SUMMARY: You find out you’re pregnant and you likely have a lot of concerns. Though you are excited, the questions abound. Here is the Ultimate Survival Guide to Pregnancy, Birth, and Your Newborn. Your goal is to be as prepared as possible when the time comes, or prepare yourself as quickly as possible should the time already be here! That’s exactly what this book is going to do. Covering every detail, from finding out you’re pregnant to your trip to the hospital, it will offer you a thorough, step-by-step guide to a successful and stress-free pregnancy.
This guide includes a detailed analysis of each trimester, advice on finding the right doctor, important questions to ask, key things to avoid, and answers to frequently asked questions to make your pregnancy as seamless as possible. You will also find out if and when to contact your medical professional. Learn about your baby’s gradual development and find out about all the milestones you can expect when expecting. Plus, helpful pictures will add to the overall reading experience.
Finding out you’re pregnant is a joyous occasion. Maybe you’ve been trying for months, or maybe you were happily surprised. Either way, it is an amazing event that will change your life forever. At first, you may be thinking about the cute clothing, the much-loved “baby smell” and the fun toys. Sure, there is a lot of fun to parenting, but it’s also a lot of hard work.
When you first find out you’re pregnant, it is time to focus on one thing: your pregnancy.
A lot must happen in the next nine months. Just think of the miracle happening: you’re creating and developing another human in your body. This is a time when your body is going to go through a lot of changes. If this is your first pregnancy, you may not be ready for all of them.
Here you are going to get information about what really happens throughout each stage of your pregnancy: the first, second and third trimesters. You’ll find out exactly what to expect and how to handle the unexpected. Remember what your body is doing—creating life! That is no small task; it’s an aggressive goal, so expect a lot of notable changes.
THE FIRST TRIMESTER
You’ve gotten over the initial joy and surprise of getting pregnant. Now you’re on your way into what they call the “first trimester”. At this point, you likely aren’t showing yet. Your pregnancy can easily be kept a secret and shared only with those whom you are close to.
Even though other people don’t know what is going on with you, your body does. And your body cares about one thing: preparing itself for a growing baby. There are many changes inside the body, even though for now the outside is relatively the same.
He notices her as soon as she walks in. He looks up as she sweeps past him, and at the sight of her he catches his breath slightly. The first thing he notices is how tiny she appears; her figure in the tight little black dress is so slender, skinny even. And yet her breasts have just enough swell to grab his attention and as she passes his eyes linger on her small yet inviting hips.
Balancing on the edge of her stool at the bar, she sips delicately from her glass of sparkling water enjoying the feeling of self-assurance that fills her; an inner confidence that took years to achieve. She basks in the knowledge that she has the power to attract almost anyone around her. And yet she only has eyes for one man.
Turning from the bar, she catches him staring. He smiles and she quickly looks away. He isn’t handsome or particularly rugged. He doesn’t even have a good physique, but she just knows she has to find out whether he wants her before the night is over. Feigning an interest in the trivial attempts at conversation coming from the barman, she keeps her peripheral vision locked on the man filling the armchair in the corner of the room. She crosses and uncrosses her legs whenever she feels his attention wandering elsewhere and by doing this secures his concentration for well over half an hour. His eyes stay fixed on her.
As time creeps on she begins to feel a little impatient. When is he going to make a move? Or will he simply be satisfied with staring at her legs all evening? Perhaps a little more encouragement is needed? A nudge in the right direction… Reaching for her drink, she fakes a small gasp from her full, glossed lips as she sweeps her open handbag from the bar and watches its contents fall to the floor. Bending over to retrieve her belongings, her honey-blonde head almost collides with his as he dashes over to the rescue. She thanks him politely.
An hour later there is hardly any distance between the newly acquainted couple. He has bought her several drinks and as his eyes focus on her chest she undoes another button of her dress to reveal a little more cleavage. His eyes fixate on the delicate dance of her fingers on the fabric and widen as she exposes the top of her bra and just enough flesh to tease him.
And then it’s over. She tells him she must leave. She has an early appointment in the morning and can’t risk oversleeping. She extricates herself from his arms, one of which is placed across her lower back, almost touching her bottom, the other resting on her right hip. He has spent the past fifteen minutes delicately stroking her there.
Suddenly there is tension in the air, a few moments when neither of them knows how to deal with her departure. Then comes the moment she’s been waiting for. He asks for her number, tells her he thinks she is beautiful and that he wants her. Boldness overtakes him enough to tell her he wants to sleep with her. Well, it makes it simpler that way. There is no doubt in her mind that he will contact her the following day and equally, there will be no doubt left in his wife’s mind when the evening’s events are replayed before her eyes.
