First things first. Tomorrow I reach 37 weeks, so my daughter will be considered full term and can arrive at any time. This news provides me both with anxiety and a great sense of relief. Relief because we made it and anxiety because she may come sooner than I was prepared for. Still, I doubt that I will somehow get more prepared in the next 3 weeks, so I suppose I am as prepared now as I'm ever going to be.
I am also less anxious this week, as we have finally acquired the last of the truly necessary baby items--a car seat we can bring her home in! After three baby showers, we have been graciously gifted with so many wonderful things for our daughter that I get teary-eyed just thinking about it. Her room is almost completely set up and ready for her arrival--even if the cats are not. I finally quit freaking out about the "what-ifs" and washed some of the new items so that we can actually use them. It's been such an amazing ride so far, it's hard to believe that this part is almost over and "the rest of the story" is about to begin. It just turns out that "the rest of the story" is going to happen sooner, rather than later.
Sooner? Yup--based on my doctor visit today, when I learned who "won." First, because she's my official doctor, her opinion rules. Yay! This was the answer I was hoping for. Second, because I am an insulin dependent diabetic, they will induce me sometime in week 39--provided my dear daughter has not decided to arrive sooner. Whether we are closer to the front end of week 39 or the back end of week 39 will depend in part on my visit next Monday, when my doc will check to see if I have started making any progress on my own.
There are good and bad things about induction. The good--we're almost guaranteed to get my doctor for delivery, and I will know what day things will happen (again, baby willing). Also, she will definitely be here for Thanksgiving, so I don't have to worry about my family showing up and me being at the hospital giving birth. The bad--induced labors tend to be more difficult and more often lead to additional interventions and c-sections. Obviously there are plenty of women who have induced labors who don't have problems, and that will likely be my experience, but that doesn't mean I'm not anxious about the idea that medicine will jump start the process rather than letting it occur naturally. Still, the planner in me can't help but be a little excited about this turn of events, which only leads me to believe that she'll come early just so she can do it on her own terms. Honestly, I'm a little afraid of the stubborn wars I sense in my future.
Ultimately, however, all of the information I received today and the emotions that have come along with it have left me feeling like a kid playing a game of tag. Ready or not, here she comes.
11.01.2010
10.25.2010
Gonna Need a Tiebreaker
So this week started my twice-weekly visits to the doctor's office. Mondays are long visits where I have an ultrasound, NST (non-stress test), and doctor visit. Thursdays are short visits where I have another NST.
Today's NST results were fine--I did not appear to have any contractions and baby's heartrate was good. The ultrasound results were also good. We didn't get a new size measurement, but the fluid levels were good. Although still head down, she has turned from facing the back to the side, so we could finally see her face. She's quite a cutie, if I do say so myself. The ultrasound tech also told us (and showed us) that baby has hair. Yay! Phil joked with the tech about whether she could tell if it was red or blonde. She answered, "As far as we can tell, all babies are tow-heads because it always shows up white." Can't wait to find out if I got my curly, red-headed baby!
Next up was the visit with the doc. She said that my sugar levels looked great, so they would leave the insulin level where it was (yay!). She measured my stomach and, even though it was a little big, thought it was fine. She asked if I had any questions and I said, "Well, I asked the doc at my last visit this question, but got a different answer from nurses since then so I just wanted to check--since I'm insulin dependent, will I be allowed to go past my due date." Her answer was that in all likelihood, if I don't go into labor beforehand, I will be induced at 39 weeks. Hmmm. So, now I have one who says 39 weeks, and one who says I can go as long as everything is fine. Now, maybe the odds are that with the insulin dependency, things don't stay fine past the due date so it's really the same answer, but it doesn't really seem that way, and I was surprised to get such divergent answers. Rather than argue (what would be the point--she answered my question), I decided that at next Monday's visit, when I get to see MY doc, rather than rotating through the others in the practice as I have been doing, I will find out what she says. She can be the tiebreaker, as it were. After all, since she's my official doc, I would assume things would go by what she does.
Either way, things are very close now, and I find myself fluctuating between excited and terrified more frequently than ever. Still, having gotten a picture of my daughter's face, I would say that, at least for the rest of today, I am simply excited.
