for a boy. I've had this set for a girl picked out for over a month, and it's a helluva lot cheaper. We'll find out what we're having in about 4 weeks.

And lastly--here's the latest weird dream. I was on a quest for something, and I had to win a karaoke contest to get the last clue. Everyone was encouraging me to sing "Midnight Train to Georgia," but, unfortunately, I decided to sing...a Snickers bar? Yes. I got on stage and attempted to SING A CANDY BAR. My subconscious is a freak.

Brit Lit I, take two.

Just so you know, this is not about pregnancy stuff. I'll write an update at some point, but I'm still in teacher mode right now. If you're not interested in my thoughts on teaching literature, you can stop reading. I won't know.

That said, how much better is teaching this semester!?! For the first time since I started teaching, I don't hate myself for choosing this profession. I'm actually enjoying it. I still have some anxiety issues before every class, which is inconvenient for Tuesday and Thursday mornings since it actually affects my sleep the night before, but...all in all? SO MUCH BETTER. I feel more comfortable in front of the class, I don't wonder what to do with my hands or feel awkward about sitting on the table, and I stumble over my words much less frequently. Overall, I'm more organized and coherent and far less spastic/neurotic. All good things.

But I think this semester's success (so far!) is due to more than just my changing attitude. I think my current style of teaching, my reading selections, and my assignments encourage the kind of class I want to teach whereas last semester was based on other people's experiences and expectations. Again, I'm not complaining. Having a model syllabus was invaluable, and I would always urge new teachers to build on an existing schedule. You have to start somewhere, and following in others' footsteps is always a valid choice. However! I found that using powerpoints, doing daily quizzes, and lecturing just did not work for me. I was trying to teach like someone else. Although I can't claim that my teaching persona is fully formed or that my classes are completely hiccough free, I can say that it's all getting better. And thank God for that.

This may not be particularly helpful or even remotely interesting, but I thought I'd jot down some of the successful changes I've made this semester. I'd like to think that reflecting on my development as a teacher will someday be useful. Maybe. Hopefully.

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Reading Assignments: Cut way, way back. I tried to cover the introduction to the Renaissance, the development of the sonnet, and selections from Wyatt, Surrey, Spenser, Sidney, and Wroth all in one day last semester. We covered one poem, and I had to restructure my entire syllabus mid-semester. Lesson learned. Happier students, happier teacher.

Daily Work: As amusing as the daily quizzes could be (Martin Luther freed the slaves? Really?), I never felt like they accurately tested what they were ostensibly supposed to. People who did the reading could still fail. And they often did. By mid-semester last year, my students' average for daily work was 48. Halfway through the semester, we switched to daily reading questions which they submitted at the beginning of class. This was easier for my students but dreadful for me. It made our discussions haphazard and manic. I'm still doing daily reading questions now, but they email me the night before class so I have a chance to weed through and organize everything. THEN! And I'm not sure how this will work in practice, but THEN! I make handouts out of the top 10 or so questions and use that to structure our class discussions--WHICH TOTALLY EXIST!!! I told my students that they have to come to class ready to discuss their question in order to get credit, and it's been so lovely because they do. Finally, I am basing my midterm off of the questions my students generate, so they can use these handouts as blueprints for their note-taking and study guides for their tests. We'll see how it goes, but I'm really happy with this structure so far.

Class time: I've stripped Power Points down to a few important images or maps. There's rarely anything beyond source information written on each slide, so my students actually listen to what I'm saying (in theory) and look at what I'm writing on the board. With the PPs, they thought they could just get down each slide and tune out everything else. It also shut down any conversation because they were too busy copying notes to think about the questions I was asking. In retrospect, this is understandable, but it was absolutely maddening at the time. I do not have a great speaking voice, so lecturing for an hour and fifteen minutes was miserable and made me extremely self-conscious. I've switched to making lesson notes for myself and beginning each class with a short introduction to the time period or literary genre, writing key dates and terms on the board as I go. After that, we do plot summaries (briefly) and then jump right into their questions. I'm usually able to highlight the important passages in response to their questions, so I still get to teach everything I normally would.

