It seems the third trimester is just a bit of a repeat of the first. The last few days have brought a return of morning sickness and constant peeing. It's a good thing we buy toilet paper at Costco because I would be running out on a weekly basis at the rate I'm going. And I know it's only going to get worse. Our childbirth class (which is awesome, more on that in a sec) showed us diagrams of what the body looks like at various stages of a pregnancy, and it's a little cramped now but at full term... it won't be pretty. I honestly have no idea how I am going to be eating, breathing, or going to the bathroom. And even when she drops, it will just get worse for my poor tiny bladder. But at least I'll be able to breathe!
The class is going great. Our instructor is a labor and delivery nurse who gets just the right blend of entertaining and informative. And she put out Oreos at our first class, which made her my hero for the week. There are 8 other couples in the class, due dates spread late March to mid April and a fairly even mix of boys and girls. There's one other couple who are aiming for an all natural birth, but I think I'm going to get good information about what kind of complications are more common with my doctor's office and what they tend to do to handle them, which also means we can make better choices to keep things as close to all natural/no interventions as possible. The relaxation techniques have been pretty good, we even used them after my glucose testing freak-out last week and it helped a ton. Some the breathing rhythms aren't really doing it for me, so that may take some trial and error to get me from what sounds like hyperventilating to just a slightly uptempo deep breathing pattern.
As for the glucose test, I found out from the nurse that my numbers had been just barely over the limit of what's considered normal, so chances are, with the improved diet and exercise I was maintaining the week before going in for round 2, I will be fine. (Thanks for the advice, Randi!) I'm a lot less worried, though I'll keep up with the better food since there really isn't any reason not to. I can afford to go with whole wheat flour and brown rice instead of the refined (and cheaper) stuff, and it's pretty much the same to cook with. Ideally we'll make it a change that sticks. It's a lot easier to keep it up when I have the choice to stray a bit instead of feeling forced to be good all the time. Now if I could just get my appetite back, I'd be set. Hard to say my diet is good or bad when nothing sounds good. Not even nutella, and that's clearly cause to go to the ER because something MUST be wrong with me. I had a baked potato for dinner last night, so I'm not starving, but when I checked my weight at the doctor's office, I had lost a couple pounds. Not good. Maybe I'll go back on my morning sickness diet of cereal and bean burritos for almost every meal. Not together though, I would never eat something that weird in one meal. It's not like I eat cinnamon rolls and pickles together.... oh wait. I have. Nothing says your pregnancy taste buds are weird like being able to surprise an ultrasound tech. Dammit, now I want cinnamon rolls.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Friday, January 14, 2011
Feeling a Bit Down
I was all set to right up the Birth Plan Version 2.0, but this afternoon I found out that I didn't pass my one-hour glucose test and need to go back in for a three-hour test. I'm taking it really hard for several reasons, most of which are a tad silly, if not downright absurd. I know most women who do the three-hour test do pass it, but this time I'm really anxious.
Part of this is probably that I felt kind of cocky after the last round of tests at 16 weeks. Ha, you silly doctors, I'm totally doing fine and there was no need for me to do this obnoxious test. But clearly I'm not doing so well now (in no small part due to candy from Christmas, I'd wager), so I get to go in and get my blood pulled every hour while I get crabby sitting in the waiting area. Oh, the joy. Compared to how I smoothly everything went that time, I just feel like a failure for not taking better care of myself, even though it's just a simple test at this point and not a definitive diagnosis.
So by now I've convinced myself that I do have gestational diabetes, which is the bigger part of my anxiety at the moment. I saw my mom go through it with my little brother, and I'm really not looking forward to anything that involves poking my finger to get blood several times a day. I also know that I would really struggle with the dietary restrictions, though in some ways it would be simple enough. I'm just so used to saying, I feel like having xyz, and if it's not too bad for me or at least has something to offer by way of nutrition (like the hot chocolate that has a serving of calcium), enjoying it. I don't do well feeling constrained, so I'd likely need help just figuring out how not to crave more sugar as a result of restricting myself. A coworker was trying to reassure me by saying "What's really the worst that would happen because of this?" and all I could come up with was "No more chocolate! How would I live?!"
Having GD would also be problematic for Brianna and I as the due date gets closer. Babies of moms with GD tend to grow bigger too fast, so I'd probably have to be induced early, which I really, really wanted to avoid. I'd probably have to go in for more ultrasounds (some of which Aetna has refused to pay, which sucks because I wasn't expecting to pay out another $300 on top of our expected bill) and go in more frequently to see the doctors. Then there's the whole immediately after birth situation, where Brianna could have a serious drop in blood sugar after she's no longer getting my too-high blood sugar levels and then suddenly getting her own blood to circulate. Long term, we'd both be at higher risk for regular diabetes.
So yeah, I'm in a kind of unhappy anxious mood. I don't like having to wait to get a final answer, but because of several work commitments most mornings, I will be waiting to retest until Friday and then probably won't hear back until the following week. The birth plan will probably get up here at some point...but definitely not tonight.
