The photo booth doesn't lie...

Saturday night we attended a wedding and reception. We've known about this event for several months. I remember when we got the invitations, I thought WOW, I'll almost be there by then...I'll be 36 weeks. Who knows if I'll even be able to attend...maybe she'll come early.

In past blogs, I talked about what I initially bought for the wedding that I could wear versus what I wanted to find to wear for the wedding...and did I mention? I finally did find that perfect maxi flowy dress that would fit over my very large belly? I found it on a random trip to the mall...when Ajay and I wanted to escape the heat wave a few weeks ago, we decided to head where Orange County heads when they want to shop...South Coast Plaza.

Anyway, at South Coast, there's a Barney's Coop, and that's where I found the perfect strapless, floor length black silk dress. It's fitted at the bust....in my case, very very fitted at the bust, and then just flows and flows for days all the way to the floor. I even had to buy some new shoes to make myself tall enough so as not to trip on the dress...here they are...in case you're curious...


Fun right?

And even more fun? At the wedding, the bride and groom had this ingenious idea of hiring a photo booth for the night, and everybody was supposed to have their photos taken, and then on the spot, you add them to their photo album with some special words for the bride and groom. I loved the idea!

After a night of receiving all sorts of compliments on my lovely dress and hearing just how great I was looking for beginning my 9th month of pregnancy, we got in line for the photo booth. We got in the photo booth. We took pictures in the photo booth. And what did I see to my horror and dismay?

The photo booth that I loved so dearly had not done me any favors....at all. After getting my nails and toes done and hair cut and my eyebrows done and I even gave myself a mud mask before the event (which is about five more services than I did for my own wedding!)...after all that effort, the camera doesn't lie...I look like I could eat Ajay. I mean, seriously, look at the size of that beefy arm! And those boobs that I tried so hard to make perky with the single largest strapless push up bra I've ever seen! And those pudgy fingers!!! I think I actually outgrew my wedding ring before the camera in the booth! I mean, seriously, are those dimples I see on the back of my hands? As in the kind you see on baby fatted infant hands?

Sure, my husband is the single sweetest and most suportive guy ever...he has reminded me on countless occasions throughout my pregnancy that this is what happens when you make your body support an entirely separate human being...and I get that. I certainly wouldn't want to be the anorexic friend of a friend who proudly told us all that she only gained 12 pounds during her pregnancy, and delivered a 5 pound baby, and by the time she got home from the hospital she only had 3 more pounds to go. Don't get me wrong...I don't want to be that girl. It's just that I must have been looking in our magical slimming mirror when getting ready for the wedding because these photos captured a version of me that I hadn't seen before!

My tattoo

Friday night we went to dinner at a restaurant in a counter-culture outdoor mall. It's one of our favorite places to eat.

Looking around, we noticed that every single "young person" was tattooed and/or facially pierced. Ajay and I discussed the fact that our generation missed out on the tattoo trend by a few short years....while some of my friends are tattooed, it's more of the peace-sign-on-the-ankle variety rather than full sleaves, fully colored Starry Night by Van Gogh.

Anyway, we talked on about the prominance tattoo placement...in my 20-something years, tattoos were placed in a location where they could be covered up without much effort...the tattoos of choice would be on your ankle, butt or back of your shoulder, which was more daring because what if you wanted to wear a strapless dress in your friend's wedding? What then? How do you prude it up and hide your bad-girl ways?

Given the prominance of modern day tattoo placement, wouldn't you have to make damn sure that your tattoo said something about who you are, boiled down to the core element of your being? Wouldn't you need to do a decade of transendental meditation to figure out just what this element would be that so clearly defines you? And with that said, do you really have that much time under your belt by your 20-something years to really know what you are at your core? Or is that just me in my 30-something mind over-thinking it and over emphasizing the permanence of the life defining tattoo? Perhaps this is the exact reason I never got a tattoo...well, that, and I don't feel that committed to any particular reproducable, tattooable image that I've come across in this lifetime.

So Ajay and I talked and laughed and continued to explore this topic for quite some time, and finally we got on the topic of "if you had to choose an image to tattoo on your forearm, what would the image be that best defines your essense, love, your reason for being?"


My response?


"...............I dunno...................cake?"

36 week ultrasound

Yesterday's ultrasound was good. Although Alia was feeling shy and covering her little face with her hand making a profile shot impossible, they were able to see what they needed to see to deem her healthy and of average size...currently she weights about 6.5 pounds, and they project she'll weigh about 7.5 pounds by the time she's born.

Huh?

I thought for sure she weighed at least 14 pounds by the feel of my aching pelvis. I thought she may weigh...I don't know...maybe 16 pounds at birth!

Now a thought about the ultrasound itself...the regular ultrasound tech wasn't there yesterday, so we got the backup girl. I've been with her once before, right after we lost one of the babies...who knows, maybe I have a negative association with this tech because of that. And it's not like she's ever done anything wrong. But there are a couple of things that bother me about this tech, from trivial to well, clinical.

On the trivial side, do you know anyone who gets Botox treatments? Have you ever noticed that there face is not only paralyzed, but in a constant state of dewy perspiration? Well, this tech has "the glow", and a frozen face, and although she seems to have gone through the Botox training where they tell you you may have to try harder to smile and express emotion in your newly paralyzed face, this tech's face is in a constant state of a frozen half smile. And her eyebrows and entire forehead don't move at all...so it seems like she's a vacant pod person gazing at you with an emptiness in her soul, and it kind of freaks me out.

Secondly, on the more clinical side, let me just preface this by saying that I get the state that health care is in...I worked in the medical arena for my entire career, and Ajay is an anesthesiologist so I know all too well just how overworked everyone is, and how patients just cannot receive the level of care that they received before managed care and big insurance companies took over the world. I get that. But this substitute technician has been almost completely quiet throughout both of the scans that I've had with her. My regular technician starts out by pointing out "head, feet, eyes. Here's the heart...it's got a nice rhythmic beat of XXX beats per minute...." My point is it doesn't take much to make the ultrasound a much more gratifying and informative experience for us. A little communication wouldn't kill her...but that leads me back to her entirely paralyzed face...maybe she just....can't....talk...

Changing gears....let's focus on the positive, shall we? A good part of the ultrasound was being able to see how Alia's positioned in there so now I can make sense of the movements I'm feeling. Now I know her head is down, her spine is running midline, she is facing to my right, and all those taps under my ribs are in fact little kicks with her little feet. When I feel a hardness beneath my belly button, it's most likely a shoulder. And when I feel like she's doing a full body stretch all at once...well, that's her telling us it's time for some more space.

Speaking of space, this week she torpedoed forward. My belly seems to have projected directly forward by a couple of inches over night. If I want to get a laugh out of Ajay I just turn to the side and lift my shirt...it's amazing just how much she's grown in the last weeks.

Final ultrasound?

Today I have my final ultrasound of this pregnancy. It's the one they do to take some measurements and project the birth size and weight. I've been looking forward to this ultrasound for weeks...it's been a really long time since I've been able to see Alia.

I suppose this being the final ultrasound feels a little, well, final. My pregnancy has been a long one, (of course, not any longer than any other human pregnancy), full of ups and downs. And filled with a lot of fear.

When I learned that IVF worked and that I was in fact pregnant, it was no surprise. In the 12 days I had to wait between the procedure and the pregnancy test, I developed major pregnancy symptoms...I retained water like crazy, my breasts seemed to grow a size over night, and I just had that feeling that I was pregnant. And knowing that we implanted four fertilized embryos in hopes of getting twins, I actually had a feeling that there may be multiples in there growing away because the physical symptoms were so strong.

I remember my fertility doc telling me after the first ultrasound that she saw twins growing, and not to get too attached to the idea until after the first trimester. So I spent the first 12 weeks being somewhat reserved about not only having a baby, but I tried to keep a lid on my happiness about being fortunate enough to have two babies at once. At my 12 week scan, I found out there was one boy and one girl. Oh my gosh...that was such a happy day...I was so excited to find out we'd have one of each, and my happiness was probably compounded because I made it to the "magical" 12 week mark, meaning from that point on, the odds for survival for the babies grew exponentially.

By this time in the pregnancy, I was having lots of pregnancy related illnesses...I had a pretty tough time. I threw up every day for quite awhile. Sometimes the nausea was accompanied by migraines. The doctor told me this happened more with twin pregnancies because the babies produced a lot of progesterone...she advised drinking lots of water to flush out the excess, but it didn't seem to help the headaches...and Advil was off limits. So we had to wait it out. During all this, I still felt fundamentally fortunate. So I was sick every day...I'm sure I'm not the only one, I kept telling myself...and after all...I'm having two babies!!! What do I expect! I also felt really fortunate to not have to work at this point. In my career I had seen lots of female colleagues struggle through the early stages of pregnancy and morning sickness, and I felt really fortunate to not have to struggle like they did.

At my 20 week anatomy scan, we found out that we had lost our little boy. That day is still the saddest day of my life, and can bring tears to my eyes instantly...all my mind has to hear is the thought "20 weeks" and it goes right back there. I remember being so sick with a terrible cold, but so happy to have Ajay there for the scan. I remember as the stenographer came into the room and greeted us, I told her I couldn't wait to see them, and I hoped they were awake and feeling playful. And she put the probe to my tummy...and told us she had bad news. Just that memory alone makes my heart sink.

I spent the next few weeks coming to terms with how things changed so quickly. I wrote about my loss, read about other people who lost their babies late in the pregnancy. I tried my best to come to terms with the new picture in my head. Although I had done my best to take it slow with my hope, I had finally felt safe with my twin pregnancy, and now it wasn't going to happen the way my mind had come to see it. There was also a feeling of being gypped...I felt like I had endured all the sickness associated with twin pregnancy and wouldn't get the reward at the end. I removed myself from online expectant twin Mom forums, told a few of the expectant twin Moms I had come into contact with who had similar due dates what had happened, and that I wouldn't be able to keep up with them and wished them luck. It was all just too painful. That was a really dark time trying to come to terms with how quickly everything had changed.

