Freaking Out

I don't think its fair that with all the horrific body stuff Pregnant women have to go through, we're not allowed to drink. I have been pretty much pregnant since September of 2007. Yes, my math is correct. I haven't had more than 1/2 glass of wine or a slug of Jerry's beer when he wasn't looking in almost two years....I'm not condoning alcohol abuse by pregnant women. And I know that no amount of alcohol has been proven safe during pregancy. I'm just saying, the universe could have cut us a little slack on this one...like is it too much to ask for a new scientific study to discover that through some miraculous study, wine is now the BEST prenatal vitamin EVER. Or perhaps Tequila could have been proven to boost apgar scores or something? But alas, we're forced to deal with the complete disfiguration and decimation of our bodies without the aid of an alcohol-induced haze. Oh well.

Back to the title, I am totally freaking out. My doctor had previously scheduled my induction for August 12th. Turns out, she'll be on vacation, so she pushed it back a week to August 18th. BOY does this change plans. First of all, I have to go back to work next week! One week from Monday, I will be reporting for duty to unpack my classroom and plan some lessons. I anticipate trouble focusing. And its not like I can just get a coffee to keep me going...because caffeine is another one of God's greatest gifts not recommended for pregnant women.

Ok, so August 18th is the new date. I would love to say, "I don't think I'll make it..." but when my Dr. checked my cervix (too much information, sorry) at 35 weeks, I was only dialated 2 cm. I am today 37 weeks AND NOTHING. IS. HAPPENING. I walk every day, do housework and cooking, and chase Grace around and do whatever I can do be active and still I'm in some sort of pre-baby holding pattern. I'm glad he's not coming because I don't REALLY have a plan for that, but I am so hot that I'm melting and none of my clothes covers me completely anymore. And I just want him OUT.

On the otherhand, work will be interesting with the bottom quarter of my belly hanging out. Fashion-wise, I just "go with it." It's too hot to wear clothes anyway. I put on clean, neat clothes, and what they cover, they cover. I don't stress.

Besides freaking out about not having an absolute plan for when the baby comes, I'm also starting to have some SERIOUS concerns about the "do-ability" of completely meeting the needs of both my newborn AND my wild-child 13-month old....yikes.

The End is Near

Ok, mark your calendars! Wesley David will be making his debut on August 12. My OB is awesome and understands we don't have family in the area, and we need to arrange childcare for Grace. SO, August 12, it is (at 38 4/7 weeks...). We will be scheduled for an induction.



My aunt, who is also Grace's Godmother has graciously offered to fly in to help us out. To say that panic has set in would be an understatement. Thinking back, I'm pretty sure the panic had set in when I saw the giant, neon flashing "POSITIVE" on the home pregnancy test. I've been panicked for six months (remember, we only found out we were expecting at 3 months...). How in the WORLD am I going to be able to care for our little Gracezilla with a newborn? What if he's colicky? What if Grace resents him or pokes him in the eye? I mean, let's be serious. I only have the one kid now, and I'm not in line to win any mother of the year award... So, I guess my point is, I'm certainly glad to have help on the way.



Grace had her first birthday. I had a heck of a time planning her little party. I have entertained before. Before Grace was born, we had little parties all the time. I threw baby showers (ok, one, but still...) and hosted get-togethers. For some reason, every bit of common sense I had about party-planning flew out of the window. Why? Because the party was for a 1-year-old? Like she was going to notice the difference? I have no idea why, but suddenly, I found myself completely inept at organizing, planning, and pulling off a child's party. Thankfully, it all turned out fine...



We did have another appointment at 33 weeks. Everything looked great. Baby's heart rate sounded great. I refuse to write about it more than that, because to write about it would be to relive it, and it was bad enough the first time around. Let's just say Jerry and Grace came with me and the doctor was running a tad bit behind schedule (read "tad bit" as 1.5 hours).