Part of this is probably that I felt kind of cocky after the last round of tests at 16 weeks. Ha, you silly doctors, I'm totally doing fine and there was no need for me to do this obnoxious test. But clearly I'm not doing so well now (in no small part due to candy from Christmas, I'd wager), so I get to go in and get my blood pulled every hour while I get crabby sitting in the waiting area. Oh, the joy. Compared to how I smoothly everything went that time, I just feel like a failure for not taking better care of myself, even though it's just a simple test at this point and not a definitive diagnosis.
So by now I've convinced myself that I do have gestational diabetes, which is the bigger part of my anxiety at the moment. I saw my mom go through it with my little brother, and I'm really not looking forward to anything that involves poking my finger to get blood several times a day. I also know that I would really struggle with the dietary restrictions, though in some ways it would be simple enough. I'm just so used to saying, I feel like having xyz, and if it's not too bad for me or at least has something to offer by way of nutrition (like the hot chocolate that has a serving of calcium), enjoying it. I don't do well feeling constrained, so I'd likely need help just figuring out how not to crave more sugar as a result of restricting myself. A coworker was trying to reassure me by saying "What's really the worst that would happen because of this?" and all I could come up with was "No more chocolate! How would I live?!"
Having GD would also be problematic for Brianna and I as the due date gets closer. Babies of moms with GD tend to grow bigger too fast, so I'd probably have to be induced early, which I really, really wanted to avoid. I'd probably have to go in for more ultrasounds (some of which Aetna has refused to pay, which sucks because I wasn't expecting to pay out another $300 on top of our expected bill) and go in more frequently to see the doctors. Then there's the whole immediately after birth situation, where Brianna could have a serious drop in blood sugar after she's no longer getting my too-high blood sugar levels and then suddenly getting her own blood to circulate. Long term, we'd both be at higher risk for regular diabetes.
So yeah, I'm in a kind of unhappy anxious mood. I don't like having to wait to get a final answer, but because of several work commitments most mornings, I will be waiting to retest until Friday and then probably won't hear back until the following week. The birth plan will probably get up here at some point...but definitely not tonight.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Week 27 - Getting Excited
Last week I had a moment of temporary panic as Andy pointed out that I was almost into my third trimester...and we had done practically nothing to get ready for the baby (hence last week's post about preparations). So I ordered several books (a couple were recommended by my CNM, another recommended in a forum, and the last one had been lent to me previously but I wanted a copy I could write all over and mark up for my own purposes) and they arrived on Friday. I pretty much spent the entire weekend leafing through them and getting a boatload of crap out of the office so we could turn it into a nursery. It was so overwhelming to start working in there, because it had basically become the room we just shove stuff into when it doesn't have a place, and I burst into tears after my second time getting popcorn peanuts all over the floor trying to empty boxes. Eventually we worked through most of the room and got a ton of stuff taken care of. And I'm not kidding about how much crap we removed. The equivalent of 4 Hefty bags of trash and another bag or two of stuff for Goodwill. We're working at getting over our pack-rat tendencies so I don't become a candidate for Hoarders, which I've never watched but the idea of the show itself is enough to creep me out so in actuality we're probably okay. Run-on sentences today, much?
Anywho, after all that reading I'm actually looking forward to going through labor and giving birth instead of being afraid of the big what-ifs. I have a much better sense of all the possibilities that might come up, so I can build a more detailed birth plan. For one thing, I feel better educated (just from the quick look-throughs) to know what I'll want to do if I get into a situation that I was hoping to avoid. After looking through everything, I can pass off the books to Andy and say "Read this chapter, especially right here, and don't bother with the other section because we already know who our doctor is and where I'm delivering." And then I can use my super-power of obsessiveness to make us talk it over even more and make sure he's comfortable with everything in the birth plan and run through it with the doctors too to make sure they won't have any issues with making it happen.
A couple of funny thoughts after looking through those books. For starters, it would be fantastic if these books got updated every decade or so. There's something creepy about seeing pictures of a couple used for illustrative purposes and joking with Andy that it could be my dad... and then calling my mom just to double-check. I'd like to think that these books aren't something my parents might have used when I was born... over twenty years ago. It's hard not to laugh at some of the fantastically '80s-style mustaches, but I also know that a lot of the practices that were discussed as "possible in some parts of the country but going out of favor in others" aren't even done any more. What else might I be missing by not having something current to look through? Then again, the last update of What to Expect includes the possibility of being shaved and given an enema before birth, which hasn't been standard for quite some time, so we'll probably be just fine. I guess they just have cover their bases for women giving birth at Podunk Hospital in No Man's Land in the South.
