Thursday, November 30, 2006

I am going to hell. For sure

I went to see the Borat movie. I laughed until my sides hurt. I truly am evil. Heh heh heh heh heh

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

holy leapin' lizards

When T describes something that is really, y'know, *happening*, he says it is

"...going off like a frog in a sock..."

I like the mental imagery.

But right now, Raby the Baby feels like... a frog in a sock. How can it wiggle limbs on both sides of my belly simultaneously?

Sunday, November 19, 2006

t-shirts galore!



I discovered that you can buy iron-on t-shirt transfers from Officeworks that just use normal inkjet printers. Armed with a pack and a fertile imagination, we now have three size 00 baby suits with our excellent designs.

I have to thank my brother P for the 'Viva the Re(banana)lucion)' design. Oh, and apologise quickly to Norman Lindsay's estate...

Saturday, November 11, 2006

Unexpected torture

There are definite advantages to my job. And disadvantages.

I have been visited by the Carpal Tunnel fairy. My rings have not fit for a good few weeks now, and live on a chain around my neck. Whilst I can live with the 'wake and shake' numbness at night, my hands ahd started becoming increasingly sore too.

So the other night during a 9 hour hand reattatchment extravaganza, as the surgeons were exiting for a coffee break I asked them about it. They said "come to clinic tomorrow, we'll fit you up for some splints and can inject some steroid to ease the triggering". So the next day, after a nice swim, I sat myself out the front of the clinic and called up AJ on his mobile "I'm sitting out the front". Ten minutes later I'm walking out with two lovely thermoplastic splints that have eased my hands considerably.

The next night shift when things quietened down, I went to the office to have a snooze, and there, right in front of me was the department's brand new ultrasound. Complete with bottle of ultrasound gel. I looked at my belly, I looked at the machine and thought- what's the worst that can happen? I spent the next glorious 45 minutes communing with my offspring, wtaching in wonder as the squirming I felt translated on the screen to hands and legs pushing and moving. Bloody marvellous.

But then on Friday I went out to breakfast with three other pregnant doctors, none of whom had had any trouble falling or staying pregnant. They sat there and bitched about pregnant women who worried all the time. I felt like slapping them. And these are not women without insight- at least one had worked in NICU. A very ingenerous part of me wished them all problematic, difficult and painful births. And miscarriages the next time they try to conceive. Is that bad of me? I suppose the karma is bad, but, dammit, how much insult can I be asked to put up with?