One Last "Two's Only" Trip

Last weekend, Mark and I had our final weekend getaway with just the two of us.  This was something that was extremely important to me because although I am beyond escatic about increasing our family size, I am also extremely in love with my husband.  I love spending time with him and am quite selfish about it.  Its hard to face the fact that in seven weeks, Mark and I won't have anymore just us time.

I know that moms and dads are able to have their own time even with children, but it's not the same.  There will always be someone else that will have our hearts, someone else that we will long to spend time with, someone else to dictate our conversations.  The carefree years of just Mark and Heather are about to be closed.  And that makes a little part of me very sad.

So, we had one last weekend of just us.  We went to Reno for the weekend (not my first or second choice, but the choice we could best afford).  It was great to get away with Mark and just enjoy each other's company.  I love talking with him, as our conversations just seem to flow.  You would think that after six years together we would have run out of stuff to talk about, but nope, not yet.  Hopefully, we will never have that problem as my grandparents, who have been married 51 years now still have plenty to talk about, so there is hope!

We spent the weekend talking, relaxing and eating!  After having almost no appetite for the last eight months, there is something about Reno that always brings it back for me.

{The most delicious, mouth watering, finger licking wings created on this planet (or at least that I've tried).  A trip to Reno is not complete without visiting the Little Waldorf}

{Mark getting him some raw oysters on the half shell}

{The way to my heart...ciopinno <3 }

{The search is over!  After looking high and low, I finally found a pumpkin cheesecake muffin from Starbucks on our way home....yummy}



So, that was our last hurrah of just the two of us.  While my heart still aches that the alone chapter of our lives is ending, my heart is extremely open and ready for the next chapter that is just waiting to be written.

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.

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.

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.

25 week appointment

So yesterday I had my monthly appointment.  I have never been to the doctors so much before in my life, but I guess when you're pregnant it becomes like a second home for you of sorts.  I now can recognize almost everyone in there and feel a sort of camaraderie with them.  This of course is just how I feel because I know most of them can't tell me from David.  Oh well, I secretly enjoy my now found familiarity with them and the doctor's office in general.

This was like all the appointments before, except I flew solo.  Mark was working nights, so he stayed home to go to bed and I woke up to go to the doctor's before heading off to work.  I checked in with the friendly receptionist (its the same one every time) and then waited about five minutes for the tech to call my name.  Then I got weighed before being led down the labyrinth of hallways to an open room (this is never the same because I am never in the same room twice.  I'm really getting a feel for what all the rooms look like).  There she took my blood pressure, temperature and pulse.  All normal.  She now asked me the infamous three questions of which I responded, "No, no, no" before she even had the first question out of her mouth.  By the way if you don't remember, the three questions are:  Are you having any pain?  Any sudden loss of fluids?  Any bleeding?  After inputting the info on the paper chart and then in the computer (I love the double back up system of having it in two places because all I need is the day I give birth for the computer system to crash and them not being able to access any of my records), she left and the doctor came in five minutes later.

I really like my doctor a lot.  She is a three year resident, funny, nice, sensitive, punctual and a great listener.  I am sincerely glad to have her as my guide throughout this entire experience.  She had a first year resident with her today, who just so happens to be due three days before me.  I know some people freak all out about residents examining them, but frankly they have to learn somewhere.  I'm all for helping someone learn and I actually feel safer because everything they do has to be ran by someone else first, thus there is a fail safe in case they screw up.  You don't get that with regular doctors.  If they screw up, you're done for.  If a resident screws up, you hope the supervising doctor will catch it.  At least that's my viewpoint on it.

My doctor introduced me to my backup doctor, who basically is just there in case she can't make it to the delivery.  I'm really hoping that doesn't happen.  He seems nice (yes it is a man).  I'm suppose to make my next appointment with him, so I can get to know him a bit better in case he so happens is the one who gets to make himself familiar with my private parts.  Again hoping that doesn't happen.  She had the intern find the baby's heartbeat (a healthy 130) and then did the tape measure thing again to measure the height of the uterus (right where it should be).  She ended the appointment by telling me that my glucose test was fine (remember that hellish experience from a month ago?  I do), but that she wants me to do one again at 28 weeks (when most people have theirs done - I had my first one early since diabetes runs in my family and I'm overweight).  I think my jaw almost hit the floor.  I don't want to drink that nastiness again, but she wants to make sure that my metabolism hasn't changed.  Honestly, I think she doesn't believe that I'm not a sugar fine.  I know I'm fat, but I actually eat pretty healthy.  I'm not surprised that I don't have diabetes, but I think she was.  Thus, I have to face the horror of the nasty flat orange soda concoction again in three weeks.  Joy to me!