Monday, October 24, 2011

32 Weeks or Shall I Say 8 Months?

So today I am eight months pregnant...32 weeks.  Baby will be here hopefully sometime in the next 6 to 10 weeks.  That's really not that far away.  In fact it's pretty close, it's awfully close, it's frighteningly close. 

To mark the big milestone I had a doctor's appointment today with my backup doctor.  He's nice enough, but I'm very happy with my primary doctor.  Plus my primary doctor is typically punctual, which is something I highly value.  Today's doctor was about 20 minutes behind schedule, which really isn't that bad for a doctor, but I've been spoiled the last eight months with never having to wait longer than 10 minutes.

The appointment was basically the same as all the others.  I got weighed (lost weight again, so now I've basically been the same weight since May), got my temperature and blood pressure taken, asked the same three questions that I'm always asked and then waited for the doctor to come.  Once the doctor came in we reviewed my pregnancy thus far and then he measured the fundal height (Still measuring larger than I should, but not as much as I was last appointment) and then listened to the baby's heartbeat (a strong 150).  He advised me to get a flu shot, which I politely declined (no one is going to change my mind on this.  If you want to know why I feel this way, do some research) and my tetanus shot, which I said I would get after the baby is born.

So, all in all, it was a pretty normal check-up except for these closing remarks from the doctor.  "You 're the most unpregnant looking lady I've ever seen in here.  If you want to go eat a gallon of ice cream, do so. Indulge yourself in whatever you want these last few weeks."  He sky rocketed to the top of my list after that.

I think I'll have Mark bring me home a milkshake on his way home from work.  I mean I do have the doctor's permission.

Saturday, October 8, 2011

29 and 4/7 appointment

I had yet another doctor's appointment on Friday.  The appointment was at 9:40, so I went into work for an hour and a half before coming home and picking Mark up since he had the day off. We made it to DGMC and checked in.  Ten minutes later we were called back where I weighed in.  I had gained 4 pounds since the last appointment.  YAHOO, but I'm still under my starting weight.  I got my blood pressure and temperature checked and then was asked the standard three questions, all of which were no.  The tech updated my medical records and then left.

Ten minutes later the doctor came in.  She asked me some questions about how I was feeling and I was super happy to report that my nauseous had pretty much disappeared in the last two weeks.  In fact this last week, I ate everything in sight.  I don't think I have ever been so hungry before in my life and I made that clear by becoming a human vacuum cleaner.  Food once again was my friend.  The doctor was super happy about this seeing as I had been sick for almost 7 months, but she reminded me that I did need to pay attention to what I was eating and to make good food choices.  Kinda a bummer since I was enjoying eating to my heart's content, but I understood her reasoning.

She then reminded me yet again about exercising.  I think she is addicted to exercise because she has mentioned this at every single one of my appointments.  I average 10 miles of walking a day at work alone, but this isn't quite enough exercise for her.  I really should increase my exercise regimen, but I am completely exhausted by the end of the day. 

After the exercise talk, she listened to the baby's heartbeat and then measured the fundal height.  The fundal height is measuring two inches more than it should be, which is of concern because that means the baby is measuring a lot larger than it should be.  The due date has been confirmed twice with ultrasound, so she is pretty positive that that is not the reason why the baby is so large.  She is having me come in again in two weeks to measure the baby again.  If the baby is still measuring large she is going to order yet another glucose test (the first and second tests both came back negative) and if that comes back negative, she is going to order another ultrasound to get a better idea of how big baby is.  I always knew we would have a large baby since I was a big baby and so was Mark, but I didn't think our baby would be this big.  Hopefully, the next appointment will give us a better idea of what is going on with the baby.

After the appointment, Mark and I went to drop my car off to get the oil changed and then went out to lunch.  Mark then surprised me by taking me to get pedicures (yep, he got one with me!).  It was a sweet surprise and one that I greatly appreciated since my body has been aching all over.  Having my feet massaged and soaked, while getting my back rubbed by the chair, was super nice and just what I needed.

We then went to see my mom in the hospital, who had just had knee surgery the day before.  She was doing good and it was nice to see her so well right after having surgery.  After this we went over to the factory outlets and found a maternity store.  Although I still don't look pregnant to strangers, my clothes are finally starting to not fit.  For example, my shirts are starting to gap at the bottom and my pants no longer fit on my hips.  We went in and were warmly greeted by two saleswomen.  When asked how far along I was, both women's jaws dropped to find out I was almost 30 weeks along.  "Seriously?" one of the women said as she stared at my midsection.  "You're not showing at all."  I know and I'm a little disappointed about that.  I just look extra fat.

