As easy as it looks

This is not as easy as it looks. I have been pronounced healed by my OB/GYN and I have a brand new IUD so I won’t get pregnant again. However, my hips were widened, I gained a few pounds and my tits are bigger. All contributing to issues with my delivery.

Unfortunately, a month of ST didn’t seem enough time to get this all settled down and I’m looking at a long slow road to the bullpen unless I get this figured out real soon. Seven walks in five and a third is way too many. 3 ER isn’t bad and I want to kiss my fielders for helping me keep the damage under control. And Robyn, too, for pitching out of a bases-loaded mess in the fifth without letting any of those runners score.

Still it’s only one start and my first start of the year. A lot of pitchers have rocky starts and then go on to solid seasons of pitching well for their teams. That’s what I’d like to see happen and that’s what Skip wants to see happen, too.

It didn’t help that I saw a baby in the crowd and thought of Miles. Right there with 2 out in the 4th, my milk let down on the mound. So while the guys took their raps, I was inside, pumping. And I wasn’t really mentally there for the fifth and, well, that’s how the bases got juiced. Single, fielder’s choice, walk, walk. And that’s when Skip had enough of me. So I went back to my hotel room and took over Miles from Bridget. We went to bed. Yes, we … Miles sleeps with me so I can just roll over and offer him the tit when he’s hungry without really waking up. Bridget suggested it and said it worked for some women, especially those who work. And I have to say it’s better than getting up, fetching his crying little self from the crib, feeding him, putting him back and all.

A widely known secret is that a diaper can hold a night’s worth of pee. And, luckily for me, the other happens on a mostly regular schedule that is usually while he’s with Bridget. I’ve also discovered that I like Huggies the best.

Miles complicates my life in more ways than i expected. On paper, this looked so easy.

Coming in and heading out

My milk is in. And when I was practicing with the pump, I snuck a taste. It’s warm and sweet and kinda thin at the beginning but thick and creamy at the end. And Miles is no longer orange. He’s baby-colored. And he has dark hair but Bridget says some babies hair lightens as they get older. And that some babies are born with white hair but it blonds up over time.

My stitches are gone but my OB/GYN says I’ll be on the rag for another four weeks. And in a couple days, we leave for spring training. We being Miles and Bridget and I. Pitchers and catchers report first. I’m in good shape because I exercised all throughout the pregnancy but I haven’t thrown pitches for a few months because of Miles throwing off my mechanics with his size and the change to my center of gravity.

***

We’re on our way to Washington now for ST. And I’m crying. Miles is asleeep, apparently the sound of the jet engines is soothing to him.

Last night, though, he was being a feisty one. I wrote him a lullaby. And when he was finally asleep, I was able to spend time with Murph. We mostly held each other. But there were some other things going on. Like milk-tasting. Murph said that it was just the thing. I knew from my reading that milk is a supply/demand system and that if there’s a demand, there will be a supply. So the demand increased somewhat last night. I’ll have extra today. And just saying that, I feel the tingle in my nipples as the milk lets down and starts to leak into my nursing pads.

And I tingle in other places, too. The hormone that lets down milk is the same one that’s released (in larger amounts) at orgasm. Sometimes the milk comes down and the only way I notice is by Miles’ greedy gulping but sometimes, I can feel it in both places.

And the reverse is true, too. Murph has clever fingers … he always has. And he knows how to apply them. He had me gasping and shuddering a few times. And spraying milk. It was amazing how high the little fountains went. I’m still somewhat tender down there, so I repaid him in other ways, with deep kisses all around.

I can’t describe how much I’ll miss him. And I’m sure Miles will miss the sound of his voice. Speaking of Miles, he just discovered he’s hungry enough to be awake. Bridget is here, but I’ve already got the milk working.

