Juicing...YEAH!

Over the last week or so, Tempest has made it very difficult to keep food down. Even eating tiny meals slowly has made little difference. Greasy food is a DEFINITE no-no, as is fake sugar and anything high in saturated fat; whether greasy or not. Big meals are out, and small meals MUST be eaten VERY slowly. Take a tiny bite, chew it to mush, swallow and wait 2-3 minutes before taking the next tiny bite. Drink water between bites. And even then, I wind up burping more than a beer-chugging frat boy. Ah, the glamour of pregnancy.

I jokingly suggested to Hubs, yesterday, that perhaps I should consider “juicing.” No, not steroids: Geez. I mean going on a liquid diet. Silken tofu and various fruits and vegetables pureed in a blender with some juice or other liquid. Out of curiosity, I tried a smoothie for breakfast this morning instead of something more solid. Aside from the inevitable belching, I haven’t been forced to bow at the feet of Ralph, The Porcelain God yet. The day is still young but if this keeps up, I’m pulling the blender back out of retirement and buying stock in tofu at the local Coop.

I think Tempest is still breech, but he did some seriously wild wiggling last night when I went to bed, so for all I know he may very well have flipped around. If not, he clearly has the ability to do so. But we’ll find out for sure on the 24^th when we have our 36-week ultrasound. I.F. seems amenable to the possibility of external cephalic version: Turning the baby around from the outside, manually. Basically the doctor (with or without the assistance of a nurse-midwife) would give me a shot of muscle relaxer aimed at the uterus specifically, and push and prod at Tempest through my belly to try to get him to turn around so he’s head-down. I’ll admit that this idea makes me feel a lot better than just leaving him as he is, and insisting on a C-section. *FINGERS CROSSED*

Flip, Curse You!

Well we’re now into OB visits every other week. As of Friday I was exactly 32 weeks pregnant (224 days, or 13,440 hours, or 806, 400 minutes, or 48,384,000 seconds). Yesterday I drove up to The Big Hospital, stopping nearly halfway between home and there, to empty my already empty stomach. Tempest has been giving me a hard time about overeating; eating oily or greasy foods (apparently even just root vegetables with a little bit of olive oil sprinkled on them to prevent them from burning when I roast them); or, well… Just eating food in general. One bite too many and suddenly I’m fighting to keep it down. Mind you, his sister did the same thing, but she was far gentler about it. She preferred that I just empty that one extra bite, please, she just needed a teensy bit more room. Not Tempest! Little stormling feels that if I’ve impeded on his space at all, EVERYTHING MUST BE PURGED! Bless ‘im.

My favorite nurse weighed me at two pounds lighter than last visit, which of course caused me to assume I was going to get scolded again. Au contraire, mes amis! Dr. Goggles told me he was glad to see it. The new standard, apparently, is for a preggosaurus to gain between 10-20 pounds during pregnancy. My net gain thus far is only eleven! WOOT! I got a shot for the nausea, which helped a bit; and a tetanus/pertussis (whooping cough) booster, to make sure that some of the antibodies from the pertussis vaccination eeks through the placenta and transfers to Tempest. The nurse gives great needle, but inevitably I wind up with a killer headache and a sore arm for several days afterward. Oh well; it’s for the little one. I can take it.

Dr. Goggles measured my fundal growth, and declared Tempest to be about two weeks ahead of the curve, but not to worry – at this stage, every baby grows differently. The ultrasound basically confirmed this. While “What To Expect While You’re Expecting” suggests that babies at this stage of development are usually around four-ish pounds, Tempest weighs a solid five. His head and belly are up around the 90^th percentile for size, which puts him in the 70^th overall. In other words; he’s a big baby. He’s still in frank breech position, but nobody’s worried about that right now. He’s still got two months to turn. Both Pooka (and reportedly Lord Bear as well) turned about a week before their due dates; dramatically so, even. They were also both large babies. Pooka weighed 8lbs, 10oz. Lord Bear was closing in on 10lbs, if I remember my mother’s recounting correctly.

The only concern I have about Tempest remaining breech is that I REALLY, REALLY don’t want to have a cesarean section. One: I don’t like surgery. Two: Epidurals don’t work on my right side, and while many have reassured me that spinal blocks are totally different, I’m still wary. I do NOT want to feel myself being cut open. And three: If I have a C-section, it will throw off mine and Hubs’ timeline for trying for a little monkey of our own. So if any of you lovely readers could send some thoughts along to encourage Tempest to get into the proper, head-down, rear-facing position by 36 weeks, I’d REALLY appreciate it.

Symphysis, Not Syphilis!

Friday was a fairly productive day. I got to sleep in till 7:30 which, for the record, is when I typically start my day at work. Got Pooka up and headed for school, showered and was on my way to The Big Hospital by 8:40.

