Oooooo, dear...

Okay, it's not just tiredness. It's the stomach flu. Thank you, Aaron, for bringing this home yesterday.

Do you know what is very fun (or completely not, as the case may be)? It is "very fun" to have an upset tummy AND a baby kicking your stomach at the same time! It is many thrills!

I have left work early today so that I can lie around in nauseated pain. I am going to go do that now.

The Pain and the Tiredness

Oh, this is a rough morning. Thursdays are, nowadays, because we have Childbirth Prep classes on Wednesdays. The classes last from 7-9PM, which means that the earliest I get home and in bed is 9:45, which is like, so an hour and a half past my bedtime. I can't really sleep in, either, because my stomach and the baby in my tummy are set to a internal clock of about 5:30. It makes for some VERY sleepy Thursdays.

Anyhoo, childbirth classes are going well. We are learning all about the gross and disgusting stuff (or, "the perfectly natural stuff," as Aaron, who I think is deluding himself, says) that comes out after the baby. Fun! We are also learning some breathing techniques to help get through the contractions. It's interesting enough. I don't know...maybe I should be more worried, but as a girl who has had gallstones, kidneystones, and migraines, I've been through my share of pain. It turns out that I used Lamaze breathing through most of those, without actually ever having taken Lamaze.

We did an exercise last night where Aaron had to pinch the underside of my arm for about a minute to simulate a contraction while I did the breathing. Afterwards, I yelled at him for being too soft on me and not squeezing hard enough. I mean, it didn't hurt at all. Then, when I was NOT doing my breathing, he showed me exactly how hard he had been squeezing, and holy cow--it really hurt!

This is not to say that I have a high pain tolerance, because I DO NOT. I hate pain, even the littlest bit, and I am generally good about letting people know when the least little thing hurts. Because I hate pain so much, on those big pain things--like gallstones or kidneystones--I learned early that the more you think about it, the worse it hurts, so it's better to just concentrate on something rhythmic (like breathing) and stay calm.

Anyway, I suppose that all my practice with pain is good because I don't respond well to pain medications. I fight tranquilizers and sedatives (when I was getting my wisdom teeth out, the doctor said, "You'll never remember any of this," so in my stupidly sleepy state, I stayed awake through the ENTIRE thing just to prove him wrong, and could actually feel him taking out some of the teeth, but was too tranquilized to say anything about it). Almost all narcotics make me sick (either I throw up, break out in an itchy rash, or my blood pressure drops precipitously). So, that leaves us with, what? An epidural? Well, it's a possibility. I'm going to see if the super-breathing can work, but I'm not going to insist on an all-natural delivery just to satisfy some deep-seated need to prove how tough I really am (answer: I am not tough. At all).

The other lovely thing that has happened since our last post was my first baby shower! Hooray, baby showers! We actually have stuff! For the baby! Granted, none of this stuff is out of the boxes; all the clothes are heaped in a gigantic pile that I keep threatening to wash one day (don't worry--so far the clothes are safe because I am too sleepy all the time); and we still don't have our dresser that we ordered weeks ago (now they say it will come in sometime next week. I am wondering which will get here first...the dresser or the baby).

Regardless of our sloth at putting things away, thank you so much to Aaron's entire family for making sure that our little one will 1) be able to sleep downstairs, too, in a Pack n' Play; 2) be able to leave the house since we now have a beautiful new travel system; 3) not be traumatized by the smell of its own dirty diapers thanks to our new Diaper Genie, and many other wonderful gifts that I know are going to help out a lot. You guys are the greatest!

My many pregnancy chins and I open presents at the Wolfe/Meredith Family baby shower

Several generations of Aaron's family were in attendance.

Braxton-Hicks, Meet York High Class of '98

For those of you wondering what it is like to go to your 10-year high school reunion while 7 months pregnant, let me elucidate you: it is uncomfortable. You can't wear those really snazzy shoes (at least, I couldn't) because they don't allow the necessary amount of waddling to keep your back from spasming. You have to spend a lot of time excusing yourself from conversations to use the restroom (although, in the case of a few awkward conversations, this was a good thing). Among the pros, however, is the lack of desperate dieting in the weeks proceeding the reunion--any extra weight gain can easily be explained by the impending baby hidden like a bowling ball under your basic black dress.