The other interesting thing about looking through the different books is seeing how they approach the same issues, the descriptions they use, and the positions they take on different issues. I figure if the same things come up again, I should pay attention because there's no bias here, just the truth. It makes it a lot easier to imagine what it will be like when I have a couple of points to base a comparison off of and to recognize where I'll stand on some issues based on how much I've agreed with the rest of the points. One of the books is extremely firm in it's anti-drug stance, and while that is my goal, I also like to know what the best pain relief option will be for me to rest up and get back to a minimal intervention birth in case I become exhausted well before I'm actually ready to push. Side note: I will probably need to bring in the patented Allie Brosh improved pain chart. Much better to reference a scale that means something if I'm in pain similar to a bear mauling.
Luckily we have our childbirth prep classes starting this week, which are supposed to cover some relaxation techniques, what to expect in general with the birth process, and possible interventions needed at the hospital. I think the most useful part of it is going to be getting familiar with the routine practices my office uses so I can include my feelings about them in my plan. It will also be great to meet some other parents who will have kids the same age as Brianna, and most of them will be first time parents as well. I also get to go in for my third trimester glucose tolerance test, where I drink syrup and get blood pulled after an hour. Hopefully I'll get enough figured out between the classes and meeting with the doctor (an OB/GYN this time) that I'll have a good birth plan to post on Friday.
Brianna is now two and a quarter pounds in weight, and measures almost 9 and three-quarters inches crown to rump or about 15 inches full body length. I notice all 15 inches the most when she seems to stretch out and press me from both ends. It's a great way to figure out how she's positioned, even if it does occasionally feel like I'm carrying an octopus instead of a human. She's also perfected giving me a 1-2 punch, which Andy got to feel yesterday. Her taste buds are fully formed, and it's possible that she might react to the foods I eat if they're spicy or pungent. I haven't really noticed this yet, but we're planning on a fusion style stir-fry with chipotles for dinner this weekend. If you hear any screams from my general vicinity, you'll know that Brianna is apparently not a fan of spicy food.
Anywho, after all that reading I'm actually looking forward to going through labor and giving birth instead of being afraid of the big what-ifs. I have a much better sense of all the possibilities that might come up, so I can build a more detailed birth plan. For one thing, I feel better educated (just from the quick look-throughs) to know what I'll want to do if I get into a situation that I was hoping to avoid. After looking through everything, I can pass off the books to Andy and say "Read this chapter, especially right here, and don't bother with the other section because we already know who our doctor is and where I'm delivering." And then I can use my super-power of obsessiveness to make us talk it over even more and make sure he's comfortable with everything in the birth plan and run through it with the doctors too to make sure they won't have any issues with making it happen.
A couple of funny thoughts after looking through those books. For starters, it would be fantastic if these books got updated every decade or so. There's something creepy about seeing pictures of a couple used for illustrative purposes and joking with Andy that it could be my dad... and then calling my mom just to double-check. I'd like to think that these books aren't something my parents might have used when I was born... over twenty years ago. It's hard not to laugh at some of the fantastically '80s-style mustaches, but I also know that a lot of the practices that were discussed as "possible in some parts of the country but going out of favor in others" aren't even done any more. What else might I be missing by not having something current to look through? Then again, the last update of What to Expect includes the possibility of being shaved and given an enema before birth, which hasn't been standard for quite some time, so we'll probably be just fine. I guess they just have cover their bases for women giving birth at Podunk Hospital in No Man's Land in the South.
The other interesting thing about looking through the different books is seeing how they approach the same issues, the descriptions they use, and the positions they take on different issues. I figure if the same things come up again, I should pay attention because there's no bias here, just the truth. It makes it a lot easier to imagine what it will be like when I have a couple of points to base a comparison off of and to recognize where I'll stand on some issues based on how much I've agreed with the rest of the points. One of the books is extremely firm in it's anti-drug stance, and while that is my goal, I also like to know what the best pain relief option will be for me to rest up and get back to a minimal intervention birth in case I become exhausted well before I'm actually ready to push. Side note: I will probably need to bring in the patented Allie Brosh improved pain chart. Much better to reference a scale that means something if I'm in pain similar to a bear mauling.
Luckily we have our childbirth prep classes starting this week, which are supposed to cover some relaxation techniques, what to expect in general with the birth process, and possible interventions needed at the hospital. I think the most useful part of it is going to be getting familiar with the routine practices my office uses so I can include my feelings about them in my plan. It will also be great to meet some other parents who will have kids the same age as Brianna, and most of them will be first time parents as well. I also get to go in for my third trimester glucose tolerance test, where I drink syrup and get blood pulled after an hour. Hopefully I'll get enough figured out between the classes and meeting with the doctor (an OB/GYN this time) that I'll have a good birth plan to post on Friday.
Brianna is now two and a quarter pounds in weight, and measures almost 9 and three-quarters inches crown to rump or about 15 inches full body length. I notice all 15 inches the most when she seems to stretch out and press me from both ends. It's a great way to figure out how she's positioned, even if it does occasionally feel like I'm carrying an octopus instead of a human. She's also perfected giving me a 1-2 punch, which Andy got to feel yesterday. Her taste buds are fully formed, and it's possible that she might react to the foods I eat if they're spicy or pungent. I haven't really noticed this yet, but we're planning on a fusion style stir-fry with chipotles for dinner this weekend. If you hear any screams from my general vicinity, you'll know that Brianna is apparently not a fan of spicy food.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Week 26 - Deep Thoughts Today
It never amazes me how many things we have to do to prepare for the great transitions in our lives. The unknown of setting off independently as adults. The merging of lives in a marriage. The new responsibilities that come with parenthood. The quieting down and relaxation of retirement. Each one brings an utter shift of priorities, dreams, goals, and routines, something new to navigate. A whole new identity.
