Pregnancy and Parenting

The View Going Downhill

Published on by Lisa

The combination of being pregnant and growing older makes me more attached to being at home. More and more, I take restorative comfort in the familiar couch, the wooden frames of our dining room threshold, the little nooks and crannies that make home HOME.

No matter how exciting the roadtrip, no matter how great the people we are venturing off to see, no matter how climactic the event we attend, these days, the thought of leaving home means two things: it’s going to be a long trip because we have to stop all the time for me to stretch or use the loo, and, if we’re staying overnight, I will lose sleep and be even more tired the next day.

So, you can imagine how excited I was to get through this past weekend which marked the absolute last planned roadtrip for me. On Saturday, I headed to Columbus for a conference I was to present at and have been preparing for diligently for weeks (hence the few blog posts in October).

My plan was to head to the heart of the heartland on Friday when I get an odd text from my buddy Christy whose house I was to be staying at Friday night. In the text she informs me she is sick but I am still welcome to stay.

Clearly, she has not been informed that I am the lead consumer of Purell’s hand sanitizer and the most informed citizen reading the CDC’s website. (Center for Disease Control)

Sick?

How sick, I ask?

“…well, it’s knocked me off my feet this week.”

Christy, my childhood friend who was the first person I met when I moved to Ohio when I was 8 years old, was the lead point guard on our basketball teams. She was an athletic volleyball player and is a general knows no sickness kind of gal. For her to say she was knocked off her feet means for a pregnant, low immunity system waddler like myself these days, there was a 35% of my collapsing Saturday morning from her bug and a 100% chance of my getting SOME sort of viral infection.

It was a no brainer.

So, I had no place to stay in Columbus Friday night and ended up getting up at 5:15am Saturday morning (OOOOUUUUUCCCCCCCHHHHHH) and driving to Buckeyeland for the conference that started at 8am with registration. My presentation wasn’t until 9:40am, but I wanted to get there early and test out my AV equipment and relax.

At 5:15am, I expected to crawl like a cavewoman out of bed, dreading the cold, and trying to leave Nick undisturbed. To my sweet surprise, Nick, the loyal cheerleader he is for all things I try to achieve, pops out of bed when the alarm sounds, turns on all the lights, and starts fist pumping. I was putting on my jewelry and make-up with the speed of a tortoise when he begins blasting Kanye West’s, “Stronger,” (my favorite pump me up song) and starts clapping like it’s game day. I smile.

I make it to Columbus without any problems and my presentation on feminism, race, and politics in the Midwest goes beautifully. I receive countless compliments from professors from all over the country and even an invitation to submit my work into an academic journal. The raving strokes my very tired and dusty ego which hasn’t been activated in a long time. Around 2pm, I duck out when I feel Isaiah happily kicking his excitement and my already low bank of energy begin to go into the red.

I head home to Cleveland.

Nick and I celebrate Saturday night with a dinner date at Anatolia Cafe, a mediterranean restaurant not far from our house and beam like stars at our table. It was wonderful but I was glad that the traveling piece was over. That night, I nearly drowned taking a extra bubbly bubble bath to relax because I nearly fell asleep in the warmth of our new tub. (I guess I’m not used to such luxuries.)

And so, here we are, approaching week 30 of pregnancy, and continuing our efforts to make room for Isaiah and prepare the nursery. As he gains momentum, weight, and strength with each passing week, my appetite and fatigue are skyrocketing. I believe I slept 11 hours straight Saturday night and still felt like I could use a nap in the afternoon. Knowing, though, that I have no plans for the rest of the pregnancy relaxes my body and mind.

Nick I agreed last night that each week of pregnancy feels like you’re counting upward toward 40 weeks. 5 weeks. 10 weeks. 20 weeks. But once you hit 30 weeks, it suddenly feels like you’re counting down. Very similar to New Year’s Eve, we’re just anxiously waiting for the Big Apple (Big Baby) to slowly drop and make his way into the world.

Last Trimester and Life Insurance

Published on by Lisa

It’s Friday and I can’t emphasize enough how grateful I am to the calendar for making another Friday appear so quickly. Lately, I have been fighting droopy eyes and the deep urge to crawl into anything that resembles a chair and let my head rest and fall asleep.

Nick can attest that the passenger seat in our car has seen many hours of my dozing off like I’m a baby and the Accord is my crib.

As the third trimester begins, I can hear the trumpets blaring in the sky and the archangels singing that THE END IS NEAR! The final months of bun-in-the-oven are coming to a close.

But —

not so fast.

It’s still a little over 2.5 months away. That’s still a lot of pregnancy left in my life.