I can also attest to the resilience of human beings after this experience. Slowly, our minds turn the corner...slowly we come to terms. Slowly we begin to see the happiness that the new alternative offers. We see the benefits of what we now have versus what we thought we had. So since we lost our little guy, I've felt my mind shift. And don't get me wrong...it was not easy. In this transitional period, there were days I didn't get out of bed. And as time went on and I began to cope, there were still things that were just to painful for me to deal with...like not being able to see baby boy clothes at the baby store. But all in all, I began to recognize how fortunate I still was. In reading about other Mom's who had lost babies at 4 months, 5 months and all the way up to full term, I realized I had something they didn't have...I still had a healthy little girl growing away. My OB also pointed out that she'd be a safer pregnancy moving forward because she didn't have to compete for space or nutrients. And let's not forget that two babies are double the size and weight of one baby, so my pregnancy became a whole lot more comfortable during the months that followed.

So, as I said before, today is the last time I'll be seeing our little girl while she's still on the inside. This gives me a feeling of finality, and even closure to some extent. We're all done with ultrasounds now. We made it through 8+ months. We just might be parents after all! And yes, I'm still fearful, if you couldn't tell by the last remark...I still am afraid to count my little chicken before she hatches. I don't know how to love her less or keep my excitement to meet her in check at this point...my arms already feel the need to hold her. But after 3 years in the making, we're further along in the process as we've ever been, and for that I'm grateful and optimistic.

More nesting...and more nesting

I've been feeling the nesting genes kicking in lately. From finishing the nursery for Alia's arrival to clearing out my own closet of all the things I will never wear again, to preparing the house for the arrival of my family members that will be visiting after Alia's born...the house is in a fairly constant state of being cleaned and fluffed. Spare bathrooms have been challenged into coughing up space for our visitors' cosmetics and other things. Space has been created in shelving that formerly held stuff that I didn't know what to do with (and now I know...it should have gone in the garbage a loooong time ago) so guests have a place to keep their stuff. Spots have been cleaned off furniture. The outdoor furniture has been moved from the garage's winter storage to the patio where it belongs...allowing me to park my car where it belongs once again.

Yesterday I worked on the outside windows on the back of the house...I know, it doesn't sound like much, but we have...let's see...two single french doors and two sets of double french doors that are all ten feet high, as well as four windows, just on one side of the back of the house. So getting the cleaning stuff, the step stool, the paper towels, and then more paper towels, the broom to knock off spider webs, the scrubby sponge to clean the hard to dislodge baked-on bird poop, as well as a bucket of soapy water to use with the scrubby sponge on the baked-on bird poop....well, you get the picture, was no small task. What started as a little "that spot needs to be cleaned" turned into an obsessive compulsive Rain Man like effort to rid my home of all things nasty.

Today I sit here typing in the office/library, admiring yesterday's hard work of cleaning the french doors...only...what's that? Could it be possible that the little spot that began yesterday's obsession is actually on the inside?

Attention Deficit or Just Tidy?

This morning I decided to tackle a small project that I've been putting off since last November...

I've been saving all my ultrasound printouts since my very first one at the fertility doctor's office. While I was under the care of my fertility doctor, I got an ultrasound every week to check on how the little Hatchlings were doing... which means that for the first 12 weeks I had weekly printouts...several per week. Then, when I "graduated" from her care, I continued to get ultrasounds quite often at my regular OB/GYN, particularly after I lost one of the babies...I was so nervous that I went in every week just to make sure things were okay with our little girl.

Flash forward 8 months, and here we are...I had begun to put the printouts in a photo album but that only lasted about the first couple of weeks. After the first few weeks, I decided rather than taking all the extra time to put the photo inside the clear protective sleave, it would be better to just cram the printouts in the book in no particular order.

So today I picked up where I left off eight months ago, and finished the ultrasound photo album. And just so we're clear...no, I didn't "scrapbook" all the photos, using creative stamps and cut out shapes and thought bubbles...no, no, no...you see, the goal was to actually start and finish the little project, and inserting any creative brainpower and extra work would have for certain thwarted my effort and become quickly overwhelming. And no, I don't have a thing against all you scrap bookers out there...I just don't have what it takes to ever complete a single album. Today's goal was to just get those photo printouts in chronological order, label which baby was photographed (in the first 20 weeks, I had twin ultrasounds), and put them under the clear plastic protector in the little photo book. And I accomplished my goal.

What has happened in the past when I've tried to create a scrapbook as described above is I buy a scrapbook, bring it home. Then I go to a scrapbook store and spend about $150 on all sorts of colored paper, stickers, special paper cutters, patterned cutters, paper texturizers, and other accessories and bring them home. I put them on top of the scrapbook and go watch TV or sit at my computer and check email. Then a week later, I pick up the scrapbook and the $150 worth of scrap booking stuff and put it on the kitchen table. I get out the pictures that I'm going to work on on put them next to the scrapbook stuff. Then I decide to clean the kitchen instead...because I can't stand to do a project if my surroundings are messy.

Then from the kitchen cleaning, I decide I could throw in a load of laundry before I start working. And after the laundry is in, I decide the kitchen now looks really nice, but the family room adjoining the dining room needs some attention, so I work on that. By then the laundry can go in the dryer. From the laundry room, I return to the kitchen table and realize that the kitchen would look a lot better if I put all this scrapbook making stuff away. So I collect it all, place it in a plastic bin, and put it in the closet.

And that's how I roll.

And just when I was bragging

Yep, only yesterday I was blogging away about how I sleep like the dead most nights. So of course, last night I woke up at 2:30 and my mind and body were AWAKE!!! Like with bright eyes and bushy tails!

2:30 a.m....might as well get up and pee...

3:30 a.m....guess I can pee again since I'm still up...

4:30 a.m....get up and have a glass of milk...maybe that will help...

5:30 a.m....finally fall asleep again...

6:30 a.m....gotta pee again...

I suppose this is just nature's way of preparing me for what's to come in less than a month from now!

35 week development

Here's what the experts at Babycenter.com have to say about how Alia's doing this week...

How your baby's growing
Your baby doesn't have much room to maneuver now that he's over 18 inches long and tips the scales at 5 1/4 pounds (pick up a honeydew melon). Because it's so snug in your womb, he isn't likely to be doing somersaults anymore, but the number of times he kicks should remain about the same. His kidneys are fully developed now, and his liver can process some waste products. Most of his basic physical development is now complete — he'll spend the next few weeks putting on weight.

How your life's changing
Your uterus — which was entirely tucked away inside your pelvis when you conceived — now reaches up under your rib cage. If you could peek inside your womb, you'd see that there's more baby than amniotic fluid in there now. Your ballooning uterus is crowding your other internal organs, too, which is why you probably have to urinate more often and may be dealing with heartburn and other gastrointestinal distress. If you're not grappling with these annoyances, you're one of the lucky few.

Miss Manners Nightmare or Just Plain Practical?

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the baby shower that the ladies at Ajay's work threw for us. I received an enormous amount of the most thoughtful gifts...lots and lots of clothes, as well as toys, blankets, and whatever else you can think of that a new baby might need or want. Here's a shot of the loot that I came home with that day......and this photo doesn't include the little red wagon we received packed full of everything a little girl could ever need for a day at the beach!



I also have several girlfriends who had babies somewhere around two years ago...and let's just say that these little girls are very well dressed little cuties. So the last time I got together with the girls, I came home with a whole bag of baby girl clothes....



We're talking overalls, onesies, little dresses with matching little ruffled bottoms...tons of cute little things that look like they've never been worn. When I was telling my friend Tamra about all these great hand-me-downs I received from our mutual friend, she said the clothes look unworn because they weren't ever worn...and the reason why is that for most baby showers, people love to buy the itty bitty sized stuff, and you end up with too much of the smallest size. After reflecting about the motherload of things I received at my shower, I had to agree. I had enough stuff to warrant changing Alia three times a day for the first three months. And that's where my friend let me in on her little secret...

She said before her baby was born, she gathered up all the 0-3 month stuff that she received as a gift (that came with a gift receipt) and carte blanche exchanged it for 12-18 month sized stuff---the same exact clothing item, only a year later in size. She said that way she stretched out the usefulness of all the thoughtful gifts she received, and nothing went to waste. (However, Tamra also said when she let her sister in on this strategy, her sister was less than impressed and told her it was rude to return or exchange the gifts.) To me, though, it made sense...all the teeny tiny little summer clothe styles that I received for Alia will work just as great next summer, when she's wearing the larger sizes.

I don't know what Miss Manners would say, but for this girl, I'd much rather get good use out of these generous gifts than let them go to waste (or rub Alia's poor baby skin raw by countless outfit changes per day in an attempt to use them all.)

So today, that's how I spent my day...I gathered up many of the things that people were kind enough to give me and thoughtful enough to include a gift receipt with and exchanged them for the exact same outfit, only bigger.

So for any of you out there who are not afraid to offend the Miss Manners of the world, there's my secret...I exchanged some clothes for bigger sizes. Because for me, I'd much rather think that a gift I've given gets used regardless of the receiver exchanging it for a different size.

Nocturnal Habits of the Ready-to-Pop

Everyone, mainly strangers on the street, strangers in the grocery store, tells me "get your rest now" when they see the very large, voluminous belly that now pokes out beneath even my maternity tops. But most of my girlfriends who have kids say "yeah, you're at that uncomfortable part where sleep is impossible...I didn't sleep for the last two months!"

But here's the thing...aside from the waking up several times per night to pee, (which has been happening since my third month of pregnancy) and the ensuing insomnia that occurs on occasion after my potty break, I've been sleeping like the dead. And for long amounts of time....I'm in bed by 9:30 (or 10 on a wild and crazy night) and get up around 8:00 in the a.m. And before pregnancy? I was up before 6 every day.

Back when I was pregnant with twins, I remember reading that the little baby parasites really take it out of your body and you need at least an extra hour or two of sleep per night. Apparently my body took this to heart, because since reading that, I've been sleeping like there's no tomorrow...