Today's NST results were fine--I did not appear to have any contractions and baby's heartrate was good. The ultrasound results were also good. We didn't get a new size measurement, but the fluid levels were good. Although still head down, she has turned from facing the back to the side, so we could finally see her face. She's quite a cutie, if I do say so myself. The ultrasound tech also told us (and showed us) that baby has hair. Yay! Phil joked with the tech about whether she could tell if it was red or blonde. She answered, "As far as we can tell, all babies are tow-heads because it always shows up white." Can't wait to find out if I got my curly, red-headed baby!
Next up was the visit with the doc. She said that my sugar levels looked great, so they would leave the insulin level where it was (yay!). She measured my stomach and, even though it was a little big, thought it was fine. She asked if I had any questions and I said, "Well, I asked the doc at my last visit this question, but got a different answer from nurses since then so I just wanted to check--since I'm insulin dependent, will I be allowed to go past my due date." Her answer was that in all likelihood, if I don't go into labor beforehand, I will be induced at 39 weeks. Hmmm. So, now I have one who says 39 weeks, and one who says I can go as long as everything is fine. Now, maybe the odds are that with the insulin dependency, things don't stay fine past the due date so it's really the same answer, but it doesn't really seem that way, and I was surprised to get such divergent answers. Rather than argue (what would be the point--she answered my question), I decided that at next Monday's visit, when I get to see MY doc, rather than rotating through the others in the practice as I have been doing, I will find out what she says. She can be the tiebreaker, as it were. After all, since she's my official doc, I would assume things would go by what she does.
Either way, things are very close now, and I find myself fluctuating between excited and terrified more frequently than ever. Still, having gotten a picture of my daughter's face, I would say that, at least for the rest of today, I am simply excited.
10.16.2010
Just Testing
I did not intend to have a trial run, yesterday. The universe, however, had other plans.
Yesterday started as a really good day, what with it being Friday and all. I was the only one in the office, making it nice and quiet and allowing me to get lots done. Around 3:00, I began to feel a headache coming on. No biggy. I've had a few recently and it's apparently very normal in the third trimester. Well, by 6:30, it had only gotten worse, so I looked at my handy-dandy sheet from my doctor and it said I could take Tylenol, regular or extra-strength. So, I did. Usually, this makes me feel better in about 30 minutes. No such luck. By 7:30, I was re-reading the label to find out when I could take more--not anytime soon. I went back to my doctor's handout. For headaches lasting 2-3 hours after taking Tylenol, I was to call the practice if open, otherwise, head to the hospital. This is because headaches can be a sign of preeclampsia--something for which I am now at a higher risk because of the GD.
Crud. I'm sure it's fine. I don't want to go to the hospital. I have another hour. I'll just lay down, maybe fall asleep. It will go away. Wrong. 8:20 arrives and headache is still present. I alert Phil and we head out to the hospital. "Best case scenario," I tell him, "this thing goes away on the way there." "Best case," he tell me, "is it goes away before we leave the garage." I smile slightly, but no such luck. He decides to time the drive just so we'll know for "the real thing"--25 minutes driving "regular" speed. We arrive--headache still present. Well, at least I didn't make us drive to the city for nothing.
We go up to the OB triage floor, give them my info and wait. All of their rooms are full, but they will get me in as soon as they can. We sit out in the lobby, along with lots of families who are there to support laboring mamas elsewhere on the floor. About 30 minutes later, we get called back to one of the observation rooms. We chat with the nurse and I get hooked up to the monitors--one checking baby's heart rate and the other monitoring contractions. Seeing as I am feeling nothing but my headache, I am surprised when the nurse asks me if I felt "that contraction." Nope, I tell her.
They runs lots of tests and the resident comes in to talk with me. All the tests are coming back fine and baby is doing extremely well. They are going to give me a prescription med for the headache and see how that goes. If it doesn't work, they'll try something through an IV. Also, they are going to give me a shot to stop the contractions. What?! Turns out, I'm having quite regular contractions every two minutes, but not feeling them. Alrighty, then. The nurse comes in and shows me the chart and, sure enough, there they are. Huh. I never would have thought I could have contractions and not feel them. Who knew?!
Anyway, the meds work like a charm. The contractions stopped and the headache went away without having to resort to IV meds. Yay! They check to make sure I'm not dilated (nope--0-1), and get ready to send me home. Before they clear me to leave, they want to take my blood pressure one more time (high blood pressure is also a sign of preeclampsia). Instead of dropping, as they had expected, it was the highest I had ever had--150 over something. Yeah. That's a problem. So, the resident comes back in. Since all the other tests were clear, I get to go home, but they want me to come back Sunday morning for more monitoring and another set of tests, just to be sure. If those tests come back fine, they will look at treating me for high blood pressure.