Those of you not 7 months pregnant, feel free
to get your groove on!
The reunion itself was...well, exactly like I thought that it would be. My friend Joanna really wanted to go, and she even came down from New York with her incredibly supportive boyfriend...so we went. All the people I expected to be there were there...you know, the people who actually liked high school the first time around. There were a few other people who showed up out of sheer moxy (myself included, I guess). The awkwardness faded as the about 30 couples attending did their best to empty out the cash bar (minus yours truly; I had a Diet Coke and considered myself rebellious...it made me have to pee a lot).

Overall, though, I'm glad that we went. Aaron, the saint that I married, accompanied me. The baby also did a wonderful job, and slept most of the time (it's usually more awake during the day and kicks only a little bit at night)--at least until the end. I suppose I had been standing around too much, not drinking enough water, but at about 10:30, the Braxton-Hicks contractions really started.

Joanna, me, Jeff --just like highschool with one
BIG difference
For those of you who haven't been reading on-line pregnancy guides (or have actually gone through a pregnany), Braxton-Hicks contractions aren't real contractions. Nothing comes of them. It's just your body's way of getting ready for the "real thing." According to a website I read, BH contractions are not painful and you shouldn't even notice them. The person writing this was obviously male, because I have heard (and experienced) stories to the contrary. BH contractions might not hurt, but it's basically a muscle spasm--so if you've had a muscle spasm, you know that it usually does hurt. Mine tend to go away rather quickly, but can get distracting when I'm trying to do other things.

So I drank a ton of water. This didn't help a lot, and moreover--the contractions started to make the baby mad. I can understand; I don't think I would like my home being intermittantly squeezed, either. The baby starting kicking with a vengeance, which on top of the contractions made me decide it was time to go home. But I made it to almost 11:00, which I consider an accomplishment, even if it it is the earliest I've ever left a high school dance before.

Hooray!

Went to the doctor today, and huzzah--no gestational diabetes for me and the little frog! They took my blood 4 times last Friday (and only one bruise to show for it--that lab tech was amazing, since normally I bruise when I get within a foot of a needle), and only one of the sugar counts was slightly elevated. The doctor said this means that I just need to watch my sugar intake (not difficult; I'm allergic to most everything sugary, anyway...at least, all the good stuff) and try to cut back on carbs like bread (ack!) and potatoes (NOOOOOO! NOT THE POTATOES!). He told me to eat lots of broccoli (yum) and red meat (cow is good).

I also LOVED this doctor because he seems to think that women should gain 35-40 pounds during their pregnancy, unlike the snarky nurse practioner who gave me a lecture last time because "we still have a long way to go and you don't want to gain too much too early." This DOCTOR thought that I was doing just fine (I've gained about 24 pounds, which is a bit much if you go with the nurse practioner's estimate, but right on target if I should gain about 35). I even explained to him that I thought I had gained a bit too much, but he just shook his head in a nice, grandfatherly way and told me that I looked GREAT, my face wasn't puffy at all, and I knew right then that I want him to be my doctor FOREVER. I would like to take him clothes-shopping, too.

Next week should be fun, too. Aaron and I are going to Riverside Hospital to take the Expectant Parents Tour on Tuesday, and on Wednesday, we are going to our first childbirth class. We get to bring pillows to that one, and I am a fan of any place that actively encourages you to bring pillows.

Glucose, Part II

Ugh. Well, the doctor's office called today and...I get to go back and do the actual glucose test on Friday. A three hour test (hopefully, you read that to the tune of the Gilligan's Island theme song, because I expect this test to be just as ominous). See...they want your blood sugar count, or whatever it is that they measure in the glucose screen, to be under 140, and they pronounce that all is well. If you're above 200, they go ahead and count you as having gestational diabetes. If you're anywhere between...they make you take the three hour test. My count was 162. The test is the same as the one hour screen, except that they draw your blood every hour after you drink the ridiculously sugary solution (like Pedialyte, but fruit-punch flavored).

Anyway, other important things worth documenting that happened this weekend:

1) We sold the Camry! We recently bought a RAV-4 in preparation for needing a vehicle that could transport our dog and our baby at the same time without the dog sitting in the baby's lap (because Nesta would try). Aaron put up the ad Saturday on cars.com and we got a phone call yesterday, and the guy came today loaded down with cash (where do you even get that much cash? ATMs don't let you get that much all at once! Do you get it from these mythical bank tellers I hear so much about?) It was a good car, still running great after 9 years. It was with me through college, marriage, and most of the pregnancy. But the RAV-4 is very shiny, so it is nice, too.

2) Our main sewage system backed up! Hooray! We got to meet a lovely young man from Roto-Rooter on Sunday.

