Where Pregnancy meets Sleep Habits

You should know that I'm about 29 weeks pregnant.  That means that I'm more than halfway through the cook time of this here babe in my belly, and also that any minute the pregnancy is going to start to suck.  I'm really quite fond of being pregnant.  I mean, I don't want to be pregnant forever, but generally it agrees with me just fine.  I like it.  I like feeling the baby move, I like seeing my body grow...I feel good...it agrees with me.  Until about the very end, then it really makes me miserable.  Like most pregnant women, at the very end things get dicey.  I'm no longer comfortable.  It starts to dawn on me that, eventually, this baby has to be born (and logistically, that's a little frightening).  The belly stops being cute and starts inhibiting every. single. movement. I try to make.  In short, it starts to suck. 

I am well aware that this time is coming. 

I didn't think it would happen yet, and I didn't think that it would happen in ways that were different from previous pregnancies, but I may be wrong. 

In order to fully understand the following story, you need to also know that I wake up...well...slowly would be an understatement.  I'm not a "wakey wakey jump out of bed" kind of person.  It takes me a few minutes.  I'm generally quite confused upon waking, and I need to get my bearings. 

That's why, last night, I was completely certain I had swallowed a bug in my sleep. 

I woke up with a burning sensation in the back of my throat, and woke up COMPLETELY PANICKED.  Not only had a bug CRAWLED IN MY THROAT, I was really quite certain it was a black bug with neon spots on it.  It was also quite poisonous (why else would it burn?).  It had crawled in my throat while I was sleeping, and when I tried to swallow my muscles popped it, and it died and that's what made my throat burn. 

Did I mention I'm often confused upon waking?  And that I have a rather active imagination?

I related this whole story to Hubby, who woke up immediately from a dead sleep upon hearing my panicked gasp.  And do you know what he said? 

"Or, it's heartburn.  Go back to sleep."

Oh, yeah.  I"m pregnant.  Pregnant ladies sometimes have heartburn at night. 

Whew.  That's all...just....whew. 

22 weeks

22 weeks and the baby is doing great....and me too.  Ultrasounds show that we're having a boy (cue the My Three Sons theme), and that said boy is healthy and on target. 
We're having the Fetal Echocardiogram done today, simply because of history.  I had one done when pregnant with Toast as well; after Tiny Man's heart issues, it's a precaution.  Still, every test seems like a hurtle to be crossed.  I keep telling myself that it doesn't matter, that it is okay if something is wrong.  I think that in the back of my mind I will feel as if I'm not honoring Tiny Man's memory by wanting a healthy kid...seems silly, but that's it. 

More on results soon.  In the meantime I offer the standard lines: yes, it doesn't matter because this is our kid and we'll do what we need to do.  But yes, I want him to be healthy.  I think it shouldn't be this complicated. 

We have a PLAN...

So saturday is my due date. I have been dilating since before thanksgiving, making the past few weeks difficult, at best. BUT...as of yesterday, there is a PLAN in place. A plan which was firmed up today by my doctor. I feel much better with a plan, it is the OCD in me.
The medical part of the plan consists of the following: I am "a good four" cm dilated, so more than four but not five. I am also effacing, but not 100% yet. My doc today stripped my membranes (not something I would like to have done on a regular basis, might I add). For 20-50% of women, this will stimulate labor to begin. If I do not go into labor this weekend, I have an NST and ultrasound scheduled on monday to monitor the baby. NST = non stress test = me sitting in a chair for a half an hour with an external fetal monitor on to track the baby's heartrate and activity in response to any contractions I have. I had so many of these with Ben I am a pro, so no worries there. The Ultrasound will measure fluid levels. Provided nothing is terribly wrong, and I still don't go into labor, I will be induced on Thursday morning. My doc thinks that breaking my water should do the trick, since my cervix is already cooperating.

More importantly, there is a mental health/emotional part of the plan. I wrote out a long rant yesterday about how sick and tired I am of being pregant, and everything that has happened in the past two weeks. Then I Emailed it off and let it go...literally. My focus now is on the baby. Not how pregnant I am, not what will happen...just having a nice healthy and happy baby. The best thing is, this is all working for me. I'm much more relaxed, and letting go and letting it be are really working very well. I plan on continuing this zen state indefinately.

Strangely, I have no anxiety whatsoever about labor and/or delivery. None. I mean, I knew when I got into this that the baby has to come out at some point...so what is the point of dreading it? This helps the "let it be" philosophy nicely. :)

We'll see how it goes over the next few hours/days. I'm going to spend lots of time puttering around the house and bouncing on the Yoga ball, hoping my water will break. :)

Let's get going already

As the time for the baby closes in on me, I find myself in that old familiar place of the last few weeks of pregnancy. I'm unable to sit to any task. I'm irritable. If you haven't been pregnant, I don't think it's easy to understand this. I mean, people talk about "the nesting instinct" as if it's this cute little thing that pregnant women do...you know, we clean and cook up a storm because our dear little swollen hearts are turning toward our home and family as the baby's birthdate grows near. People, I am here to tell you that it is nothing like that. I nest because I hate leaving my house, because I hate to walk, because I am lazy. And if I am merely sitting on my couch, I cannot help but see all the things around my house which I usually do in a single day and cannot do in less than four hours because of the sheer effort of moving. But there I am, hoisting myself up off the couch and doing them anyway. Then flopping, exhausted, back on the couch after sweeping, mopping, sponging, cooking, carrying, etc. etc. So it's no small wonder I'm all irritable and tired, I'm trying to make a person and be Martha Stewart all at once. And we all know that it's no use trying to be MS....

