I was sad because I had no shoes

I’ve been sad because I have no shoes. Or rather, I have loads of shoes, many of which I like. But none of which fit. Because my feet are still swollen.

They don’t look like this anymore, thank goodness.

My swollen feet

But I still have only three pairs of shoes that fit. Two pairs were bought during the swelly phase of the last days of my pregnancy and one pair is some flip flops left by an Australian…man…with hobbity feet. I also have a pair that VolMom bought while she was over here, but they only fit on good days.

So anyway, I was sad because I had no shoes that fit…until I met a doctor who said that my feet and leg swelling and tenderness could be a sign of deep vein thrombosis. So I’m spending today at the hospital getting blood drawn, and scans and such like. The scan department closes for lunch, so I’m here blogging and eating a grilled ham and cheese sandwich. There sure are some advantages to living across the street from the hospital.

Update:

On the upside – no clots. Hurray! But I do have to go back next week for another scan.

On the downside – you know when they say you should always have a nice pair of underwear because you never know when you might end up in the hospital. Well, that is advice I failed to heed and regretted deeply when the hot South African doctor did my scan. Yeah, I know I’m not exactly a hot property right now – six weeks post partum, swollen and with a little baby that looks just like his Dad. So the granny underwear was probably not the deal breaker.

Not exactly before and after

Earlier:

Lazy Sunday

Recently:
My swollen feet

I know the toenails are unkempt. But I can’t reach them anymore. And I have trust issues re. the ViL, clippers and my tender toes.

I suppose there are worse side effects of pregnancy.

t-0 (-10): the hysterical pregnancy

Back in Tudor times, people didn’t have a firm idea of how long pregnancy lasted. When Bloody Queen Mary announced her pregnancy, no one thought anything of it when it went a little long. She retreated into confinement. And that lasted a long while (I know how that feels!). And it lasted a little longer and a little longer.

It wasn’t a real pregnancy. Some speculated that it was an hysterical pregnancy, born out of her own desire to secure the crown of England to Rome. Some speculate it was maybe a bit of that and the progression of ovarian cancer which would eventually kill her.

Today I had a thought that my pregnancy is starting to seem a little like that…a big countdown and then, waiting, waiting, waiting. Some more waiting.

But I’ve got ultrasound pics. Really.

And I’ve got an induction date. Monday. That’s later than they normally “allow”. I really don’t want to make it to that date. And I could fight further. I don’t want an induction. But I’m tired of waiting.

No more than 5 days til baby Cletus

t-0 (-9): finally I see a celebrity…on the labour ward

I had a monitoring appointment today. The midwives and junior doctors wanted to put me on the induction train for Cletus’s lack of promptness. I said no. They said that only a senior doctor could “let me” go and agree an “alternate” care plan. So we waited and saw a senior doctor. He was totally cool with our wanting to watch and wait. He didn’t think there was any risk in waiting until our cut-off date for induction (a week from today). So we went on home.

On the way out I saw Jordan, glamour model, pneumatic breast wearer and one of these people who seems to make a living off being famous.

I almost never see any celebrities, and if I do – I don’t recognise them.

And Jordan’s pregnant, too. Quite pregnant.

I’m not really surprised that a celeb was there – just by the fact that I noticed her. Our local hospital is reknowned as one of the better for “problem” pregnancies, and despite the fact it’s really not a very nice environment it’s definitely the place you want to go if you want to be on the safe side. Or if you’re a celeb, you might want to go to a nearby private birthing centre – which is just spitting distance from the hospital. (My house is the same distance, which is why I’ve felt OK about a home birth).

I actually had my camera with me, but there’s no way I’d have got it out at the hospital. First off, what if it wasn’t really her? And even if it had been, it just would have been too trashy to snap someone’s pic in the hospital.

t-0 (-8): latent National Socialism and projects to pass the time

Back in 1999, I was on a bit of a Roman kick. We’d visited some ruins in the countryside and seen some mosaics in the British Museum. I bought a book on Roman mosaics and started on a painstaking complex mosaic coffee table. I’d seen the table-top tiling project done on tv and it was completed, in an afternoon, by two people. I chose a more intricate pattern, smaller tiles and there was only me – but I figured I could complete it in a couple of weeks of mosaicking and tv watching in the evenings. This project occupied a central space in our living area – after I all I wanted it to be convenient. It turned out to be pretty painstaking and tedious. Months and months later, the Vol-in-Law threatened me: Complete the project or he would start randomly gluing large white bathroom tiles to the table top to finish it himself.

I knew he was a bit fed up, but I did not believe that he would interfere with my art. I did not think that he would dare. I awaited inspiration to finish the work.

Beneath my horrified gaze, he glued down the first tile and I took a whole new tack with the table and it was completed by the weekend. It wasn’t exactly a Roman design anymore – in fact, it’s Roman in the central motif – and abstract Gaudi-esque moving outwards, until you get to the edges, where large white plain bathroom tiles prevail. I would show you a picture, but the table is now covered with a wine rack and the paperwork detritus of our lives.

My next project was a needlepoint design based on a Roman mosaic pattern found in an ancient Romano-British villa. I painstakingly copied out and slightly altered a design I thought I could do in two colors in needlepoint. I was trying to be a bit less ambitious – and needlepoint can be put away in a bag.

It was only when I stepped back a bit, that I realised that the design was full of swastikas. Crap. Well, I’d already started. Plus, swastikas are used as a perfectly normal and nice design element of symbol in loads of cultures (Hopi, Hindu and Roman).

