In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not one of those “pregnancy is wonderful and magical and the best. thing. ever” kind of women.  I’m more of a “the baby is worth it, and the kicks are kind of cool but is nine months up yet?” kind of pregnant woman.  So, in light of that, I present you with a list of things I will not miss about being pregnant:

1. The inability to carry on a phone conversation without getting winded.  Seriously, what is that? I’m not THAT out of shape.  I think the baby has foot permanently lodged in my diaphram. 
2. The never-ending cycle of waking up every two hours to pee and drink a glass of water.  Yes, I know if I stopped drinking the water, I might get to sleep longer, but apparently growing a human makes my mouth as dry as a catholic college campus.
3. Not being able to prop my toddler on my hip when I carry her.  I haven’t actually seen my hips in about 10 weeks. 
4. Trying to balance on one foot while zipping my boots or tying my shoes because I can’t sit down and reach them. 
5. Having heartburn when I eat anything after 7PM.
6. My superhuman sense of smell. Whether it’s C’s dirty diaper or Craig even looks at a beer, I can smell it from three rooms away. 
7. Constantly checking to make sure that my shirt is covering all of my stomach.  This actually really makes me miss being pregnant in the summer when I could just throw on a sundress and a pair of flip flops.
8. Not being able to lay on my stomach.
9. Looking longingly at the 5, yes 5, full bottles of wine in our pantry.  Opening one of those puppies is right on the top of my list of things to do when I  come home from the hospital.  To you know, celebrate!

Disclosure:  If you don’t want to hear about the state of my cervix, I suggest you stop reading.  Seriously. 

When I was pregnant with C, at my 37-week appointment, the OB pronounced my cervix tightly closed. 

At my 38-week appointment, she said “the baby may know where the door is, but she’s not even thinking about knocking.” 

At my 39-week appointment, I saw a midwife who warned me that because of a LEEP procedure I had done 10 years earlier, dilating may take a while. 

At my 40-week appointment, I held back a gasp of pain as my OB tried to get a finger through my still tightly closed cervix. 

At 41-weeks, the day I was induced, she said I was maybe, maybe a centimeter dilated.  And C was born grounded for not coming into this world on her own and for making me stay pregnant an extra week. 

So, at today’s 36-week appointment, the first of the pants-off variety, imagine my surprise to learn that I was “easily 2 centimeters dilated”.  EASILY. 

Right after we formally scheduled my c-section for March 7th.  (We tentatively scheduled it last week.)  After I’ve had time to wrap my mind around the being cut open and started to embrace the ability to plan things out a bit.  After I’ve started to put plans in place to get my first grad school class wrapped up a week early; plan when my mom would come stay with us to help with toddler, the newborn and the daughter that doesn’t have a high threshold for pain; plan for a few days with my replacement at work; and think that we had almost three weeks to finalize name choices.  Basically, after I  just got used to the idea of delivering a baby on March 7th, she tells me she doesn’t know that I’ll make it that long. 

But, no, they can’t move the c-section date up because “elective” (ha.  HAHA.  HAHAHAHAH – who is “electing” this, exactly?) c-sections can’t be scheduled any earlier than 39 weeks.

Well isn’t that just kick you in the crotch fantastic?  Name that show.

I’m not ready for this baby to come now.  I’m ready for this baby to come on March 7th.  MARCH 7th!!! 

The only thing that’s keeping me sort of sane is knowing a lot of people who were dilated for weeks before going into labor.  And really, I would be OK with having the baby earlier (I mean, hey, it gets me to a glass of beer the size of Texas faster and may get me out of  writing a quarterly magazine for work), I just know that my OB is planning to be out of town a few weekends between now and the 7th, so I’m hoping and praying that this little one doesn’t decide to make his/her appearance on a weekend when the person doing the cutting isn’t someone I’ve met before.  Call me picky like that. 

So, if anyone has any good tips on how to NOT go into labor, I’d very much like to hear them.  Especially if they include things like, stay in bed, spend lots of time on the couch, make your most strenuous activity curling the remote control, read a book that doesn’t have pictures or the words “integrated marketing” in the title.  I’m definitely in favor of all of that.

I’m having a c-section. 

.

.

SIGH.

We met with a neurosurgeon on Tuesday who told us that there may or may not be an aneurysm, from the scan they can’t really tell…  IF there is one it’s really, really small.  IF there is one, it may be in an area where it wouldn’t cause any problems if it ruptured.  IF there is one there is less than 1% chance of it rupturing.  But he recommended a c-section anyway. 