Note: Unfortunately, the greater emphasis on conversation and discussion also creates more opportunities for digression. We somehow went from talking about Sir Gawain and the Green Knight to medieval definitions of sodomy and the turkey thermometer explanation of biological differences tonight. It helps them understand the contemporary mindset, but it's not EXACTLY what I had in mind for tonight's class. And then there's the whole broken projector thing and explaining "quaint" without the help of the OED. Ah, well. C'est la vie.

Finally, and this may be the biggest, best improvement I made since it was the first...

Introduction Day: Instead of following my old formula for the first day, I decided to skip the ice-breaker portion and make them pick apart an image instead. I wanted to show them how to focus on descriptions (visual or literary) and think critically about how and why symbols or metaphors work. I thought about this the night before my first class, right as I was falling asleep, so I will admit that it was a gamble of sorts. But it worked really well! This is the image I used:

It's a small portion of Boticelli's Primavera. I knew the image of Cupid would be familiar enough not to completely alienate my students but still symbolically rich enough to engage and encourage critical thought. First, I had them describe the image to me and wrote key characteristics on the board. Once we had a solid description, we went through and talked about what all of the characteristics meant. Cupid is blindfolded = love is blind. Cupid has wings = love knows no bounds. Cupid is chubby = love is indulgent, gluttonous. You get the idea. I think this exercise helped introduce them to the kind of reading and thinking I expected, and it has led to better questions than I received last semester, which in turn has made our discussions far more rewarding.

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I'd like to think these improvements have helped the students, too, and I really think they have. The complimentary emails usually don't start to creep up until the end of the semester, when every student fears for his or her life/grade, but I've already received two about how much they're enjoying the class. Of course, it has occurred to me that they are just being nice because they think pregnant women are instable and impossible to please, but I'll take it nonetheless.

I need to remember this.

Just in case someone ever asks me if I had crazy dreams while I was pregnant.

This week alone, I have

--been murdered by my coffee table.

--eaten a dog.

--given birth to this.

--given birth through my bellybutton.

So, YES.

14 (or 15?) weeks

I hate, hate, hate how my body looks right now. I know I've gained the appropriate amount of weight, and I know my shape was bound to change. I just kind of hoped it would be all at one time? Like I'd go from being flat-stomached to having a fully formed baby bump overnight? That is not how it works. No, no. I just look a little fatter than normal, like maybe I had a really big breakfast or something. I put on my normal shirts and think, "Ugh. My uterus is showing." Fortunately, I do have three maternity shirts that fit well enough to disguise everything, but I do get tired of those same three outfits. My parents bought me a few others, but they are definitely meant for later: fitted tops with bands around my ribcage and then a hundred yards of fabric--like I'm hosting the circus in the shade of my breasts. They'll be great in a month or so (the shirts, not my breasts), and I don't mean to sound ungrateful. My parents really are amazing. But what am I supposed to wear TODAY? Do I go with a normal shirt and look fat? Or do I go with a maternity shirt and look fat?

This picture husband-approved.

In other news, I woke up this morning to a completely lopsided stomach. Our apple-sized baby had apparently curled up one side of my uterus, which made the right side of my lower stomach stick out more. I can't feel it move yet (I don't think...), so this was an oddly nice morning surprise. The logical part of my brain says that this is completely WEIRD, and it's not wrong, but the emotional side is all, "Eee! That's my baby! Awwwww!"

We have a lot of catching up to do, baby.

I thought I might fit everything from the last seven weeks in one post, but it would be too long. I'll give you the CliffsNotes version, instead.

December 4--Finding out: Dallas is always wonderful, but he is especially supportive during the last weeks of the semester. While I'm a writing, grading, fretting madwoman, he's a calm and cool food-fetcher. I was feeling particularly panicked this night because I was nearly worthless the previous day (my birthday), so Dallas sprung to action when I said I was hungry.

