I used to LOVE rainy days

Really, like LOVE rainy days. I would pray for them the way some pray for no rain. They were an excuse to stay inside and read all day. Or go outside and succumb to the elements because being wet and dealing with weather outside was always more interesting than your average ho hum sunny day. Me and my sister Hannah just reminisced on a shared happy day memory when we were in Junior High and the school was closed due to flooding. My best friend Amber came over to pass the day with us and we ended up taking an adventure hike up in to the hills behind our house. What started out as a way to pass the time (power was probably off --so no TV) became a mini Indiana Jones movie when I slipped on my butt and created the most awesome mud slide with my rain coat. We hiked up and slid down all afternoon and it didn't matter that we were girls, or that we were two 7th graders hanging with an 8th grader who usually teased us or ignored us. It was just plain fun. I loved the rain. But today, I really have had enough. Probably because today I had to shave my head. But first, before that, I had my last OB appointment and sonogram and non-stress test--the triumvirate of appointments that have taken up my Tuesday's for the past months. So, all is good with the baby and that in itself is a small miracle so I shouldn't pout about the hair...but I probably will anyway. My OB, who is fairly, how shall I say it? She is all business. She's smart. She knows her stuff. I chose her because I needed a high risk doctor for the lupus and in that, I feel I chose well. I feel safe in her hands. But, considering my background: Mom was a doula. I was born on a commune in a bus with I think some kerosene lamps and some hot water. The midwife at my birth is one of the nation's leaders in natural childbirth and the author of a book called 'Spiritual Midwifery'. Honestly, I couldn't have picked or more opposite OB to bring my baby in to the world than what my mother experienced and therefore what I always saw as my experience too. Anyway, today, this OB gave me a hug (!) and said to Greg, ' I love this woman'. So, either she really is impressed by my strength, or just eternally grateful I am not an hysterical puddle of confusion and fear making a mess of her exam room and causing her to be late to her next appointment. Then it was off to the perinatologist who looked at the baby who is now 5 and 1/2 pounds and gave me all sorts of hugs and caring looks and said he was praying for me and I am all good with that. So, the one good thing is that I have this small baby to push out, which is the only thing in my favor to not getting a cesarean which would be bad while I am on chemo--major surgery with no immune system is kind of a no no, which puts all kinds of pressure on me--but at least she's a little one. I can't wait to meet her.

Ugh, this blog is getting long. Sorry.

Ok, so then the next big thing is we have to get knobs for the dresser for the baby's room. It's like the right knobs, that fit, once I get them, will make everything OK with my life. But, I just can't seem to find them. I've gone twice to Anthropologie. Today we went to Restoration Hardware. Then we went to Jackson's hardware to get longer screws just in case and that's when my battery died, in the rain, with Greg about to lose it because he intuitively knows that it's not really about the knobs, but about feeling prepared for the baby and what I really need is to go home and take a nap, but I need the KNOBS. So now we are stuck in the parking lot and the car is dead and our cell phones are almost dead and thankfully Greg's boss Frank comes to our rescue with jumper cables and a really good sense of humor and the car starts up again and we are on the way home and it's been a pretty long day and I walk in after side stepping this HUGE puddle at the bottom of my stairs and SOMEONE (Mollee Franklin!) has totally cleaned my house and organized my baby's room and folded and washed all her clothes and organized them by age and brought up the bassinet with freshly washed sheets and kept my dog company and did the dishes and put gerber daisies in the baby's room and once again Greg and I are just so GRATEFUL and all seems to be OK and now I have the strength to shave my head because I have such awesome friends and the cutest house and the baby's room looks great and I am just so--really there is no other word--grateful. 

Shaving was still hard. But it had to be done. I was starting to look like Gollum. My neighbor Dionne brought her husband's electric razor over this morning on the way to work, in all her long haired glory (sigh) so I knew it was something that could happen tonight. I was trying to put it off so that the first few pics of me and the baby, I had some hair. But, the pain was killing me and the shedding was irritating. Last night Frida got some of my hair stuck in her throat and gagged on the porch for twenty minutes. I knew it was imminent.

Thanks for reading. 

xo

Ro

ps: If you are wondering why there are so many photos of me in the shower, I don't have any reason. I do know that all the photos of me post shaved that Greg took are really really depressing and for some reason, I cracked my self up when I started to 'wash' my hair and so Greg got a the only one of me smiling and in the end, that's the one I would rather you all see.

pps: Happy Happy Birthday Sara Roditti. I love you and wish I was there eating cake with you, but I am here, typing out my day's saga and feeling a little bit naked in the neck area. Love you.