A few months after I have the baby, I’ll go back, they’ll do some test that sounds freaky so I can’t really talk about it but involves injecting dye into my leg and watching it flow through my brain to see what exactly we’re dealing with. 

So, while it’s not the news I wanted to hear, and I’m pretty sure the ‘are you effing kidding me’ look on my face gave it away, it is what it is and now it’s time to start preparing for it.  It’s time for you all to tell me it’ll be OK and share your “my c-section was the best thing ever” stories.  If you have “my c-section sucked” or “it is the scariest thing ever” you keep those to yourself, mmkay?

In other news, I’m assuming my OB will want to schedule the delivery a week or maybe two before my due date to make sure I don’t go into labor on my own.  You guys?  That means in FOUR to five weeks, I’m having a baby.  28-35 days until I have TWO children.  The list of things I have to do – including work projects and getting ahead in grad school, car seats and crib mattress and newborn baby clothes, diapers and formula and OH MY GOD do I have enough receiving blankets and sleep sacks - is giving me something other than the “cutting me open with a sharp knife while I lay there awake” thing to freak out about. 

So, see… I’m finding the upside already.

I debated on posting this today or waiting until the middle of next week when hopefully I have a final decision and some closure to the whole thing, but so many of you have been so supportive in the comments here, on Twitter, sending me emails and of course my friends and family who checked in on me and just let me cry that I wanted to let you know what was going on. 

The theme of the day Friday was doctor’s appointments.  From an epidural consult to an ultrasound to an appointment with my OB and a follow up with the neurologist, we were spending the entire day in doctor’s offices.  (Have I mentioned how I feel about doctor’s waiting rooms? Its like the eighth right of hell – it’s where every person who has no cologne control comes to sit right beside you in a room that’s too small and about 10 degrees to hot.)  Anyway, all of these appointments were scheduled a few weeks ago, but given the conversations I had on Wednesday with the OB and neurologist, I packed my purse full of tissues because I was sure there would be tears. 

Spoiler alert: There wasn’t.

The epidural consult was not a big deal. I signed away my acknowledgement that if I got an epi there could be some big, scary side effects.  Whatever. I had one before and it was the. best. thing. ever. Sign me up.  Actually, can you hook that thing up a few weeks early and leave it there for a few weeks after until my lady bits heal?  No?  OK then. 

Next up was the ultrasound where we got another peek at our babe.  Although it was really just a peek because the little bugger kept his or her hands up over the face the entire time. I blame C and the fact that running into my belly is a new game to her. I think the little dude was just protecting him/herself from big sister.  The good news is the placenta moved up so there’s no need for a c-section for that reason. 

However, we still have the whole brain thing hanging over us. 

In the meantime, Craig and I talked to our primary care practice who had also received a copy of the tests and found out the following:  The ‘bulge’ is an aneurysm – yes, big scary “A” word.  However, the size of said aneurysm is 1.7mm – that’s itty bitty.  Really itty bitty.  Dr. Google tells me that they don’t do anything about aneurysms until they get to10mm.  So, there’s nothing that can or should be done about it at this point.  We’ll monitor it every year or so and make sure it doesn’t get bigger, but really, it’s not a big deal. The doctor who read the MRA and the primary care doctor both felt that we should just do what we need to do and not change anything. 

So at our next two appointments with the OB and the neurologist we talked about whether the c-section was really necessary.  Neither of them could say that it was, but neither would say that it wasn’t either. Both recommended that we get a second opinion and have a neurosurgeon look that MRA and determine if laboring and pushing was safe.  If he says it is, they are both OK with a vaginal birth. 

So, that’s where we’re at. On Tuesday we go meet with a neurologist in Pittsburgh and hopefully get some closure. If he says a c-section is the safest way to go, we’ll schedule the c-section. I will feel better knowing that we’re doing it because I need it and not just because no one is willing to say that I DON’T need it.  (Does that make sense?)

I’m still hoping to avoid it if I can, but now that I’ve had time to process and thanks to many of you, I’m less scared of the c-section now. (Some of you (ahem, Nicole) actually made it sound good.) So, thank you for that.  Thank you for all the comments, the emails, the tweets, text messages and phone calls.  I will keep you all posted.

