I Haven't Read The Baby Books

I don’t want this to come off the wrong way, but I’m saying it here to remind myself yet again. That I. Am Pregnant. It happens several times a day, whether it’s when I’m bending down to get something and my body reminds me that I’m not able to fold in half like I used to. Or I pass by a mirror or window and catch a glimpse of my exaggerated silhouette. But I keep forgetting that I’m pregnant. I giggle each time I remember and I’m constantly grateful, but it’s a little bizarre that at this point,  I still kind of forget that this is real. That I’m not making it up. That the soft kicks and rolls I feel are from the child growing inside of me. It’s kind of insane. 

In my dreams when I thought about this point in our lives coming, I imagined I would have read every book, been halfway through my Prenatal Yoga class, and had the nursery painted and ready for furnishing. 

In reality I haven’t finished or really even more than glanced at the books about pregnancy (that I bought so naively four years ago.)

None of the yoga classes I’ve looked into seem to fit my schedule, and I haven’t done much to make them for that matter.

And the nursery still looks like the cleanest room on an episode of “Hoa.rders”.  And is still peach. 

So for as much as I have been inadvertently dragging my feet, I’ve suddenly been given a swift kick into the “this is real, your days as just a couple are numbered and you haven’t done a damn thing to prepare for it you lazy whore”, reality. Sunday night Brian and I were getting ready to wind down for the evening, when I remembered the dvd I had ordered about Child Birth was still sitting in our living room. I checked with Brian to make sure he was game and popped the video in before snuggling up with my husband Snoogle. The moment it was over, I felt a fog of panic come over me. Not for the impending, contracting and dilating. But because it suddenly feels like we have SO MUCH to do. But the panic was short lived and I’ve found myself hardly being able to wait to get started. 

I signed us up for Birth classes, which deserves a post of its very own. And boy will that be a big one. Next week I’m going to look for a new OB, and/or Midwife. (Cue foreshadowy music) I already have my next appointment set up with my OB and the specialist for our 20 week u/s, so I’m just going to get through that and make appointments with the new options afterwards. Next on the list, tackle the bottomless pile of crap in what will be the nursery. (Cue Sanford and Son music)

And with almost ironic timing, ever since my epiphany that we're actually going to be parents this year (HOPEFULLY), the baby has started moving like CRAZY. Instead of just feeling the occasional flutter or tap here and there, I could feel it moving almost the entire day yesterday, and most of today so far. It is extraordinarily distracting and so, so fucking cool. 

My Horizon's

Warning: This is a super TMI pg post, so if you’re not in a good place, yamight wanna skip this one and I promise I’ll still love you anyway.

Lots of new developments in the last week or so. None of them extraordinary, but a few of them have taken me by surprise. I’m not going to sugar coat this first one folks, but holy crap my jugs are getting HUGE. You might remember that I usually refer to them as “the girls”, but dude, that reference is no longer applicable. They. Are. Jugs. Gozanga’s even.  A few weeks ago I noticed that I was starting to outgrow my regular bra’s so I was like, “Okay, cool, this is normal…” and I switched over to my “fat bras”. Read: Bras I had kept from before I lost 36+ lbs last year. Saved myself a little quiche right there, I did. However, not three weeks later, I am already muffin-topping out of them! Gah. My jugs are so full and heavy, and my veins read like a Metro Map. I could create an app based on my chest that would probably rival g.oogle maps. It’s out of control, really. 

THEN, the other day, I was walking through the house scratching my stomach when my finger found its way into my belly button, and cheese and crackers folks, it’s… it’s getting shallow. I used to be able to fit an entire fingertip in there, now it only goes about halfway. FREAKY. But cool. 

Oh, good news! I got my last NK Assay and TH1/TH2 follow up test. They came back: NORMAL. My favorite nurse called to tell me personally that everything looked great and I am officially released to my OB. RELEASED TO MY OB. She told me how happy she was for us, and asked that we keep them posted. I told her how very much we enjoyed working with her, and how grateful we were for all of her help. I was actually in the middle of shopping at Trad.er.Jo.es for my lunch when she called. I had a hard time staying composed in the frozen section while taking in exactly what our conversation actually meant… This is all really happening. And it’s going by so, so fast.

We’ve started looking at baby stuff. CRAZY. Brian is going to build the crib and changing table, so we went to a couple of fancy-shmancy boutiques to pilfer designs.  I know you might be picturing Brian with a glue gun surrounded by a pile of kindling, but this isn’t like a DIY project that I would get great “I told you so” satisfaction from. He is quite capable I assure you, and I can’t wait to show you how amazing his woodworking skills are…  And we’re going to choose a design that will convert to a head and foot board, so it’s something we can keep for a long time. Which makes me smile. It’s nice to feel excited and not quite as scared. I’m slowly letting my guard down, and this new world is just amazing. If you haven’t seen it yet, I hope you join me very, VERY soon. 

