Oh god. Day 10 is kicking my ass! I’m tapped out, Internet. Between running low on clever, and pouring all my energy into diplomacy over at MUFF, I simply have nothing of interest to say.
I’ll give the 14-week update, and tomorrow there will be 14 week belly shots, which look a whole lot like the 13 week belly shots:
14 weeks- First prenatal appointment with the midwife. Love her. Love the purple velvet setee in her exam room a tiny bit more. I could sit on that thing forever. Maybe I’ll have my baby on it! The baby’s heart rate is 140. “Is that a girl or boy?” I said.
“It’s a Baby” Killjoy.
I love midwives. She didn’t even feel me up or do a pelvic. I have lab work to do, but since my insurance was cancelled (it’ll be OK, Internet. I just have to fill out some paperwork. I hope) I suppose I have to wait on the lab work. We just hung out and talked about what we’ll do. She said “I wouldn’t be spending this much time with you if I was worried. I just feel like everything will be fine this time”
On Dec 7, I’m scheduled for the first of several ultrasounds. This one will check the location of the placenta to make sure it’s not growing into my c-section scar. Evidently sometimes they do that. Eww. We agreed that later in the pregnancy there would be more ultrasounds, since my risk of Placental Abruption is higher now that I’m an abruption veteran. We talked about locations for the birth. Nothing was decided except Not The Hospital. We’re going with Not The Hospital for the time being. But probably also not at home, since at my closest relatively decent hospital, they don’t even keep an OB on the floor. Not interested in showing up in crisis and having the ER staff page an OB to amble in and help me out. If I’m there at all, it’s a crisis, dude. There’s no time to pick up a latte. So. Not The Hospital. Not at Chez Page-. The final locale will be announced…well, probably after the baby comes. Along with the baby’s name. Wait- let me be clear: I mean we’re planning Not the Hospital. But we’re also aware that at some point a Hospital may become necessary. So we’re choosing Not Chez Page because if we DO have to jump in the car and race to a hospital, it needs to be a good one that keeps an OB on staff.
We discussed the signs that something was wrong in my last pregnancy. How we knew; how she knew. We looked up my measurements through the pregnancy, to address the rumor that ToddlerA was actually a full term baby and that I was just wrong about my dates. I had four ultrasounds: 16 weeks, 20 weeks, 29 weeks and 34.5 weeks. Each ultrasound gave me the same due date within 2 days except the last one, which measured the baby at 39 weeks, the day she was born. My uterus measured dead on every visit up until the last 2. At 32 weeks I measured 33. At 34 weeks I measured 38. Two days later Avery was born. We’ll get the op report and see if they checked her gestational age, but at this point I feel vindicated. I’m a little worried that I’m gonna end up with an 11 pound full term baby, but we’ll just deal with that when it comes up. Perhaps if I curb my red velvet cake consumption this time, we’ll be OK.
I wish I had some clever stories to tell, some kind of witty way to talk about this pregnancy. Today I told M, “It’s so weird! I don’t even really feel pregnant!” and when I got winded walking across the street I was reminded. Other than the getting winded and the ginormous boobs, I feel much the same.