Mark and the women quickly got to finding some clothes for me (I'm not a shopper at all) and filled up a room for me.  Mark helped me try on all the clothes as he handed them to me and then put them away after I either okayed or vetoed them.  After a half hour, I had a pile of clothes to buy (two pairs of jeans, two pairs of sweat pants, 2 tanktops, and 3 long sleeve shirts).  Although I hate spending money and feel bad about spending money on clothes I'm only going to be wearing for a few months, I really do need them.

We finished our day off by picking my car back up and going grocery shopping.  We then spent the rest of the night cuddling on the couch together.

And this is the question my husband decides to ask

"So how does the baby poop right now?" 

Right in the middle of dinner this is what comes out of my husband's mouth.  Although my nauseousness has pretty much subsided in the last two weeks, it was brought right back up with that comment.  As I pushed my up to that point yummy avocado, cheese, mushroom and tomato burger away, I looked at Mark to see if he was kidding or serious.  I was hoping for the former, but found him in the latter mood.

I decided to give him a real answer since this was obviously a real question for him.  I went into an explanation of the blood system and the umbilical cord and  meconium and all of that technical stuff.  I think I did an awesome job explaining the whole process and was quite proud of my knowledge of the baby's digestive tract.  Mark didn't think I did such a great job explaining because his next question was, "So what the poop is just swimming around with it in your tummy?"

AHHHHH did he not hear what I had spent the last five minutes explaining!  At this point I just said, "No, they haven't pooped yet.  They don't poop in the way you think of poop."  That seemed to satisfy him as he went back to eating, my dinner on the other hand was done.

I have a real hunch that Mark is going to love the book "Everyone Poops."  Maybe I should go out and buy it now so he has time to process it before the baby gets here.

The Final Third

On Monday, September 26th, I hit 28 weeks, which official marks the beginning of the third trimester.  I'm in the final third of the adventure and I have to admit, I was quite escatic about it.  There is something finalizing, overjoying, calming in fact that in ten to fourteen weeks, our baby will be here. 

I even carried that joy with me to the lab where I had to do my second one hour glucose test.  Even though my first glucose test came back negative, the doctor still wanted me to do another one to make sure that I don't have gestational diabetes.  I only took work off till 9:30am, so I got to the lab at 8am (this let me sleep in an extra half hour than I normally get too).  I got the nasty, vile drink from the lab lady and then I sat down to face my doom.  An elder gentleman (Early 80s) was sitting next to me and as I began to chug down my drink, he cheered me on with a "Go girl, go.  That's the way to do it."  It was quite nice to have a cheering section and I managed to get this one done even faster than my first test.  Once I consumed the toxic orange substance, I now had to sit and wait an hour for my blood to be drawn. 

Thankfully the lab at Travis is always busy, so I had lots of people watching to do.  A huge class got let out and around forty airman invaded the lab area to get their blood drawn.  This would have pissed me off if I had checked in after them as active duty get jumped to the front of the line, which would have increased my waiting time, but since I had already drank the ickiness and thus was guaranteed a spot in an hour, I enjoyed the people watching opportunity.  They provided enough entertainment that the hour went by quickly and I was able to get my blood drawn by a super efficient gentleman who hit the vein on the first try (this is a rarity).  I then made my way to work, still feeling quite joyful about the fact that my baby would be here before I knew it.

Once the joy subsided, the panic began to set in.  I went from only 12 more weeks, to omg only 12 more weeks!?!  There is still so much to get done and my perfectionist self began to take over.  The baby's room still needs to be finished, the crib put together, we still need to buy tons of stuff, stuff in the house needs to be completed, etc.  The list goes on and on and on.  Some of this stuff doesn't need to be completed before the baby comes, but I would feel a while lot better if it was.

Hence, I am now in overdrive mode.  My 100 plus item to do list will be accomplished by the time I hit 37 weeks.  I better get my booty moving.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

My New Worst Enemy

is a lovely thing called leg cramps that decide to attack me in the middle of the night causing me to wake up in horrific screams of pain.  You would think I was being stabbed to death or at least that is what Mark thought the first time he experienced my sudden painful wails.

There I am peacefully sound asleep when suddenly I feel as though my entire calf is being eaten alive by a gigantic crocodile.  It hurts, it hurts real bad. And there's nothing I can do it stop the pain.  If Mark is home (he was working nights, so he missed quite a few of these painful episodes), I thrust my leg out at him, usually kicking him, screaming, "Rub it, rub it."  He will groggily obey, but I think more so out of a desire to go back to sleep than out of  a real empathy of what I am going through.  The rubbing hurts like h e double hockey sticks, but the cramp usually dissipates.  When Mark isn't home, I curl up in a ball and cry until it goes away.

Always the researcher, I've read about some exercises you can do and that pointing your toes downward can help alleviate the pain, but frankly that's crap.  Nothing really works and so at least twice a week, I wake up from the dead of sleep in a full spasm of pain.