And dreams? Some mornings I'm astounded and even embarrassed by the colorfulness of my imagination on these new hormones. Last night, for example, in my dream Ajay was out of town, and I somehow got involved with a group of people who were up to no good....including Formula One racer David Coulthard and Victoria Bechkam. Oh, and we all lived in Bloomington, Indiana, which is where I went to college. And David Coulthard was driving a 1980's Trans Am or Camaro and was involved in some sort of plot involving Victoria Beckham...I never found out what they were up to but it seemed that they were ripping some one off...a heist if you will. And they were using my house (which was really not my house...it was a condo I was considering buying that my realtor currently owned and resided in...only she was out of town for the weekend....because that makes sense, right?). And in this condo, the master bedroom contained a bathroom so big that it could have been a gym locker room...it even had a steam shower big enough for 30 people to sit in. And then, all sorts of people were coming out of the woodwork to crash there, including my Dad, my brother, and friends from high school and college. They would knock, bring in duffle bags, inflated rafts for the community pool, ice chests (because Hoosiers are an ice chest loving people), and enough clothing for a week or so. And there were all sorts of things going on around me...and I was clueless about everything. It was as if people were coming in and taking over my home...and I had no control...and there were bags everywhere...and I didn't agree with a lot of what was going on...people coming and going all night long, police showing up to tell me that the neighbors were complaining about the noise...it was a disaster.

Ummm, I just read my last blog...and maybe this dream isn't so crazy.

Three weeks, six days, 22 hours to go, give or take....

This weekend we decided to go on one of our last few adults-only, fancy French out-to-dinner dates. With the days starting to pass quickly, and things starting to line up for the new baby's arrival, we thought it would be smart to use this time for ourselves...spending time in ways that a few months from now, we'll say "remember that weekend when we took four naps, went for a swim when we felt like it, popped out for a dinner date, and slept in, and watched the soccer quarter finals and formula one racing? Yeah, those were the days!" While I am happy in the moment and enjoying our current state of having no responsibilities, I'm also just about to pop with excited anticipation of being able to hold our baby on the outside.

Looking at my calendar for the upcoming weeks, I notice things are about to get busy. We're going to a wedding next Saturday, which means I'm doing my final pre-baby pampering hair cut and manicure/pedicure on Friday. While that may not seem like a big deal, I don't often allow myself such extensive services all at once...I usually space them out, so I'll feel very spoiled come Friday!

Ajay's brother and family are moving from New York to Los Angeles next weekend as well, so we also hope to see them and welcome them to a new coast. Then, on July 1, Ajay's Mom Maya and her entourage arrive---Maya will stay for about six weeks give or take . The following weekend is a little baby shower luncheon for family and close friends, and a pre-birthday celebration dinner that evening for Ajay. And from there, we will coast into the final weeks of this pregnancy and I'll continue to send subliminal messages to our little baby that it's okay to come out now should she want to.

After the baby is born, my Mom and sister arrive for about ten days. Talk about having a house full! With both Grandmas being here, as well as my sister, (and don't forget Ajay and me) I think this baby will be well looked after. I've heard lots of advice...actually more than I care to have....about how I've planned it all wrong and I should have spaced out the help. I've heard everything from "you don't want that many people at your house at once" to "you don't want both grandmothers there at once" to "you don't want anyone there at all---it's the perfect time for the two of you to bond with the baby"...believe me, I've thought of these things. I've heard that I need to set up my own personal boundaries during this time...be it "wash your hands on entry to the house" or "from 2-4 is Mommy/Baby time" but I guess I am just not that rigid of a person...I've never been one to follow the rules, so why would I feel comfortable making rules that even I'm not likely to follow?

So I didn't. I told my family to come when they wanted to come, stay as long as they wanted to stay. I do realize that I'll be learning this thing called motherhood in front of a lot of eyes, and my mistakes and frustrations will be shared with everyone I know. But I have to think that if anyone wants the best for us, it's our family. If anyone will be there to hold the baby while I fall over from sleep deprivation, it'll be our family. If anyone will do the grocery shopping and cook the meals and clean the kitchen, it'll be our family...(preferably my sister because she's a really good kitchen cleaner! You should see that girl's sink sparkle).

Will I kick myself later for not taking control? Maybe, and from what everyone says, probably. Will I do it differently with the next baby? You betcha! Am I person that can learn from the experience of others rather than repeating their mistakes? Not so much!

A note to my friend

I received this anonymous comment over the weekend and felt so deeply about it, I thought I'd incorporate it into its own blog. This comment refers to my 20 week anatomy scan blog, the day when I found out that our little boy had died.

Andrea,
I remember reading this a while back. And I didn't respond, I didn't
know what to say. Well, here I am now. A mother of an angel that went to heaven
at 32 weeks, he died of a true knot and nuchal cord 4 weeks ago today. I'm so
sorry for your loss.
I always read your blog, because I was 2 weeks ahead of
you. I felt like I could totally relate to you. I, too, went through fertility
treatments, injectibles and IUI. And when I got pregnant was so afraid of being
happy in fear it would end, and then I found your blog. Your optimism was
contagious. I want to thank you for that. I had a great pregnancy and would not
trade it for anything in the world. My precious baby died, but I was able to
hold him. Yes, I had to deliver him. He was perfect and I'm happy I was a part
of the miracle of life. Thank you for your blog. You are truly inspiring. I look
forward to the safe delivery of your baby girl.
PCOS in Indy

First, to my anonymous friend, PCOS in Indy, I'm so sorry for your loss. I understand why you didn't comment...I understand why you didn't know what to say...even having gone through a similar loss, I can tell you that I still don't know if there is anything anyone can say to make you feel better. I know that over time, it does get better...but I also know that driving down the road today, I noticed that tears were streaming down my face and I was deep in thought--- thinking about the day we found out our little guy died. And this was before I read about your loss...it popped into my head for no reason, and I suspect it will continue to do so. Thank you for sharing your story.

Who knows why these things happen, and who knows why these things happen to the people they happen to. Who knows why Britney Spears pops out kids like crazy, while normal, responsible, loving people have issues with infertility, and lose babies that have become their hope and joy and future all wrapped up in one.

When I run into various neighbors I haven't seen in awhile on my infrequent walks, many of them ask "when are the twins coming"...to this I have to respond, "well, unfortunately we lost our little boy...but our little girl is coming in about a month". To this, there is always a mortified look on their face, and they stutter, apologize, and don't know what else to say. I suppose it's in my nature to feel like I should take away their discomfort by "making it okay". I tell them that our little girl is growing like crazy, is healthy and very big. I smile. I suppose I'm trying to let them know that it's okay...we've survived...and there's always some silver lining even when it seems impossible to see.

But then there was one neighbor who asked me "what happens to the one that died? Is he still in there?" To this I put on my best no-teeth smile, nod my head, and explain that nature takes care of resorbing him back into my body...since they were twins there's no option to deliver him. I suppose that's a better answer than bursting into tears, right?

34 weeks development

Today, Babycenter reports that our baby now weighs about 4 3/4 pounds (like your average cantaloupe) and is almost 18 inches long. Her fat layers — which she'll need to regulate her body temperature once she's born — are filling her out, making her rounder. Her skin is also smoother than ever. Her central nervous system is maturing and her lungs are continuing to mature as well. If you've been nervous about preterm labor, you'll be happy to know that babies born between 34 and 37 weeks who have no other health problems generally do fine. They may need a short stay in the neonatal nursery and may have a few short-term health issues, but in the long run, they usually do as well as full-term babies.

Ahhhhhh.....relief

Yesterday I posted all about the "lung catch" I had developed, thanks to my organs getting more squished from our big girl's continued growth. All day, with every move I made, I had a sharp knife-like pain going through my top left chest...I was miserable.

From time to time, I would try to dislodge the stuck part of my left lung by raising my left arm over my head, by rocking back and forth...all to tremendous sharp pain. Nothing was working. I tried to steam myself in the shower, thinking the density of the steam may help to change the dynamic in my lungs, but it didn't help; I tried taking very slow, progressively deeper breaths...no go. I tried to carry on with my normal day, but that thought was quickly abandoned because, seriously, I was in a lot of pain!

I finally resigned to lie in the only position possible without pain...on my right side. I spent the majority of the day reading in this position...Robin Barker's Baby Love, not the other, evil Baby Love I wrote about previously.

I read as far into the book as warranted by my current state of expecting a baby, but not actually having one yet. At a certain point in the book, the author begins to discuss specific problems and specific remedies, which although I'm sure could warrant reading ahead, I felt would be better as a reference rather than a book to read from cover to cover...because hopefully I won't be needing all those remedies! Anyway...after 100 or so pages, I turned to the magical box of entertainment to help me pass the hours while in a horizontal position.

O....M.....G......!!!!!
Where have I been? Why has no one told me about Tori and Dean...Inn Love? I stumbled onto a marathon of an entire season of the shows, and spent hour after hour glued to the screen. Before tuning in to this show, I was vaguely aware of Tori's scandalous divorce...I knew that she and her current husband were both married when they met and fell in love. I also knew Tori best, as most of my peer group does, as Donna Martin on Beverly Hills, 90210...aka 9-0. I didn't really think of myself as a Tori fan, but didn't dislike her either...I was neutral...until now.

Okay, seriously...I don't know...maybe it's expert filming...maybe Tori and Dean's show is not really reality TV and is actually scripted...but they seem like two super nice, super normal people working hard to make their way. After watching 8 hours of the marathon, I just couldn't understand why I've heard Diva and Tori mentioned in the same sentence...seriously...she seems really well adjusted, full of ideas for making things happen in her life, and a kind and sensitive person...she seemed like a person you could easily be friends with...minus the constant grueling paparazzi, of course...that part would get annoying! But after my day spent on the couch with Tori and Dean, I was a bonafide fan. I want them to come over and hang out by the pool.

Ajay finally got home last night around 10 after another 15 hour day at the hospital....his second in a row....he was exhausted. I was making his lunch for the following day (and in a lot of pain) when he came through the door. That's when it happened...the single biggest sneeze in my personal history of sneezes...it was almost cartoon-like....ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-chooooooooooooooooooooo. And oh my God did it hurt. I felt like my left lung fell out of my chest...poof...it's gone...imploded or something like that. It brought involuntary tears to my eyes. And then when I dared to take a sneeze-recovery breath, I realized....it was gone! The catch in my chest was all clear. Tentatively I drew a slow deep breath...no catch...no pain. Thank the baby jesus!

People who live in glass houses...

Our house is predominantly glass. There is either a predominant window or door in every single exterior wall in our home. Oh, yeah, and both major roof lines contain sky lights that run the majority of the length of the roof line. So at any given point, we have maximum sunlight...and heat...pouring into our home.