In other news, I finally got called to the front of the queue for Ravelry, and I'm excited about it. I've been puttering around there this past week, trying to decide exactly what I want to do and what is offered. I haven't even begun to explore the pattern pages, and I am a notorious lurker at forums of any sort, but I'm enjoying lurking around. I'll probably spend some time taking pictures first, get all that organized on Flickr, then start putting all that in. My stash is pretty small, but I'm still not thrilled about archiving it. Deciding what to do with all of it will be easier once I have it recorded, though. Since I'm a knitter on a budget, I'm a big fan of knitting from stash, or purchasing just what I need for a project. I know, it's crazy, but it's just what I do.

I've started the book "Eat, Pray, Love" and I'm really really enjoying it. I wasn't sure about this book, to tell the truth, but I have really been changed by some of the passages in it. I got it from the library and I'll need to go out and buy my own copy. I enjoy the author's views on god, the divine, and how she doesn't take it too seriously...I just finished a passage on forgiveness last night that was fairly profound for me. I have a few people in my life that I really need to move on from (unhealthy friendships that continue to be toxic even though they are over). I am NOT good at letting go...not in any way. The idea of forgiving someone, of having that last conversation with them even though they might not be present for it, of letting go being something that we are responsible for ourselves. The idea that we don't have to "settle" everything or have agreement/peace/harmony to end a friendship...it seems so simple, but here I sit a living example of someone who does not function that way. I am looking forward to some deep thinking about this, and some moving on in my future.

"Oh, are you pregnant?"

I cannot tell you how many times I have heard this statement in the past two months. Prior to that, I was willing to accept that, okay, I was less than five months, and it took me a long time to show when pregnant with the tiny man, so okay...maybe I didn't look pregnant. But now? Now I"m seven months. I'm huge. My belly has actually grown beyond the ... uh ... other frontal appendages I sport, and that's saying something, because the girls? They are impressive. I am the size of a small duplex. And sometimes when I am talking to someone new, and I mention "when the baby comes", they say to me "Oh, are you pregnant?"

I know that many people, me included, believe that it is really really bad to ask anyone if they are pregnant, or when they are expecting. Mostly because you just never know. I have made this error, after garnering what I *thought* were conversational clues indicating the status of a friend's uterus. It was a friend I hadn't seen an awhile, and while she didn't look any different (really, she didn't), I thought I had gotten from the context of the conversation that she was pregnant. And I asked her when she was due. And flames shot from her eyes and singed all the hair off of my body as she said in a voice resembling some satanic demon in a horror movie "I'm not pregnant". The "bitch" at the end was not stated, but implied.

But me? I have a basketball in my stomach right now. I think I look pretty damn pregnant. Apparently other people think I have gained an inordinate amount of weight this summer, and I'm just living the high life, sitting on my couch eating boxes of Hostess while entertaining Little Debbie simultaneously. Because, PEOPLE, I am the size of a house.

And when someone says to you something about "when the baby comes", it is just as bad to say "oh are you pregnant" to a seven-month-pregnant woman as it is to ask one who is not pregnant when they are due. The former will go home and cry all afternoon, while the latter will commence Hari Kari on your person. Really? It's no different.

Thursdays

Thursdays seem to be the hardest days around here....hubby stays late at work (well, not at work, but in the same town) to take a class at night, so Tiny Man and I are together all day long. It's not like this is difficult or anything else, I just look forward to hubby coming home and hanging out with us. On Thursdays I try to find things to do that will fill the time. Outings are always appreciated. I'm not sure what we will do today, but I'm not feeling like staying at home...so out we go.

We went to the ultrasound yesterday...I'm 20 weeks pregnant now, it seems like time is creeping by. I can't believe I will not deliver until december, I already feel as if I've been pregnant forever. I say this not in a "oh I'm miserable" way (I'm not, I feel great), but things sure aren't hurrying past. Everything was normal in the ultrasound, which was a HUGE relief...I feel like every time something comes back normal I'm beating some kind of cosmic odds. I don't think I will ever escape the feeling that something is about to go wrong, after everything we went through with Tiny Man. Still have to schedule a fetal echo in a few weeks to make sure the heart is normal, again because of Tiny Man's heart history. I found out I can't have this at the hospital I plan to deliver at, because the doc who does them is out on vacation for four weeks. So I'll try and make it down at Children's Hospital, maybe I can do the fetal echo and have Tiny's next checkup at the same time...this may be more efficient for us, but I'm not sure how it will be trying to schedule it. Other than these concerns, the pregnancy news is blissfully boring. I'm feeling great, walking a lot to try and stay healthy, trying to eat well (though I do admit to caving in more than I'd like). Whatever I"m doing is working, though...I lost four pounds the first few months because of morning sickness and I have yet to gain it back yet. Normally, this might be concerning, but for me, given my...uh, rather Rubenesque physique, it's not a bad thing. I know I will gain eventually, but I don't need to gain a ton of weight with this pregnancy.

Meanwhile, I don't remember being this TIRED last time. I know that a lot of this is just the work of being with Tiny Man...carrying him around is killing me...I try not to do it all that often, but it's hard not to. And with all the stairs in our house, I'm exhausted by the end of the day. It never fails that I'm up the stairs to get two things, and I come down with one and forget the other. By the end of the pregnancy I'm really going to have to plan my stair trips better. I described carrying him around to hubby yesterday by saying it's like carrying a giant squid while having a whale strapped to your front. Funny, but oh so true.