Sovereign Immunity, please?

Being pregnant seriously compromises the immune system, which I think is a bit of an oxymoron in the grand scheme of things, especially the notion that the body does whatever it is supposed to do to transform itself into a baby making machine. Why does that not include an immune system boost?

Apparently, my body's immune system has been weakened, ironically, by myself (my brain?), in order to prevent myself (or my body?) from expelling the fetus, which I guess does live a sort of parasitic existence within my womb. But if the sole purpose of the womb (uterus) is to bear children, then why should the entire body be at odds with that function? And is the immune system some sort of small child that is controlled by the brain, competing with the uterus for attention? At least, that's what it seems like. I am too non-versed in medical terminology, or basic physiology for that matter to understand the functions of the body and what gets precedence over what. So I will continue my bitching session without guilt.

Here's another interesting loop in the chain of command. Because (or maybe not because, just in lieu of) the weakened immune system, the uterus, whose primary purpose is to protect and nourish the fetus, apparently sufficiently protects the fetus from any viral infection such as a cold or flu that may ravage the mother. But in my internet food/pregnancy expedition yesterday, where I was trying to find something that would make me feel ok about eating the brie and salami I purchased a few days ago, as well as all that cut and peeled honeydew melon and pineapple that is just screaming "eat me" from the refrigerator, I found out that the food poisoning agent listeria does pass through the shield of the womb, through to the baby, and can either kill the baby within the womb, or cause a serious infection leading to death once the baby is born.

What's wrong with the body? I don't get it. Perhaps it's just a cruel function of evolution that will one day resolve itself.

So anyway, I'm sick. And I'm trying not to sneeze and cough for fear that I will agitate the subchorionic hemmorage - the hemmorage which I don't even know is there or not anymore. This sucks ass.

Reminiscing

So, I've spent the majority of today surfing the net for food related topics - all pregnancy-tinged, of course. I woke up and decided to act depressed today b/c of what happened yesterday with the brown discharge. I still haven't gotten dressed. Jake ended up having a football day again today, so it wasn't like I had to entertain anyone anyway. I flipped on the Food Network and it was one Thanksgiving 'leftover' themed show after another. It's most definitely my favorite time of the year - for cooking, that is. Did I tell you about the time I cooked a feast for 15 people, when only two people were eating in reality? Wait - I'm talking about every year I've cooked for Thanksgiving, which has been almost every year since I've been in DC from the time I was 18 years old (with the exception of the times I went home with ex Charles- barf. And the one time I went to Marsha's cousin's house. ).

Let's see: Thanksgiving '97: I think this was the year I went to Marsha's cousin's house, where I had probably some of the most amazing food I have ever had in my life. The standouts that I can still recall are the red velvet cake, macaroni and cheese (the kind with the big, swollen macaroni) and greenbeans and potatoes. Or was it greens? I don't remember. I am still on the hunt for a recipe that will take me back to that day. I even tried out 2 or 3 at a time at home in California one holiday - what a disappointment. This actually may have been the day that my love affair with food mutated into a love affair with cooking. I was amazed at the portion sizes this man (Marsha's cousin) was able to cook, and how he was still able to preserve the integrity of the flavor. Shit, what an integritous flavor it was. He was the first person I had met who called himself a cook. My mom is a cook, sure. But there was just something pure about his love for cooking...moms tend to be cooks because of necessity, and then end up having a love-hate relationship with cooking as time wears on.

Thanksgiving '98: Uh, I think this was the year I went home to Nowhere, Pennsylvania with Charles. Stove top stuffing (or stove top-like stuffing) and dry, unseasoned turkey are all I remember. Peace out to the fam if you come across this and put the pieces together - sorry, I'm a food snob.

Thanksgiving '99: I don't remember what I did this year. Did I go home with Charles again? Perhaps. Oh wait - Now I remmeber. Charles came home with me to California, where we had the typical dinner my Mom and other family members cook every year. Good stuff.

Thanksgiving '00: This was the year that my brother came down from New York to join me in DC. We hadn't spent very much time together prior to the holiday, aside from a weekend trip I had made to NY earlier that year, and had an absolute blast. I remember both of us being high and drunk pretty much the entire time. And this marked the beginning of my overpreparation of Thanksgiving food for years to come. I made a huge turkey (mom-style, which I refuse to deviate from - it's the best); ham (my extended family doesn't eat pork, so I've never had a ham at Thankgiving. I don't know why I wanted it at this particular junction); macaroni and cheese, green beans and potatoes, stuffing, yams, mashed potatoes...I probably made more shit but I can't think of what. In any case, the portions were just ridiculous. I remember sharing with the next door neighbors to try to get rid of it.

Thanksgiving '01: I had moved to NY to live with Charles, and was pretty much obsessed with recipe collecting and cooking at this point. I made the mom style turkey, but also some chile-rubbed turkey recipe I found in bon appetit, complemented by a chorizo, butternut squash and cornbread stuffing recipe. The chile turkey left much to be desired, but the stuffing will be in the repertoire for years to come. I even made it for the fam at Christmastime - and have been put in charge of making the stuffing since. I leave out the chorizo and substitute italian turkey sausage...left out the squash...and I think this year I'll leave out the sausage as well. I think I'm a stuffing purist. The cornbread recipe and seasoning it what kills this recipe. (i.e., right now I'm watching Food Network and Rachael Ray is making Apple stuffing? Gross).