The Sum of All Parts

Alright, I’m starting to feel a little bratty about my last post. Especially because not more than two posts ago I was bitching and begging for boring...  


I want to thank those of who validated my difficulty in transitioning, it’s really nice to hear that I’m not alone there and please know really and truly am grateful to have had an extraordinarily boring appointment. I look forward to many more of them. Really. I think the reasons for my reaction yesterday are twofold. One – I really was used to the super intense, and very goal oriented appointments that were part of seeing an RE. Two – I like the fundamentals of how this Doctor runs his practice, but I just don’t mesh with his personality. Or maybe I’m being too uptight. Expecting too much. Maybe being with someone who is so low-key is the best thing for me. Knock me out of my tightly closed shell. Or maybe I’ll start shopping for a new OB. Stay Tuned. 


So yeah, this last appointment was fairly uneventful. At the end of the appointment the nurse gave me a flyer with the name of a specialist that they wanted me to see for my 20 week scan. Twenty-flippin’-weeks. I am almost halfway through this pregnancy and still in denial. Sometimes when I say it to myself, it feels as new and as foreign as the day I saw a positive test. It’s just bananas. Anyhoo, lots of people have been asking about this scan and when we’ll find out what we’re having, and for a surprisingly large amount of people their heads are blown clean off when we tell them: December. We’ll find out in December, when I give birth. 


I’ve never really given much thought to gender prediction when it came to pregnant women. If you think about it, it’s as arbitrary as trying to guess hair or eye color. There’s only a limited number of things it could be, so why speculate based on how someone is carrying, what they’re cravings are, or whether or not their asses got fat. My best friend has three boys and each of her pregnancies were entirely unique. I know, I’m no fun right? True story, my friends. I’m kind of a curmudgeon when it comes to stuff like that. I guess I can see the harmless fun it throwing out guesses, and I’ll admit I’ve participated in more than one baby pool. But hell, I play the in the office Superbowl pools, even though I despise football. I just have a soft spot for illegal sources of gambling. 

When people hear that we’re not going to find out what sex of the baby is, some think it’s great, but some act like we’ve deliberately chosen to disappoint them. Like it’s a plot against them or something. That usually segues into their next question of whether or not we have a preference. I usually respond with a smile and laugh about not really caring. Brian is diplomatic as always and says he sees the joy in both genders. But when prodded I usually end up cutting them off with a sentence like “ It took us four years to get pregnant, we just want A. BABY. So do I hope it’s a boy? Do I hope it’s a girl? No. I hope IT gets here safe and healthy and that Brian and I have a significant role in making sure it turns out to be a caring, sensitive, productive member of society. So go ahead and buy IT something yellow already and leave me the hell alone.” 

Okay, I don’t really say any of that.  But I think it while I smile and nod, and try not to head-butt them. The truth is I've never wanted to find out what we were having. Even back in the day when I thought sex made babies, and it would be easy for us; I always figured we'd find out when they were born. I'm more intrigued by the element of surprise than having the knowledge to plan bedding choices based on gender. That said if we ended up with twins, I probably would have caved and found out. Just seems like good common sense, no? 

So I’m looking forward to the big 20 week scan, but only because I’ll always want to have a peak at the baby before it gets here, it's seriously ridonkulous when I repeat that to myself. Twenty week scan... Also, since I have three more weeks before said ultrasound, I put up a belly pic in the Photo Gallery Tab. (Cringe) It's not a great one, but I took like 30 and posted the least awful one. Please don't laugh. 

The Whole Three Day Old Enchilada

I’ve always been one to err on the side of caution. I’m a just-in-case, kinda gal. So it seems only natural that during a pregnancy I struggled four years, endured countless needles, exams and spent tens of thousands of dollars (that we don’t have) to achieve, that I would fall into the “you-can-never-be-too-careful” category once finally in the family way. However, I think my OB thinks I’m ridiculous. And it’s not settling well with me at all. 

I had an appointment yesterday, which in retrospect seemed like, Well - A big fat waste of my time. My OB was 45 minutes late getting in to see us, and when he did finally sit down with me he made me feel like a complete moron. He wasn’t mean about my questions, just over explained (complete with family anecdotes, I should mention) about why it’s fine for me at 17w2d to sleep on my back. And have three day old homemade leftover enchiladas. I half expected him to show me a flashcard with a picture of a wheel of imported Brie with a circle and a line through it.  I guess I should be happy that he took his time answering all my questions, but that’s probably why he was forty-fucking-five minutes late to a 10am appointment when they open at 9am. I would expect the afternoon appointments to run a bit behind, but don’t overbook your patients then waste my and the next patients time because you’re busy rambling on to me about how your daughter won’t even consider leftovers while your wife eats three day old salads regardless of the wilted lettuce.  This is only my second appointment seeing my OB, every other time I’ve seen the head Nurse Practitioner, whom I love – but obviously won’t be delivering me. 