Sunday morning. Right. Obviously, Phil is not going to be able to go with me. Do I go by myself? Try and find someone to go with me? It's the church's annual Harvest Feast on Sunday and many of my friends will be involved with that. Phooey. Can't ask them to go. I unilaterally decide that I will just go by myself. After all, I don't expect them to find anything wrong. But, when I see some friends at the church this morning, and they all ask, "who's going with you?", I realize that I probably ought to take someone. So, I promise them that I will not go by myself.
Ultimately, I found a good friend who I would be comfortable having with me in the room as I wear nothing but a hospital gown and get poked and prodded in embarrassing ways. She is going to pick me up in the morning and we'll go get me checked out. I am fairly certain this will all be fine. I even did a free blood pressure check at the store when I picked up my script today and it was back to where it should be. I think it just got high from the meds they gave me to stop the contractions. Nevertheless, I will go and let the professionals do what they do. I'd rather be safe than sorry. And, hey, at least I'll be quite familiar with the process for when it's really time.
Yesterday started as a really good day, what with it being Friday and all. I was the only one in the office, making it nice and quiet and allowing me to get lots done. Around 3:00, I began to feel a headache coming on. No biggy. I've had a few recently and it's apparently very normal in the third trimester. Well, by 6:30, it had only gotten worse, so I looked at my handy-dandy sheet from my doctor and it said I could take Tylenol, regular or extra-strength. So, I did. Usually, this makes me feel better in about 30 minutes. No such luck. By 7:30, I was re-reading the label to find out when I could take more--not anytime soon. I went back to my doctor's handout. For headaches lasting 2-3 hours after taking Tylenol, I was to call the practice if open, otherwise, head to the hospital. This is because headaches can be a sign of preeclampsia--something for which I am now at a higher risk because of the GD.
Crud. I'm sure it's fine. I don't want to go to the hospital. I have another hour. I'll just lay down, maybe fall asleep. It will go away. Wrong. 8:20 arrives and headache is still present. I alert Phil and we head out to the hospital. "Best case scenario," I tell him, "this thing goes away on the way there." "Best case," he tell me, "is it goes away before we leave the garage." I smile slightly, but no such luck. He decides to time the drive just so we'll know for "the real thing"--25 minutes driving "regular" speed. We arrive--headache still present. Well, at least I didn't make us drive to the city for nothing.
We go up to the OB triage floor, give them my info and wait. All of their rooms are full, but they will get me in as soon as they can. We sit out in the lobby, along with lots of families who are there to support laboring mamas elsewhere on the floor. About 30 minutes later, we get called back to one of the observation rooms. We chat with the nurse and I get hooked up to the monitors--one checking baby's heart rate and the other monitoring contractions. Seeing as I am feeling nothing but my headache, I am surprised when the nurse asks me if I felt "that contraction." Nope, I tell her.
They runs lots of tests and the resident comes in to talk with me. All the tests are coming back fine and baby is doing extremely well. They are going to give me a prescription med for the headache and see how that goes. If it doesn't work, they'll try something through an IV. Also, they are going to give me a shot to stop the contractions. What?! Turns out, I'm having quite regular contractions every two minutes, but not feeling them. Alrighty, then. The nurse comes in and shows me the chart and, sure enough, there they are. Huh. I never would have thought I could have contractions and not feel them. Who knew?!
Anyway, the meds work like a charm. The contractions stopped and the headache went away without having to resort to IV meds. Yay! They check to make sure I'm not dilated (nope--0-1), and get ready to send me home. Before they clear me to leave, they want to take my blood pressure one more time (high blood pressure is also a sign of preeclampsia). Instead of dropping, as they had expected, it was the highest I had ever had--150 over something. Yeah. That's a problem. So, the resident comes back in. Since all the other tests were clear, I get to go home, but they want me to come back Sunday morning for more monitoring and another set of tests, just to be sure. If those tests come back fine, they will look at treating me for high blood pressure.