So I find myself making lists of what needs to get done and, believe it or not, have no problems with Christmas and the holidays coming early this year. YES. Christmas. It’s already on my mind.

Why?

Because up the street there was a case of swine flu. And small little outbreaks of it are surfacing here in Shaker Heights, making me more nervous than Nick feels before the Michigan game. And while I’m probably going to end up getting the vaccine, I’m not completely confident that pumping a small dose of God only knows what into my body, permeating the environment of Isaiah’s little world, is 100% safe. But, going out into crowds is not 100% safe either.

As much as I love ambling around commerical stores in November and December – elbowing small children in my haste to grab the last toy for my nephews or peering for hours into holiday decorated windows at the mall – I don’t think it’s that safe for me to be around local crowds. Not when the swine flu is suspiciously active in this area. I considered buying a medical mask and drawing little holiday berries and holly on it, Nick adamantly said NO.

So, I’m looking for Christmas to come early for me this year. As in, I’m going to start shopping right after Halloween. Yes, I am that person this year.

I don’t care what people think. If you were beginning to waddle around, keep one hand on your belly, and just getting in and around the Giant Eagle was beginning to make you a wee bit tired, you’d want to be ahead of the holidays this year as well.

Plus, the percentage of clothes that fit me is dwindling. I think I’m down to 20% of my wardrobe is wearable, decent, and public safe. By November, I don’t know if I’ll have any clothes left that will fit me. I don’t want to look like a eggroll, tightly wrapped in clothes that won’t let me breathe. I seem to have forgotten what it feels like to actually zip something up, or wear anything that is not bandy, elastic, or blows like a flag with the fall wind. There are days where I feel like a cow wrapped in huge poncho.

Other news…

Nick and I met with an insurance guy yesterday. We now have life insurance. There was something about that meeting that was midly depressing. It’s not like the idea of dying brings me comfort or the thought of being a widow makes me jump for joy. I was quiet, signed at all the x’s and then shook Mr. Insurance’s hand. After he left, I looked at Nick who was as happy as a clam because L-O-V-E-S getting things done and crossing one more thing off of his TO DO list. He was humming and yelled over his shoulder, “Now we can die!”

Awesome, I replied morosely.

I hate when he says things like that. Must he always look on the bright side of everything?

October Showers

Published on by Lisa


The beginning of October marks the beginning of the third trimester and baby showers. This weekend was one big fiesta in Cleveland that took care of all the requests from my family, our friends and co-workers in Cleveland, and old friends who live or have easy access to NE Ohio.

Welcoming Isaiah was no small task. My sister and Mom took the reins for this event and deleted the word “simple” from the vocabulary. For days, they cooked, shopped, and brainstormed on the best way to welcome Isaiah.

The guest list knew few regrets and I was delightfully surprised at how many folks turned up — nearly 50 friends and family!

It was kinda huge.

Like Isaiah’s feet measurements.

Nick’s family, minus Kelly and Tim, all came Saturday and stayed at the house. My dear friend, Claire Mugavin, drove 6 hours from Louisville, KY Friday night. One of my best friends, Tricia, flew in from California for a Saturday wedding in Columbus and then drove up Sunday as well. And that’s just a few traveling stories. My parents came in from Virginia and many made roadtrips from Columbus and Youngstown.

Nick and I were in awe, once again, of how many people showed up to support us and celebrate this new chapter in our lives. It’s really hard to describe when I’m overwhelmed like that. I just smile a lot and don’t know what to say. Everyone is just so generous and positive. Bringing new life in the world really brings out the best in people.

So many people pulled together to make this fiesta possible and we could not even BEGIN to articulate how grateful we are to our families for being there for us and for our friends who see us through everything.

To add icing on the cake, the rain held off and cooperated so we could have seating outside! (Thank God! At one point, I almost considered opening up the bedrooms so people had a place to eat.) It was beautiful.

There are numerous pics that I’m sifting through, but the two above are some of my favorites. The one picture of me is with three of my oldest friends who I’ve known for over 20 years. I grew up with them and they somehow manage to always rally around me whenever a huge transition is taking place in life. I was so happy they were there. (L to R — Christy, me, Tricia, and Jen)

And, of course, the love of my life, opening the biggest present. Only appropriate that Big Daddy himself would open the big gift for his son.

It was an awesome weekend!

Next weekend we get to do it all over again in the ROOOOOOOSHHHHH! (aka Russia, Ohio) with Nick’s side of the family. So excited for the fiestas to continue!

Short but Painful Story

Published on by Lisa

Tuesday Morning

Nick often wakes up before I do. Unlike me, he actually responds to his alarm clock and gets up when it sounds. I either sleep right through it or turn it off.