D: "You're hungry? I'll go get something. What do you want?"

Me: "Hmm....I want...a pulled pork sandwich. And waffles. And a corndog!"

D: "Uh. And a pregnancy test. Holy shit."

Understand that I had NO CLUE at all. It hadn't even crossed my mind. Even after the test was positive, I didn't believe it; I thought for sure I just had some weird disease that made my body think it was pregnant. That seemed more likely. I was already 6 and a half weeks pregnant.

Week 8--Iambic pentameter: I'd always heard that Renaissance authors favored iambic pentameter because it was supposedly the closest rhythm to the human heartbeat, the most beautiful rhythm in the world. I never understood why anyone would think a heartbeat is beautiful, but when you're watching that tiny flutter on the ultrasound screen and listening to 167 healthy, perfect beats a minute...you get it. Nothing has ever sounded so lovely. Dallas realized that there's actually something living inside of me and immediately started chewing on his jacket.

Week 9--Don't drink, don't smoke. Don't caffeinate?: I quit smoking and drinking immediately, just as I always said I would. Dropping the alcohol and cigarettes wasn't so bad, really. Much easier than I expected. BUT THE CAFFEINE! Like my sister says, "Drinking decaf is like bleaching your hair when it's actually jet black." Decaf coffee is just unnatural.

Week 10--Christmas "surprise": Dallas and I always said that if I ever got pregnant, we would wait to make it public until I was out of the first trimester. In actuality, we told our parents within a week of finding out and the rest of our families on Christmas day. It was a personal decision we made about what is essentially a personal matter. Dallas's brother and sisters were actually surprised (and so happy and supportive!), but my family...well...a big portion of them live together, and they're pretty observant. My sister-in-law figured it out, and my big brother noticed that I wasn't smoking and that Dallas was constantly hovering around my uterus, protecting it from my nephews' flying elbows. And, of course, my little brother lives with Dallas and me, so he was bound to find out. The only people who didn't know were my big sister and my grandfather. This was not at all what I'd planned and has caused a whole lot of drama, which I won't get into. Everyone is healthy. The rest doesn't matter.

Week 11--Holy maternity pants, Batman: I had only gained 3-4 pounds at this point. Promise! As insane as I am about my body image, I have checked every morning (okay, and night...) since we found out. It drives Dallas crazy. He wants me to just eat whatever, whenever, but I know that that's as unhealthy as not eating enough. Anyway. How is it possible that those few pounds mean that NONE OF MY PANTS FIT? Ridiculous. I tried on some of my older jeans, but they looked absurdly baggy, which at least proved that all the weight was around my waist. (The picture I took this week also shows this, but Dallas has asked that I not post pictures of my stomach on the internet. I'm willing to share if you'd like to see. Just let me know!) Long story short, I bought two pairs of maternity jeans.

Week 12--A year ago, the doctors said I couldn't get pregnant. And now? Roll Tide!: Dallas and I started talking about ways to make the announcement this week. I decided not to go with the "Roll Tide" option, even though I did design a t-shirt online. I just didn't want to spend money on it, and...well, it was funny, but maybe a bit less classy than I would have liked. Not that our actual announcement was the height of refinement, either. And then there's the minor fact that I would never have worn the shirt. I don't mind talking to my friends about PCOS and infertility, but I don't fancy advertising it all across my chest. However amazing this pregnancy may be, I'd like to keep parts of it private. As one of my friends said, even the happiest moments in life don't need to be 100% transparent. You may talk about how you went to a tanning bed and got a manicure to prepare for your wedding day, but nobody wants to hear all about the Brazilian wax.

