Husband enigmas

Somebody please explain to me how husbands can:

• Go to the store to buy 4 cornish game hens and come home with 2 chickens instead, because pound-for-pound it's a better deal.

• Hang up the phone after a 30-minute conversation and then relay the entirety of that conversation by saying "Oh, he's doing fine. Nothing much is up with him."

• Say "this pregnancy has aged you" and not expect to get into heaps of trouble.
  

• Engage in the following conversation in all seriousness:

J: Holy cow.
A: What?
J: Robots are finally becoming a reality!
A: Finally? Like you've been waiting all this time with baited breath?
J: Haven't you?

No. No I haven't. Well...maybe a robot maid would be nice. And where's my jet pack?

Mathematical Literacy

Matthew Yglesias has posted a graph showing National Election Survey data on the question of the role of women in society. You can view it here. I'm interested in the blue line he plotted, which shows the percentage of respondents who stated that women should have an equal role with men in running business, industry, and government.

Yglesias writes "This is one respect, at least, in which the United States has become a far less conservative country since the 1980s."

Well...maybe. "Far less" is open to interpretation, but the graph he produces sure does look impressive. Of course, the highest percentage of people who thought that women should have an equal role occurred in 2004, and it was 57%. That percentage is better than those in the 80s, which mainly hovered in the 30s, but 57% is not all that impressive. However, it sure looks impressive when you choose a y-axis scale that goes from 0 to 60, instead of one that goes from 0 to 100.

I've re-created the graph of the blue line with a y-axis scale that actually represents the true possible range of scores from 0 to 100:

One reason why mathematical literacy is important is that it empowers people to make critical judgments about information based on data presented to them. I don't want us to become complacent with the fact that 57% of respondents thought women should have an equal role in 2004, even when faced with a graph showing what looks like an extremely dramatic change due to its funky y-axis scale.

Oh Come ON

This is a disgusting entry, so the squeamish should stop reading now.

If there's one thing I've always been good at, it's farting.

I'm the most flatulent person I know. I fart all the time, every day, during any time of the day. This has nothing to do with pregnancy; I've been a champion fart producer my entire life. I can produce a multitude of different types and levels of farts, and the sheer power and scope of my farting abilities has understandably scared away more than one man. You'd be hard pressed to find somebody more capable of emitting a stronger, longer exhalation of gas.

My constant need to fart can, of course, be somewhat socially awkward. One time I ate a bowl of French onion soup for lunch and then spent the entire afternoon in sheer agony because I couldn't get away from people long enough to release the inevitable gas build up. I haven't had French onion soup since.

I should note, by the way, that my husband's tolerance of my disturbingly stinky aura is just one of many reasons why he is a saint. I'm probably the stinkiest person I know, what with all of the constant farting. A few weeks ago I actually woke him up out of a sound sleep with the sheer vibrational force of my fart, and the after-effects weren't exactly pleasant. I'm a complete hypocrite about stuff like this -- if somebody were to do that to me, I would get indignant, turn on the fan, complain loudly, and generally make the farter suffer greatly. J woke up, startled, sniffed the foul odor and sort of delicately choked back a gag reflex, and then just smiled and started laughing, as if to say, "Oh, you silly farter, you." Like I said, he's a saint.

My long history with farting is the reason why I am so mad about what is happening to me now. I cannot fart. Yesterday I went about my business feeling relatively fine, considering I'm about 100 weeks pregnant with twins and my belly is about to burst open like an overripe tomato. In the evening I started getting terrible belly pains, and after a couple of hours had passed it was so bad that I couldn't sit up straight, stand, or walk without crying and shaking. I called my doctor, who seemed like she'd been sleeping before I disturbed her, and she assured me that it wasn't anything to worry about regarding the babies and I should try things like taking a bath or moving around. Reassured that I wasn't experiencing a bowel obstruction or anything scary, I proceeded to just...suffer.

I've spent 5 hours in the bathtub, and this did relieve some of my pain and even produced a little bit of gas movement. I can see giant gas bubbles in my intestines sitting on top of my belly. I mean, they're clearly visible. These gas bubbles range from about 4 inches to 10 inches long and are as big around as my wrist. This doesn't seem right. Moving, sitting, standing, walking, and existing are all incredibly painful. I haven't slept. I feel like I am never, ever going to get rid of this gas.