She works for me, the slender-framed woman in the little black dress. My name is Richard Martinez and I am a private detective.
Part 1: From Wannabe to Almost-am
IF ALL ELSE FAILS
It was slick, slippery and dark. We were hauling the maximum allowable load, 80,000 lbs gross. The snowploughs had been by clearing surface drifts but snowploughs leave icy droppings. As they passed they mashed the remaining mess of snow, oil and gravel down into a solid layer of scariness.
The road east from Marathon, Ontario was windy, bendy and hilly as well as icy. I bravely managed about 80 kph on the straight runs, a lot less on the hills and bends. I slowed to an irritating crawl on the downhill grades with bends at the bottom. We’d been warned in school, trucks can end up in trouble on slippery hills with bends at the bottom. Apparently they can end up in lakes and/or ravines as well as the vaguer sorts of trouble. Overtly I was being responsible but truthfully I was being pathetic. No, what I was being was terrified.
Other trucks with presumably more experienced and less wimpy drivers flew past us when and where they could. This wasn’t frequent. I switched off the CB, not really wanting to hear what everybody thought of my speed, my mother or my physical attributes. After a couple of hours we were stopped by yet another police cordon… another road closure.
A day’s worth of Highway 17 traffic was neatly corralled into the nearest truck stop. Should you wish to consult a map with a magnifying glass you may spot Wawa, Ontario, somewhere north of Lake Superior. It has a truck stop. That is all. As we drank tolerable coffee and ate tolerable chips we heard the gossip, a truck had ‘parked in the ditch’ in front of us. Behind us the road that had held us up all night—having been closed by the police due to snowdrifts and whiteouts—was closed again, a seventeen truck pile-up with fires and people killed. All of a sudden I didn’t mind being the sort of cowardly rookie who drives slowly on ice. Not dying seemed to be sufficient achievement, careful wimps might live to drive this awful road again.
The offending truck was winched out of the ditch eventually and we all trooped off in a grumpy conga line of tired and late freight. I waited for the back of the line, who needs more abuse? The road remained slick. It snowed. The whiteouts came and went with every turn into the wind. In brief moments when the visibility cleared, you could see waves on the lake flash-frozen into little grey mountains.
It took all day and most of the night to round the rest of Lake Superior and emerge from the dreaded weather system that is a Lake Effect Winter Storm. We were exhausted, anxious, and late. But we emerged, which is more than some did.
Sylvia Safran Resnick
In a darkened movie theater, a woman leans back in the seat, eyes fastened on the image projected upon a large white screen. The only sound to be heard is that of a piano keeping time with the scene she is watching. As the hero gallops across the desert, there is a burst of loud music. When the hero’s lips meet the lips of the lovely heroine in his arms, a sweet melody engulfs the theater. As passions are stirred, a crescendo of sound emerges from the piano and the screen grows dark exciting the imagination .The woman sighs. The other women in the audience sigh too, deep soulful sounds that signify romantic hearts beating in unison. Even before the advent of sound, the motion picture stirred emotions. Eyes fastened with longing on the man on the screen whose brilliant smile embraced them they sat in the dark fantasizing. They could focus their desires on this handsome lover as they wordlessly spun their dreams.
It was exciting, but safe. Thus the object of love and desire on the screen became personified with real romantic longings. A dream for which the female heart throbbed with yearnings and the secret hope that one day she would experience this encompassing love in her real life. The man of her dreams was up there on the big screen; why couldn’t he be out there in the world to be hers one day? She fastened her hopes and romantic desires upon a black and white image, waiting patiently for his flesh and blood counterpart to appear in her life. Sometimes she even imagined that the man up on the screen was really hers as she spun the fantasy cloth into her own garment of reality. From this flowed the longings in her heart as she put pen to paper.
Fan mail then became the path to love. When movies began to speak to audiences, senses quivered and dreams spun blissfully. In the darkened theater women fantasized that the hero’s smile was for her alone; his kiss meant just for her, a promise of fulfillment that over shadowed reality. Each woman convinced the handsome hero belonged only to her. Even before talkies brought heartthrobs to life, female fans expressed their adoration for the compelling image up on the movie screen.
When Rudolph Valentino died suddenly a wave of deep mourning engulfed thousands of his fans who lined up to view his open casket in New York before his official funeral. In Hollywood where a second funeral was held after Valentino’s body had traveled there by train, 100,000 mourners mostly women, gathered on the streets around the church to pay tribute to the man who had captured their hearts. Heartthrobs in the 30’s were more than just handsome with perfect profiles and classic, flawless features. It was an era of elegance in both looks and manners. A little over a century ago acting was considered a lowly profession.