Orange as a Longhorn Jersey

Miles is three days old and looks like a carrot. We went to the doc for his three-day checkup and they said his bilirubin is high and that’s why he resembles the little UT romper my Dad gave him. So they sent us home with special lights to shine on his crib and little goggles to keep the light out of his eyes. He’s there now, sleeping. Little babies, sleep a lot it turns out. Sometimes I have to wake him up to nurse. My milk hasn’t come in yet but both my OB/GYN and the pediatrician assure me that’s normal. They say that what Miles has is “newborn jaundice” and that it’s nothing to be alarmed about. Bridget, the nanny says she’s seen it before. She reminds me of a pitching coach, only for babies, in the knowledge she brings to the table. That’s why we selected her. She’s almost old enough to be my mother.

And I’m still looking at doing this alone (with Bridget) . Oh, not that Murph is abandoning me, but he’ll be in New England and I’ll be in Nevada. We’ll see each other for a couple series, but it’s not the same. And he’s not a pitcher so he can’t sneak away for a day on his off days. Because he won’t have any.

I know the big question is are we going to get married and the answer is, I don’t know. I can’t describe how much I love Murph. In a deep way that started out as friendship. Larry and I had something, but it wasn’t like this.

And it doesn’t help that Miles is here. He wasn’t planned for, he’s a blessing. But it’s the fact that he wasn’t planned for that has us questioning whether we’d be committing to each other or to Miles. And marriage should be about commitment to one another.

I wrote something for Murph that I’ll post here.

I’ve told you that I love you and that seemed enough to say
And I was satisfied to have it so
But now I’ve found I love you in a new and different way
And I don’t have the words to let you know

I thought it would be easy to say “deep as” or “as much”
Or “longer than” or “larger than” or “more”
But words cannot describe the way it feels when we touch
The way each time is better than before

You are my one and only and you will be till the end
No matter how I say it, it’s still true
Though we’re no longer teammates, you’re my lover and my friend
The man I’d spend forever with is you.

Miles

So we were at my place interviewing nannies. Murph’s been living here because, well, I’m here. And my doctor is here in Texas. Murph was traded though and so we’ll spend the season mostly apart and I said we needed to plan for that. And he’s not very adept at arguing with me for some reason. Especially in situations like this.

And I felt something. Just a little something at first but then it started growing on itself. I can’t describe it because it didn’t hurt. It didn’t feel like anything else. So I knew. And the stopwatch came out and it was every ten minutes. Okay, no biggie. We talked to two more nannidates. Still not uncomfortable. So we hung out.

It got more intense faster than I thought it would. Murphy said it was over five hours, but it felt like one. We called the doctor and headed into the hospital. Memorial Hospital. On the way, the intensity went up to a gasping level. I’ve been injured and that hurt but this was different. It was like cranking up the treadmill only on my middle instead of my legs. They had us do paperwork, then put me into a room, got me in a gown and on a monitor. Just about in time, too, because with a snap and a whoosh my water broke all over everything. It was warmer than I expected though I didn’t really know what I was expecting. I guess I was expecting it to be like in the video we saw in childbirth class. Where the doctor breaks the water and catches it in a basin.

The contractions went up another notch. I was doing special breathing now because if I didn’t, the intensity would have taken my breath away. And Murph was right there with me, reminding me to breathe and telling me I was doing a good job (like he’d know–sometimes it felt like he was interrupting me but I was too busy to tell him off). And the doc wasn’t there yet but I felt a *need* to push. This, too, is like nothing else. It’s like needing to barf…you just *have* to and you can’t help it. And so I pushed. They saw it on the monitor and hauled ass into there. And the head nurse or whatever said “Don’t push” And I told her, quote, “I fucking can’t help it, bitch…it is goddamn pushing itself.” No, I’m not usually like that but I really couldn’t help it, and this can’t have been the first time she was around a woman in labor. And it was pushing itself. And I couldn’t stop it but I tried. And I managed to not push for a whole two minutes (it seemed like forever). At which point the doc arrived and said it was okay. Then it did hurt. It burned in a ring where his head was coming out. Like fire. I remember talking about that at childbirth class, but knowing ahead of time didn’t help. And then, some large number of pushes later, his head was out. It was only about six, says Murph but it felt like I was pushing forever. Then a smaller push and the rest of him was out. They laid him on my tummy and I touched him. His hair was so soft and fine. And I cried. I’m a tough girl, but he was so beautiful lying there.