More exciting stuff? We had the COOLEST maternity pics done. The photographer's website is http://www.reddaisyphoto.com/ and she is awesome. She was actually recruiting pregnant women to photograph for her portfolio, so we got the session for free! Anyway, we loved her so much, we scheduled a sitting for Grace on July 31st to do some 1-year-old pics. And the photographer will be doing another session at our house right after Wes is born.

Our next appointment is Monday, July 20. I'll be 35 weeks. Time for my Strep B swab. Hooray.

Paper Towel Micro-Mini

I am now on an every-two-week OB appointment schedule. I guess they figure hey--she's 30 weeks pregnant, what else is she doing? Whatever. I don't want to argue, so I roll on in, and face the scale.

Today was my appointment. I am something like 31 weeks and 5 days. We were not scheduled for an ultrasound or anything "cool," so Jerry didn't go with me. He was at work, so Grace did.

My doctor had been called away to the hospital for a delivery. Would I like to see another doctor? Come back later in the afternoon? Reschedule? I was there. I was dressed. I was even wearing mascara. I had just single-handedly wrestled Grace into public-appropriate clothing and managed to keep her clean from the house to the car AND during the 45-minute ride to the Doctor's office. Did I mention it was apparently monsoon season, and we were both now dripping from the jog (yes, 8-months-pregnant and wearing flip-flops, toting a toddler and a 45-lb diaper bag RAN in the rain) from the car to the door? All I could do was stare at the nurse, trying to think of a decent way to express my sentiment. It must have been obvious, because before I could say anything, she looked me over, turned to her clipboard, and mumbled, "I'll put you on the shortest list."

After chasing Grace around the waiting room for a bit, I was called back. Weight gain? 2 pounds in 2.5 weeks--not bad! Blood pressure? Lovely considering the waiting room Olympics in which I had just contended. When the nurse asked me if there were any problems or changes, I mentioned I'd been having a good number of Braxton Hicks contractions. (I know it was because we just got back from a road trip and I was doing a lot of chasing Grace around in the heat, but I promised Jerry I'd mention it, so I did.) So, because of this, the nurse assumes the doctor will want to check me and hands me a paper blanket thingy, escorts me and Grace to a room, gives us the once over and says, "Bottoms off. " She leaves the room.

There we are. The three of us. Me, Grace, and the paper blanket thingy, which, for a normal-sized non-pregnant woman who is not chasing around and 11-month-old, I'm sure it drapes nicely over the lap.... I can picture this serene woman, lounging fully-covered, flipping through the latest issue of Vogue, waiting patiently for the doctor. Believe me, this was not the picture in MY exam room...

I had to settle for wrapping the thing around me and tucking it, like a towel while I chased Grace around the room. She was due for a nap, which for some reason always results in hyperactivity...So, as I'm crouched down, simultaneously trying to coax her into reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar, again, and pry the mystery medical instrument she just discovered in a drawer out of her fist, she decides that Mommy's paper dress looks interesting. She grabbed a fist-full and pulled. The second her little hand ripped the paper, her eyes lit up. She was either attracted to the ripping noise or the sound of my dignity flying out of the window. Suddenly, the child was all hands. Every time I looked at her, she had another fist-full of paper.

So, by the time the doctor, WHO WAS NOT EVEN MY DOCTOR OR PERSONALLY KNOWN TO ME, came in to check me, I was perched on the floor reading Brown Bear, Brown Bear, holding the biggest piece of the blanket thingy Grace had left me, which was, by the way, no bigger than a cocktail napkin. I just looked up and smiled.

The contractions were probably because I was dehydrated. Everything was/is fine. Wesley is measuring right on track. I'm to keep up the good work, etc. And I pray I never have to look that doctor in the face again.

Grace's birthday is next week. People keep asking me what appropriate gifts would be. Seems to me paper cover-ups pilfered from Doctor's offices would be ideal and cost-effective.