I'm a person that runs warm...ever since I was a kid, I loved air conditioning. In the summer time, my Mom would find me fast asleep in front of the air conditioning grate during nap time...I'm talking waaaay back when naps were a daily requirement rather than a luxury.

Now lets talk about what happens when a girl like me has a summer time pregnancy, and adds about 25 pounds of natures best insulation to my body, and puts a nice little warm baby in my belly, and fills my body with all sorts of new hormones...just in case I wasn't warm enough before with all the glass skylights and windows and blubber.

I'M HOT!!!!!!

All the time...I'm hot. So as I sit here, being hot, I look down and realize what I've become...I'm wearing my sleepy-time sports bra, pj bottoms, an nothing else. I think to myself...is it the gardener day? Or the pool guy day? Are there any people stopping by that may, with a single glance, be able to take in what a site I've become? Because remember...people who live in glass houses shouldn't sit around shirtless with their 34 week pregnant belly hanging out!

Ouch again!

Okay, it's official...I've become an old, crotchety pregnant woman...full of aches and pains with every move...and not only having the aches and pains, but also feeling the need to talk about them!

So in the middle of the night last night, I was awakened by a sharp pain in my left chest/shoulder area...the more I inhaled, the more it hurt. Great...a lung-catch (or at least this is what I call it...I don't know if there's a better medical term). I've had them before...it's like when part of one side of your lung sticks to the other side of the lung and it hurts like hell. And you can't just take a deep breath to re-inflate the thing...didn't I just say it hurts like hell? So needless to say another night was spent tossing and turning with little real sleep...trying to find a comfortable position that was baby-friendly and newly dysfunctional lung friendly. Let's just say that there is only one position...and to vary from it will cause immense amounts of pain immediately...so don't even try to find another position!

I called Ajay at the hospital and he said that it makes sense that this would happen...with everything being crammed in there, there's less space above the diaphragm for normal deep breathing...b/c everything is squished. So without deep breathing, a smooshing of the lung is not just possible, but probable.

So, like I said, it's not enough that every day is filled with a new ache, pain or symptom...I have to talk about it too, in the interest of recording this journey called pregnancy. I'd make for good company in a convalescent home.

Ouch...I'm tired

Here we are....34 weeks into this journey called pregnancy. Exactly 5 weeks to go.

Over the last week, I've noticed a change in my body. First of all, I have noticed that my pelvic floor aches when I walk, aches when I turn over in bed, aches when I try to get out of bed through a series of scoots and hurling my legs over the side of the bed.

When I saw Dr. K last week, she said it's normal...my body is just getting ready for labor...my pelvic floor is widening. (Great...my hips weren't wide enough.) So, apparently, the pelvis is a bunch of bones hinged together that are able to move around when needed...kind of like those new fancy earthquake-safe buildings that shift like, 10 feet in the event of an earthquake...I wonder, though...does it hurt the buildings? Because I'm kind of wishing that my body didn't know it's so pliable!

I've also noticed that I'm back to being tired...a lot of the time. I can go out and about for a few hours, but I get really tired really easily. But here's the kicker...I can't sleep. Lounge around? Yes. Sleep? No. Dr. K says it's nature's way of preparing me for the upcoming year without a lot of sleep.

What else is new this week? Well, the baby seems to desire vast quantities of Oreos. Not 2 or 3. Not 6 or 7. Like 10 at a time. It's ridiculous how much we love them. As I happily eat them, the baby kicks away, happy as can be. Oh, and for the record, before this package of Oreos? I hadn't bought Oreos....ever. Sure, there were Oreos in the cabinet when I was little, and as a kid I ate them, but I can honestly say that before Alia suggested to buy them via a primal urge sent to my brain, I've never had them in our home. I probably hadn't had an Oreo since high school...like, um, at least 18 years ago? And how is this for my new metabolism....I actually lost a pound since my last Dr. appointment two weeks ago!

Who have I become, anyway????

My sister in law sent me a list of books she read a long time ago before the birth of her first baby. Among them was a book called Baby Love, by Robin Barker or something like that. Ajay was placing an order on Amazon and asked if I wanted anything...I told him Baby Love, but I couldn't remember the name of the author. The book that arrived was Baby Love, but by Rebecca Walker. I thumbed through it and found it to be a memoir of pregnancy... interesting... didn't seem like the kind of book Lena would have found to be informative about caring for a baby... it was all about how this author felt during her pregnancy. Since I didn't feel that it had a lot to offer in an informative way, I set it aside...until yesterday, when I finally finished I, Elizabeth after seven long months of enduring Elizabethan trials and tribulations.

I reached for a book on my nightstand...any book about babies will do...I grabbed Baby Love...here's a synopsis of the first few chapters:

"[....I'm pregnant...how do I feel about this? I've always been pretty ambivalent about it. I know! I'll go to a midwife. And an herbalist! And I saw a video of home birth....I'll have a home water birth in the dark so we don't scare the baby. That sounds like a good idea.]"

Then I get to page 35, and read something that sent me through the roof...and rather than a loose quote, I'll directly quote the author during her decision making process on how and where she'll have her baby:

"I just don't want to be lying there helpless and at the mercy of a bunch of doctors in a hurry to get to their golf game."

I set the book down...furious. How dare she? Then I picked the book back up and thumbed to the near end when she actually has the baby. She describes a horrific scenario in which she is completely unprepared for the pain she endures, ends up in the hospital with her midwife, who is dumbfounded and frozen and out of ideas that could possibly help this life-threatening situation. And in the end she demands an epidural from an anesthesiologist. Good thing the doctor wasn't already drunk on the golf course, right?

The next morning, I was still thinking about this book....so offended by her irresponsibility as an author. It made me think of a book called, I believe, Crimes Against Logic in which the author takes issue with the old American knee jerk response "you have a right to your opinion" and/or "it's a free country". It seems to me that people respond to things that they don't agree with with this kind of reaction...rather than discussing the facts in a logical and well thought-out way, we tend to just let things slide, in the interest of keeping the peace, or simply because we're just not interested in investing energy in a debate. However, in this book, the author basically says that in fact, we don't have a right to go around spouting our opinions, especially if they're unfounded and potentially harmful to others by spreading such misinformation. I found the author or Baby Love, Rebecca Walker, to fall within that category...I felt that her loose comment slandered Ajay's profession, and categorized him as some careless doctor, just waiting to get his hands on her to care for her with his own agenda in mind...possibly making decisions that benefit him rather than her, the patient, and all in the interest of getting to a non-existant golf game.

The more I thought about it, the more irritated I became, until finally, I found myself tracking down the author's email address on the internet. I wrote her the following email...and to my surprise, pushed send. Me...avoider of conflict....sent this...to some one two days before, I didn't even know existed:

I picked up Baby Love after reading very mixed reviews on Amazon. I'm expecting
my first baby in about a month, and thought it may be interesting.

I stopped on page 35, your May 12th entry, infuriated by your irresponsible
statement, "I just don't want to be lying there helpless and at the mercy of a
bunch of doctors in a hurry to get to their golf game." I thought about throwing
the book in the garbage at that moment.

My husband has dedicated his life to medicine, and as an anesthesiologist, has helped to deliver thousands of healthy babies. He has given his life to educating himself and caring for women like you who give no respect.

Your before-mentioned statement..."Lying there helpless"...where is your brain? The people surrounding you in a hospital are there to help you, and are the most trained people on birthing in our country...dedicating years of their lives to medical schools, internships, residencies, fellowships, as well as the continued education that every doctor participates in to stay current within their chosen field. I'd like to see your midwife even try to get into medical school.

..."at the mercy of a bunch of doctors"...at the mercy of? When the shit hit the fan (or actually your baby's lungs, I later found out), who was it you called? Who was it you demanded to see? As your midwife stood helpless, and as you panted around on all fours like a caged animal, who helped you? Who made the process livable? Who helped you, with no judgement, with the pain your midwife never bothered to explain to you, and you were too bullheaded to hear about from other people.

..."in a hurry to get to their golf game"? How dare you? My husband works around the
clock. He isn't alone...doctors work their asses off...80 hours a week at the hospital is nothing for my husband...all in the interest of helping people like you and enduring your funny little comments about "sure, better get the epidural now so you can get to your tee time, doc". As an author, I'll bet you've never been required to be at a given location at 6 a.m., let alone at the hospital reporting for life and death duty for the next 24 hour shift.

My husband is the kindest most caring person I've ever had the opportunity to know. Women like you come into Labor and Delivery with suspicion...telling him with anger and contempt "you better stay away from me...I won't be needing your services" to which he politely replies, "I wish you the best". Then he's expected to jump to when uneducated women like you demand his services; typically these women are so mortified with how they spoke to him and how they behaved earlier that they rarely say thank you or apologize for their initial rudeness. They can't even look him in the eye. I actually think that he should turn down service to people like you...all high and mighty and ignorant.

Like I said, I found your comment irresponsible. You have an audience, and your unfounded opinions impact the thoughts of others who are not bright enough to know the difference. It's people like you who perpetuate negative feelings about doctors, but then when it comes down to it, demand their help like you deserve it. And I'll bet you don't print a lot of retractions. Do you even realize that the doctors you slander are human beings?

I can't believe I spent money on your self obsessed book.

Andrea Lalvani

Within a few hours, I found a reply in my inbox...uh oh. I didn't think she'd be writing back. I didn't think she'd even read my email. Uh oh...there's a reason I avoid conflict...I didn't want to read her response. I didn't want to read her returned wrath. I told Ajay what I did, and how there was an email in my inbox that I was afraid to open. He, needless to say, got a big laugh out of how rough and tough I was when it came to dishing it out, but when it was time to take it, I was hiding under the bed afraid of my inbox. Okay, maybe not under the bed...God knows I wouldn't fit under there at this point...but you get the idea. So here's what Rebecca Walker wrote back to me...Ajay finally made me open it....