Sunday morning. Right. Obviously, Phil is not going to be able to go with me. Do I go by myself? Try and find someone to go with me? It's the church's annual Harvest Feast on Sunday and many of my friends will be involved with that. Phooey. Can't ask them to go. I unilaterally decide that I will just go by myself. After all, I don't expect them to find anything wrong. But, when I see some friends at the church this morning, and they all ask, "who's going with you?", I realize that I probably ought to take someone. So, I promise them that I will not go by myself.
Ultimately, I found a good friend who I would be comfortable having with me in the room as I wear nothing but a hospital gown and get poked and prodded in embarrassing ways. She is going to pick me up in the morning and we'll go get me checked out. I am fairly certain this will all be fine. I even did a free blood pressure check at the store when I picked up my script today and it was back to where it should be. I think it just got high from the meds they gave me to stop the contractions. Nevertheless, I will go and let the professionals do what they do. I'd rather be safe than sorry. And, hey, at least I'll be quite familiar with the process for when it's really time.
10.14.2010
100% Natural
Ever since I was diagnosed with GD and had measurements where I seemed to be ahead of schedule, not to mention discovering that many doctors want to induce when you're insulin dependent, I have had some anxiety about what was going on. Add in the anxiety I already had about the fact that I had a low-lying placenta that might require a c-section, and I was pretty nervous going to my visit today. (Truth be told, a lot of my anxiety was probably because there were only questions--no answers and no plan--and you should all be quite familiar with my love of a plan by now).
So, we started with an ultrasound for the growth check. Turns out, everything is going extremely well. The GD has not made my daughter too big. She is currently measuring 5 1/2 lbs, which puts her in the 71st percentile in terms of size, and a mere 5 days ahead of schedule. She is head down and facing my back--the ideal position (an overachiever already!). She refuses to move from this position, even when prodded by the ultrasound tech in order to try and determine whether the placenta moved.
The tech also confirmed that the placenta had moved. Although she couldn't tell exactly how far it had moved, given my daughter's stubborn refusal to move, she could determine that it was far enough away that it was no longer considered low-lying, so a c-section is not required.
After the ultrasound, I met with another one of the docs in the practice (they are busy having me meet as many of them as possible since there's no telling who will be on-call when my daughter decides to arrive--so far I have liked them all, though I'm still holding out hope I get my doc--she's the best!). The doc upped my insulin some, but thought things were going well. When I expressed my frustration that some of my numbers did weird things even though I ate the same thing everyday, she assured me that those were perfectly normal. She said that when people don't have those wild outliers in their numbers, they are usually faking their numbers. Yay! I can stop beating myself up about that.
I was also reminded of why I love this practice so much, as they dealt with my last concern--whether being insulin dependent made it likely they would have to induce me early or not let me go past my due date. They do not subscribe to that theory. As long as there is nothing going on (high blood pressure, issues with the baby, etc), they will wait for the baby to make her appearance and not induce early or even on my due date.
So, with the exception of the need for insulin, I am having a normal, healthy pregnancy and everything is on schedule for a spontaneous, natural childbirth on baby's schedule. Now the only thing left to do is rein in my control needs and quit worrying about that. :)
So, we started with an ultrasound for the growth check. Turns out, everything is going extremely well. The GD has not made my daughter too big. She is currently measuring 5 1/2 lbs, which puts her in the 71st percentile in terms of size, and a mere 5 days ahead of schedule. She is head down and facing my back--the ideal position (an overachiever already!). She refuses to move from this position, even when prodded by the ultrasound tech in order to try and determine whether the placenta moved.
The tech also confirmed that the placenta had moved. Although she couldn't tell exactly how far it had moved, given my daughter's stubborn refusal to move, she could determine that it was far enough away that it was no longer considered low-lying, so a c-section is not required.
After the ultrasound, I met with another one of the docs in the practice (they are busy having me meet as many of them as possible since there's no telling who will be on-call when my daughter decides to arrive--so far I have liked them all, though I'm still holding out hope I get my doc--she's the best!). The doc upped my insulin some, but thought things were going well. When I expressed my frustration that some of my numbers did weird things even though I ate the same thing everyday, she assured me that those were perfectly normal. She said that when people don't have those wild outliers in their numbers, they are usually faking their numbers. Yay! I can stop beating myself up about that.