And Murph sang happy birthday to him. I will never forget that. Ever.

Turns out I had a little tear, so they gave me a shot of somethingcaine down there and stitched me. And in a little while, the afterbirth came out….which felt warm too but didn’t hurt. At which point, Murph got to cut the cord, which looked like white rubber kinda. And they whisked Miles away for observation, a vitamin K shot, eyedrops and the standard blood testing they do on newborns. If I would’ve let them, they’d’ve cut him, too, but I don’t think you should do that to a kid. If he wants to be cut, there’s plenty of time left in his life but once it’s done, it can’t be undone.

They brought him back after an hour or so and he still looked beautiful, only now he was dressed in blue. And they showed me how to hold him and nurse him. Now, the truth is, I’ve had mouths there before, but nothing like this. After awhile, it got kinda uncomfortable, but he was swallowing so he was getting something. And Murph said it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

They brought me food but I couldn’t manage Miles and breakfast at the same time. After a bit, they took him back to the nursery and I couldn’t *believe* how hungry I was. Then I took a nap. I think that’s when Murph left to tell everyone about it. They brought Miles back to nurse again in a couple hours and then they let him stay in a little criblet by me. And I had the aide give me my computer and now you’re up to speed. It’s February 2 and Miles was born just after four. He weighed 7 pounds and 14 ounces and was 20 inches long and I’m going back to sleep.

Next

As a pitcher, you can’t win a game in the first inning. But you can sure lose it. You don’t think of that because if you do, you *will* lose it. No, you throw the next pitch to the next batter with the idea of recording the next out and advancing to the next inning. And one of two things will happen. You’ll run out of outs or they’ll take you out for whatever reason (too may hits, too many runs, too many pitches).

I have a similar situation. My son, Miles, will be born in February. Unless something happens. But I can’t think about that. I need to think about taking care of the two of us one day at a time. Eating right, getting enough sleep. Exercising (that used to include throwing some pitches until my new center of gravity screwed with my mechanics), being careful of my exposure to raw meat and chemicals. Abstain from drinking alcohol.

In some ways, it’s getting easier. What I eat is staying down. On the other hand, now I’m wanting to eat weird things. Not pickles, not ice cream. Pickles are just cucumbers in vinegar and seasonings and stuff and cucumbers are healthy for you. Ice cream is in the dairy group and you’ll see it right there on the food pyramid. No, I have started putting ranch dressing on things. Vegetables, steak, potatoes. Strawberries are especially tasty. Yes, I told you it’s weird.

There are milestones that I’ll pass along this journey. I’ve passed a couple. I’ve had to start wearing new clothes. The morning sickness that led me to discover Miles was a kind of milestone, too. I’ve felt him move.

The biggest milestone in my mind, is outside my body though. It is wedding my beloved. But it’s not going to happen soon. Or maybe ever. He’s wanting to be here for me, but he doesn’t want to “sign himself to a lifetime contract”. Or at least an 18 year contract. if i could figure out a way to offer him option years… Mutual option years. I mean you never know.

Rumor has it he’s on the block and might be traded. In that case I’m not sure I want the contract because some of the clauses would be hard to enforce. Like waiting for Miles, I have to wait for this, too.

Am I rushing it?

Am I rushing it? I asked Murph about names and he pointed out that we had until the end of the season before we even knew what sex the baby is. And names, it turns out is a big issue.

Because mine might be changing too. We didn’t discuss that but it has crossed my mind on more than one occasion. Do I want to be Naismith, Naismith-O’Connor or O’Connor. I think the second option is out. I cannot see that filling on a uniform. I don’t want to lose my name though. I’ve had it for my entire life. Nothing against O’Connor but…. On the other hand, a new name to start a new life would be appropriate. It would be so much easier if I knew what I wanted to do.

