February 2008

  • So, I’m supposed to be rotating through all five other doctors at my OB’s office, so I can at least meet them all in the event that my preferred OB isn’t available to deliver. I find this slightly annoying, but I get the reasons for it. Yesterday I had an appointment with the one male doctor in the practice. Nice enough guy, personable, cracking jokes and whatnot. Things are going fine as he looks at my chart, says everything looks good, baby’s size is right on, blood pressure is good, then: “And your weight…oh. Uh oh. Well, your weight gain is kind of high. Let’s try to keep that to two pounds a month from now on, okay?”
  • Casual as well as long-time readers of this blog: How many ways is that NOT OKAY? You all know that the weight and body image stuff are HUGE issues for me–and that’s a huge understatement. I’ve been stressing about gaining weight during this pregnancy, and trying really hard to listen to GB and my awesome blogfriends who remind me that the important thing here is a healthy baby. I keep telling myself that, in fact, every time I get utterly and self-loathingly disgusted with my body: “A healthy baby is the goal here. Don’t freak out about the weight.” So, yeah. The casual comment that I’ve gained too much weight? Really sucked.
  • Also, don’t think it escapes me that the only male doctor at the practice is the only doctor there who’s had a problem with my weight gain.
  • But now I just feel lousy. Fucker.
  • In happier news, I realized that–while I would really prefer that H. wait another 14 weeks to make his appearance–if the baby were to be born tomorrow, we have everything we need for him. There’s still random baby stuff we could use, but we have all the essentials for baby care, and then some. I love being ready for things, even if it’s only in the material way.
  • Because god knows I’m nowhere near ready in the emotional or mental ways.
  • GB just called–the Bar exam is over! He’s on his way home! Whoohoooo! I get my husband back!
  • I’m supposed to go back to the doctor tomorrow to get the rhogam shot. I wasn’t especially looking forward to the shot to begin with, and it didn’t help at all to find out that my insurance doesn’t cover it. They supposedly cover all my prenatal care, but apparently not this. I called my insurance company today to find out why they don’t, but they say I have to talk to my pharmacy benefits company (which is different, I guess?), and it’s not really clear how I contact them. So that’s pretty freaking annoying, because it costs almost $150. Do they not consider it “medically necessary”? Is that why it’s not covered? Because I get that it *can* be declined, but I’m pretty sure that’s not a great idea. Anyway. So tomorrow I get my super-expensive-out-of-pocket shot in the ass. Fun.
  • I have a sore throat and a low grade fever. I had way too much fun with my sister and completely exhausted myself. I’m hoping that more Tylenol and a lot of sleep tonight will help.
  • My sister spoiled me rotten while she was here. She bought tons of baby stuff, cleaned my house, made me tea, rubbed my back, AND bought me stuff at Lush. My sister rocks.
  • I’m thinking I may have to start working on chapter 4 of the dissertation soon. I have no idea what happens in this chapter, so it’s a little daunting.
  • Also, having STILL not gotten a single word of feedback on the other chapters is kind of discouraging.
  • Will the feedback be even more discouraging? I’m afraid it will.

I did it! I got the chapter draft finished (or, let’s say “acceptable”) and sent off to the (New)Advisor. Who, it turns out, really does rock: I sent him the chapter last night before I went to bed, and woke up to an email saying he’d already rewritten my recommendation letter and *dropped it off* at my department.

So–I know that two of my letters for this are in, and they’ve received my application and chapters. The (Ex)Advisor swears he’ll have his letter there on time, but the fellowship actually only requires two, so I think–barring anything bizarre or unforeseen–I can pretty much count on having this money for next year.


I have this odd, unfamiliar feeling. What is that? Oh, wait…it’s accomplishment!

Okay, so I emailed my committee members to remind them about my recommendation letters. This fellowship application is due by Friday (the 29th), and I am really counting on it for next year. This is the one that I am “virtually assured” of getting, as long as my application materials are in and my advisor (whoever that might be) confirms that I’ve submitted at least two chapter drafts.

I also told them that my next chapter would be ready for feedback by next week, and asked if they would prefer that I send it right away, or wait until they’ve had a chance to read the chapters I’ve already sent (a gentle reminder that I have yet to receive ANY feedback on the chapters from December).

I got a response from the (New)Advisor, saying that he thinks I’ll have a better chance at the fellowship if he tells them he’s received *three* chapters from me, and encouraging me to send this draft along to him even if it’s in “by no means perfect shape”.

Here’s the thing. I’m working this temporary job-thing this week and next week. I work 8 hours today, and I’m either picking my sister up (about an hour away) tonight or tomorrow morning. There will be very little dissertating while my sister is here, due to a number of previously-made plans (and I’m working a little while she’s here, anyway). So it’s not looking like I’ve got a lot of dissertating time in my immediate future.