So, you know what happens when you bitch and moan about medical tests being completely unnecessary and you throw all that out there to the universe all cocky-like because you just KNOW that nothing is wrong and they are just spreading your insurance money around town?  Yeah, well what happens is the universe shows you whose boss and one of those tests turns up with an itty bitty something that actually IS wrong. 

That something turned out to be a tiny little bulge in a vessel in my head. Which means no added pressure during labor. Which means the OB started talking about a c-section, or actually the secretary at the neurologists office who answered the phone when I called for the third damn time to ask about the results of my tests looked at my chart and said, “Oh, it says here that Dr. S talked to your OB and you’re having a c-section.” So technically the receptionist started preparing me for a c-section. 

SIGH.

I wish I could be all witty and tell you this story in a funny or eloquent way, but frankly I’m still just wrapping my mind around all of it.  I probably shouldn’t even be blogging it yet, but I have limited self control when it comes to sharing things with the internet.  Which you already know to be true if you follow me on Twitter.  

I don’t have all the answers yet.  I will know more on Friday after my OB appointment and an appointment with the neurologist, but the long and short of it is that whatever this bulge in my head is, is enough that the neurologist said there can’t be any added pressure.  So, I can schedule a c-section or I can go into labor on my own, get an epidural right away and hope the baby does most of the work and descends on his/her own and then they will pull him/her out with the vacuum thingy.  (Side note, C was pulled out by the vacuum on the second try, it popped off of her head the first time).  BUT if the baby doesn’t descend on his/her own then I end up with an emergency c-section. 

So. I guess our next steps are to talk to both doctors again, see what we’re really looking at.  Make sure they both think that pushing is really a no-go and then go from there. 

In the meantime, I can’t lie and pretend that I’m OK with having a c-section.  I’m not.  I can’t exactly explain my hang up with it either.  I know that the important thing is that the baby and I are both OK.  I know that it’s still giving birth and it’s still my baby being born and it doesn’t make it less special.  No, it’s not those things that bother me.  Truth be told, I think it’s the actual surgery and the recovery that scare me.  I mean, guys, they cut. you. open. during a c-section.  Outside of the stitches in my lady bits when I had C, I’ve never even had stitches before.  And what if the epidural hurts worse than the last time because I won’t have the contractions to distract me from the big ass needle going into my back?  And the recovery?  How do I come home to a 23 pound toddler and not be able to lift her?  How do I take care of TWO kids when moving is hard to do?  What if I’m in pain for weeks?  What if Craig can’t leave the house because I can’t be alone?

And then there’s just all the things I don’t know about a c-section.  What parts can Craig be there for? Where does the baby go after he or she gets evicted from the ute? If Craig goes with the baby (which I want him to) will I be all by myself numb and sliced open?  Will I be too out of it to have C come to the hospital to meet the baby the first day? 

I know. Don’t say it.  I know it will be OK.  I know that many of you have done this before and others think it’s not a big deal. And maybe I’ll feel that way in a few weeks.  Right now, I’m not there yet. Even though since my 20-week ultrasound when they noticed the placenta was low, I knew that having a c-section was a possibility, I’m not there yet.  Right now, I’m fighting back tears because this isn’t what I wanted.  And because I’m scared.

I haven’t been here this week.  And you’re welcome. If I had been it would have been all whining and complaining about doctor’s offices, nurses who procrastinate and stall, receptionists who can’t schedule appointments and watching my fifteen-month old scream and look at me with accusing eyes during her latest round of vaccinations. 

 Then, just for funsies, I would have thrown in some drama about “O. MY. GOD. I can’t see the words on my computer, AM I GOING BLIND? And “Why are the words coming out of my mouth not the words I’m thinking in my head?” 

Yes, my friends, all kinds of good stuff going on in my head lately.  Quite literally actually.  Remember the thing after Christmas when my hand went numb, vision blurry and we got to spend two hours in the hospital hooked up to monitors?  Well, we’ve repeated those episodes two more times in the last two weeks.  The last time it came with a complete inability to read words on the computer screen or put sentences together.  My OB checked blood work and all that stuff and determined that the baby was fine and dandy and that it was probably migraines. Without the pain. Did you know you could get migraines without a bone-crushing headache?  I didn’t. 

 So, this week has been spent going for follow up appointments with an eye doctor and a neurologist who agrees that we’re looking at migraines but wants to send me for tests and tests and oh yeah, more tests to make sure that nothing serious is happening that might kill me during labor.  Or maybe he’s just trying to spend my insurance money across the tri-county area? 