Week 13--purgatory, right on the edge of hell: I was supposed to start school this week, but I caught the swine flu. I don't know how, but I did. And no, it wasn't a cover-up for morning sickness. Honestly, the fever was the worst part. I hovered right around 101 for days. There were many cool baths and cold compresses--which Dallas wrapped around my stomach "to keep the baby cool." But the truly terrible part of the week began on Thursday. I started spotting and cramping, so we went to the ER. An hour later, the doctor said that my cervix was open and I was probably miscarrying. Three hours later, after the most prolonged and terrifying ultrasound ever, the tech FINALLY told us that the baby is still alive with a steady heartbeat and that my cervix looks closed. Dallas called my doctor the next day, and she was unhappy with the ultrasound and wanted to see me ASAP--which meant Tuesday, for crying out loud. She told Dallas that everything could correct itself, but that the problem I was having (placenta previa with an abruption if you want to Google) was often how a miscarriage starts. Great! See you in four of the longest, most completely wretched days of my life.

Week 14--Ready to be happy: The ultrasound was perfect, and I haven't had any bleeding since that one night. My doctor couldn't find anything to indicate a problem and explained that some women just bleed a little bit, without much cause or reason. The baby was strong and healthy, still with that perfectly iambic heartbeat. We were both so relieved that we decided to make the announcement--despite the fact that I didn't get to tell anyone in person. Can you blame us? We spent four hours thinking our baby was dead, and when I say those were some of the worst hours in my life, I am really not exaggerating. But the check-up ultrasound changed everything. Our baby is healthy! We saw its legs kicking around; we saw it move its hands up to its mouth. We've both reached our limit on worried and upset, and we just want to be happy now. I'm ready to put ALL of the first trimester terrors behind me. Let's be happy together, okay? Okay?

I believe in fairy tales.

Or at least I believe in reading fairy tales to children--despite the fact that a lot of them are violent, cruel, overly didactic methods of coercive acculturation. (I'm reading this at the moment.) My parents insist that they didn't read them to me, but I still have the encyclopedia of fairy tales I read growing up. I know I read them! I know I watched an animated Japanese series of fairy tales! Maybe I was introduced to them by Disney movies and pursued the rest on my own? However it happened, I did grow up on fairy tales, and I never fantasized about pushing me mum into the oven or living happily ever after with me pops. Yes, I know there are problems with the parent-child relationships depicted in classic fairy tales, I realize that they can easily be misinterpreted ("But!," I object, "So can any text!"), and I don't actually want my little girl thinking her life will work out so long as she is a diligent housekeeper who obeys the men in her life.

Many fairy tale scholars make these arguments against reading fairy tales to children, and I see their points. I also understand that many fairy tales were never meant for children in the first place, but I believe that I will be able to tell the difference and properly filter the stories for my child. I know I would have been traumatized if I'd read the oldest version of "Little Red Riding Hood" or "Sleeping Beauty" as a little girl, so I promise not to expose my kid to cannibalism, bestiality, and rape until they are much older.

Actually, the only problem I have with fairy tales for children is that, for me at least, they turned every story I was told into a fairy tale. (It makes me a bit sad to think about how my dissertation could be seen as an extension of this childhood misconception. Yikes.) I put everything on that level, including history and religion. Cleopatra was as real as Snow White; Moses was just like Tom Thumb but bigger. Obviously. This was fine, I suppose, until I found out about Santa. (GASP!) In my mind, no Santa meant no Napoleon, no Caesar, no Gretel, no Prince Charming, no Noah, and no Jesus. It wasn't until I learned that history really did happen that I started thinking maybe the Bible might not be a complete fairy tale after all, but I was the most jaded, cynical little girl you'd ever seen for those few years. Nothing anyone ever told me was real!

I don't want that to happen to my kid, but I'm not sure how to prevent it. I think part of the problem is that story time can encompass fairy tales, biblical stories, and fictionalized accounts of history all in the same setting and language. If you tell a kid three stories in the exact same tone, in the exact same environment, I think it's natural for him or her to assume all three are roughly equivalent, even if that is not your intention. Even their names can be similar. You can see how a story called "The Coat of Many Colors" might sound like a fairy tale! But how does a parent fix this? I have no idea. I'll have to think on it.