And now names for The Rookie. We only talked about boy names. We didn’t exactly discuss it but we were suggesting Irish names to go with O’Connor. If I don’t keep my name, I want The Rookie to have it as a middle name. And so I want a short first name to go with it. I suggested Miles. It’s Irish and short. Murph suggested Seamus but I don’t like trying to say “Seamus Naismith” when he gets in trouble. So I suggested Kelly. That might be a good name so we’re thinking about it.

I’m done scouting. Eric is back. Turns out his daughter’s injuries were serious but not severe.

As for me, my arm feels better, but weak. I am able to do soft toss now and pitch in another month. And yes, you can pitch while you’re pregnant. Dottie Wiltse pitched till she was six months along. I guess that when it starts interfering with your mechanics you need to stop. I can’t describe how good it feels just to play catch. It’s something I can do with the team. It’s like I belong again.

If the team is the ET’s are you alienated when you’re with the team or without them?

Oh yeah and while I’m here, what did the alien say to the 20oz coke?

Take me to your liter.

The Rookie

So we’re in this together. I have a partner to companion me, aid me and comfort me. I’m not doing this alone. Which, I guess you figured out, means I *am* doing it. No opting out.

But now everything I do is magnified. People tell me I’m eating for two. And other things. But that’s a little less than totally true. I’m doing it for three. Because my partnership is important as well as my child. I can’t just think of me anymore. When I first came to love Larry, I thought I knew what forever would be like and what it meant to want and love someone forever.

I had no clue. This child is forever and the love I have is so intense it’s almost painful. I don’t even know if I’m carrying a daughter or a son and I won’t know till the end of the season. For now, I’m calling him or her (“it” is not any word I want to use in reference to my baby) The Rookie. And I love The Rookie like I’ve never loved before in my life.

And The Rookie’s dad? He takes my breath away. He’s not the smartest, fastest, strongest or any other -est of mankind but there is no other man like him and I love who he is. And all of you are wondering the same thing…..are we getting married.

The quick answer is “not yet”. Which is to say we’ve mentioned the subject but not reached any kind of conclusion. There is all kinds of ancillary crap associated with that and stuff like whether I’ll keep my name or hyphenate it or change it. And, well, stuff.

I’d do it though. I don’t know if he’s ready to do it. We have time. After all, The Rookie is forever.

Both of us knowing

Well, if you follow these blogs at all, you know that I’m expecting. If it’s not something you wnat to read about, hang on, I’ll talk about something else then tell you when you can bail.

Skip is back from outer space. Or wherever it is they kidnap you and return you with no memory. At least that’s what seems to be happening. When you talk to him about it, he changes the subject. I have an uneasy relationship with him. Part of that is that, even though I know it’s not his fault, I feel like I was abandoned. And also, I feel pretty worthless as a pitcher right now and I need some help getting through it and I’m getting short answers that don’t really let me know how management feels about me. See? It’s gone from my calling him “Skip” to calling him “management”. That’s what it feels like though. They (whoever “they” are) took Skip and replaced him with “management” in the same body. I don’t like it. I feel awkward. If I didn’t have a NTC, I’d expect to be traded. When I brought it up though, the line I got was, “If you don’t want to be on the team…” I *want* to be a productive part of some team’s rotation. If that can still happen here, I’ll stay. But the flip side of “if you don’t want to be on the team…” is “if the team wants to trade me…..” I just want to really feel that I’m truly wanted. I’ve said what I have to say I think though I may revisit this again.

Okay guys who are grossed out by pregnancy, go play Halo or something.

I had an ultrasound over the break and I’m about 9 weeks along now. According to what they say, I’m looking at delivering this package the day pitchers and catchers report. I stopped taking the pills–you’re not supposed to take birth control while you’re pregnant. They say it’ll be okay though since I stopped early. My doctor says that he’ll want me to miss spring training to recover and I got mad at him. What the hell did pioneer women do? They kept on keeping on. If Dottie Witse can pitch six weeks pregnant, I can pitch a couple weeks post-partum. I think that the tradition of physicians only being available to the rich may have led to this six-week convalescent bullcrap.