He gets ready for work and before he leaves gently wakes me up in the morning. To put it mildly, I’m not the greatest person in the morning. This is not hard to imagine.

But, Tuesday morning had some unusually intense moments when I felt Nick chiding me to reality and I instinctively raised my arms and stretched out my body, including my legs.

As Nick leaned over to kiss my cheek, I felt a sudden jolt in my lower left leg, followed by a searing pain that forced my eyes to fly open and promptly scream in Nick’s face as it was inches from mine.

I thrashed around under the comforter, trying to grab my spazzing leg and feeling like it was self-amputating while Nick tried to grab my hand and ask why I was so hysterical.

I just kept screaming.

“HELP ME! TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” As I nearly ripped his hand off his wrist. I didn’t even really consider he had no idea what the problem was or how to diagnose why I was screaming in his face.

Of course he remained calm, “Is it a Charlie horse?”

A sudden image of me, 13 years old, getting my leg massaged by my basketball coach after a grueling practice flashed in my brain. That was my last Charlie horse – 17 years ago. But my brain appropriately filed it away under, “FEELS LIKE DEATH,” and I automatically withdrew the file from memory and screamed, “Y-Y-Y-E-E-E-S-S-S!”

Nick squeezed my hand, probably thinking this is what labor and birth will be like in 3 months, “Ok then, try and flex your toes. Point them upward.”

“I C-C-C-C-A-A-A-N-N-N-T!” I felt like Isaiah was trying to birth himself through my calf muscle.

“You probably didn’t drink enough water yesterday and you’re dehydrated. Point your toes upward and it should help.”

Through my hands, I could feel waves of knots and energy passing in and over each other in my leg. I flexed my foot and let out one more scream that, I’m sure, woke every neighbor on our block and then, suddenly, it was over.

Just like that. It passed.

I lay still, opened my eyes, and looked at Nick.

He held my hand and smiled, “Good morning!”

The Weird Reasons

Published on by Lisa

I haven’t forgotten about this blog — really, I haven’t.

Maybe there are some things that are forgotten with a pregnant brain (a lot of pregnant women report scatter-mindedness and forgetfulness), but writing and this blog are not one of them.

This week, albeit a shortened week because of the holiday, has been really WEIRD.

Here’s one reason: our bathroom tub and walls are getting ripped out. The bathroom ceiling has been taken out. In the kitchen, if you look up through the ceiling hole, you can see to the top of the bathroom ceiling/3rd floor base. That’s right. From the first floor, you can see straight up to the second floor.

That means an ungodly amount of dust has settled in the nooks and crannies of our house and I am hacking away like it’s the middle of Spring. Poor Isaiah has been tumbling all around when I cough. I think he thinks I’m perpetually choking.

Also, work has turned up the heat on both Nick and I in our respective employment offices. We’re both getting up early to shower at work (we both have access to shower facilities) because we’re obviously without a tub and unless we want to hose each other down on our front lawns, getting up early and showering elsewhere is the only way to stay respectably clean. And our workload has generally increased. We’re busy bees these days.

In the meanwhile my stomach looks like a rising circus tent ready to enfold anyone who comes near it. I’ve noticed that the floor creaks when I walk on it now. Dude, I feel like a slowly expanding hot air balloon, except I don’t get to fly.

Other weird news is that OSU football season has started and WHAT WAS THAT NEAR LOSS TO NAVY AS THE SEASON OPENER? Not a convincing win. That did not put anyone at ease. And so, this Saturday against USC, has us in a quiet nervous state. We don’t want to talk about it because the intensity is just that heavy for us.

Weird reason #3, our kitchen stuff is in the dining room. Because of the ceiling hole, we had to clear out the kitchen and move everything into the dining hall. Correction: NICK had to clear out the kitchen and move everything into the dining hall. We have no place to eat and so we keep eating random foods like cereal and granola bars to stay alive and ordering out which we rarely do because we think it’s usually a waste of money.

Weird reason #4, my pregnant brain is getting uber introverted these days. That means less blogging, less writing. THIS is not a good thing, as I need to be writing everyday to stay in good practice.

Weird reason #5, REGISTERING FOR ISAIAH IS THE BIGGEST PAIN IN THE ASS AND WE KEEP TALKING ABOUT HOW MUCH WE HATE IT.

Weird reason #6…Did I mention how we have to shower at work? That means NICK IS BRINGING A SUITCASE TO WORK TO CHANGE CLOTHES.

Overall, this week just needs to end.

Like, now-ish….