Some of the things we do to prepare are mundane, and some involve profound decisions. Sometimes the decision to simply make the leap (or not) is the most monumental in the whole process. There are so many details, great and small, to see to and decisions we could not anticipate having to make. Some transitions are brief and simple, or thrust upon us with little time to prepare, while others we look forward to and plan for our entire lives. Each person lives through these moments uniquely, and how much time we have to prepare is a huge influence on the experience. I'm glad that my little girl has been a long time coming. I don't like to be pressured when facing new situations. I want time and space to approach things at my own pace, weigh my options, and procrastinate if I just feel like it (sadly, I do that a little too often). It's overwhelming at times, knowing I have register for stuff for Brianna's room and make a birth plan, and explain to the questioning why I don't want this or that.
I wonder how many of the details and decisions I've made for Brianna will still feel important to me during labor or year from now, or 20 years from now when she's grown up. Will I care whether or not I managed an unmedicated birth? Which exact shade was used to paint her room? Who holds her and soothes her the first time she wakes up in the middle of the night? So many of the details from our wedding seemed important at the time, the things we had to get right or risk not having the perfect day. Some things did make the day for me, like my bouquet with my dad's cross tucked among my favorite flowers. But I didn't need to waste so much time trying to place everyone just so at tables to ensure a good time was had by all and no fights broke out. I'm wise enough now to see that some things just don't come to pass the way we expect them to and to make plans knowing they will probably change. It makes it easier to accept the fluid nature of life, but it doesn't really help with the anxiety of decision making.
Despite the pressure of everything left to do, I can't help but think that these preparations are, to some extent, a way to channel the love and excitement we feel for this little girl we've never met. I'm feeling so introspective today because I've been touched by the experience of a woman in an online community I participate in. She had many problems early in her pregnancy and eventually found out that her daughter had a chromosomal abnormality and her life expectancy was, quite literally, slim to none. Knowing what she might be facing, she decided to carry on in the hopes that she might have just an hour with her baby. Eventually the big day came and the birth was fine. She got to have two full days with her daughter before she finally passed away. She was as prepared as one can be when you know time is short but don't know just how short it will be. I can't even fathom the kind of strength it takes to prepare for an unknown that ranged in possibility from never seeing your daughter alive to celebrating at least one birthday, if you're lucky. The funeral was held today for little Avery, and many of us in the community have worn bright colors (at her request) to honor the brightness and love this little girl brought to so many lives in such a short time.
Though it feels incredibly selfish to say so, I feel blessed to know that my daughter is growing well. I have a job that lets me put my child first without ruining my career, and a husband who wants to support me in every way possible and is even willing to indulge some of my irrational requests. I had the foresight to save enough money to cover my entire maternity leave, so I won't have to choose between paying bills and spending time with my daughter (at least as far as FMLA will cover). I have family and friends offering up all kinds of help. No matter what, I will never be alone as I go through this journey.
By now, Brianna weighs at least 2 pounds and measures about 9 and a quarter inches crown to rump. Basically, she's a chuck roast, as the ever inspiring What to Expect book put it. Baby. It's what for dinner. (sorry, I had to go there after such a deep/dark post.) Her eyes are open now, but so far the pigment in her irises hasn't formed enough to tell what color eyes she will have (probably green though, with my greenies and Andy's blues). Her heartbeat is supposed to be strong enough that someone could hear it just by listening with an ear pressed against my belly. We haven't tried it yet, but she's kicking enough that Andy can feel it even if he just has his back to my front in bed. She also kicks so hard that sometimes you can see my stomach move because of it. It looks like I have the hiccups, but really it's just her. Just one more week, and it will be down to the last trimester. I hope I have enough time for everything.
Some of the things we do to prepare are mundane, and some involve profound decisions. Sometimes the decision to simply make the leap (or not) is the most monumental in the whole process. There are so many details, great and small, to see to and decisions we could not anticipate having to make. Some transitions are brief and simple, or thrust upon us with little time to prepare, while others we look forward to and plan for our entire lives. Each person lives through these moments uniquely, and how much time we have to prepare is a huge influence on the experience. I'm glad that my little girl has been a long time coming. I don't like to be pressured when facing new situations. I want time and space to approach things at my own pace, weigh my options, and procrastinate if I just feel like it (sadly, I do that a little too often). It's overwhelming at times, knowing I have register for stuff for Brianna's room and make a birth plan, and explain to the questioning why I don't want this or that.