I was also reminded of why I love this practice so much, as they dealt with my last concern--whether being insulin dependent made it likely they would have to induce me early or not let me go past my due date. They do not subscribe to that theory. As long as there is nothing going on (high blood pressure, issues with the baby, etc), they will wait for the baby to make her appearance and not induce early or even on my due date.
So, with the exception of the need for insulin, I am having a normal, healthy pregnancy and everything is on schedule for a spontaneous, natural childbirth on baby's schedule. Now the only thing left to do is rein in my control needs and quit worrying about that. :)
10.08.2010
Be Careful What You Wish For
We've all heard it said--be careful what you wish you, you just might get it. For me, it's not the fervent wishes I make over and over with my whole heart that come true. No, it's the off-handed little wish I make on the spur of the moment and never think about again. In fact, it usually turns out that I didn't think enough about it at the time I made it, either.
The best example of this is from my time in college. I was having a rough week. Okay, a rough few months. I really wanted to be able to opt out for a little while, so I made a small wish. Not a "real" wish. Just one of those, off-the-cuff, spur-of-the-moment thoughts we've all had, only I really meant it when I made it. I wished for an appendicitis. Yes, I thought this would be the simple answer to my problems. A quick trip to the hospital, an easy fix, and a few days off. I never really believed it would happen. It was just one of those thoughts. And I totally forgot about it after I did it. Flash forward two years. Boom! I get a ruptured appendix along with a week stay in the hospital and months of recuperation afterwards. I got what I wished for alright, but not when I wanted it, or how I wanted it. Worse, I had no idea until, oh, last year, that "getting" my wish had caused infertility. Needless to say, I got a lot more than I bargained for with my wish. Had I but known, I would have been much more careful about what I put out there.
You would think that I would learn a lot from that experience. And you would be mostly right. But that doesn't stop me from being stupid. See, it turns out that, much like wishes, prayers often work in ways you don't expect. For example, if you pray for patience, you don't magically receive patience. Instead, you receive lots of opportunities to develop and practice patience. Not exactly what you want when you're already frustrated and low on patience.
So really, I ought to have known better--I mean really, really known better--before I informed family, friends, the universe, God, and whomever else, that part of why I wanted to have children was to learn how to go with the flow and be less of a control freak. Because that's precisely what is driving me crazy right now about GD and my daughter's "due" date. I am so not the one in control. Turns out, there was nothing I could do to prevent the GD. Structuring my diet didn't work. Taking insulin this week has resulted in only 1 good fasting number and some good after-meal numbers, but nothing that I can hang my hat on. For goodness sake, I ate a brilliant low-carb dinner this evening with all the food groups but dairy, and ended up with a frickin' 134! I am not in control of my body. No matter what I do, I can't make it do what it's supposed to. And this frustrates me to the very core of my being.
On top of it all, there's this whole thing about the baby coming when she's ready. This makes it hard to plan maternity leave and get all my ducks in a row. How will I know how much leave time I will have saved up? How do I know when to call the disability insurance people so I can get the paperwork started so my doctor's office can fill it out and get it back to me in time when I don't know when the disability will actually start? Will my daughter be here before Thanksgiving when all the family comes to visit, or will she wait? Will she come too early--like in the next 25 days or so, before she's considered term? Now that I have GD and am on insulin, will I be allowed to progress past my due date, or will they induce me? Too many questions, not enough answers or control.
Also, I have discovered that I am more frightened of natural birth than I am of a C-section. Why? For starters, I have had enough abdominal surgery in my lifetime that a C-section feels like the known entity while natural birth is the scary unknown. But, I know deep down it's also that C-sections are controlled. In some cases, they are scheduled, so you even know when they will be. How great is that for a compulsive planner, right? There's also no big mystery of how long will it take (about an hour), what will it feel like, will it hurt, etc. And it is precisely for all of these reasons that I'm fairly certain I will not end up having one. Because for me to truly experience this lack of control that I requested, I have to experience the surprise of labor and delivery on my daughter's terms. She picks when and how long and how hard and everything else. I requested the opportunity to learn to go with the flow and that is precisely what I got. No matter how frustrated and infuriated I get with these issues, this is, in fact, what I signed up for. I really ought not be surprised.