On the other hand, I only need to add two small sections to the chapter to make it a semi-complete crappy draft. I haven’t proofread or anything.

Is it insane to think that I could (or that I should) get this crappy, unfinished, un-proofread draft to the (New)Advisor by sometime tomorrow, so he can get the letter out? I think he means it when he says he’s okay with a (far) less than perfect draft, but how *much* less can I actually send without looking like a maroon? I’d hate to *not* send it to him, when it’s so close to being a semi-complete crappy draft…

ETA: I just cancelled my afternoon shift, so that gives me an extra 4 hours today. I think I can add the new sections, give it a super-quick read to make sure nothing unbelievably stupid (or, worse, misspelled) is lurking in there, and send it to the (New)Advisor by tomorrow. 

Yeah, I know that the word meter over there says that I’m only 16 words away from my goal for this chapter. But it’s deceptive, because:

  • I still have at least 5-6 pages to go in this chapter;
  • this is the Chapter That Would Not Die (I’ve been writing it for about 2 months now);
  • I am positive that it’s going to end up being split into two chapters, both of which will have to be seriously rewritten;
  • I’m fairly sure it’s obvious I have no idea what I’m talking about;
  • the two most interesting points in the chapter happen in the footnotes, and while I do believe that’s where most of the good stuff happens, I also believe that I will be asked to move those Interesting Historical Points (i.e., Actual Content, unlike the rest of the chapter’s fluff) into the text and actually, you know, develop them;
  • developing the Actual Content points will require significantly more research, of the back-to-the-drawing-board variety; and
  • ¬†there’s a very good chance that nothing I’ve written in this draft is acceptable, usable, or even comprehensible.

Still. Words on the page trump words in the brain. At least it’s *something*, right? Progress, of a sort?

Eeesh. I just wish I didn’t already know how much it sucks.

I do like feeling H. move. It’s definitely the coolest part of this whole miserable business, and almost makes up for not being able to sleep anymore, ever.

But when he moves around and kicks *right* behind my belly button? It’s just about the most bizarre feeling I’ve ever experienced.

(I’ve always been very sensitive about having my belly button touched. Having it touched from the inside? Is just Too. Freaking. Weird.)

That’s all. And I wonder if it’s possible to OD on Apple Jacks?

My lifelong-Republican dad just told me that, no matter what, he won’t vote for McCain if he’s the Republican nominee.

He’s pretty sure he’ll vote for Obama, though.

(He actually didn’t vote for Bush, either.)

This makes me happy. Oh my god. This is twice in less than two weeks that talking to my dad has left me entertained and happy. Weird.

In unrelated news: I didn’t actually expect to miss Dunkin Donuts when I moved out here. But I really, really do. We have a good independent donut shop 1/2 a block away, but it’s not quite the same.

Oh yeah–if you don’t hear much from me for the next couple of weeks, it’s because my life is about to get very full.

I got this temporary job-type thing that starts tomorrow and goes for two weeks. It’s all working from home, which is great, and it will allow me to actually contribute to the household money instead of just spending it all, which is super-great. But I’m working 10 8-hour days over the next 2 weeks. Which, yeah, doesn’t sound like much–but if you’re me, and you’ve been used to napping most days (and eating through the waking hours) and are STILL trying to finish this freaking chapter that just will not end,* the prospect of 8 hour workdays is daunting (and when, exactly, will I be finishing this chapter?).

And GB leaves for City That Smells Like Horse Poop on Monday for the Bar exam. (Oooh, send good Bar vibes GB’s way, willya? He’s been studying so freaking hard. I really really really think he’ll pass this time, but good vibes can’t hurt.) Which, in itself, doesn’t complicate my life (except that I have to pill the Small-and-Wily-Cat myself). But my sister is coming too–she’ll be here all the days that GB is gone, actually–and I’m working this job a little while she’s here, and there’s this weird-ass virtual shower thing going on, and a doctor appointment in there somewhere, and honestly, I’m exhausted just thinking about my next two weeks, and I’m already annoyed that I can’t nap tomorrow.

So yeah. I’ll be around, or back, or whatever. Eventually.

(Oh, but! The day after this job ends, I officially enter the third trimester. How freaking insanely weird is that?)

*It’s at 40 pages, and I just outlined the rest of it and realized it could go another 20 pages, if I let it. The problem, partly, is that I had this whole section that was going to maybe be a sixth chapter, but then it occurred to me that I might be able to add it to the end of this chapter instead. I like that idea better, unless it gets really unwieldy, in which case I guess I just lop it off later. I kind of feel like I should keep going with it, though, in case it does work out okay in this chapter. Ugh. I kind of wish I had an advisor.

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