Today, actors are revered, copied, sought after for everything from product endorsement to appearing at a charity event to insur that as much money as possible is raised. Today actors are often paid as high as 20 million dollars for a single movie. Add that together with the substantial sums earned from DVD’s and television and an actor can realize millions from just one film. Much has changed since the beginning. The romantic screen heartthrob of today is as appealing to women as he was in the ’30’s when sound brought him to life. Although the romantic hero may have gone through some major changes in the last eighty years, he is still a force in films and in the lives of adoring women who love their movies and their heartthrobs.
William Kelley Eidem
Little Issy’s doctors at Children’s Hospital warned her parents that Issy would most likely die in the next two or three weeks.
Five hundred thousand dollars of prior medical treatments had not cured her because a grapefruit-sized tumor pressed against the four-year-old’s large intestine and liver. Meanwhile, the malignant growth had sprouted a six-foot predatory spider leg that wrapped itself around her spine. In addition, one of her chemotherapy sessions at CHOP (Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia) had injured her kidneys and bladder, according to her father, Vernon Morin.
The Morins were cautioned by Issy’s doctors that their daughter would probably die a painful death, although they would prescribe some narcotics to try to reduce her pain. Vernon said the only “good” news they had to offer was that the end would come quickly.
Her parents would not give up, however. Two days after starting Dr. Revici’s treatment, Issy’s pain disappeared, so she no longer needed any pain killers. The first office visit cost less than $200. The medicine was free.
Issy spent that summer playing and swimming in the river behind her parent’s home. As her treatment continued, she gained weight, began to grow, returned to preschool, and started ballet classes. Her sweet and playful disposition returned as well.
After nine months of Revici’s care, Issy’s grapefruit-sized tumor was smaller than a golf ball. The dangerous spider leg was dead. Where tests had previously shown 98% cancer cells in her peripheral blood, now there were none.
Meanwhile — when no one else could help Issy Morin — the state of New York yanked Dr. Revici’s medical license.
Nor was Issy’s battle over. The long-term effects of her kidney damage caused her to go into shock. But the people who said Issy would only last a few weeks had not referred her to a kidney specialist. Issy could overcome the cancer, but like Revici, she was no match for the medical establishment. Five months after her first coma, Issy surrendered for the last time.
Was it just luck that caused Issy’s tumor to shrink so much? Why did the invasive spider leg shrivel up and go away? Well, consider that the 100-year-old Dr. Revici has had six decades of success with cancer patients who have benefited from his discoveries. Those patients were just as lucky and just as spontaneously healed as little Issy, for Dr. Revici is the doctor who cures cancer.
More than thirty years ago, Dr. John Heller, who was then the medical director of Sloan-Kettering Memorial Cancer Center, privately said of Dr. Revici, “I’ve known him for ten years. I don’t know how he does it, but patients walk in dead and walk out alive.” This is the story of that man and his many lucky patients, and of a medical establishment that has fought him every step of the way.
Who is Dr. Revici, what has he discovered, and why do his patients consider him to be a miracle worker? Furthermore, how did the forces of conventional medicine stop him from helping the vulnerable Issies of the world?
Perhaps more importantly, what do Revici’s discoveries mean for the future of cancer treatment and other conditions, such as AIDS and drug addiction, and how can we personally benefit from his work? The answers to those questions — and more — start with an exploding ambulance.
The purpose of this book is to offer a historical perspective on how the middle class climbed from the depths of the Great Depression to a level of relative comfort in the 1970s and then watched as Republican policies have slowly eroded the foundations that supported their version of the American dream. From the breaking of labor unions to the repeal of Glass-Steagall, to suppression of the minimum wage, conservative initiatives have focused on elevating those who benefit t most from the free enterprise system at the expense of people who suffer the most from these efforts. To this end, the embracing of Christian ideals and wrapping them around conservative Republican initiatives have ultimately held down the very people whom Jesus admonished us to lift up.
Those initiatives, which I call “moral dichotomies,” are the relevant social issues facing middle-class Americans that conservative lawmakers have been hacking away at and re-defining, while claiming, at the same time, to empathetically understand the pain being endured by the victims of their efforts. Later in this book, we’ll see how this double-minded morality will eventually have dire consequences for the conservatives in future elections, when various demographic elements of the electorate are forced back to the election booths during both off-year and general election years to voice their displeasure. These groups, consisting of women, minorities, the elderly, and disenfranchised lower-middle-class whites, make up a large portion of the real silent majority and are each, as well as collectively, growing. Their voices were heard above the crowd during the last two presidential elections and are becoming louder, even as conservative ideologies have sought to quiet them with redistricting and voter identifi cation laws. Historically, it is these voters who decide who our eventual commander in chief will be.