Oh and I talked to the other half to the equation. He said he’ll be there for me. I’m not sure in what capacity though. I don’t want a friend, I want a partner. He’s expressed interest in that but it’s unclear how that will work. I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of ring (though I must point out that I will have earned it). So I guess we talk some more.

I am serious, and stop calling me “Shirley”

Well, I don’t have stomach cancer. I don’t have kidney disease or even gallstones.

It’s more serious than any of that. I am…pregnant. Surely, you can’t be serious?!? I’m not going to be a smart-mouth and ask how it happened. I learned the basic hows, whys, and whatnot in middle school. But really, I’m taking precautions. Meaning birth control. In my case, oral contraceptives. I take one of the ones that reduces how often you have your period. Which is actually the main reason I take it. I’m not a party girl and Larry and I broke up several months ago. I don’t think I forgot to take one (I mean, I would remember if I forgot, right?). I also don’t think I took any over-the-counter medicine that would compromise it. And no one said there would be an issue with anesthesia or pain meds. I guess when they say there’s a one in a jillion chance that you can become pregnant while taking the pill, well, I’m just that lucky jillionth person. Just like I was lucky enough to be seriously injured in two of three seasons playing baseball.

Because I’m not a party girl, I know exactly when it happened. And with whom. But that doesn’t make it any easier. to deal with. How do you tell someone, “Hey, you helped make me pregnant.”? When I can answer that, then I can approach him about it. But for now, the only people who know will be the three people who actually read this blog. The other people who know are all doctors who can’t violate my privacy and George because I work with him. He’s sworn to secrecy.

So I’m not going to die. But now I have a big choice. Do I tell him? Or do I ask my doctor for the “abortion pill”? I think I tell him. In person. The All-Star break is my best chance.

Funny. Two years ago I was talking about having a baby and it all seemed so easy and natural but now it seems so complicated. I guess that’s how it goes, though.

Scouting on a more permanent basis

Eric Scalf is no longer scouting. Well, that’s not exactly true, he took a leave of absence. His wife, Trisha, was one of the three people killed in the big train wreck in Missouri. His daughter Aimee was seriously hurt and he is dealing with all of that. I’m truly sorry about his wife’s death–I met her once during spring training and she was very energetic and articulate. My thoughts are with him and his family. George and I, along with the rest of the scouting staff, will be attending the funeral on Wednesday.

This means that I’m now a full-time scout for the next, oh, while. Maybe. I’ll explain in a bit. But scouting is okay, I don’t really mind it. In fact, I’ve learned a few things. Mostly about “tendencies” and how you can see trends in 15 at-bats that you can’t always see in 5.

Last time I told you that George and I got food poisoning. Well, George is better and I, well, I am not. So, that means I must have something more seriously wrong with me. I have an appointment with someone tomorrow and we’ll see what it is. The thing is, WebMD says it could be anything from gallstones to kidney failure. None of the choices sound good. A couple of them I couldn’t even pronounce. Murphy says there’s no point in being worried, because either I will know for sure tomorrow or at least they’ll have it narrowed down. It would be just my luck though. Overcoming two major injuries to die of stomach cancer.

My family tends toward heart disease, so I never really knew anyone who had cancer. I think it’s a scarier thought because of that. If you look around on the internet for blogs, you find guys who survived, guys who are fighting now, and memorials to guys who didn’t make it. So that doesn’t help much.

As for kidney issues, one of my ex-boyfriend’s dad was on dialysis. He led a pretty normal life, but he was a college professor, not a ballplayer.

I don’t know about any of that other stuff. Gallstones looks pretty minor. They generally don’t have to keep you overnight even. So I guess I cross my fingers and hope I have gallstones.

If it’s something serious, though, I’ll have to quit baseball. I don’t want to think about that, so I’ll end it here. Wish me luck tomorrow.