One of the things I love most about Dr. Badass is that she’s completely frank with me. Not to mention quick-witted and charismatic. Anyway, she walked into the exam room, dropped my chart on the little desk, flopped in the chair and declared that she was so excited to see my chart come up on her pile today, because she trusted that she could just relax and be aware that if there was anything wrong, I’d already know it, declare it and probably already have a handle on it. Admittedly, I puffed up over this. Most doctors treat their patients like they know nothing and don’t pay attention to their bodies at all.

As it happened, I did tell her that Tempest was putting a lot of pressure on my pelvis, and that I could feel the bones moving. I told her I knew it was normal; it’s just more noticeable this pregnancy. She told me it’s called symphisis pubis separation. SYMPHYSIS, not SYPHILIS! Stupid spell-check. I also told her that I had started to have swelling in my right ankle and foot. In light of my blood pressure (128/78) that morning, I doubted it was anything about which I needed to be overly concerned, but that I was going to try to watch my sodium intake; read labels, etc. and see if that helped. She agreed that it’s not a big deal, especially since no other parts of my body are swollen, but that if I wanted to try to slow up on sodium, it couldn't hurt. (At this point in the pregnancy with Wiggle-Worm, I was already wearing my wedding and engagement ring on a cord around my neck. They’re still fitting loosely right now.) My uterus was measured and declared perfect (See? They always use that word with me), as was Tempest’s heartbeat, and the visit was basically over.

Some other personal things came up which required a bit of legwork in and around the Queen City, and after that I sneaked over to the big mall to check out the maternity clothing store (CatButt accidentally tore my favorite preggo yoga pants) and walked out with a SUPER soft, comfy pair of preggo leggings and four cute, girly preggo shirts. Damn that store. The clothes are a little pricey but everything I try on makes me feel adorable, so I always spend more than I mean to. I picked up a new strapless bra from VS so I can wear a couple other tops that really aren't made to wear with a regular bra, and then grabbed a pretzel from Auntie Anne’s (so much for sodium watching on Friday!)

Home again to get some more chores done and help Pooka get ready for a school dance, and then I was free to nap until she got home. Did I mention that Hubs was off visiting his parents in the Mid-West all week? Normally I get mopey and whiny when he’s gone, but this time I was able to just settle comfortably into some “me” time with Pooka and wait patiently for him to come home just in time for Mother’s Day.

I also got to see Wifey in “The Good Doctor” on Saturday night, which was hilarious and fantastic. She played “The Mistress” in act one, and did such a magnificent job in the role that I honestly hated her during that scene. In act two, she was the “Defenseless Creature.” I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. She’s got a real knack for physical comedy – and subtlety too; don’t get me wrong – it’s just that when she hams it up onstage, it’s really hard not to crack up.

Overall, a pretty decent week, I’d say.

Addendum as of noon today: One of my former coworkers left a balance-ball chair in her space when she left. I emailed her boss to ask if I could borrow it for the duration of the pregnancy. He just brought it in. TALK ABOUT INSTANT RELIEF! My coccyx and back feel so much better already!

Perfect. (Well, Almost)

I don’t think I’ve been scolded so much by an obstetrician since I was pregnant with Pooka, thirteen years ago. Back then, the doctor gave me a hard time because overall I gained about fifty pounds with her. Yesterday, Dr. Firstname shook his finger at me for losing weight. I lost four pounds between the second and yesterday. Between March  7^th’s visit and April 2^nd though, I gained nearly ten. Overall, I think it kind of evens out, since the only thing I’ve changed since April 2^nd is that I stopped going to McDonald’s for breakfast and I’m back on the bike when weather conditions permit. (Sorry, but I’m not going to ride in 27°F weather while I’m pregnant. I need my immune system to remain in working order.)

Oh, and I’m “just a little bit anemic.” Dr. Firstname says I should be able to remedy this by just eating more red meat. Oh no! *hand to forehead* Not more red meat! ANYTHING but that!

It also turns out that the local hospital is basically incapable of turning out proper phlebotomy lab results. This is the second time in a row for me, but hardly the only times it’s happened. I’m not sure what’s going on up the hill, but I’m a bit concerned about the output from their lab. A coworker told me that her husband, according to the local lab, might have a bladder/kidney infection or it could be bladder/kidney cancer. Um… HELLO! That’s a pretty drastic difference! Not impressed. I’ve therefore resolved to save myself the trouble and just go straight to the Big Hospital for all my lab work from here on out.