Somewhere along the way, I decided to stitch in the year of completion – 1999. The Vol-in-Law warned me against doing that. He said that I’d be setting myself up for failure (particularly given my extensive track record of 90% completion of art projects before giving up – it wasn’t just the table). Rubbish – I said. Thanks for your vote of confidence – I said.

It’s 2007, and I pulled out everything in our junk closet to find my roughly 50% completed needework with a big mocking 1999 stiched into the design. I needed a project to pass the time. I needed something to occupy my time while I waited for the baby, propped up my swollen feet and watched old Columbos and Sally Jesse Rafael in syndication.

Well, I finished it. And then some. I added a design surround and stitched in a motto.

Agere et pati Romanum est

To do and to endure (suffer) is Roman. Apparently, the ViL’s mother used to say this to him when he was complaining. I changed it slightly to Agere et pati Vol-Abroadium est when I was feeling a bit down about my lot. Which I am now. Perhaps I should have made it Exspecto et pati Vol-Abroadium est – To wait for and to endure.

Needlepoint

I’ve also stitched in 2007, too.

I’m still awaiting and enduring, but now I’m out of needlepoint.

8 days of baby Cletus lateness

t-0 (-7): it’s someone’s birthday


Mine. It’s my birthday. I hadn’t wanted to share. But at this point, I’d have been just as happy to evict the little blighter. After all, I already share the day with Hubert Humphrey, Henry Kissinger and Siouxsie Sioux*.

We had a pretty quiet day. Despite gray skies and constant drizzle, we went for a long walk – almost two hours and then out to dinner at an “American” chain restaurant. It’s hard to make big plans when you’re over a week overdue.


(photo ripped from Underground T-Shirts, with a fine range of similarly imaged t-shirts from the era)

__________

* Which just goes to show that there really is something in the whole horoscope thing. I feel my personality is really something eclectically between Henry Kissinger and Siouxsie. That is – given free rein – I’d probably orchestrate a secret war while wearing wild costumes, wild hair and a lot of eye make-up.

7 days of baby Cletus lateness

t-0 (-6): cute outfits

Well, I’m still out walking – we took another long walk in Richmond Deer Park. It’s the Saturday of a holiday weekend, but there were very few people about. I guess the leaden skies threatening rain kept the less cabin be-fevered away. It was nice though, and the cooler weather has helped keep the swelling in my feet to a manageable level. We went pretty much straight after lunch, and there’s a lot of strain in my abdominals, so I got a stitch from walking. This happens a lot, but I find myself wishing and hoping it was more than a stitch.

We saw swans and geese with their hatchlings. They’re kinda ugly. But they’re kinda cute. I’m trying not to be jealous of the critters with their newborns.

swan parade

watchful goosey

-0-

We’ve been trying to entice Cletus out to the world outside by telling him about all the things that he can do and the places he can go. Right now, it’s not much, but surely it’s better and more interesting than the current cramped quarters.

We’ve got all kinds of interesting things for him. We’ve got cats and a swing. We’ve got a baby snuggle nest. We’ve told him so. I also told him that he’s got lots of cute outfits to wear. As soon as I said it, I realised how stupid that was. I myself used to run at the phrase “C’mon and try this on.”

6 days of baby Cletus lateness

t-0 (-5): If I’d known there was a test…

…I might have studied.

I had my 41 week appointment today. There was a vaginal examination. I failed.

Basically, there’s a Bishop’s score of 10 – which indicates favorableness of induction, I got only a 4. That’s a bare pass at best.

What does this mean? It almost certainly means more waiting.

Cletus. Get out.

5 days of baby Cletus lateness

Green eyed monster

Mary Cheney had her baby. Why not me?

Just one more reason to hate that cow and her war-profiteering family.

(I recognise that I’m losing it.)

t-0 (-4): Lime punch

People who tell me to enjoy my sleep now are killing me. I’m already not sleeping well. This seems cosmically unfair. The constant need to pee wakes me up. Sometimes the swelling in my feet actually wakes me up. The anxiety of waiting keeps me up. I’m not very good at this.

Last night I couldn’t sleep from about 3:30 to 6:30. I tried to play computer games, but eventually gave up and watched a Perry Mason tv movie – you know from the later years when he’s all fat and you’re all wondering “How come Perry and Della never got married.” Usually, these put me straight to sleep. But not this time. I know I’d seen it before because it had Joe Penny in it. I’ve always had a fondness for Joe Penny. And I knew I’d seen him in a Perry Mason, but I couldn’t remember what the outcome was. Since he was the defendant, you know that he was the one person (other than Della and Perry) who was guaranteed to be innocent. He was, of course, and it was the step-daughter of the victim who-dunnit. Since I’d come in a bit late this was a total surprise to me. I’d never even seen her before.

-0-

I was trying to catch up on my sleep this afternoon. Unfortunately, there was much hammering going on in my street and I couldn’t quite get past it to doze off. And then I started to think about Lime Sherbet Punch. We used to have this at school parties in the 70s. It was made with luminous green sherbet and Sprite. The best sherbet base was from Kay’s Ice Cream. Is Kay’s still around?

I got a bit fixated on it – perhaps even developed a craving. But I could make an attempt to satisfy this one. I had diet lemonade – R. White’s by Royal Appointment (British lemonade is kinda like Sprite) in the fridge and lemon-lime Italian sorbet in the freezer. This is the noughties and I’m an urbanite now – now we have sorbet.

I tell you, it was pretty good, but it was a pale yellow not uranium green and that just wasn’t the same.

-0-

I’ll tell you what else I’m craving. A Marlboro Red. Man, I’d just about kill for one of those. And if Cletus doesn’t show up soon, I’d definitely trade my firstborn for a pack of 20.

4 days of baby Cletus lateness