The best example of this is from my time in college. I was having a rough week. Okay, a rough few months. I really wanted to be able to opt out for a little while, so I made a small wish. Not a "real" wish. Just one of those, off-the-cuff, spur-of-the-moment thoughts we've all had, only I really meant it when I made it. I wished for an appendicitis. Yes, I thought this would be the simple answer to my problems. A quick trip to the hospital, an easy fix, and a few days off. I never really believed it would happen. It was just one of those thoughts. And I totally forgot about it after I did it. Flash forward two years. Boom! I get a ruptured appendix along with a week stay in the hospital and months of recuperation afterwards. I got what I wished for alright, but not when I wanted it, or how I wanted it. Worse, I had no idea until, oh, last year, that "getting" my wish had caused infertility. Needless to say, I got a lot more than I bargained for with my wish. Had I but known, I would have been much more careful about what I put out there.
You would think that I would learn a lot from that experience. And you would be mostly right. But that doesn't stop me from being stupid. See, it turns out that, much like wishes, prayers often work in ways you don't expect. For example, if you pray for patience, you don't magically receive patience. Instead, you receive lots of opportunities to develop and practice patience. Not exactly what you want when you're already frustrated and low on patience.
So really, I ought to have known better--I mean really, really known better--before I informed family, friends, the universe, God, and whomever else, that part of why I wanted to have children was to learn how to go with the flow and be less of a control freak. Because that's precisely what is driving me crazy right now about GD and my daughter's "due" date. I am so not the one in control. Turns out, there was nothing I could do to prevent the GD. Structuring my diet didn't work. Taking insulin this week has resulted in only 1 good fasting number and some good after-meal numbers, but nothing that I can hang my hat on. For goodness sake, I ate a brilliant low-carb dinner this evening with all the food groups but dairy, and ended up with a frickin' 134! I am not in control of my body. No matter what I do, I can't make it do what it's supposed to. And this frustrates me to the very core of my being.
On top of it all, there's this whole thing about the baby coming when she's ready. This makes it hard to plan maternity leave and get all my ducks in a row. How will I know how much leave time I will have saved up? How do I know when to call the disability insurance people so I can get the paperwork started so my doctor's office can fill it out and get it back to me in time when I don't know when the disability will actually start? Will my daughter be here before Thanksgiving when all the family comes to visit, or will she wait? Will she come too early--like in the next 25 days or so, before she's considered term? Now that I have GD and am on insulin, will I be allowed to progress past my due date, or will they induce me? Too many questions, not enough answers or control.
Also, I have discovered that I am more frightened of natural birth than I am of a C-section. Why? For starters, I have had enough abdominal surgery in my lifetime that a C-section feels like the known entity while natural birth is the scary unknown. But, I know deep down it's also that C-sections are controlled. In some cases, they are scheduled, so you even know when they will be. How great is that for a compulsive planner, right? There's also no big mystery of how long will it take (about an hour), what will it feel like, will it hurt, etc. And it is precisely for all of these reasons that I'm fairly certain I will not end up having one. Because for me to truly experience this lack of control that I requested, I have to experience the surprise of labor and delivery on my daughter's terms. She picks when and how long and how hard and everything else. I requested the opportunity to learn to go with the flow and that is precisely what I got. No matter how frustrated and infuriated I get with these issues, this is, in fact, what I signed up for. I really ought not be surprised.
9.30.2010
Approaching the Great Unknown
So, today I got the news I didn't want. I'm being put on insulin. I'm not terribly surprised by the news, just frustrated. Now I have to go to another class to learn about giving myself injections. On the bright side, it's only once a day, likely in the morning. On the downside, although I am extremely good at giving myself shots in the stomach, that is not currently an option. I think I'll have to do them in the thigh--something they'll teach me in the class.
Otherwise, my daughter is doing well, although she is measuring big. There's this neat trick they do late in pregnancy where they measure how many centimeters high your uterus is. The number is usually a rough estimate of your weeks of pregnancy. So, if you're 28 weeks, they expect to see you at plus or minus 2 cm--so anything in the 26-30 range. Well, I previously measured larger, but within the range. First I was 1 cm ahead, then 2. Now, it's 4. I'm officially outside of the normal range. Ironically, the nurse said I ought to be scheduled me for a growth ultrasound, but I told them I was already scheduled for one because of the IVF. So, now I'm being monitored because I have one risk factor for an underweight baby, and one risk factor for an overweight baby. I have decided that this simply means she's going to be the perfect size. Still, it's all a little overwhelming.