Pregnancy brain is REAL

OK, so I know most of you have heard of "pregnancy brain," right? Where pregnant women have difficulty focusing or remembering? I'm here to tell you its REAL. Lately, I've been really bad...It's taking me longer and longer to get myself together to leave the house, checking and rechecking things I've packed. I've put the salad dressing away in the Tupperware cupboard instead of the fridge. I spent at least 20 minutes trying to find my cell phone and couldn't for the life of me find it only to realize it had been in my hand the ENTIRE time. A woman on my pregnancy board nearly left home without her pants. I hadn't done anything THAT bad. Until...

Grace and I, celebrating our Summer vacation, had plans to have lunch with a friend. My friend met us at our house, and I was going to drive. She parked behind me. She asked me if I had enough room to get around her. I walked to the back of the car, looked, and said, "oh yeah...plenty of room." I then got into my car, started it, threw it into reverse and promptly smacked into the front of her car. Thank goodness there was no damage...but SERIOUSLY??? Is the oxygen in my blood being re-routed from my brain to finish growing this baby?

Glucola, Horse Shots, and Giant Babies

When you're 28 Weeks Pregnant, the doctors like for you to come in and be de-sensitized to needles. I had my appointment today. First, on my way there, I had to drink an unreasonably large serving of this Glucola drink...a cross between maple syrup and flat orange soda. The only reason I held it down was because I KNEW (from prior experience) that if I ralphed, the nurse at the office would NOT feel bad for me. And she would give me ANOTHER Glucola drink and I'd have to start all over....

At the Office...

After being weighed (4 pounds for the month, thank you...) and blood pressured (fine, fine...no worries) and given a "specimen cup" to umm....leave a specimen (and are these things getting smaller at each appointment?), the nurse unapologetically took at least three tubes of blood. And because my blood is Rh-, it was time for my Rhogam shot. Apparently, my doctor's office was out of regular injection needles and borrowed some horse needles from a vet's office somewhere. Needless to say, the nurse was able to inject the Rhogam into my marrow. She did have the courtesy to ask whether I'd prefer to be incapacitated in my right or left arm for the week...

Bandaged and bruised, it was off to the Ultrasound room. I knew I was going to be getting another U/S to check for low fluid (it was critically low with Grace, but we only caught it by accident. There is no increased risk for low fluid with this pregnancy. I think maybe the Dr was only checking because I was worried?) so I brought the team with me. I lay serenely on the paper-covered table staring up at the big-screen ultrasound, the baby inside me assaulting me from the inside with all his might, attacking every internal organ in his proximity (which at this point is all of them). The baby outside of me was attacking her dad with every ounce of force and all the skill available to an 11-month-old. While he tried to get her to focus on the books in her bag, she was screaming in her baby-language what Jerry and I know was "OUTSIDE! OUTSIDE!"

Despite the minor distractions, here's what we learned: Baby Wesley is doing great. He's measuring right on track for his gestational age. He has plenty of fluid to swim around in. He is DEFINITELY a boy and had his boy parts proudly on display. He's also measuring in the 70th Percentile for weight/length. So, despite my best efforts (and success, I might add) in the moderate-weight gain department, my baby is still on track to weigh in at over eight pounds when he's born. Ouch. Again.

On my way out, the nurse snagged me again...she needed just one more vial of blood....eh.

We're HOW MANY weeks?

Where has the time gone? 27 weeks pregnant is coming up this Saturday. The best part about that is, if for some reason, Wesley HAD to be born, he would have an 85 % chance of survival. Good news, yes, but let's all hope he stays right where he is for the time being...

Meanwhile Grace is walking! Seriously...she is walking and sometimes RUNNING! And she's so proud of herself. And we're so proud of her, too... Its been a rough couple of weeks for her. Starting three weeks ago, when Ms. Martha (the best day-care provider in the world) called me in my classroom and says, "I'm just calling to make sure...you know Grace has Thrush, right?" to which I responded, "Ummm....what's thrush?"

So, one doctor's visit and three prescriptions later, we were treating thrush, the yeast infection that goes with it, oh...and let's not forget the ear infection that somehow snuck in there.