Wait - is this the year I flew down to Jamaica? Stuff is starting to run together, so maybe I'm skipping something. I did go to Jamaica the Thanksgiving that I made the chile turkey, but I think I made the food before I left. I was highly upset when Charles told me that he and his friends ate the chile turkey four days after I had prepared it - at which point I'm sure it was doubly disgusting. I was pissed b/c other people would have seen it as a representation of my cooking.

Thanksgiving '02: I'm drawing a blank. One of the prior years may have included another year at Charles' family's house. I think Thanksgiving '01 is actually Thanksgiving '02. and Thanksgiving '00 is actually Thanksgiving '01. I don't know.

Thanksgiving '03: I moved back to DC to go to law school. Georgetown, guess I haven't mentioned it before b/c this is only my second blog, and I have fortunately managed to avert the topic of law school. It will come up soon. It's inevitable. Finals, accepting offers...ok I'm not going to start. Anyways, I was living in MD with a roommate, who went to NY to spend Thanksgiving with her parents. Charles came down, and I cooked a magnificent meal. It was reminiscent of the first meal I cooked for my brother - but fine tuned and that much richer and decadent. It was amazing. One of our friends came over as well, and we all ate together. There was wine and beer. A lot of it. I believe that would be the first time I ever cooked for more than one person, aside from myself. I made breakfast the next day, which was also amazing. This was the year in which I cooked my best shit, undoubtedly. Just all around. The stress of the first year of law school probably helped.

Thanksgiving '04: Still living in MD. But a guy I had met in London wanted to come visit me. It was his first time in America. It wasn't a very fun trip at all, in my opinion, for many reasons. My roommate's parents were in town for the first half of the week, so we had to stay in a hotel. He had certain expectations of American and DC in particular that were hard to meet. And we had a second cultural barrier, as he was from Sudan and transplanted into London for 8 years. Also, I was pregnant. But I didn't know it yet. So his constant cigarette and weed smoking was sickening. And I couldn't escape whatever stresses I was feeling at the time, because alcohol made me sick. It was just a horrible time. Anyway, we went back down to my place in MD, and I cooked the typical feast. It was amazing, again, but I don't remember it being as good as '03's meal. He was complaining the whole time that I was spending too much time in the kitchen. We went to NY afterward so that he could see the big city, and came back down. The night we came back down I decided to go get a pregnancy test and foudn out I was pregnant. It was just a bad holiday.

Thanksgiving '05: This year, me, Jake's mom, and Jake are driving down to NC to his father, brother and sister's place. I'm a little apprehensive - just because of the good impression I'll have to make. And I'm pregnant.

Things I can't eat while I'm pregnant: salami, soft cheeses (you know, the ones that actually taste good like bleu, feta and brie), shellfish (yeah - crabs, shrimp, mussels, oysters)...so when I type it out, it's actually not all that long of a list. I guess you don't really miss a good thing until it's gone. Not to mention alcohol and cigarettes. And recreational drugs.

I'd give it all up (and have done so, except for an impulse purchase of herbed salami at some gourmet store where I was trying to pick up a sandwich after being at the doctor's office for 2 hours. I devoured it instantly in the car, only to find out that all deli meats are supposedly also off limits unless heated to "bubbling boil." I didn't add them to my list of no-no's because it just seems absolutely preposterous. But I am going to ask Dr. T about it during my next visit.

My next visit. Is it really a 'next visit,' or will it be my final visit? At 16 weeks, the brown shit (read: old blood) ended up paying me a visit again today. I haven't bled for almost 6 weeks. No, make that 7. My last sonogram at 13 weeks ended with "I don't see anything of any concern." The one prior to that - 12 weeks - was accented with a mumble of "There's no more bleeding, but the separation is still there." What separation, you may ask? The separation of my placenta and uterus or amniotic sac or whatever. I honestly don't know what is fucking separated. I know that upon calling the other Dr. I referred myself to this morning, the one who gave me the 12 week sonogram, she said that the last 13 weeks sonogram didn't reveal "much of anything." Then why did Dr. T tell me today (without a sonogram, of course) that the brown blood was probably remnants of what was there before? How can it be blood that apparently wasn't there? How can it, you ask? I have an answer. Because it's a new bleed. It's a new separation. At least, that's what my pessimistic ass is saying.

I'm trying to ignore the slight crampy feeling and stabbing back pains, and brush them off as incident to pregnancy. I'm trying. I know the prognosis was more than good, in the beginning, even after the diagnosis of the first subchorionic bleed. Initially, I was trying not to get attached, because of the little voice in the back of my head whispering: "remember your first miscarriage."

But this is not a miscarriage, or anything near such a term. It's a subchorionic bleed, which I was told would "resolve itself" by the second trimester. And it did. Or so I thought. So now you probably get my whole obsession with the determination of whether this is old blood from before, or something entirely fresh and new.

Well, we've named the baby, it's mine, mine and Jake's, and I don't want anyhbody to take it away from me.