Friday, March 28, 2008

Lemonade and Orange Juice.

First, the good news: I aced the glucose tolerance test, people. ACED. I got a 93. My OB said she'd never had anyone test so well. GO, ME!

Second, the bad news: I flunked my urine test. Protein was found in my urine. Which is bad. The nurse told me that I flunked the test, then said she couldn't put the comment in context. I had to wait for the doctor. DON'T YOU LOVE THAT? I panicked BUT GOOD for 20 minutes until my OB came in. Doctor thinks its just that I need to drink more water. Just. The nurse couldn't tell me that? My doc's big comment was "your urine should look like lemonade, not orange juice." Which struck me as a bizarre comment.

Third, the vaguely disquieting news: my job published the severance packages today. Which is not to be confused with actually deciding, telling, etc., the people who are going to be let go that they are going to be let go. NOPE. This is just their way of telling us that IF, emphasis on IF, they let you go, this is what you will get.

Um. Okay. I guess that my company thinks it's somehow comforting to us to know what we'll get, if we're asked to leave. But. It just makes me nervous.

I admit: I'm a bit torn. I put in a call to my HR rep, asking if I get let go after I hit paid parental leave (assuming I hit paid parental leave) do I get one, the other or both? No one knows currently, but. But assuming I do, that's almost 6 months off with pay. And then I qualify for unemployment. That would be good, but. But. What then?

I've started to say, out loud, that I want to keep my job. I mentioned it to my manager and a few other people. We'll see how that works...

In the meantime, I'm in limbo, and H is in La la land ("I'm SURE they'll keep you.")

we'll see

Sunday, March 23, 2008

Stress and More Stress

A few weeks ago, I realized that I may not qualify for my company's "paid parental leave."

I was stressed. I thought that was bad. I worried about having to declare bankruptcy without that paycheck (I'm the breadwinner in our home, y'see).

I thought the situation couldn't get much worse.

I was young and naive.

Now, let me just state -- the baby's fine. Measuring in the 44th percentile (what does that mean), my weight gain is okay (a little much, but not too TOO much). Spunketta is moving non-stop, not letting me sleep, pounding on my bladder. Good times!

But the company that I work for. Yeah. They're facing bankruptcy.

The past few weeks, my office has been like a mausoleum. People quiet, openly updating resumes, passing out cards and networking information. Talking about finding a new gig before the Big Layoff comes.

My company has announced to us that they may be able to continue, BUT. But they would do it with a drastically reduced staff. As in 50% gone.

Friday, they passed out sheets that would help you figure out your severance, assuming that you qualified for severance.

GUESS who doesn't qualify for severance?

A dense co-worker advised me to start looking for a new job. I placed my hands on my rotund (and now, clearly pregnant) belly and said "Who would hire me?" He was at first confused, and then embarrassed.

Yup. I'm trapped.

If *I* were a manager, I couldn't justify retaining someone who was going to cost the firm three months of paid leave. It makes no sense. Neither can I see myself (successfully) job-hunting.

So I get to wait. And wonder. And hope. And worry. And, periodically, break down into uncontrollable crying fits.

When I used to tell God that I wanted to give birth in the worst way possible, I didn't think He'd grant the latter half of the prayer... :)

Just to clarify: no one knows then the Great Layoff will begin. Just that it will. And the most aggressive date "officially" confirmed is 8 weeks in the future. So, conceivably, I could actually get to my "paid" parental leave and then be laid off. People at work have been saying things to me: "they can't fire you, you're pregnant" sort of sums up the sentiment. Which sounds wonky to me. Frankly, I figure if I'm on leave (or just close to it) it makes me a more likely target. (Any HR reps in attendance, please chime in).

The husband H has promised to "step up" and "do whatever it takes." If. If I actually lose my job. He's convinced I'll get a promotion and/or a raise out of this.

He REALLY doesn't want to have to work full-time. Not that I blame him; he works for a lovely, friendly place where they have no problem with him dropping everything to go running to take care of Mama (Thursday, she developed hives and had to be pulled from day care). But. They don't offer him benefits and they don't need him full time. And H would rather ride it out than jeopardize that cushy situation. (Which, he asserts, may turn into a full-time gig. Eventually. Someday. Maybe. Just not anytime soon.)

I've been asking him to get a part-time job at S.tarbuc.k's. Or anyplace else that will offer some insurance. (Both medical and financial :) ).

I'm a little desperate.

I'm off to church now. Guess what I'm praying for.

Monday, March 03, 2008

And the Horse You Rode In On

Like may IF'ers, I have a fetal heart thing. You know what I mean; a fetal Doppler stethoscope monitor thing.

That may not be the technically correct term, but you know what I mean.

I think I may have mentioned it before; H got it for about $100 on e-b-a-y.

And even though Spunketta kicks like a soccer star, well, we still use it. (Because you just don't KNOW, do you?)

Anyway, H (who considers himself the expert) is applying the heart thing to my belly. He experiments a bit to impact the sound (why? boys and toys, I assume.)

Finally, he gets a sound he likes: it's loud, sharp and there's an echo.

"What's that?" asks Mama, who's in the room.

"That's the sound of the baby."

"Ah," she says. "That explains why there's so much kicking."

H and I look at each other, perplexed. Why?

"He's got a horse in there."

Walker Wars: Update

Still waiting. LOVELY. The Physical Therapist went on vacation while the issue was still pending. THAT'S DEDICATION!

And while she's allowed to go on vacation, well, it would have been nice if she would have NOT let it sit on her desk for two days before she left. Does that make sense? Am I being too harsh?

She actually had the NERVE to fight with me on the phone, and ask me (more than a few times) "Well, why haven't YOU bought it?"

Need a new daycare for Mama. Definitely. And some sleep and a vacation for ME.