Flash forward about 10 days; the end of the antibiotic. Grace is running a fever and has a cough. We go back to the Dr. Seems her Thrush is all cleared up (on both ends) but the ear infection switched sides? We were prescribed a stronger antibiotic. That was Friday. Today is Wednesday. I haven't slept since then. I took Grace BACK to the Dr today, convinced she STILL had the ear infection. The kid was whiny, clingy, not eating, not sleeping.... No ear infection. Turns out the meds were making her sick. So, because the infection was gone, we ditched the rest of the antibiotic and are hoping for a good night's sleep tonight, and seriously, it would be nice to make the rest of the school year without having to take time off to take her in!

Back to Wesley: I read in some other pregnant someone's blog this past week that being very pregnant feels like being crowded. I couldn't put it any better. I feel crowded. I'm being squeezed out of my own body. Of course, this someone was 36 weeks pregnant, looked like a blond supermodel, and her 36-week belly looked like my 12-week belly, and I hate her. Yet, I digress...

I am still jogging and doing strength training. I had another appointment last week. I only gained four pounds the previous month. I'm very proud of my not getting out of control with my weight-gain. Like I said before: anything less than double the recommended weight gain and I'm golden.

I'm starting to notice the swelling, though...feet and face (I don't mind the feet so much, because I can't see them anymore). Of course I'm watching the sodium, but it doesn't help that everything delicious has a ton of sodium. AND the back pain...I feel like t his kid is ripping me apart, and he's starting at my tailbone! All I can do is stretch, because getting to the chiropractor requires extra energy and also child-swapping coordination, which Jerry and I have not quite perfected yet...

Wesley is extremely active. Grace was, too, but this is different. This kid means business. He's so rough! Maybe he's trying to chew his way out, or something?

Ok, so, next appointment is June 5th, and I'll be doing the delicious glucose test, for the second time this pregnancy, hopefully, with equally stellar results as the last time. (The only reason I can hold that glucola swill down is knowing that if I yak, they're just going to make me drink another one.)

Cravings are getting the best of me....

Let me preface, with the fact that I only gained THREE pounds last month!!! (Thank you jogging, working out, and eating..um....sensibly....)

BUT THEN, yesterday, for lunch, I splurged because McDonalds had their 1/4 pounder with cheese buy one/get one for a penny, SO, a lady I work with and I both got one and split an order of fries....I had milk to drink (ok, TWO milk chugs, but so what?) so I wasn't feeling TOO bad about it. I got home, jogged, did some squats, lunges, weights with my arms blah blah blah....

Jerry's night to cook, so we had CHINESE!!! Again, I was trying to be sensible...I ordered wonton soup (ok, it was a large, but I saved half) and chicken with mixed veggies (I really tried to eat only half, but I was SO HUNGRY I ate it all, but with only like a REAL ONE PORTION of brown rice--like two tablespoons or whatever)

So I woke up this morning with a real desire and every intention to have like a low sodium, high protein, salad kind of day.

Only THEN, I NEEDED a decaf during my planning period, so when I pulled up to the drive through my body says to me, "bacon egg and cheese biscuit. BaconEggAndCheeseBiscuit.BACONEGGANDCHEESEBISUIT!!!!!!!" and suddenly, I was STARVING (don't forget, I'd already eaten low-fat peanut butter and honey on a double fiber English muffin) So, trying to be reasonable, I ordered my small decaf with one cream and one sugar and a plain biscuit, which, I might add, was the most delicious biscuit I've ever eaten in my entire life.

Then, I ate my sensible lunch, like a GALLON of water (to stave off the hunger pains)...and just now, in rapid succession I had cravings for pickled ginger, coconut, and dark chocolate peanut M&Ms (NONE OF WHICH I ATE, by the way).

I am hoping that our baby Wes is just having a growth spurt, and the duration of my pregnancy will not be plagued with these ridiculously impossible to tame cravings!