• preg-nuts

    Weigh In Day

    I hate my monthly doctor’s visits. Mostly because that means it’s time to get weighed. Thankfully, this month, I managed to only gain three pounds instead of six like last time. It’s amazing how much better I feel after my doctor says “good job” instead of “you need to do better.” Who would have ever thought I’d have to “diet” when I was pregnant. So I’m pretty happy about the three pounds. I almost want to throw myself a little party and eat a bunch of Reese’s peanut butter cups. Arg.

    That’s the good news. The bad news is that I scored one point too high on that glucose test I took for gestational diabetes last week. I knew I shouldn’t have had cereal on the morning of that test. Ugh. So now I have to go back and take a three hour test to make sure I really am diabetic. My doctor says I’m probably not but they want to be on the safe side. I’m just bummed because now I have to fast and then sit in the lab waiting room for THREE HOURS!!!! That means it will be past noon before I get to have breakfast. I’ll be bored AND grumpy. It’s a good thing I don’t have a regular 9-5 job. Sheesh! What do normal women do?

    I think I’ll take my laptop and catch up on making spy emblems and work on my paris postcard. Bet you thought I forgot about that. Well, I didn’t. I’ve been working on it for a few weeks now and I’m about 1/3 done. It’s taking forever because I’m trying to illustrate all the major stops we made. It’s going to be neat. Hopefully the detail will show up when printed. And that’s all I’m going to say because I don’t want to set myself up for more failure.

    The other news is that the doctor thinks my fibroid tumor may have moved out of the way. How she can tell by fingering my belly is beyond me. But it was pretty uncomfortable. Every time she hit the spot where the tumor supposedly is, it felt like she was pinching my funny bone. I wonder if I’m going to feel that way all the time when the baby gets bigger and sits on my tumor. (Every time I say the word “tumor” I use my Arnold Swartzenegger voice.) The good news about the tumor, is that I get to have another ultrasound! Yay! More chances to see what my little girl looks like. I’m really excited about that.

    When I made the appointment today I could only hear every fourth word that the operator was saying. Thanks to my birds chirping in the background and some police helicopter that was flying over our house. (Whoorl informed me there was a fire on the next street over) It’s always sooooo loud where we live. It doesn’t help that we have single pane windows that have at least an inch gap in them so every little sound slips through. I want to move soooooo bad! I haven’t even told you about the latest saga with our landlord. Our tub is falling through the floor and she’s trying to fix it with caulking and a better splash guard on the door. But that’s another blog post.

    * * *
    On a totally different tangent, does anybody know anything about sewing tea bags? I’ve got a bee in my bonnet. I want to make my own tea bags and tags for a party idea. I’m googling everything but nothing very helpful is coming up.

  • illos,  preg-nuts

    Pregnancy Watch 28 weeks

    Hmmm… what to report for 28 weeks. Well, she’s moving a lot. You know how a lot of mom’s swear their kid is going to be a soccer player because they kick so much. I think my kid is going to be an interior decorator because her movements are big and sweeping. They are not quick and athletic. I think she’s moving furniture in there. I should have illustrated her moving my stomach around or switching places with my spleen and my intestines instead of furniture but it feels like furniture. I think she’s saying, “hmmm… it would look so much roomier in here if we moved mom’s gall bladder over there. And those intestines, they need to be boxed and stored. Can I get some rubbermaid dividers puleeze?!! We need some proper feng shui in here people!” Scrape, scoot, scrape, scoot scoot…

    Things are not so bad though. In spite of the shocking movements now and then, I’m not in any major pain. The only pain that really bothers me is when I’m trying to sleep. I don’t know what my hips are doing but I think they are slowly dislocating. I feel like an old German Shepherd. When I sleep, I feel like they are just going to pop right out of their joints. No position, except on my back which is forbidden because they say it puts pressure on a major artery supplying blood to the baby, relieves the pain. Every night I have a battle with myself. Relieve the pain and starve my baby of blood or sleep on my side and bite my tongue off because it hurts so bad. I really hope I’m not starving my baby of blood but I have to give in once in a while. I don’t think I lay on my back more than 20 minutes a night but I really have no idea. It’s just crazy making. No amount of pillows between my legs seems to make a difference. I think I am just deformed.

    I’ve always had trouble with my hips. I wish I had an xray of them because I swear they are not like other people’s. I remember doing yoga (long before I was pregnant) and not being able to do some poses just because if I did, I would crumple and fall to the floor. I really wonder what is going on in there now. Sometimes when I get up I hear strange popping sounds. I know my ligaments are getting softer to make room for baby but I really wish I could see what is really happening. I’m worried that I’m going to expand and expand and expand and I’ll never fit my old jeans again. I was already pretty hippy as it is.

    You know the irony of having good “breeder hips”. They don’t always necessarily mean you are a good “breeder”. I bet Toby’s thinking he got a bad deal when he picked me to be the mother of his kids. From looking at me, you’d think I could pop out kids like a factory. But I have an Aunt who is twice as hippy as me and she had to have FOUR cesarians. Why? Because her birth canal was too narrow. So big hips aren’t always good for having kids. And now that it looks like I have a fibroid tumor in the way of having a baby, I’ll probably have to have a cesarian also. These hips are good for nothing. Except keeping my pants up. But I’d trade them for a good belt any day.