3) I signed up for childbirth classes, an expectant parents' tour at the hospital, and a meet and greet with our new pediatrician! I also pre-registered at the hospital, so we are almost ready to have this baby (not to actually take care of the baby, since our nursery isn't done and we don't have much baby-stuff yet, but we could have the baby). That leads us to...

4) Our crib came! And it's put together! Our baby has somewhere to sleep! (except that we still don't have a mattress pad or sheets or a baby, but still--it's something). The crib came in a box that was as tall as our friend Ayinde (who helped put it together because he is a wonderful person and I fed him lunch, dinner, and chocolate chip cookies). It only took Aaron and Yin about an hour to put it together, and it's very sturdy, as well as quite attractive, if I do say so myself.

Glucose

Posts on this space are going to come a bit more frequently now. We have entered the third trimester and will be visiting the doctor every two weeks. We may not have pics (except of Kate's growing belly), but we will have funny and insightful commentary on the stretch run. Or something like that.

Today we went in for a diabetes glucose screening (we won't have the results until Monday), where they gave Kate some glucose (Fruit Punch-flavored!- Kate was worried about Orange, which she despises due to her allergy to all things citrus) then we had to sit around for an hour until they could take some blood. Luckily, we thought ahead and made an appointment with the doctor. It was the first time we've actually met with a doctor rather than a nurse practitioner. He asked how things were going (fine), and if we had any questions. Kate asked about a birth plan, which the doctor poo-pooed. Sweet! I was worried we'd have this elaborate plan that would inevitably be thrown out due to the baby's lack of knowledge of said plan. The doctor apparently knew this too, and talked about how you kinda got to go with the flow. How great is that? We obviously (subconsciously) picked the right doctor.

These visits are anti-climactic, but I'm glad we go. There are so many mothers who do not have the chance for pre-natal visits. I will refrain from any additional political commentary (you can visit my blog, Rambling Leaf, for that).

I find that the closer we come to having this baby, I do not have the anxiety that many fathers go through. Maybe it is because I'm older and am comfortable with what's going on. Maybe it's because I'm a total moron and have no idea what is coming. Regardless, I am ready.

I read to the baby (almost) every night. We started with John Hodgman's (of The Daily Show and Mac commercial fame) The Areas of My Expertice, which was hysterical and scary at the same time. Obsessed with werewolves and hobos, Hodgman is completely insane. Right now, we are reading An Arsonists Guide to Writer's Homes in New England on the recommendation of my Aunt Lanny, who owns a book store. You may wonder why we are subjecting our (unborn) child to this kind of material, and you would be correct to do so. We have a simple reason- THE BABY DOESN'T KNOW ENGLISH. All it hears is the dulcet (Kate would describe it as soporific) tone of Daddy's voice. Which is the point. Baby gets to hear Kate's voice all the time. Having baby recognize my voice when s/he decides to emerge from the womb is the goal. I don't know if we'll acheive that, but I do know this- After a few days of not reading, the baby went crazy for a little while when I started to read the other night. Boo-Yah!

Whoa Baby

We had another ultrasound today, courtesy of the partial previa they found last time (when the placenta is slightly blocking the baby's exit from the cervix). They don't freak out about this too much in the doctor's office, though they put you on something called "placental rest" which I am not going to describe here. They said that in 80% of the cases, the uterus just grows around the placenta so that it's not a problem anymore.

So, I am one of the 80%, and everything is fine now...in that department.

The other fascinating thing, however, is that our child.Is.Huge. At today's ultrasound, the baby measured in the 94th percentile for size. That is, um, big. In fact, it is bigger than 93% of the other babies out there.

Does this worry me? Perhaps a little. See, I am a tall girl, and rather large on the toppish portion, but my hips have always been small. Not very big at all. No one ever looked at me and exclaimed what great birthing hips I have. Now, I know that just because you have big hips doesn't necessarily correlate with how easy it is to push out babies, but certainly it must help at least a little.

This doesn't mean automatic c-section, though it certainly doesn't decrease the odds of one happening. Who knows? Maybe my hips will separate more before D-Day (it still freaks me out a little to know that your bones start migrating around your body when you're pregnant), or maybe my kid's head will be very maleable and I'll give birth "the old fashioned way" to an adorable little cone-head.

In other news, the baby has turned so that the head is now in the downward "ready" position. The head is very far down. Perhaps the baby is practicing? Trying to mould the little head for an easy escape route? We can only hope. Combined with the 94th percentile thing, it does mean that yes--the kid is still firmly on my bladder, which has made things really interesting now that school has started and I only get breaks every 2 1/2 hours. Ah well. Only 3 1/2 more months to go...