Hey Andrea--thanks for the comments. You may want to continue as I decided during birth that I'd rather be struck dead than labor without an anesthesiologist--and in fact spent a good hour pleading for one and feeling quite betrayed by my midwife. Best to you and your husband whom I can say from experience has done a great service to many, many people! --Rebecca

Okay, um, hmmmm. That's a pretty gracious response...if some one had written the letter that I had written to her, I would have gone toe to toe with them...conflict avoider or not. But then I started thinking...I did continue on in the book. I flipped to the back of the book when her labor started. I read the whole part about her being in the hospital with her midwife who offered her no help in her difficult labor...I read about how she asked for an anesthesiologist. I read about how the anesthesiologist came and put in an epidural, and then her labor became manageable, and she was then able to continue on to give birth. But nowhere....I repeat, nowhere, was it mentioned that she would "rather be struck dead than labor without an anesthesiologist--and in fact spent a good hour pleading for one and feeling quite betrayed by my midwife." That wasn't mentioned. At all.

So then I thought about replying...and telling her all this. And then I realized I just didn't want to put in the energy. I'm tired. I would like a snack.

Top Chef Finale...Part 2

Okay, thanks to Bravo reruns, my Tivo actually did catch the finale episode and I'm able to watch it now...

We open with what a long, hard journey we're been through together...from using countless promotional products like Uncle Ben's microwave rice to Glad Storage of Everything products and Evian water. We witnessed the sabotage of Lisa's rice on several occasions, Dale's temper tantrums and Andrews frankly bizarre behavior. We saw Spike weasel his way through nearly an entire season, and witnessed lesbian girlfriends being torn apart by bad cooking and the spirit of competition. Now, here we are...Lisa, Stephanie, and Richard...and Lisa wasn't supposed to make it this far...and she didn't even get a congratulations for making it!!!!

We open in Puerto Rico to breakfast with the remaining contenders. There's obviously a little tension in the forced-together breakie...Stephanie has a hard time making eye contact with Lisa, and Richard tells us he doesn't think she should be there. Lisa tells us they're going to be beat by the under dog.

The chefs walk in to see three famous chefs standing in front of lots of protein options...April Bloomfield, Dan Barber, and Eric Ripert all wait to be selected to be the contestants sous chefs...and the chef you chose comes with the protein options in front of them. Stephanie gets to go first...she chooses Eric Ripert. Richard picks Dan Barber. That leaves Lisa to work with April Bloomfield. I wonder if Lisa will fall in love with her. Fish, poultry, then red meat and finally dessert will be the progression of the challenge. Stephanie's surprised that dessert is a requirement, Lisa says she doesn't really have a cake recipe, and she doesn't like to eat cake anyway. (I knew I didn't like her...I mean, really, who doesn't like cake???? Does she hate puppies, too?)

They start their prep today and have 3 hours to work. Tomorrow will be the big day. In the kitchen, surprisingly Lisa works well with her sous chef...April may just be the only person that Lisa "I don't like cake" clicks with all season. They get to work. Richard tells Dan what to do...remove the chicken skins..but he doesn't really have a cohesive plan yet. It's bound to evolve at some point, right? RIGHT? Stephanie begins micromanaging Eric Ripert...pointing out exactly how she'd like his fish filleted. She has a good sense of humor about herself and points out that he is probably quite capable of filleting fish.

So end of day one, we've seen some chopping, Glad product placement, and Richard demos cooking with liquid nitrogen for all the famous chefs. Lisa pounces on the opportunity to point out that Richard is too complex and she cooks with simple foods and simple ingredients (but no cake)...all the while the guest chefs sing Richard's praises and eat out of his hand at the idea of learning some new hot shot technique. Way to go Lisa "I don't do cake". And Richard is very proud to have showed the chefs stuff they didn't know about. You go Richard. Oh, and meanwhile, Lisa and her sous chef girlfriend are getting along famously. Stephanie tells us they're not used to seeing Lisa get along with anybody, so it's really a trip. April actually HUGS Lisa goodbye at the end of the day...is it love?

Next day, the contestants arrive to an empty kitchen...in walks Tom C. who breaks the news that their sous chefs aren't coming...the judges want to make sure that they live and die by their own hand. So the chefs get to work...Stephanie prioritizes, Lisa misses April, and Richard still doesn't really have a clear thought in his head about what he's making. Stephanie starts making pasta. Lisa tells us her menu is going to reflect her personality...ummm, bitter? unappealing? how do you make angry food? Oh! She says bold, salty, sweet, spicy...WOW! that's a seriously inaccurate understanding of oneself, Lisa "I don't like puppies".

Lisa's Menu...she's keeping it Asian...grilled prawns, Tom Kha Gai Soup and Dumplings, Wagyu Beef, and Thai Rice Pudding. Rice pudding? Hasn't she learned yet? From two rice cooking disasters and one rice pudding disaster, is that really the wisest choice? But then again, we are talking about Lisa "I don't like cake".

Richard tries to tell a story with his menu...he'll have us know that he isn't just a "cook with liquid nitrogen" kind of guy...he's deeper than that...he's not all bells and whistles...he's got substance...it's not just about smoke baths and whippets for him. He's going to tell his culinary story with a menu of Scallops, Guinea Hen w/ Foie Gras & eggs, some Pork Belly, and his famous Banana "Scallop" and Bacon Ice Cream for dessert...only, ummm, Richard, you've already served that banana scallop thingy two times this season...what's it going to take for you to do a "play on" something else...like, maybe turn a pineapple into a scallop? Or even a plantain from yesterweek's challenge? Couldn't a scallop be a scallop? Oh, yeah, you 're already doing that in your first course...

Stephanie is keepin' it real with a seared Red Snapper, followed by Quail with Lobster Ravioli & Quail Egg, Lamb Medallions, and a Ricotta Pound cake. I want to eat at Stephanie's table, please. Hers has cake!

Chef Tom comes in and talks to a clearly ruffled Richard, who attempts to explain his menu as "abstract"...which looks concerning to Chef Tom. Richard isn't doing too well under pressure...he tells Tom he's "in the shit right now" and Tom goes to talk to the ever more pleasant Stephanie. She's cool as a cucumber. Lisa is also relaxed and actually pleasant. Tom reflects to the camera that Richard's a mess, Stephanie's hangin' in there, and Lisa is....calm and cool...collected.

With an hour to go, Stephanie checks out her cake. She no likee. Lisa "the puppy kicker" calls her out on being a big sandbagger. Richard looks on. Lisa is calm. And somewhat likable, although she still doesn't like cake, which makes it difficult for me to like her. Richard tells us he's the best chef there with the most skill. He's a craftsman, an artist, if you will. Lisa definitely is in it to win it and thinks she's going to win. Stephanie says it's not about the $100K for her...it's about being Top Chef....Ahhhhh, the prestige of it all.

The diners arrive, Padma's wearing a gorgeous necklace...I can't take my eyes off it. The chefs come out and greet the judges and explain their culinary goals with the dinners. Padmas necklace sparkles.

They serve their first courses. The judges find Richard's scallop too complicated, Lisa's prawn too spicy, and Stephanie's red snapper juuuuust right.

Next course, the judges give Richard's offering a mixed review...although the technique was excellent, the flavors weren't quite right...perhaps a little to complicated again? Lisa's soup? They love it. Stephanie's quail breast? Balanced and delicate....but those leeks!!! They're undercooked? How dare she!!!!

Now the red meat course....Richard's pork belly is under seasoned....not crispy enough....Lisa's beef on the other hand, has good flavor, but not good texture...and Stephanie's lamb...they love it...the flavor combinations are phenomenal...they looooove it. Tom sums it up...Richard's dish needs work, Lisa's dish is pedestrian, and Stephanie's dish is juuuuuuust right. And Padma's necklace sparkles.

Now, finally we have dessert...Lisa's "may cake rot in hell" black Thai rice pudding with lime and mango creme, taro and coconut looks like...what did Anthony Bourdain call it the last time? Wood chips or pot pouri on baby food? Yeah, that's what it looks like. Stephanie offers up her ricotta pound cake with banana creme (in less expensive restaurants, the creme would be called cream). And finally, Richard "I'm not just a pretty nitrogen tank" creates dessert with what? A nitrogen tank!

Lisa's dish draws out some mixed feedback. Richard's dish was more about technique than flavor. And Stephanie's cake...well, it wasn't the greatest. So we learn once again that Top Chef contestants don't do dessert. It's really too bad that Bravo didn't contract with say, Duncan Hines for this challenge...you know...those microwave pudding cakes? That would have been a great way to finish off the whole season...with some good ol' fashioned microwave puddin' cake!! Or maybe some Pillsbury cinnamon rolls? Or why not some Hagen Daz sorbet? That sounds fancy enough to serve at a fine dinner, right guys?

Gayle says the politically correct thing...they've all won at this point. Tom points out all the different contestants strengths. It's huggy time apparently... everybody's had a good big dinner and lots of wine, and can't you just feeeeeel the love? And Padma's necklace sparkles so!

At the judge's table, now that everyone is full and drunk....Padma's eyes are lit up to match her necklace...is she happy or just tanked? The contenders show up to be judged. Richard explains his first course was supposed to be an explosion in your mouth...a palate wake up revelry if you will. Padma tells him it was under seasoned. Padma asks about Lisa's cake-hating shrimp. Lisa says she loves shrimp and wanted to serve them something the way she likes to eat it...spicy. The judges tell her it was too spicy. Gayle asks about Stephanie's Red Snapper...and then all the judges give her a metaphorical hug for filling their bellies with such perfect yummy goodness.

Next up, the second course feedback doesn't go so well for Richard. Lisa's love of soup shined through with unanimous praise, and Tom criticized Stephanie's uncooked leeks....she looked astounded...her mind is racing before our eyes...what??? I didn't cook the leeks? How could I have committed such a cardinal sin? Richard's pork belly falls flat for a lack of crispiness on the fatty part. Lisa's steak, too, falls flat, too. Stephanie's lamb wins the course again.

And dessert? Richard's was good. Lisa's was good. Stephanie's cake was fine, but the banana creme (mind you, not cream) fell short. They give the contestants an opportunity to say their peace...offer a culinary last word if you will. Stephanie pipes up with "pick me". Tom C. looks annoyed. Lisa, still ever the cake-hater, says "pick me!" Tom looks annoyed again. And Richard? he says he feels like he choked and over-thought things. And Padma's necklace sparkles.