Oh! Right! So we had an ultrasound yesterday. One thing I love about going up to the Big Hospital is that they keep using the “P” word for me and Tempest. This, of course, reassures I.F. and makes me feel awesome. Tempest’s growth is Perfect. His heart rate is Perfect. My blood pressure is Perfect. The dangle of his choroid plexus is smaller than it was at the last ultrasound; and his lateral ventricles are less wide as well. This is a good thing, for those of you who don’t want to look them up on Wikipedia. Short version: His brain looks great. The marginal umbilical insertion (his umbilical cord being attached at the side of the placenta against the uterine wall, rather than smack-dab in the center of the placenta) is not hindering his growth, and the doctors (yes, doctors; I.F. asked several of them, just to reassure himself) don’t foresee it becoming a problem if it hasn’t by this point.

So yeah; except for losing a few pounds myself, and eating more red meat, we’re just Perfect.

Cherries, Pricks and Shoes

Yesterday we learned that Tempest hates dried cherries. Not enough to cause immediate digestive evacuation, mind you, but enough so that somehow my digestive system set them aside for the better part of six hours, and then evacuated them. By themselves. Nothing but dried cherries and water came back up, just before dinner last night. I have no idea how this is physiologically possible, but I swear it happened.

He has also finally discovered that there is more to his little uterine home than the area just above my pelvis. Now he's stretching and pressing against the area where his umbilical cord attaches to the placenta (once again: this one's placenta is located at the top center of my uterus. The cord attaches on my right side.) He's still moving strong, but his movements are thankfully losing momentum as he fills the space more and more. For this small favor, I am extremely grateful.

This morning I went up to the Little Hospital for the most-evil-blood-test-ever: The glucose tolerance test. The orange goo isn't as gooey as it was when I was pregnant with Pooka, thank goodness, but it's still WAY more sugary than anyone should reasonably have to ingest. I sat around the waiting room for an hour; my brain buzzing irritably from the sugar high; and then the phlebotomist didn't take enough blood out of my arm after having jabbed me more painfully than anyone has in a long time. So I got a second "pick" about a millimeter above the first, and even that one had to be "adjusted." Needless to say, my arm is sore. Pleh.

On the plus side: I'm almost seven months pregnant, and not only can I bike 8 miles a day, but I can still tie my shoes by myself! BOO-YAH!

Recuperating

Yesterday (Wednesday) I had to take the day off from work to recuperate. Tuesday evening, Bamf and The Ginge came over and made delicious breakfast for dinner. It’s one of my favorite types of dinner. In fact, I was so enthusiastic, I ate what had to have been half my weight in food. (Go, hyperbole, go!)

As it turns out: Tempest, like his sister, has chosen to cause his gestational carrier to become an unintentional, involuntary bulimic. Roughly translated, this means that when Preggosaurus eats too much, Tempest forces her to puke it all back up. Whereas his older, gentler sister would only force the excess out, Tempest insists on punishing poor Preggosaurus, making her throw up every possible bite that may not be fully digested and assimilated into the rest of her body just yet. For those of you who don’t know, this process takes the better part of an overnight to complete. It is not pretty and not pleasant.

I have therefore resolved to keep my meals tiny and regular over the course of the day, and to try not to eat anything after 7:00 pm. Just to be on the safe side. 

Fundus, The Destroyer

Tuesday I went back up to the Big Hospital for my monthly checkup. I had expected to see Dr. Badass, as that was who I.F. and I had arranged to see. The lady that preregistered me Monday evening said it wasn’t with Dr. Badass, but I didn’t believe her. Apparently Dr. Badass had something going on that week. The NERVE! As if doctors should have lives of their own. Pssh. Pff.

The doctor I did see was very nice, if a bit careless about his vocal decibel level. He is henceforth dubbed, “Dr. Loud.” He and his very fashion-forward nurse were very nice, and very attentive, though; and very, VERY loudly reassured I.F. when I called him, that Tempest’s dangling choroid plexus were nothing to worry about; that they’re very common, and that they resolve themselves an easy 90+% of the time. I wouldn’t be surprised if poor I.F. had had to hold the phone at arm’s length to avoid going deaf.

But seriously, the doctor was very nice, checked all of my current prenatal info with me, showed his intern how to measure my belly (26” from pelvis to the top of the fundus), listened to Tempest’s heart rate, and declared me “perfect.” We arranged to set up my glucose tolerance test within the next couple weeks and that was that.

Speaking of fundus: Hubs has decided that this particular (top) part of the uterus sounds like; and therefore IS; some kind of mushroom-monster. He has declared mine, “FUNDUS THE DESTROYER.” It has to be said in a deep, rumbling, threatening tone in order to affect the appropriate response in the listener. A number of amusing doodles have ensued as a result of this declaration. Ladies and gentlemen, how horribly DULL would my life be without this man? I think I must keep him.