In any event, I have now entered the phase where they will see me every two weeks, instead of every month. But, starting in 4 weeks, I go to 2 visits a week, one of which lasts about 2 hours. Holy cow! How can anyone get anything else done with all these doctor visits?! But, I can be (and am) grateful that I am not in pain, have not been given bed rest, and everything is otherwise going extremely well. I can't really believe how close we are to done. I am less than 2 months away from the baby that has been 3 years in the making. It's amazing and mind-boggling. I am equal parts excited and terrified. For as crazy as this ride has already been, it's really just starting. I am about to bring a tiny person into this world. And if she's anything like her parents, we're in for quite a time.
Otherwise, my daughter is doing well, although she is measuring big. There's this neat trick they do late in pregnancy where they measure how many centimeters high your uterus is. The number is usually a rough estimate of your weeks of pregnancy. So, if you're 28 weeks, they expect to see you at plus or minus 2 cm--so anything in the 26-30 range. Well, I previously measured larger, but within the range. First I was 1 cm ahead, then 2. Now, it's 4. I'm officially outside of the normal range. Ironically, the nurse said I ought to be scheduled me for a growth ultrasound, but I told them I was already scheduled for one because of the IVF. So, now I'm being monitored because I have one risk factor for an underweight baby, and one risk factor for an overweight baby. I have decided that this simply means she's going to be the perfect size. Still, it's all a little overwhelming.
In any event, I have now entered the phase where they will see me every two weeks, instead of every month. But, starting in 4 weeks, I go to 2 visits a week, one of which lasts about 2 hours. Holy cow! How can anyone get anything else done with all these doctor visits?! But, I can be (and am) grateful that I am not in pain, have not been given bed rest, and everything is otherwise going extremely well. I can't really believe how close we are to done. I am less than 2 months away from the baby that has been 3 years in the making. It's amazing and mind-boggling. I am equal parts excited and terrified. For as crazy as this ride has already been, it's really just starting. I am about to bring a tiny person into this world. And if she's anything like her parents, we're in for quite a time.
9.29.2010
Seasonal Preferences
I'm not really a fan of fall. In best to worst order, I rank the seasons as follows: spring, summer, fall, and winter.
Spring is best, hands down. It has my birthday (presents and candy), Easter (bunnies and candy), my favorite flowers (iris), my favorite weather (rain), and the green comes back! Plus, given how long winter lasts around here, I am always more than ready for the green to return. It can't come back soon enough. Spring is rebirth. It's cute baby animals, fewer layers of clothes, and warmer weather. Spring rocks.
Summer comes next because it is warm and, as a person who is perpetually cold, I am a fan of warm. I particularly love the warm rain. Plus, at least here in Michigan, the world is generally still green (unlike the lovely brown grass I had Texas). Were it not for spring, summer would be my favorite. In fact, I prefer warm so much, I made Phil promise not to move me to snow unless he really felt called to the job (and true to his word, even though he moved me to snow, he really is in the right place. But I digress...)
Fall is third. Although fall is arguably similar to spring (it even has its own candy holiday), I can barely rank it above winter. Fall is all about the colors of the world leaving and winter lasts so long it feels like they will never reappear. Fall makes me depressed just thinking it. I think this is mainly because I see it only as the portent of winter. Bad by association, I guess. Still, I do love the leaves changing colors, and it does often involve more rain. In fact, seeing the colorful leaves against the gray rainy sky is probably what redeems fall for me.
Winter is, has been, and will likely always be last. I don't care how many paid holidays it has, or how good the presents are, winter will never make it out of 4th place. I dread winter and count the days until spring. The only time I ever like snow is when it's coating everything, still pristine and white, and I don't have to be anywhere near it. If I can look at it through my window and not have to leave my house, then fine. Just make sure I have plenty of cocoa and books; warm, fuzzy socks; and my down comforter to wrap up in. But if I have to venture out into it, whether walking, driving, etc. I get frumpy and angry and all kinds of bad attitude. No thank you. And, since winter up here has asserted itself all over what are rightfully months belonging to fall and spring, it only exacerbates the dislike I have.
So, imagine my surprise when I discovered I was looking forward to fall this year. Sure, there's the obvious--my upcoming baby's birthday. But that wasn't it. I was actually looking forward to fall weather. This is unusual behavior indeed. After all, until this year, as far as I was concerned, anything below 70 degrees was cold. Period. So, the fact that it was 39 degrees this morning and I said nary a word, but went to work without a coat on, resulted in Phil making sure I wasn't a pod person. No, it turns out, I'm just a pregnant lady trying to stay cool.