In the Evian storage room, the chefs take a load off. The judge's discuss. They poll themselves per chef, per course. In the Evian room, Lisa tells Stephanie she nailed the first and third courses, while she herself nailed the second and fourth...leaving Richard out of the competition altogether. He looks hurt. Stung. He's not just a pretty nitrogen tank!

The judge's all have a preference. They call the chefs back for the results. More verbal hugs spill out to all the finalists. In the end....drumroll...STEPHANIE!!!!!! Richard rushes over to hug and congratulate her.....but huh?????? I didn't hear "congratulations" uttered from Lisa's cake-hating mouth. You remember, the lady who last episode made such a big to-do about how they didn't congratulate her when she made the finals? Interesting! Everybody is there to hug Stephanie...old contenders, the judges...very happy. But Richard looks terribly upset. And Lisa still hates cake. And Padma's necklace sparkles as we fade to black in yet another season of Top Chef.

Top Chef Finale...Part 1

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!!!

Last week I realized the Bravo channel had been added to our hi-def line up, and in reviewing the upcoming list of things for Tivo to record, I realized that the Top Chef finale would air an hour earlier (or 9 p.m.) on the hi-def channel. That means I could actually stand a chance of seeing the finale on Wednesday night rather than my typical Thursday morning viewing...see, I can't stay up much past 9:30 these days, so a 10 p.m. show is just not going to happen without Tivo.

All day yesterday I pumped myself up for the 9 p.m. viewing of Top Chef. at 8:59, I changed the channel to hi-def Bravo, only to hear "so I won Top Chef!!! I'm the first female to win! I am so happy" and I saw Stephanie on the TV, smiling from ear to ear. I just caught the tale end of the finale...the lineup on the Tivo guide was off by an hour. I just caught all the climax with none of the build up.

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit!!!!!!!!!

Does it speak to your soul?

A few days ago, I wrote a blog about the marathon of Tim Gunn's Guide to Style that I watched over the weekend while Ajay was away called Counting the Hours. In this blog, I talked about how Tim Gunn suggested that the things in your closet should both fit and speak to your soul. I challenged myself to be honest with myself about what I wear, what I need, and what fits, and got rid of what doesn't suit me, what I'll never fit into again, and even if I did, I wouldn't wear it anyway. I mean, let's just say after Alia is born I do work myself down to the elusive size 4...would it be the best reward to wear one of my old out-of-style work suits or out-of-style Gap jeans? No! I want to buy new celebration clothes. I guess I was keeping all those old little clothes because I read somewhere that Halle Barry keeps a pair of jeans from high school in the top of her closet and "keeps it real" by making sure they fit at least once a year. But trying on an article of clothing in your bedroom to make sure that you haven't lost your shape is a lot different, I now realize, than keeping a hoard of clothes that are dusty, not in the best shape, and not even in style any longer for future wear. So I kept a particularly small pair of Diesel jeans as my inspiration, and chucked the rest into bags.

Yesterday, I did a little shopping for an upcoming wedding. I already have something that I can wear...this was extra shopping to see if what I really wanted existed...being a maxi dress built for pregnant girls. Sure, all the sales ladies tell you "it's so flowy, there's a lot of fabric there...even you can wear it" but what they don't realize is that there is a BIG difference between a 28 inch waist and a 42 inch pregnant bellied waist. Let's just say that what's flowy on a regular shaped girl is a tight, tragic, outie-belly-button enhancing disaster on a girl like me.

For one thing, most of the dresses I tried on have a flowy top layer of gauzy fabric with a somewhat straight built-in sheath underneath....and when you have a normal shape, the friendly sheath keeps the flowy part from clinging in between your legs when you're walking. But with a pregnant shape, the friendly sheath becomes a misshapen mess beneath all the flowiness...it gathers above your butt at the small of your back as you attempt to stretch it over the belly...which turns the sheath into a wrinkled mess rather than a flow-protector. The girls convincing me to try on this dress and that dress obviously haven't ever had a 42" baby-filled belly.

Then I see it across the store. A brightly colored maxi dress. With no slim sheath beneath it. Made of jersey rather than silky material. This might work. I try it on...it could work. There really is enough fabric for a girl like me!!! And rather than dainty spaghetti straps, it had real straps so I could wear my behemoth maternity bra, because if you don't know this, strapless or bra-less is not an option when your pregnant...those girls need support. Or maybe it's just me. Regardless, I can wear a normal bra underneath. And there's enough fabric that it doesn't enhance my outie belly button. And it flows for days! But something isn't right.

It's yellow with fucia and aqua squares. Yellow isn't my best color. Unless I have a deep dark tan, which I don't. And the back is kind of lower, which exposes some not so pretty b'acne scars from my troubled pregnancy skin. And it kind of wrinkles at the bottom...I could probably iron that problem away...but it just doesn't lay right. And the square patterns....they didn't take the time to line up the squares on the seams, and it's bothering me...I mean, that's like hanging wallpaper with total disregard for matching the pattern at the seam...who does that?

So while it fits well and the shape is quite good, I'm realizing it doesn't speak to my soul...and I actually heard Tim Gunn's sweetly effeminate voice in my head, asking me the question "does it speak to your soul?"

It doesn't! The old me would have thought, well, just in case I change my mind, I'll buy it...and it is on sale...that's even better...and even if I don't wear it to the wedding, maybe I'll wear it to the upcoming baby shower...and if not then, I can still wear it after the baby is born to any given event. Right? RIGHT?

No! If it's not good enough to wear to the event I'm buying it for, then what's the likelihood that it'll be a prime choice in the future after it hangs in my closet for an entire season with tags on...and not to mention, I'm 25 pounds heavier now than I normally am...I'm normally a size M and this is a size L that I'm thinking about buying...so in the future, it won't fit as well as it does right now.

I hung the dress on it's hanger and put it back. It was a very proud moment. Then I walked downstairs and bought what I really wanted all along...that fit...that spoke to my soul...and yes, were on sale!!!

And now? Now I can say the outfit that I already have and planned to wear to the wedding just got the finishing touch that it was missing!

Owww!

Yesterday I was reading about where we're at...33 weeks. I learned Alia is likely 17 inches long and weighs about 4 pounds. But since our last measurement showed her in the 90th percentile, I'm thinking my girl is a little heavier than that. Not only did previous ultrasounds point to this likelihood, but also my aching pelvic floor.

Yesterday I ran to the mall to check out the Bloomingdale's Private Sale. I was hoping to find a flowy maxi dress that would fit a girl like me for an upcoming wedding we'll attend when I'm 36 weeks. On my way, I stopped by a friend's work to say hi for a bit, and then headed to the mall. I looked around, and found nothing for myself, and was about to wrap it up for the day, and then found that all the John Varvatos stuff was on sale, too, and called Ajay at work. He was getting off early-like 3 pm-so I told him to meet me at Bloomingdales...he loves John Varvatos and I love 40% off!

That's when my phone rang and my friend that I had just stopped in to see said she had a cancellation in her day and could I meet for a late lunch? Sure! Perfect! That will take up the exact amount of time til Ajay meets me. So after a nice long leisurely lunch, we shopped around a bit more, and then Ajay met me. And he tried on things, I showed him a couple of my options for the upcoming wedding, and before you knew it, it was like, 5 p.m. And I was TIRED! and my whole pelvic floor was aching. And that tightness I'm feeling....are those contractions? You know...what do they call them? Braxton Hicks contractions? Where the uterus decides it's time to "practice" it's moves for the upcoming birth?

We decided to head home---I was exhausted...what I had planned as an easy shop around day turned into a 6 hour outing. I found that I couldn't even keep up with Ajay's leisurely pace back to the car. Me! The fast-walker! Couldn't get my waddle up to a leisurely speed. So I think I'm entering into that part of pregnancy. Where my options are limited, and my errands have to be spread out due to necessity rather than laziness. Because yesterday? When we got home? I was horizontal on the couch with my box of French Canadian souvenir chocolates that Ajay brought back from his trip within minutes. And from the couch? I went to bed.

32 week belly shots

I took these pictures last week and forgot to post them...

And by the way...the gray shorts in this picture? Hi-de-ous!!!

I can't believe I'm going to acknowledge owning these shorts...but in all fairness, I'm eight months pregnant...I don't think Tim Gunn would judge me too harshly...or, well, maybe I'm wrong...
I mean....look at them!!!!

Is this the beginning of the end? Not only wearing these shorts, not only photographing myself wearing these shorts, but also posting them online? And did you notice? I didn't even bother to dry or style my hair, either. Who have I become?

Counting the hours

Only 3 more hours and he'll be here! Ajay gets back from Canada tonight. I can't wait to hear that his plane has landed and he's on his way home.

Over the weekend, I continued to nest and nest and nest. What began as a Friday night project of clearing out Alia's bathroom cabinets and stocking her changing table with the teeniest tiny little diapers you can imagine turned into a whole weekend-long nesting adventure.

After finishing Alia's bathroom and putting more of her gifts away, I decided to challenge myself to my own closet. Yep...exciting stuff. I won't bore you with too many details, but what started as tossing Ajay's dingiest socks to make room for the new ones turned into a closet free-for-all clean sweep. I swear this closet project could have been featured on Mission Organization on HGTV...or perhaps even Mission Impossible...if that were such a show.

I cleared out a respectable amount of clothes...from Ajay's t-shirts with ink stains down the front (from putting pens in the pocket without lids) to old pj's that I've never seen him wear. I challenged myself, too. I tossed old bras and underwear that had strings hanging, got rid of anything size 4 since I haven't seen that size in a year or so, and I tossed shoes that hurt my feet. I walked away feeling good about the large shopping bag of stuff I cleared out. To celebrate, I turned on Tivo and pulled up a marathon of "Tim Gunn's Guide to Style". Well!!! Let's just say Tim gave me a whooooooole new perspective about what should be in my closet.

One of the ladies that had written in and requested Tim's help was told that she should get rid of things in her closet that didn't fit and/or didn't speak to her soul. Okay...how can I say this fairly...THERE IS ONLY ONE GARMENT IN MY CLOSET SPEAKS TO MY SOUL!!!! And I don't think I can wear my Pucci silk flowy top every day...to clean out the litter box, nursing the new baby, or hanging out eating Taco Bell while I'm blogging.