I know pregnancy is no walk in the park, but come ON. I've been pretty accepting about the normal discomforts, which are so mundane they're not even worth listing here, but to lose my ability to do the thing my body does best, the thing I do without even trying...that's just cruel. There is only one thing that is keeping me from freaking out about this. I'm only 3 weeks away from being full term for twins. So I know this won't last forever. If I had to, I could probably live like this for 3 weeks. But in the meantime if anybody has fart-producing folk remedies, bring 'em on, because I could use some relief.

Duck and Cover

I have a candidate for the worst pregnancy book of all time: Your Pregnancy Week by Week.

A dear and wonderful friend and colleague gave me this book, and every week J and I would read the next installment to see what we could expect. In the beginning, it was pretty neat to read through each week and see an actual-size picture of what the baby should look like. But then I started to notice an alarming trend. It turns out there are apparently all sorts of things that can and might go wrong with your pregnancy!

Week 5: Ectopic pregnancy. "In the past 10 years, ectopic pregnancies have almost tripled in number."

Week 12: Fifth disease. "Fifth disease, also called parvo virus B19, was the fifth disease to be described with a certain kind of rash."

Week 18: Pyelonephritis. "A more serious problem resulting from a bladder infection is pyelonephritis. This type of infection occurs in 1 to 2% of all pregnant women."

Week 27: Discovering a Breast Lump. "Discovering a breast lump is important, during pregnancy or any other time...treatment complications during pregnancy include risks to the fetus related to chemotherapy, radiation, or medication, such as anesthesia or pain medication for a biopsy."

Okay, I just want to jump in at this point and say that I just opened the book at these arbitrary weeks to see what I could find. Obviously by Week 27 they're starting to scrape the bottom of the barrel in terms of normal pregnancy complications, all of which can and do scare the crap out of me, and have turned to more bizarre possibilities, such as breast cancer. I mean, come on -- breast cancer as a pregnancy complication?

Week 32 is the week when they discuss twins. The authors are sure to mention the following possible problems associated with twin pregnancies:

• increased risk of miscarriage
• fetal death or mortality
• fetal malformations
• low birthweight or growth restriction
• pre-eclampsia
• problems with the placenta, including placental abruption and placenta previa
• maternal anemia
• internal bleeding or hemorrhage
• problems with the umbilical cord, including entwinement or tangling of the babies' umbilical cords
• hydramnios or polyhydramnios
• labor complicated by abnormal fetal presentation, such as breech or transverse lie
• premature labor

Pardon me while I take a moment to calm my racing heart.

Just reading this stuff freaks me out. I like how "fetal death or mortality" (isn't that redundant?) is the second bullet point, and is just thrown in there with relatively minor things like anemia. Fetal death or mortality is not a "possible problem". It is a giant fucking problem. At this point, the book is just making me mad. There are normal complications of pregnancy, complications that are important to be aware of, and then there are the host of complications we're presented with in case we're not worrying enough. These include very rare things like seizures, asthma attacks, umbilical cord knots, appendicitis, deep-vein thrombosis, and salmonella poisoning. I could go on.

My all-time favorite problem of the week, though, has been the one that occurred in Week 25:

"Are you concerned about anthrax? Recently in the press, concern has been expressed about exposure to anthrax. Are you concerned about the correct treatment for a pregnant woman?"

Uh...no. No, I am not concerned about anthrax. I've been worried about a host of things throughout this pregnancy, but anthrax has not been one of them. I'm imagining the anthrax scenario as the modern interpretation of the more classic pregnancy concern: nuclear attack. I grew up during the cold war, and all throughout elementary school we practiced the "duck and cover" method of defense against nuclear attack. Apparently you can duck under your desk and cover your head and face with your arms in case an atomic bomb is dropped on your city. I'm sure that technique would have worked like a charm to protect us all from complete annihilation.

I can only imagine how, at the time, pregnant women were concerned about the correct duck and cover techniques. Do you cover your face or your belly? Is there a different type of duck maneuver you should employ? What if you can't fit under your desk? These are things every pregnant woman worries about. Thank goodness there is a book like "Your Pregnancy Week by Week" to alert us to these troublesome issues.