I have actually never been more thankful to live in the North, where the summer temps that I usually found lacking became reasonably bearable. I have discovered that fall is a great season, at least this year, because it is perfect pregnant lady weather--highs in the 60s, lows in the 40s. Heaven! I know it's all hormonal and pregnancy-based, but given that I've spent a fair amount of time discussing the things I have suffered through with my pregnancy, I wanted to make sure to point out that I have found a few joys. And not being cold all the time is one of those. So, here's to hormones finally making me comfortably warm in places that are over-air-conditioned as well as the cool, fall outdoors.
And one final note: Although I doubt that this newfound love affair with cooler weather will last beyond the birth of my daughter (at least until either another pregnancy or menopause), I would like to thank her for timing her arrival so that my maternity leave falls during what is generally the snowiest part of the year. It is very thoughtful of her to keep me from having to drive to work in all the yucky weather. :)
Spring is best, hands down. It has my birthday (presents and candy), Easter (bunnies and candy), my favorite flowers (iris), my favorite weather (rain), and the green comes back! Plus, given how long winter lasts around here, I am always more than ready for the green to return. It can't come back soon enough. Spring is rebirth. It's cute baby animals, fewer layers of clothes, and warmer weather. Spring rocks.
Summer comes next because it is warm and, as a person who is perpetually cold, I am a fan of warm. I particularly love the warm rain. Plus, at least here in Michigan, the world is generally still green (unlike the lovely brown grass I had Texas). Were it not for spring, summer would be my favorite. In fact, I prefer warm so much, I made Phil promise not to move me to snow unless he really felt called to the job (and true to his word, even though he moved me to snow, he really is in the right place. But I digress...)
Fall is third. Although fall is arguably similar to spring (it even has its own candy holiday), I can barely rank it above winter. Fall is all about the colors of the world leaving and winter lasts so long it feels like they will never reappear. Fall makes me depressed just thinking it. I think this is mainly because I see it only as the portent of winter. Bad by association, I guess. Still, I do love the leaves changing colors, and it does often involve more rain. In fact, seeing the colorful leaves against the gray rainy sky is probably what redeems fall for me.
Winter is, has been, and will likely always be last. I don't care how many paid holidays it has, or how good the presents are, winter will never make it out of 4th place. I dread winter and count the days until spring. The only time I ever like snow is when it's coating everything, still pristine and white, and I don't have to be anywhere near it. If I can look at it through my window and not have to leave my house, then fine. Just make sure I have plenty of cocoa and books; warm, fuzzy socks; and my down comforter to wrap up in. But if I have to venture out into it, whether walking, driving, etc. I get frumpy and angry and all kinds of bad attitude. No thank you. And, since winter up here has asserted itself all over what are rightfully months belonging to fall and spring, it only exacerbates the dislike I have.
So, imagine my surprise when I discovered I was looking forward to fall this year. Sure, there's the obvious--my upcoming baby's birthday. But that wasn't it. I was actually looking forward to fall weather. This is unusual behavior indeed. After all, until this year, as far as I was concerned, anything below 70 degrees was cold. Period. So, the fact that it was 39 degrees this morning and I said nary a word, but went to work without a coat on, resulted in Phil making sure I wasn't a pod person. No, it turns out, I'm just a pregnant lady trying to stay cool.
I have actually never been more thankful to live in the North, where the summer temps that I usually found lacking became reasonably bearable. I have discovered that fall is a great season, at least this year, because it is perfect pregnant lady weather--highs in the 60s, lows in the 40s. Heaven! I know it's all hormonal and pregnancy-based, but given that I've spent a fair amount of time discussing the things I have suffered through with my pregnancy, I wanted to make sure to point out that I have found a few joys. And not being cold all the time is one of those. So, here's to hormones finally making me comfortably warm in places that are over-air-conditioned as well as the cool, fall outdoors.
And one final note: Although I doubt that this newfound love affair with cooler weather will last beyond the birth of my daughter (at least until either another pregnancy or menopause), I would like to thank her for timing her arrival so that my maternity leave falls during what is generally the snowiest part of the year. It is very thoughtful of her to keep me from having to drive to work in all the yucky weather. :)
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