I wonder how many of the details and decisions I've made for Brianna will still feel important to me during labor or year from now, or 20 years from now when she's grown up. Will I care whether or not I managed an unmedicated birth? Which exact shade was used to paint her room? Who holds her and soothes her the first time she wakes up in the middle of the night? So many of the details from our wedding seemed important at the time, the things we had to get right or risk not having the perfect day. Some things did make the day for me, like my bouquet with my dad's cross tucked among my favorite flowers. But I didn't need to waste so much time trying to place everyone just so at tables to ensure a good time was had by all and no fights broke out. I'm wise enough now to see that some things just don't come to pass the way we expect them to and to make plans knowing they will probably change. It makes it easier to accept the fluid nature of life, but it doesn't really help with the anxiety of decision making.
Despite the pressure of everything left to do, I can't help but think that these preparations are, to some extent, a way to channel the love and excitement we feel for this little girl we've never met. I'm feeling so introspective today because I've been touched by the experience of a woman in an online community I participate in. She had many problems early in her pregnancy and eventually found out that her daughter had a chromosomal abnormality and her life expectancy was, quite literally, slim to none. Knowing what she might be facing, she decided to carry on in the hopes that she might have just an hour with her baby. Eventually the big day came and the birth was fine. She got to have two full days with her daughter before she finally passed away. She was as prepared as one can be when you know time is short but don't know just how short it will be. I can't even fathom the kind of strength it takes to prepare for an unknown that ranged in possibility from never seeing your daughter alive to celebrating at least one birthday, if you're lucky. The funeral was held today for little Avery, and many of us in the community have worn bright colors (at her request) to honor the brightness and love this little girl brought to so many lives in such a short time.
Though it feels incredibly selfish to say so, I feel blessed to know that my daughter is growing well. I have a job that lets me put my child first without ruining my career, and a husband who wants to support me in every way possible and is even willing to indulge some of my irrational requests. I had the foresight to save enough money to cover my entire maternity leave, so I won't have to choose between paying bills and spending time with my daughter (at least as far as FMLA will cover). I have family and friends offering up all kinds of help. No matter what, I will never be alone as I go through this journey.
By now, Brianna weighs at least 2 pounds and measures about 9 and a quarter inches crown to rump. Basically, she's a chuck roast, as the ever inspiring What to Expect book put it. Baby. It's what for dinner. (sorry, I had to go there after such a deep/dark post.) Her eyes are open now, but so far the pigment in her irises hasn't formed enough to tell what color eyes she will have (probably green though, with my greenies and Andy's blues). Her heartbeat is supposed to be strong enough that someone could hear it just by listening with an ear pressed against my belly. We haven't tried it yet, but she's kicking enough that Andy can feel it even if he just has his back to my front in bed. She also kicks so hard that sometimes you can see my stomach move because of it. It looks like I have the hiccups, but really it's just her. Just one more week, and it will be down to the last trimester. I hope I have enough time for everything.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Week 25 - If This Keeps Up, We'll Be in Trouble
Why would we be in trouble? Because Brianna has started an interesting...habit. She has developed an intuition for knowing when I'm going shopping. And she seems to celebrate it. By kicking my bladder. It starts before we're even out of the car. She just seems to know that we're about to go walking around and gets so active. Hell, she even gets excited when I'm shopping online. And it happens so often that it's half joke between Andy and me now. But only half because it is so spot on. After all, the first time I felt her move was while we were shopping at Costco. And every time we go back, she gets excited again. I guess I better start saving now and figuring out how to teach her good financial habits.
The day before Christmas Eve (historically my bad luck day), we were on our way home from work and planned on stopping at the grocery store when she learned the kicking-my-bladder trick. Even better, she figured it out while we were on a street with speed bumps. Fantastic. So in between the bumps jostling me and making me need to pee, I get a well timed kick. Gee thanks. I'm grimacing like the dog does when she tries to itch under her harness and sort of grunting because I don't want to alarm anyone with an exclamation to make the Boondock Saints proud (if you've never seen it, there's a scene where they manage to use variations of the word fuck 9 times in about 5 seconds, 246 times in the entire 108 minutes).
Which Andy takes as me smiling and laughing. No dearest, let me poke your urinary tract FROM THE INSIDE and you tell me how you like it. I bet you won't be laughing. She managed to keep up that new trick when I went out shopping again to pick up stocking stuffers for Andy. Because she's smart like that. However, I suspect my facial expression while waiting in line and the quite visible bump helped me get another register open. So, two points to Brianna for helping Mom, but minus one for kicking her the whole time.
[And about that day before Christmas Eve bad luck thing: I have sprained my ankle, had a locksmith break my car's back window, had pneumonia, gotten a parking ticket for being 5 minutes late, and assorted other crap. Generally not a good day for me.]