Important note: He runs a solo practice, and assured me that he won’t be going anywhere for Christmas this year. Which really appealed to me. He seems great on paper - agrees with my request for minimal intervention during labor, has a low forceps and c-section rate, and seems to have an educated staff, all of whom work well together. 

So maybe I’ve been in ‘the system” too long. Maybe I’ve just gotten too used to the formality seen in the Fertility Clinic industry. And all that comes with being closely monitored. I suppose that was because I was more of a client than a patient, since we were paying everything out of pocket, not just going where an insurance administrator told us was the closest proximity to our home address. But I want that environment back! I want a doctor who is meticulously on time, and asks relevant questions, whilst dispensing useful information. I’m not asking to be coddled, hell the first word I would use to describe Dr. 3 (after awesome, that is) would be: Cyborg. Fantastic. Efficient. Warm and fuzzy, he was NOT.  My OB seems more like a cross between a Surfer and an amateur standup comedian.  Also, he has white hair and glasses with bifocals that he looks down over when speaking to me, and it makes me think of Benjamin Franklin. But I got there, they took my vitals, the doctor made sure both me and the baby were still alive, then left.  

Am I asking too much? 

After speaking to a mom, apparently aside from the personality flaws,  the monthly appointments are pretty routine. Not a whole lot of action. Which honestly, is what I should want. Not a lot of fuss, or probing. Just the basics, like everyone else. 

I guess I’m just getting used to what being on “the otherside” is really like.  And it’s still nothing like I thought. 

Holy Crap, She's A Lazy Whore

Oh wait, I’m talking about me.  Sorry it’s been like, a millennia since I updated. While rereading through my last couple of posts I realized I’ve left quite a few things open ended. So here are a few bullet points to ease your back into your seats.

• Progesterone – I was finally able to stop my suppositories. 13w6d as my last round. I had my P4 checked four days later and my level was 19, up from 17. So no more weekly blood tests!
• Immunology – I had another NK Assay follow up, they checked my TH1 and TH2 as well. Bad news on this front, all of my levels spiked even higher after my last infusion, so I had to go back for two more weekly infusions. This kid is definitely going to Junior College. And wearing mine or Brian’s hand me downs.
• NT Scan -  I decided not to go in for the test after all. I just really didn’t like the idea of a Ratio Diagnosis. Or that fact that a false diagnosis would lead to (potentially unnecessary) invasive testing. No judgment for those who go, it just wasn’t for me.
• Commenting – I signed up for Goog.le Ch.rome, and for the most part it’s working. Although randomly now Safari is giving me trouble. WTF blogger?

As for my overall well being I am, despite the crappy NK news, feeling much more confident and comfortable with myself and this pregnancy. I think making myself talk more about the pregnancy and acknowledging here just how much I was really struggling with it all has helped me feel less like I was an impostor. Or that talking about it will make something bad happen to the baby – having had the Doppler handy hasn’t hurt things either. One other really cool thing? I’ve started feeling movement – so bananas. Last Sunday afternoon (15w1d) I was waking up from a nap *(see post title above) when I felt what I can only describe as a cross between a tapping and bubbles popping, distinctly on my right side… It happened again a few minutes later. It was a very unique feeling, but it still took me about a day before I acknowledged it, or even mentioned it to anyone. I did some reading on it, checked in with some ladies on forum (cause that’s what IF bloggers do) and sure enough, they confirmed what I’d thought (knew) I’d felt. It’s not terribly consistent, which is kind of a bummer. And it's so subtle that half the time I don’t even realize it’s happening until it’s over. 


Food is still a bit of a battle. Still can’t do the spicy stuff, though I am able to do desserts again. Not sure that’s really a good thing. Meat. A little over a week ago, meat all of a sudden became an issue. Particularly when I had to prepare it. It didn’t make me yak or anything, I just suddenly found it profoundly vile. But then last night I was shopping at Costco and picked up a Rotisserie Chicken on a whim. Thirty minutes later I found myself talking dirty to it and eating it out of the pan on my kitchen counter… That said, I’ve eaten nothing but fruits, veggies, and carbs today. 


I’m getting closer to not being able to wear any of my regular clothes. Shopping at Maternity stores has certainly made me branch out with my style choices. More patterns and colors than I used to wear, as well as having bought a few skirts. I’m a fan of black, and earth tones, but evidently maternity stores think jewel tones and floral patterns are more appropriate. I suppose that has to do with it being summer and what not as well. 


So that’s it for now, I should try to at least make it look like I don’t agree with my title and get some house work done. I’ll check back in soon, folks!