Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Uh, Thanks?

Am I the only one weirded out by these ultrasound technicians and their universal desire to give me a keepsake photo of my fetus's genitalia?

It's a girl, by the way. I've been waiting for the anatomy scan to say for sure, but the magic 8 ball has been coming up "lady" for the past month's worth of cervix scans. Speaking of my cervix (which I never do), I lost like 1.25 cm in the last 12 days. I'm still within normal range, but I'm hoping this is just a fluke, because continuing at that rate of effacement, I'd have to get that dang cerclage at my next appointment in two weeks. And if I ever again hear the words "pelvic rest" from a medical professional, I may build myself a maternity Iron Man suit and start blasting the buttholes off of anyone else who posts that "teachers are underpaid babysitters" meme.

Those of you who know me know that cranky isn't a new emotion for this particular fat-n-happy, but this pregnancy is taking it to a whole new level. So far I haven't yelled at anybody in public or kicked any puppies, but if this lack of bacon sandwiches continues, it's only a matter of time.

And really, I am giving myself license to eat whatever the frig I want. At halfway through this pregnancy, I still haven't been able to budge the scale. I usually come in at 1*8.6, and today, it was 1*8.4. Even though I hadn't peed yet. That dang digital scale is laughing at me. I'm relieved that baby is growing right on track, but I'm still stressed that uneven weight gain will mean something terrible for the future of my metabolism. On the plus side, my face is not all fat this time around, and my gross loss has erased the bit I retained from my last pregnancy. Meager gratitude for this post, I know.

Anyway, I just cringe a little every time another tech hands me a crotch shot of my baby that says in a very awkward way what they'd already told me during the scan. If I'd waited to find out until the baby was born, I wouldn't then take a picture of baby's junk for the scrapbook. Would you? Anyway, I'm just not sure what to do with these things. I would feel bad throwing away a picture of my unborn child, so I'm now forced into storing medical-grade pictures of vaginas indefinitely. Sigh.

Monday, February 21, 2011


I am 20 weeks and one day pregnant. Nothing is wrong. Dr. A is ready to do backflips over my top-of-range cervical length as of 11 days ago. Baby's anatomy scan is Tuesday, and we'll probably find growth still on track and most other things looking very normal. So here I am, still walking around like a healthy person unfollowed by clouds of impending doom just waiting to burst.

This time last year I was sitting around in the hospital. I think it was about this time that I went home for an hour before having to be readmitted to the hospital. It's the in-between time again of my sons' births, where I ate bacon sandwiches every day to fill the parts of me not already overstuffed with hope and despair.

This time last pregnancy I was lying in pretty much the same place I am now, with at least five pillows, trying not to sneeze. I'd been told by pretty much every doctor ever to wait for doom. Dr. P. told me to hope for something a little better. People were praying, and it was working. My pregnancy was getting unlikelier every day. By the end of things, the unlikely was overshadowed by the unheard of, the nearly impossible, the record-breaking, and what was probably actually impossible before it happened.

So it's strange and unknown to me to have a normal pregnancy. Well, mostly normal, if you forget the extra medical attention. And instead of praying for another day of pregnancy, I'm praying with good hopes for 20 more weeks. I bought a pink baby book that I promise myself I won't wind up hiding in a drawer somewhere. I worry about delivery positioning and whether my lady parts will turn into Upton Sinclair's The Jungle (don't overthink the reference). I plan on delivering a BIG baby, and holding her right away. I even wonder if I'll deliver late.

And while I remember this nausea, and most of these aches, and how my belly should expand, I know I never had these particular imaginings of my future before. There were early morning blood draws, more bacon than a hospital should allow any patient to eat, massaging leg cuffs, and wheelchair trips. Now there are outings that don't end in an ultrasound room, shopping trips on a whim, dinners with family, and plenty of swishes and kicks from a safe baby. No blood. No doom. Time to think about how painful this whole process is, and still be so glad.

Oh, and no bacon! Or at least not nearly as much. I think this whole limited-bacon situation may be contributing to the migraines. Today, that is my biggest worry.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Post 200: Things I Want to Do . . . At Some Point

I (hopefully) have a lot of years left to do things. I have done a lot, but I don't have an official "bucket list" per say. So this isn't necessarily "things I want to do before I die," but rather, "things I'd like to do sooner rather than later."
  • See Cirque du Soleil.
  • Sign up for one of those milk delivery services and get dairy foods at my door. Do they have Lactaid delivery as well?
  • Make a pie. I'm talking strawberry rhubarb with a thin, flaky, delicious crust. My great grandmother used to make the most fantastic blackberry pie, and though I have my own filling preferences, I want it to taste that good.
  • Play an actual song on the guitar. I've gotten a bunch of chords down, but no real songs yet (unless you count repeated strumming while singing "Swing Low").
  • Go back to The Captain's Inn at Moss Landing, where we honeymooned. We had planned to go back for our 5th anniversary, but as it turns out I'm going to be set to pop around then, and doctor's orders include no travel so close to the due date.
  • Finish Little Women. It's a delightful book, but I feel like I've been slogging through it for a lifetime. The end will be a welcome sight.
  • Eat more French food. We love Bistro Vendome in Denver, but we also recently found The Creperie Cafe much closer to home (and their food is much better than their spazzy website). I would like to eat there more, especially once the restrictions on soft cheeses and such are lifted.
  • Complete Finley's baby book and first year scrapbook. I really need to print some dang pictures.
  • On another food-related note, I would also like to eat fondue. I had some fantastic fondue in high school French Club, and I would die for some gruyere to dip in.
  • Go to New York City. I've never been, and I enjoy a big city well enough. I will
    1. Eat at a deli.
    2. See a Broadway show.
    3. Shop for clothes at one of the places they send ladies on "What Not to Wear."
  • Take a long trip by train.
  • Live near London. I'm hoping Tim's work is amenable to the idea of a secondment. I don't want to leave here permanently, but I just haven't quite gotten my fill of England, and a couple of years there would be perfect for time to explore the whole UK and maybe even some of the rest of Europe.
  • Own a smartphone. I have to see what the big fuss is about.
  • Redecorate my house. I am craving carpet swatches, paint samples, and new decor. And shelves in my bathroom.
I think all of that will probably take my next five years or so. I'll let you know how it goes.