Anywho, we went in for our doctor's appointment on Monday. The midwife we met was really funny, but a couple of the things she did struck me as sort of...unprofessional, I guess. Nothing made me uncomfortable, but it rubbed Andy the wrong way. And then she moved my due date back to the 7th and argued with us about it being changed before. So something is funky. Either someone is not saving the notes correctly, or the date was changed back by the previous doctor based on the results of my ultrasounds, and she didn't tell me. It's the one problem with having a team of providers instead of a single doctor or midwife. I like knowing I'll be covered not matter what, but I don't like having to reintroduce myself to someone new at every appointment. Hopefully that will be less of an issue now that I've met most of them. I'm also hoping that since the next appointment is with the doctor who originally prescribed the clomid, she might be able to give us a definitive answer on the date. I know it isn't that big a deal since babies don't come on schedule (one friend's adorable daughter being the exception), but when April 14 rolls around, I think it will matter a lot if they start trying to schedule an induction. Or maybe Brianna will surprise us and come early. You never know.
So technically, I am actually 26 weeks and four days right now, but for the purposes of this post, let's assume we're talking about last week. Brianna would weigh over a pound a half and measure 9 inches crown to rump. She also has open nostrils now so she can practice breathing (not that I can breathe through my nose...everything is so swollen I sound like a tea kettle). She can grab her feet and curl her hands up into tiny fists, which probably explains some of the movements I've been feeling. Not a kick against me, and not a turn. Just moving. Her vocal chords are functional and she can get hiccups. The hiccups are really distracting, especially the ones she got in the middle of the Christmas Eve service we went to. She also didn't like the organ music all too much, a feeling I sympathize with. As for me, I still have a belly button for the moment. I've gone from being able to stick the end of my index finger in up to the first knuckle, to not quite getting the nail on my pinky finger in. Anyone want to take bets on when it will go?
The day before Christmas Eve (historically my bad luck day), we were on our way home from work and planned on stopping at the grocery store when she learned the kicking-my-bladder trick. Even better, she figured it out while we were on a street with speed bumps. Fantastic. So in between the bumps jostling me and making me need to pee, I get a well timed kick. Gee thanks. I'm grimacing like the dog does when she tries to itch under her harness and sort of grunting because I don't want to alarm anyone with an exclamation to make the Boondock Saints proud (if you've never seen it, there's a scene where they manage to use variations of the word fuck 9 times in about 5 seconds, 246 times in the entire 108 minutes).
"Why does everyone want to torture me?"
[And about that day before Christmas Eve bad luck thing: I have sprained my ankle, had a locksmith break my car's back window, had pneumonia, gotten a parking ticket for being 5 minutes late, and assorted other crap. Generally not a good day for me.]
Anywho, we went in for our doctor's appointment on Monday. The midwife we met was really funny, but a couple of the things she did struck me as sort of...unprofessional, I guess. Nothing made me uncomfortable, but it rubbed Andy the wrong way. And then she moved my due date back to the 7th and argued with us about it being changed before. So something is funky. Either someone is not saving the notes correctly, or the date was changed back by the previous doctor based on the results of my ultrasounds, and she didn't tell me. It's the one problem with having a team of providers instead of a single doctor or midwife. I like knowing I'll be covered not matter what, but I don't like having to reintroduce myself to someone new at every appointment. Hopefully that will be less of an issue now that I've met most of them. I'm also hoping that since the next appointment is with the doctor who originally prescribed the clomid, she might be able to give us a definitive answer on the date. I know it isn't that big a deal since babies don't come on schedule (one friend's adorable daughter being the exception), but when April 14 rolls around, I think it will matter a lot if they start trying to schedule an induction. Or maybe Brianna will surprise us and come early. You never know.
So technically, I am actually 26 weeks and four days right now, but for the purposes of this post, let's assume we're talking about last week. Brianna would weigh over a pound a half and measure 9 inches crown to rump. She also has open nostrils now so she can practice breathing (not that I can breathe through my nose...everything is so swollen I sound like a tea kettle). She can grab her feet and curl her hands up into tiny fists, which probably explains some of the movements I've been feeling. Not a kick against me, and not a turn. Just moving. Her vocal chords are functional and she can get hiccups. The hiccups are really distracting, especially the ones she got in the middle of the Christmas Eve service we went to. She also didn't like the organ music all too much, a feeling I sympathize with. As for me, I still have a belly button for the moment. I've gone from being able to stick the end of my index finger in up to the first knuckle, to not quite getting the nail on my pinky finger in. Anyone want to take bets on when it will go?
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Merry Christmas and Happy Bloggiversary!
Okay, yes, Christmas was yesterday, but I had a wonderfully relaxing day that had only a brief time on the computer to video chat with our families and show off the belly. This is me in front of our Christmas tree wearing my favorite dressy shirt and new earrings that I picked up for myself and handed to Santa so he could put them in my stocking.
We've chosen a name: Brianna Noelle, with Bria as her nickname. I have to remind myself that she won't necessarily have red hair like Andy, but all I can imagine in my head is a little redhead with soft curls and an infectious giggle. This image is, of course, a toddler, but luckily I won't have to give birth to a toddler. A 10 pounder I could handle (or so the midwife said), but toddler, not so much.