9 pounds of baby

Today I had another ultrasound and learned that our girl is estimated to weigh 4 lbs 7 oz, and our boy is estimated at 4 lbs and 9 oz. That's 9 pounds of baby, and I hope to go another full month still!

The presenting twin, our boy, is still breech. He might flip, but it is not very likely. This means preparing for a c-section in the case that he does not flip. I have spent so much time thinking and reading about natural birth that I haven't really prepared myself for the idea of a c-section.

Here is our baby girl:


Here is our baby boy:


That thing in front of his face is a cross-section of the girl's foot. They are now very squished in there! He always had a knee or a foot pushing against his face today.

We also have a photo of the boy giving us the finger. It must be his response to my command that he flip head down. Little bugger, already taking after his mother's tendency to be a troublemaker. Hopefully at least one of these kids will take after their father, who is much more easygoing, mellow, and compliant than their mother.

Perfectly Reasonable

Last night:

A: I am terribly angry because you never compliment me anymore. I must be hideous and disgusting to you. The very thought of me must make you want to vomit.*
J: I get the feeling that you'd like me to compliment you more.
A: You're being far too reasonable for me to start up a good fight. Harumph, I'm going to bed. Good night.

This morning:

J: You look nice today.
A: Oh? Really? Nice how exactly?
J: Uh....you know. Nice. You look good.
A: What specifically looks good today?
J: Uh...
A: This does not count as a compliment. You can't just say I look nice. That doesn't mean anything.
J: Your hair looks nice today.
A: My hair. In other words, not my body.**
J: Uh...your shirt looks nice. It's covering your entire belly this time.
A: So that is what it's come to. The standards are so low that I'm having a good day if my shirt actually manages to cover my belly.
J: Well...
A: Yeah, okay, you have a point. I'll take it.

*What makes you say I'm projecting?!?

**Employing my secret talent of grasping the insult from the jaws of a compliment.

Seasons changing

Belly Touching and Bus Behavior

I am feeling better. Our presenting twin (the boy) is currently breech and we won't know for a while if he's going to stay that way or turn. I've decided not to get too worked up about hospital and doctor birth policies until we have a sense of which way he's facing, since a breech presenting twin will make the whole thing moot anyway.

The other day when I prepared to get on the bus the driver spontaneously decided to lower the bus all the way to the curb for me, the same way he might do for somebody in crutches or in need of a ramp. I didn't even know what was going on when the bus started lowering with a giant "beep, beep, beep" sound. You know you're big when the driver assumes you can't make that step up to the bus!

When I'm not collecting data I have a pretty ideal work commute involving either a 25-minute walk or a 5-minute bike ride on a bike path that runs directly behind my house and passes within a block of my office. The walk / bike ride is a little beyond me now, so I take the bus, which is also wonderfully convenient. The stops are only a block from my house and a block from my office. At certain times the bus can be a little crowded and the seats disappear. I have been paying attention to who gives up a seat for me (even when I don't feel like I need to sit). So far, it has almost universally been women who give up their seats. A couple of times, an African-American man has also given up his seat. So far, I have never had the experience of a white guy giving up his seat. In fact, I've never seen it happen for the elderly or the disabled, either. I've noticed seat-hoggers deliberately looking everywhere around the bus except right in front of them, where the 95-year old woman leaning on a cane is about to topple over. I wonder if this phenomenon is unique to the town in which I live.

Another interesting thing I've noticed is the habit some people have developed for touching my belly. It actually hasn't happened too often, and it has only happened with one complete stranger. She was drunk, so I forgave her. In other cases it's been coworkers or acquaintances who like to whip out the belly pat maneuver. It doesn't really bother me, but it takes me by surprise each time. One guy who always likes to pull the belly pat move is this professor in my department. He's never touched me before this, and now all of the sudden he pats the belly whenever he can catch me. I'm pretty sure he'd never dream of touching my non-pregnant belly! I've decided that it would be pretty cool to pat his own (ample) belly in return, but so far I haven't mustered the courage to do such a thing. Maybe after tenure.