Regardless, back to the closet I went...this time really challenging myself in the "fit" category and the "soul speaking" category...only I modified "speaks to my soul" to mean it's something I would wear outside of the house and didn't have some sort of stain on it.

I also heard Tim Gunn's helper, supermodel Veronica Webb, tell their latest fashion project that bras lose their integrity after 6 months. Huh? I buy new bras every year or two...but now that I think of it, I bought new bras for my big pregnant boobies about 3 months ago and WOW was it a big difference compared to what I would have still been wearing if I hadn't outgrown the cup size. We're talking support, comfortable straps, and no funny indentations in the cup that seem to develop no matter how carefully I fold them. Anyway...back to re-thinking everything! I went through bras again, all my pants, tops, shoes, purses, t-shirts, sweaters, even workout clothes got the third degree. After several more hours in the closet, I finished folding the last "keeper" tank top and felt very accomplished. Count them....six overflowing bags of just my stuff!



I actually don't think this photograph does my pile of clothes to donate justice...just like when you see a picture of the grand canyon...you really miss the scale in a picture. Seriously...that's a lot of clothes that do not speak to my soul...or rather, things I wouldn't wear out of the house....what does that say about me!!!!

Why I'm such a wierdo...well, one of the many reasons....

Last night I spent the evening putting some more final touches on Alia's nursery. There's a full bath in that room that has always been a guest room bath....we only have two bedrooms in our house, so her room was the only spare.

Over the years, many guests have taken the liberty to leave behind a half bottle of lotion here, some leftover cleanser there, travel size shampoo and conditioner, shaving cream...you name it...in the interest of traveling back home a little lighter. Her closet was the same...before I re-decorated her room, it was a big job to collect everybody else's stuff and clear it out to make room for her. I don't want Alia to feel like she lives in the spare bedroom. I want her to have her own space.

That really says more about me than anything...it's no judgement at all on all of our family and friends who have contributed to making our second bedroom their personal California storage unit. You see, when I was younger, I lived with my Mom and Step-Dad for a few years during college in their spare room. And used their spare bathroom. And always got in trouble for being a messy teen (which if they knew me at all, they would have realized that this couldn't be further from accurate).

The real deal was that my Mom and Step Dad were total pack-rats, and even though they had a three bedroom home with two closets per bedroom, the closets in "my room" were filled to bursting point with all my Mom's old clothes that, for some reason, she felt the need to keep. They didn't fit. They weren't in style. And let's not forget her stuffed animals...we're talking over-sized Tweetie Birds, over-sized Raggedy Ann and Andy, and every other stuffed animal and doll that my Step Dad bought her during their 20 years together...yep...in my room. You can imagine trying to live with no closets, or drawers for that matter, because the dresser was also full of their stuff....it scarred me permanently. Especially when my Step Dad would pull me aside and lecture me for being untidy and for keeping some of my jackets and coats in my car...he explained that this was "the behavior of some one on drugs...are you on drugs?" "Umm, no, well, maybe, but that's not why my coat is in my car...you see, I have no place to put it...other than my car. Feel free to find a spot in "my closet" for it and I'll put it there..." Comments or rather, rebuttals such as these got me labeled a smart ass and got me in deep trouble for being disrespectful...with which I totally agree. It was meant to be disrespectful...because I felt disrespected. I wasn't even allowed my own space...I was a second class citizen. But that gets me to my point of why it's important to me that my daughter has her own space, completely devoid of other people's crap. Her room is no longer a storage room. It's her room.

vulnerability

A long time ago, pre-pregnancy, while we were trying to get pregnant, we made the conscious decision to not put our lives on hold. We continued to plan vacations and future plans. Which I think was really smart, because even though technically our lives were on hold waiting for the miracle of conception to happen, (okay, well, maybe not a miracle...more like, while we were waiting for the right lab technician to get the right sperm with the right egg and create an implantable embryo) it didn't seem like our lives were on hold...

So anyway, flash back about 9 months...

Ajay: Want to go to Montreal for the F1 race?
Me: I'd LOVE LOVE LOVE to go to Montreal...I've always wanted to check it out! and to see another F1 race would be awesome!!! Please please please can we go?
Ajay: Sure, let's see what I can do....there we go...all set...we'll go to Canada in June for the F1 race.
Me: Woooppeeeee!

Well, here I am..eight months pregnant, and Ajay, his brother, his brother's brother in law, and Ajay's cousin are all on our trip to Montreal. I suppose technically I could have got on a transcontinental flight to go see very very loud auto racing and fill my body with the vibrations associated with said auto racing, but let's just say that trying to conceive for two and a half years and going through two miscarriages as well as a 20 week fetal demise has me on the conservative side of things and I opted to stay at home in my bubble wrap. With my feet up.

Am I sorry he went and I didn't opt to go? Nope. Ajay needs as much time away from the hospital as possible. He works a lot. He not only deserves a break, but he truly benefits from breaks like these both mentally and physically. And although I would have loved to add this weekend in Montreal to our shared memories of travel and adventure, the timing just didn't work out. And I wouldn't change a thing.

However, what I didn't plan for was the enormous feeling of vulnerability when Ajay walked out the door at 4:30 a.m. this morning to catch his flight. And the feeling of being alone...and 8 months pregnant...and alone...and not in control. And it's not the fear of going into labor and ending up in the hospital having a premature birth without him...I was scared for Ajay. I didn't want him to get on the scary scary plane. I wanted him to stay here with me in bubble wrap. But instead I said "have a great trip!" and "enjoy spending time with your brother" and "have a great time". I didn't want to be that girl...you know, the ol' ball and chain, the wife of your husband's friend that you hear about...that doesn't let him do anything without a huge ugly fight...and by the time he gets to do something, she's ruined the whole thing for him so he really doesn't even want to go anymore because it's not worth the fight. For those of you who know me, you know who I'm talking about!!!

My feelings lead me to think about other Moms I know. Do other Moms feel this way? Or is it that at 8 months pregnant, I'm feeling vulnerable anyway, and this just magnifies that feeling? I mean, let's be honest, I couldn't "run for my life" right now if I had to. I probably couldn't save myself from a cupcake, much less eminent danger.

For this independant, self-sufficient, can-do girl, this has been one strange day! The evolution of our relationship from husband and wife to parents-to-be has really been brought into the spotlight for me today with his absence. Now that my belly is huge with a very active soccer player letting me know that she's just about ready to come out, I am starting to understand the magnitude of not only being married, but beginning a family of our own. Of course I always miss him when he's away, but now that I'm so close to having this baby, I realize how much his role has expanded. He's not just my best friend and husband, but he's also transitioning into a new role as a father of my baby, the "man of the house", and dare I say protector??? Even uttering that thought makes me cringe...I'm not the damsel in distress type, and actually abhor damsels in distress that need knights to save and protect them. But here I am...alone for a long weekend, wondering how many more hours until his plane safely touches down and I hear he's on his way back from the airport.

Top Chef Puerto Rico

The show opens, and we're reminded of last weeks butchery, Rick T.'s restaurant being overtaken by the remaining contenders, Spike's fatal flaw of not having a problem with frozen yucky scallops, Spike's ultimate demise, and Lisa squeaking through one more week....how is this possible???

Welcome to Puerto Rico! The show opens with the chefs arriving at the airport...obviously some time has elapsed...Stephanie traveled through Viet Nam, Thailand and Cambodia during the break. Antonia, on the other hand, opened her restaurant, and had been working 100 hours a week and her daughter is slowly adjusting to having no mother and no father....Richard shows up looking thinner and has a new found spring in his step....on the break did he set out to make some little Blaizes as he threatened to do when they were working with kids way back when? Oh, yeah, and Richard actually speaks his mind for once about the other chefs and reveals that people didn't think Lisa would be in the finals...umm, no kiddin'! It's totally a case of "which one of these chefs just doesn't belong here?" Lisa shows up, arms crossed, riding down the escalator with her new and improved more butchy haircut. Stephanie being the nice one gives her a hug, and then Lisa forces a hug out of Richard and Antonia. Can we say awkward???

They arrive to some fantastically beautiful spot where there's a table of ingredients awaiting. Welcome, chefs...now cook for us! I mean, seriously, do these people ever get to put their feet up?

It's the Quickfire Challenge. There will be a pre-challenge to eliminate one more person before the finale. Padma looks lovely in her fancy flowy top and shorty shorts and introduces Wilo Benet, a famous Puerto Rican chef. Padma explains that these Latin Americans love them some beach fritters....only she called them something else with lots of rolls of her tongue..freeee-tur-as or something like that. They go with beer. Make us some. And use plantains. Stephanie tells the camera in her experimenting with plantains, she doesn't really like them. Lisa tells us she's not scared of no plantains.

The chefs get cracking. Lisa hits the protein case first while the other chefs head straight for the plantain table sitting immediately in front of them. Smart girl...bad hair.

Then it happened...Blaize lights a fire on the stove which basically chars the ceiling, Lisa remarks holy explitive...Blaize asks everyone if they could smell his eyebrows. Lisa replies she does, and it's a little scary. Blaize says thank you. Lisa guffaws like it's the funniest joke she's ever heard. That's when I realized...poor Lisa...she's just socially awkward...she really craves interaction with other people....and all of her rage probably revolves around not being accepted by other people...she's just like everybody else and wants to be part of the gang...it's just that her personality prevents that most of the time. So there...I'll say it...I feel a little sorry for her.

The chefs chop and fry and scoop and the timer goes off and they all show us their jazz hands. Stephanie serves the judges first...holy yummy goodness...Tostones with rare tuna with pork and shrimp fritters with brown butter, lime and basil. Serve that up with a cold beer and you've just made this pregnant girl envious and bitter....I'm dying for sushi, and what I'd give for that cold beer on a hot day. Screw you guys!

Antonia serves up crispy oysters with cilantro plantain jam...she tells Padma with prompting that there isn't plantain in the actual fritter. Is that bad?

Lisa offers her Tostones with pan roasted duck with crispy duck skin and mango papaya chutney. She also serves a sweet plantain, red onion and chorizo fritter with chutney slaw....or kumquats, oranges, and cucumbers. Padma wolfs it down and pounds her beer...perhaps the spice was too much for her?