Last night as the evening wound down, I couldn't help but think of how much had happened since last year when I took that sad walk alone with my thoughts Christmas night, dwelling on what I had hoped would happen. I had really set myself up for heartache with those expectations, but I was too unsure of what would happen to consider what might happen in the coming year. In the past year, I've had a whirlwind of testing and trying, going back and forth between disappointment and hope, until finally everything worked and now I am blessed to be healthily pregnant with a little girl. My only complaints revolve around a dirth of maternity clothes and morning sickness that left me constantly queasy. Even those aren't really issues any more, though I did have another fabulously weird/gross dream (I'm skilled like that). I know I could be up against gestational diabetes, or bedrest, or worse, knowing something was wrong with Brianna. So going into the next year, I don't think it's too much to hope for a healthy baby and some sanity while I figure out how to be the best mom I can in the life I've got. To everyone who's been part of this journey, thanks for coming along for the ride.
We've chosen a name: Brianna Noelle, with Bria as her nickname. I have to remind myself that she won't necessarily have red hair like Andy, but all I can imagine in my head is a little redhead with soft curls and an infectious giggle. This image is, of course, a toddler, but luckily I won't have to give birth to a toddler. A 10 pounder I could handle (or so the midwife said), but toddler, not so much.
Last night as the evening wound down, I couldn't help but think of how much had happened since last year when I took that sad walk alone with my thoughts Christmas night, dwelling on what I had hoped would happen. I had really set myself up for heartache with those expectations, but I was too unsure of what would happen to consider what might happen in the coming year. In the past year, I've had a whirlwind of testing and trying, going back and forth between disappointment and hope, until finally everything worked and now I am blessed to be healthily pregnant with a little girl. My only complaints revolve around a dirth of maternity clothes and morning sickness that left me constantly queasy. Even those aren't really issues any more, though I did have another fabulously weird/gross dream (I'm skilled like that). I know I could be up against gestational diabetes, or bedrest, or worse, knowing something was wrong with Brianna. So going into the next year, I don't think it's too much to hope for a healthy baby and some sanity while I figure out how to be the best mom I can in the life I've got. To everyone who's been part of this journey, thanks for coming along for the ride.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Week 24 - The Eddie Izzard Edition (With an Extra Dose of TMI)
Pregnancy seems to have turned me into a 13 year old in some ways. I have had the joy of going through my voice cracking again. This is particularly fun when I'm presenting a training session at work, and I'm afflicted by Eddie Izzard's plague. I've also had the Tummy of Satan, and Boobs of Death. Okay, that sounded better when I was trying to go with continuous Eddie Izzard references. If you don't know who Eddie Izzard is, then this post will probably be a bit boring. Or you can go watch Dressed to Kill and laugh a lot. And then come back and laugh with/at me.
But they really are *that* bad. My abdomen is now stretched to the limit of extra skin that I already had thanks to a certain amount of flabbiness. I'm getting faint stretch marks, and my torso is relatively firm all over. Or at least, it seems firm, after a lifetime of being a fat girl. The boobs though? They're really just Boobs of Death. [Hoozin and any other men, stop reading now. No, really, you don't want to know. Just go down to the next paragraph.] They're not tender anymore, thank god. No, just my nipples now. Which have also started leaking...something. Not a lot, just something clear in tiny amounts at a time. But these tiny bits of discharge also become tiny bits of dried stuff stuck in my nipple. Which I need to clean out or they become a crust that leaves nastiness in my bra. [I told you to stop reading. No complaints.] Did I mention my nipples are still overly sensitive? Good times, that.
In other pregnancy ailments, my feet have taken to a weird form of swelling, in which they turn red first and then decide to swell over the tops of my shoes. Nothing within the shoes swells quite as badly, which just makes it look like I have frankenfeet. Ooooh yeah, baby. Sexy. Because the only shoes you can find in 10.5WW look even less attractive than my monster appendages. So I keep wearing the cuter shoes. (And lest you think I'm being vain, the shoes I'm wearing ARE bigger than I normally wear. I just seem to have more swelling by the end of the day than I expected when I bought these.)
Little One seems most active when I first wake up in the mornings, around noon, and in the evenings. In fact, she's kicking a lot right now, which probably has to do with the cookie I just had for dessert. She was also kicking and squirming when I had a bit of a freakout yesterday morning thanks to some work shenanigans giving me a major headache and anxiety. So, now I know, anxious momma = unhappy baby. Nothing else she's done has been hard enough for Andy to feel without a hand pressed close to me, but I guess that just means I need to have Tea and Cake before bed. Because Cake or Death isn't hard to figure out.
In a rather squee-inducing moment last Friday, my mom and sister sent me a care package full of adorable baby clothes. Little pajamas with tiny feet on them. Soft sweaters and shirts with rosettes on them. Outfits of pants with coordinating hoodies. But you know what those f*ckers did to me? They included an In-N-Out bag. An empty bag. A bag which didn't even give me the luxury of a quick whiff of a double-double that someone would have eaten a week ago. Why did they include an empty torture bag? So I could torture other people at work who know what In-N-Out is. Mission accomplished, one person has been tortured. Except that person is me, and now I want a double-double animal style with a chocolate shake even more than I already had. If I get really desperate, I can always pay $300 for a ticket to go out to California and get my fix. And I guess I could see them too. Those f*ckers.