The Uneventful Parts of Pregnancy

Published on by Lisa

Last Thursday, we had our routine check-up. I had to pick up Nick downtown where he volunteers on Thursdays and make our way from the west side to the east side of Cleveland, specifically, the Beachwood area. Our little section of the Cleveland Clinic is inconveniently sandwiched between two highway entryway/exits and the Beachwood Plaza.

That means while Isaiah is sandwiched between the walls of my body, Nick and I are sandwiched by the walls of the car, and the car is sandwhiched between mall-goers and highway drivers eager to get on the road or speed home.

We get to the office and have our freshly conjured-up questions written down on scrap paper. We are wondering about the Swine Flu (hello, Xavier University? 10 people diagnosed with the pig epidemic?), whether or not little dots in my vision are normal from time to time (they are), if my blood pressure is on track (it is), and who is going to deliver the baby (my doctor delivers 85% of her patients).

But other than hearing Isaiah’s heartbeat and Dr. McElroy pressing against certain parts of my expanding belly universe, nothing happened.

No reports on big feet. No excitement. No news.

It took about 5 mintues.

Mhm. I was expecting more.

My sister-in-law, Suzi, who has birthed four children, affirmed the uneventful period of doctor’s appointments. “Yeah, you’re finishing your second trimester so things are just kind of routine right now. Soon you’ll go every three weeks, then every two weeks, and then the last month you’ll go once a week. But for now, just enjoy it.”

So we are.

We are enjoying staying in. Nick has redeemed his NetFlicks membership and is a-d-d-i-c-t-e-d to the last season of the West Wing. I have been morosely burying my head in the women’s fitting rooms, trying on clothes to make me look like a somewhat normal version of myself. My pants are officially too tight at the non-waist region of my body and maternity clothes are either just too big or too ugly. Let’s face it. Most department store fashionistas design pregnant clothes like window treatments. Drapes, drapes everywhere. Everything just hangs over your belly.

Ugh.

Anyway, Isaiah is a growing soccer play, we are musing. Or a punter. Or someone who just has the gift of really strong legs. His kicks and punches and elbows and whatever else he is using to make his presence known is getting stronger and stronger while my ability to sustain long periods of activity are weakening. Lately, I pour myself a glass of milk and head for the couch, or outside for fresh air to get my energy back. Nick is still a cleaning machine, keeping one hand on the broom and the other on my belly to see if he can feel his boy kicking.

Nick and I are thrilled in Week 22.

GEDs and LBJ Sighting

Published on by Lisa

Nick has decided to do some volunteer work.

You know, for people like Nick, for people who already work in faith-based ministry, people who spend at least 8 hours of everyday working for the betterment of someone’s spiritual enlightenment, doing volunteer work may fill a void to actually DO something for other people.
[in case you missed it, there is a heavy dose of sarcasm in opening paragraph]

So, Nick is volunteering for a catholic center helping folks earn their GED. He decides to do this on his day off.

The other day, I could have sworn there was a brief sighting of a golden halo rounding his head. I blinked and it disappeared. Oh, my generous life partner…when will you do something, I don’t know, selfish? Like, go buy yourself something. Oh wait, he hates to shop. Maybe go buy a steak dinner. Oh wait, he prefers to eat at home. Perhaps get yourself tickets to a huge sporting event. Mhm…now there’s a possibility.

Bottom line is, Isaiah is taking more and more energy out of me and there are days when I feel like lying on a couch and staying hydrated is enough work for me. Next to Nick, these days, I am feeling grossly unproductive.

And when I wail and cry that I am not participating in helping humanity achieve a greater sense of authenticity, Nick will put his arm around me and remind me, “Remember, you’re doing the most important part for us – making sure Isaiah is good and growing.”

Ah, yes, our son.

And I straighten my shoulders and quickly feel better. YES, I am pregnant and have Big Foot Borchers practicing karate kicks and swim flips inside me.

So, while Nick is off educating the world into better human thinkers, I am working full time and counting the weeks left of my second trimester. It’s gone so fast!

In other news, last night, Nick, myself, Books, and his girlfriend Janet scored major seats at the Akron premiere of “More Than a Game,” the documentary about the friendship and legacy of the basketball team at Akron’s St. Vincent/St. Mary that Lebron James was a part of. Nick and I had front row seats, which was a little close for the movie, but came up HUGE after the movie when we were about 9 feet from Lebron and his teammates featured in the documentary. It was awesome! I stared at big LBJ for 25 minutes, barely believing I was so close to the Cavs King.

The documentary comes out in October and right now is on a tour throughout the world. One of our friends is a big wig for all movie features that come through NE Ohio. When Will Smith comes to town, we get a phone call. A documentary where LBJ will be at? We get front row seats. Pretty sweet deal.