Finally Richard offers some spicy pork meatballs with ripe plantains that aren't cooked....and he offers up some fried plantains served with raw plantains as the play on salsa....um...I'm wondering if he tasted it because that sounds bland and yucky to me.

Padma and Wilo announce the bottom two...Antonia didn't use enough plantain and the consistency was bad. Richard also ended up in the bottom with dry meatballs and raw plantains....leaving Stephanie and Lisa in the top two. Ultimately Stephanie wins her first Quickfire Challenge. Then Wilo invites them to a Puerto Rican celebration for the afternoon. If I were the chefs, I seriously would have been like, "alright, now what do I have to cook under the guise of being invited to a party?" I mean, could this actually be a party for them to enjoy rather than a party that they start to enjoy and then are forced into the kitchen "just for fun"? I would be skeptical.

So later they're at a party, a pig being roasted, rum everywhere, a band, dancing, and a food buffet. In the background, a barefoot dancing Padma shows us some leg with some latin dancing. The contenders join in the party in the least possible way...in the back of their minds they probably think they'll be shoved into a kitchen to butcher another pig for the spicket.

Next day, the chefs are introduced to the next task...cook for a Puerto Rican party of 100 VIPs and Chefs at the governors house. No sweat. Tom C. shows them a dead pig. Poor Porky. They actually will have to butcher a pig! Holy Piggies!!!! They'll have to butcher it and make at least two different dishes using different parts of the pig. Then Chef Tom announces they'll have help...and in walks Dale, Nikki, Spike and Andrew...is there something wrong with Andrew? His eyes are watering. Has he been crying? Seriously...it looks like he just put down "the Kite Runner" and a box of tissues before walking on camera.

For winning the Quickfire Challenge, Stephanie gets to assign these Sous Chefs. And unlike her scheming ex-competitor Spike, she chooses who she thinks will get along the best because she wants a true competition and a harmonious kitchen. Stephanie therefore chooses Dale for herself, assigns Spike to Richard, Nikki works for Antonia, leaving Andrew for Lisa...and Andrew and Lisa don't get along. Oh wait a minute...Lisa doesn't get a long with Dale either...or anybody for that matter, so I'm thinking Stephanie did the best with what she had to work with. Anyway, upon the assignment, Andrew looks like tears are going to start streaming down his face....but says he'll play with honor...sniff sniff.

The contenders will have to stay in the kitchen and butcher their pigs, and their new sous chefs will go to the local market and buy for the menu that they'll be creating in the next hour or so. The teams seem to be well-matched and collaborative. The chefs all want to use local ingredients...but Lisa seems to be going Puerto Rican lock stock and barrel. Richard points out that the goal is to mold the challenge into something that works for your style and your strengths...it won't bode anyone well to ditch what they've been doing for the past years and try for example to cook a winning Puerto Rican menu. But we'll see. If anyone is angry enough to force it to work, it's Lisa.

The sous chefs head to the market, and who woulda known that they don't speak no English there...which, don't they understand...we're Americans? We don't know how to get along in the rest of the world if they're not willing to mold to what we need. I mean, what the hell? We don't speak Mexican! But nonetheless, the sous chefs are all able to come back with some great and interesting ingredients for their humble leaders.

Meanwhile, the chefs commence in breaking down their whole pig. A very violent scene unravels, and it's apparent that Spike is truly the only butcher in the contest...except for Antonia, who tells us it's not that hard, all you need is your chef's knife, follow the bone, and pry it out of the socket...see? not so hard!

Richard requests Spike pick up some Maltas...to marinate his ribs in. Spike and Richard give each other high fives. I'm so embarrassed. Then Antonia asks to use Richard's tape to label her stuff...but that's Richard's secret ingredient brought from home...Lisa badgers Andrew about not getting her any scallions. Andrew doesn't like her. At all. She throws some of the ingredients Andrew bought straight into the garbage. Richard tells the camera that Lisa has a bad attitude. Yeah, we know. Thanks, master of the obvious. And still she continues brow beating Andrew.

After all the prep, all the work, all the collaboration...the chefs pack up their stuff and put it in the fridge for overnight storage...except....HOLY PIG!!!!!! Dale leaves Stephanie's pork belly out on a shelf.

Next day, in walk the chefs. They realize the pork belly had been out all night...it looks like Dale is actually going to start crying. He feels horrible. I feel so bad for him. He may have just cost his friend the competition!!!! In a true show of strength, Stephanie keeps her cool, axes the pork belly from her menu, and improvises another dish on the fly. I knew I loved this girl. I mean, can we imagine how Lisa would have handled this honest mistake? The accusations of sabotage would have been flying for days!

Richard's menu goes a little something like this...BBQ Pork Shoulder, Pork Belly with Pickled Watermelon rind, Ham and Beans, and finally Ribs with Malta Glaze. That sounds fantastic to this girl eating for two.

Antonia's offering Pork Belly with Sweet Peppers, Pork Sausage with Pigeon Peas and Rice, and Curried Pork. It's becoming obvious that Antonia's game is off, she ain't doing so well...could it be utter exhaustion? Opening a restaurant before coming the the finale? Being without her daughter? Hmmm, I just don't get it Antonia!

Lisa's menu is Yuca and Pork Rellena, Citrus Braised Pork Belly, and Adobo Roasted Pork Tostone. Stephanie finalizes her re-vamped menu with Dale's help...they'll offer Chicharrones, Fruit and Prosciutto Salad, Coconut Pork with Plantain Pancake, and Pork Satay on Sugar Cane Skewers.

Antonia mentions for the 30th time that she wants to win. She doesn't want to go home. Foreshadowing? Hmmmm...she's off her game....she doesn't want to go home....her attention is divided...might as well give her the axe right now.

They transport to the party...the crowd enters. The chefs put on their final touches. Stephanie mentions one mistake will send you home. Richard says one fatal flaw is all you need. Lisa says she didn't come all this way just to be sent home.

The party starts...Antonia loads up a plate with all her stuff on it....it's a lot of food for one little plate. Padma tastes Stephanie's food...they love it. Her menu does not seem like a last minute improv. They love it all. Stephanie's safe. Next up is Richard. He offers the judges all the different components of his menu with a story of how the food relates to his life, his past. Let's just say they ate it up...the food, the stories....Richard is safe. Next up is Lisa...Let's just say they're not gobbling up her food. The judges taste a bit of everything, and then hand back nearly full plates...Lisa jokes that they aren't finishing her beautiful food...they're not entertained. She offers "lots of love" to the judges as they walk away. Poor girl...she just has no self awareness! She's not a warm and fuzzy "lots of love" kind of girl. Finally, we have Antonia...already pre-slotted for demise. She offers all the food on one plate; it looks like a big bunch of food all blending together. Padma, queen of lentils, asks how long the peas were soaked. Antonia tells her overnight. That's not a good thing...when the Indian asks about how long something was soaked, it tells me "they ain't done". Antonia....oh dear....you in trouble!

Now we're in the Puerto Rican Glad room. The chefs are tired. The judges discuss. Early on the judges reveal that Lisa and Antonia are in the bottom. Antonia mentions she knows her peas are undercooked. Padma comes in for Richard and Stephanie. Antonia tells us once again she doesn't want to go home. Meanwhile at the judges table...Padma tells Richard and Stephanie they are the top two. Tom C. tells Richard he did a great job simplifying. Wilo loved Stephanie's satays....and then announces that Richard won...and get this....he wins a new car! Richard's thrilled...smiling like he's never smiled before.

Now it's back to the Sad room...the not Glad room. The two remaining least favorites are called before the judges...Lisa doesn't have her angry face on just yet...she's almost gracious. Who is this newly hair-cutted softie? Tom C. calls her out on doing Latin food when she's known for Asian food. She tells us she lived in South Florida for 6 years and is very good with Latin food as a result. Then she lies to Wilo and tells him her little fritter things came out of the fryer 3 minutes before the guests started arriving....big lie...those bad boys were fried up and done an hour and a half before "times-up-jazz-hands"...I know because I made a mental note of it....I was thinking hmmmm, I wonder if those will stay crispy between now and service time. Regardless of the lies, they didn't like it...it was unbalanced. Now it's Antonia's turn for the wrath. They challenge her about those damn undercooked peas....she says she likes them al dente...ummm, hello, is there such a thing? Padma says absolutely not...it was a mistake that she's trying to cover up. They also challenge her about her choice to pile everything on the same plate....all the food became an indistinguishable pile of yuck.

They're sent back to the not Glad room while the judges discuss. They rag on Lisa's food. They rag on Antonia's food. Lisa tells Antonia she's going home. Antonia looks like she's about to break down. They decide. Antonia tells us one more time she doesn't want to go home. Back in front of the judges table, Lisa's arms-crossed angry faced body language returns...thank God...I was getting confused. Tom talks to the contestants. Tells them about their weaknesses....and the verdict's in....Antonia's heading home.

WHAT?

Lisa looks so happy that she can't contain herself...she covers her smile with her hand. Lisa slithered through again??? But we all know it was supposed to be Richard, Stephanie, and Antonia in the finale. Why are they doing this???? Antonia tells us once again she doesn't want to go home.

Back in the Glad room, Antonia hugs everyone goodbye and whispers in Stephanie's ear "kick their ass!" Antonia leaves blowing kisses to everybody, and tells us again she didn't want to go. Meanwhile, the remaining three sit in the room and look like they've been thoroughly beaten down...which is when Lisa found it the opportune moment to make it all about herself and her paranoia and calls them out for not congratulating her for making it through...and if that's not enough, she goes on to tell them that she's fully aware they were rooting for Antonia and don't like her. HUH???? Did she congratulate them? No. Then why does she expect them to congratulate her? What a freak!

Stephanie does the right thing and congratulates this horror of a person. Richard follows with congratulations, explaining he's just tired. Lisa tells them she feels like they think the wrong person just went home. Duh! Guess what...it's not just them, girlfriend. If for no other reason than your personality disorder! Seriously, have you ever entertained a therapist to help you work through your anger, paranoia, and need to lash out at everyone around you?

Next, on Top Chef...the finale. Lisa predicts she's going to win. Richard says he's the best. Stephanie wants to win. We're in for some drama!!!!