Another sweet thing in the package was a pair of books that a family friend got me in Hungary. I had meant to pick up a couple, but couldn't find anything I liked when I went last spring. So now I have a bath time book about a whale, and a board book about a cow. Eventually, I can teach Little One some Hungarian, but instead of phrases like "La chat est sur la chaise, et la singe...ou est le singe?", she'll get "A macska van szekon, es a majom...hol van a majom?"
By now, Little One is over a pound and a quarter. The sicker part of me thinks of that and goes, hey look, that's the same as the packages of ground turkey we get at Costco. Thanks brain. You just had to go there, didn't you? She's also too big to be described in the produce section, but apparently the folks at What to Expect have never heard of eggplant or any of the other 9 inch fruits or vegetables roaming the supermarket. Whatever the actual size, she's big (according to the Tummy of Death). Her face is almost fully formed, and she has a complete set of eyelashes and eyebrows. She might have a bit of hair, but apparently, there's no color right now. Cross your fingers for red hair, everybody! I want a red-headed daughter who looks just like her daddy.
But they really are *that* bad. My abdomen is now stretched to the limit of extra skin that I already had thanks to a certain amount of flabbiness. I'm getting faint stretch marks, and my torso is relatively firm all over. Or at least, it seems firm, after a lifetime of being a fat girl. The boobs though? They're really just Boobs of Death. [Hoozin and any other men, stop reading now. No, really, you don't want to know. Just go down to the next paragraph.] They're not tender anymore, thank god. No, just my nipples now. Which have also started leaking...something. Not a lot, just something clear in tiny amounts at a time. But these tiny bits of discharge also become tiny bits of dried stuff stuck in my nipple. Which I need to clean out or they become a crust that leaves nastiness in my bra. [I told you to stop reading. No complaints.] Did I mention my nipples are still overly sensitive? Good times, that.
In other pregnancy ailments, my feet have taken to a weird form of swelling, in which they turn red first and then decide to swell over the tops of my shoes. Nothing within the shoes swells quite as badly, which just makes it look like I have frankenfeet. Ooooh yeah, baby. Sexy. Because the only shoes you can find in 10.5WW look even less attractive than my monster appendages. So I keep wearing the cuter shoes. (And lest you think I'm being vain, the shoes I'm wearing ARE bigger than I normally wear. I just seem to have more swelling by the end of the day than I expected when I bought these.)
Little One seems most active when I first wake up in the mornings, around noon, and in the evenings. In fact, she's kicking a lot right now, which probably has to do with the cookie I just had for dessert. She was also kicking and squirming when I had a bit of a freakout yesterday morning thanks to some work shenanigans giving me a major headache and anxiety. So, now I know, anxious momma = unhappy baby. Nothing else she's done has been hard enough for Andy to feel without a hand pressed close to me, but I guess that just means I need to have Tea and Cake before bed. Because Cake or Death isn't hard to figure out.
In a rather squee-inducing moment last Friday, my mom and sister sent me a care package full of adorable baby clothes. Little pajamas with tiny feet on them. Soft sweaters and shirts with rosettes on them. Outfits of pants with coordinating hoodies. But you know what those f*ckers did to me? They included an In-N-Out bag. An empty bag. A bag which didn't even give me the luxury of a quick whiff of a double-double that someone would have eaten a week ago. Why did they include an empty torture bag? So I could torture other people at work who know what In-N-Out is. Mission accomplished, one person has been tortured. Except that person is me, and now I want a double-double animal style with a chocolate shake even more than I already had. If I get really desperate, I can always pay $300 for a ticket to go out to California and get my fix. And I guess I could see them too. Those f*ckers.
Another sweet thing in the package was a pair of books that a family friend got me in Hungary. I had meant to pick up a couple, but couldn't find anything I liked when I went last spring. So now I have a bath time book about a whale, and a board book about a cow. Eventually, I can teach Little One some Hungarian, but instead of phrases like "La chat est sur la chaise, et la singe...ou est le singe?", she'll get "A macska van szekon, es a majom...hol van a majom?"
By now, Little One is over a pound and a quarter. The sicker part of me thinks of that and goes, hey look, that's the same as the packages of ground turkey we get at Costco. Thanks brain. You just had to go there, didn't you? She's also too big to be described in the produce section, but apparently the folks at What to Expect have never heard of eggplant or any of the other 9 inch fruits or vegetables roaming the supermarket. Whatever the actual size, she's big (according to the Tummy of Death). Her face is almost fully formed, and she has a complete set of eyelashes and eyebrows. She might have a bit of hair, but apparently, there's no color right now. Cross your fingers for red hair, everybody! I want a red-headed daughter who looks just like her daddy.
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