Yeah, we’re important.

Week 20

Published on by Lisa

I’m officially at the halfway point of my pregnancy.

After yesterday, and finding out the news that “it” is now a “him,” or (preferably) now Isaiah, I feel a certain solidness about life. Not that Nick and I haven’t been fully aware of the baby before, but, as I predicted it would for us, knowing the baby’s sex has personalized this whole mind-blowing experience for us.

It’s also lit something fierce under Nick.

Nick had yesterday off from work. I took the morning off but went in to work in the afternoon and when I came home, the house was gleaming from the inside out. Nick had been working his tail off reorganizing closets, making space in cluttered areas, cleaning, doing laundry, folding and stacking bedware and towels. Any miscellaneous items (usually things like my jewelry, my camera equipment, my chicken scratches on post it notes about appointments and meetings and random ideas) were all placed in a pile in my closet.

“I just feel better when the house is clean,” he says.

Not that we live in a pigsty, but our home is fairly tidy. Nick likes tidy. I like disinfectant. It’s a good combo.

But I wasn’t sure if he said “I just feel better when the house is clean” or “I just feel better when the house GLEAMS.”

Because everything is ridiculously tidy and everytime I look at my loving spouse, he’s sweating from moving something or bending over into a closet trying to clear out anything that can be thrown away.

Is that Nesting syndrome supposed to happen to the mother? Or is it the father?

I think he’s ready to be a Dad…whereas I am just feeling more and more pregnancy-tired with each passing week. My right leg is starting to cramp and my appetite is back on some form of mysterious fluctuation. Monday – Thursday afternoon, I could barely eat a whole meal without feeling like I needed to manually rolled into the living room. I ate three nuggets of cantelope and a glass of milk and feel like I ate a Thanksgiving dinner. Today, I’ve eaten more than the entire week combined and now I feel like I could do some serious damage at Old Country Buffet.

Week 20 is the halfway point, and not that we ever were thinking of “turning back,” it truly is the point of no return. Emotionally, we are just so flipping excited for this kid, we’re borderline obnoxious. I can’t believe we still have friends sometimes. How can they stand us when we’re talking and giddy all the time, thinking about our future like it’s a philosophical puzzle to figure out, talking about parenting techniques, thinking about our own childhood – what worked, what we think our parents did right…etc, etc. In sum, we are SATURATED IN THE GLOW OF IMPENDING PARENTHOOD AND WE LOVE IT AND DON’T CARE WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK OF US AND OUR OBNOXIOUSLY HAPPY AND GLORIOUS STATE.

You KNOW things are seriously different when father of Big Foot himself says to me yesterday, “What do you think of this? It came in the mail.” Nick hands me a turquoise and delicately decorated piece of paper with suggestions of things to buy before the baby’s arrival.

Like an up-scale shopping list. In cute fonts.

Nick puts in on my dresser, “I think this might be a good guide of things we’ll need to buy, don’t you think?”

I just nodded wordlessly, my eyes big and unblinking as I watch him. In my brain, I hear the strains of the Twilight Zone.

Anytime the love of my life, the man who gets a headache from walking into a department store, suggests using a shopping list and actually looks excited about its futility is testament to the transformative power of Baby Isaiah.

Isaiah Factora Borchers

Published on by Lisa


8:45am
“This is the brain.”

“Here’s the spine.”

“Right here is a hand.”

“Your baby’s face profile…”

Then the ultrasound techie asked, “Do you want to know the baby’s sex?”

YES.

“You are having a boy! Definitely, for sure. Right here, [points] that’s a boy part.”

For the next 10 minutes or so, we get all happy and mushy and watched different angles of our son.

After some quiet time the nurse exclaims, “This baby’s got HUGE feet!”

I couldn’t believe what she said, “What?!”

She points again, “See this? This foot is the same length AS THE BABY’S THIGH!”

I start giggling. Uncontrollably.

The nurse asks, “So who’s responsible for this baby’s big feet?”

I reply over Nick’s laughter, “Definitely the father.”

Nick’s astronaut white shoes, size 13, seem to be glowing in the dark.

The nurse smiles, “If this kid had an Indian name it would be ‘the baby with huge feet.'”

Nick and I are just laughing our butts off as she shows us a close up of Isaiah’s foot.

We finish up and I’m wiping my tears of joy and giggling over this kid’s feet.

The nurse places a towel over my belly and says, “We’re done here. You’ve got a boy on the way. With huge feet.” She glances down at my feet in flip flops and makes one last comment, “Yeah, for sure. This baby definitely did not inherit your feet.”