 SIGH.  I know.  I know it’s better to be safe than sorry.  I know that I will feel like a giant jackass if God forbid, something really is wrong.  But right now, I’m just annoyed with doctor’s waiting rooms, I’m not interested in being poked or prodded anymore and I feel more than a little bit silly that we’re doing all of this for something that people live with all their lives.  And something that doesn’t even hurt enough for me to reach for anything stronger than Tylenol.   All I really wanted to know was:  Is the baby ok?  Is there anything I can do to stop this from happening? And, when I feel it coming, can I work through it or do I need to force myself to lay down and wait it out? 

 OK. I’m done now.  Check back next week for more puppies and rainbows or a cute picture of my girl.

Have I mentioned that I’ve hit the “Heavens to Betsy, I’m starving and must eat NOW” part of pregnancy over the last few weeks?  Combined with Thanksgiving and coworkers who bring in cookies and donuts and want to go out for Chinese or grilled cheese and tomato soup lunches, I’ve pretty much eaten my way through the last few weeks.  So much in fact that I’m a little bit scared to go to the doctor today.  I know she’s going to walk in the room look over my chart, glance at me, look back at the chart and remind me that I’m not “really” eating for two.  You know that one pound a week you’re supposed to gain at this point?  I’m pushing two.  So… yeah.  I’m ready for the lecture. 

But here’s the thing.  Here is how the mind of a pregnant, hungry woman works. 

9:00     hm…  I think maybe I’m hungry.  What was the last thing I ate?  Cereal at 7:00.  Well, that’s reasonable.  Maybe I’ll just heat up this packet of oatmeal. 
9:12      wonder how long this packet of oatmeal has been in my desk drawer.  Well, I think I got it from my mother in law when we were living with them as our house was being built which was… OH SHIT, this has been in here since January of 2009.  I think I better throw this away and go get a cheese danish from the vending machine. 

11:23      what time is it?  I’m hungry.  Can I eat lunch yet?  No?  OK, maybe some crackers.  Hey, I wonder what Nichole wants do for lunch. 
11:44      Daily meeting.  I wish these people would talk faster, I’m hungry.  Nichole said she’d go out.  Maybe we should go to Wendy’s.  I can be healthy there.  Baked potato and salad.  Wendy’s.  That’s good.  Easy access.  It’s quick.  It’s decent.  I can pretend it’s healt….  Oh, wait… it’s also next door to the Chinese place.  They have a buffet.  $6.00.  I’d spend $6.00 at Wendy’s and not get nearly as much food.  The better deal is clearly Chinese food.  Let’s go there. 

2:37     I need something sweet.  Maybe I should eat an apple.  OK.  Yes.  I will eat an apple because my food choices thus far have been less than stellar. 
2:40     This apple needs something.  It tastes too much like… an apple.  OH!  I have caramel dip.  That’ll work. 
2:47      The apple is gone, but I still have some caramel dip left.  I can’t waste it, can I? 
2:48      I hope no one walks in here while I have my nose down inside the container of this dip. 

4:34     I need to stop at the grocery store and get milk for C on the way home.  I should grab some snacks too.  Maybe more fruit (and caramel dip, I’m out.)  Oh!   I remember these Little Debbie cakes I used to eat when I was younger.  They were vanilla cakes on the outside with a cream center and cherry stuff right in the middle.  I think the had coconut too.  Boy that sounds good.  I will look for those. 

5:22     Where the hell are those Debbie cakes.  Did they discontinue them?  W. T. F? 
5:24      Oh!  Lookie!  There are Swiss Cake Rolls.  I haven’t had them in while either.  They remind me of being a kid.  Kind of like Capt’n Crunch always reminds me of being a kid.  I should get some of that too.  Oh, wait! Right there, right next to the cakes and stuff are frozen pizza rolls.  Those are good. I should get some of those for lunch.  And there’s the ice cream Craig likes, I’ll grab some of that.  But if I’m getting him ice cream, I should get some kind of frozen treat for myself.  I am growing a human after all.  I deserve a little bit of ice cream. 

6:00     C, please eat your grilled cheese.  Mommy made it just for you.  She’s just going to eat salad.  You get the grilled cheese. 
6:07     Really, kiddo?  Can you stop throwing your grilled cheese on the floor?  If you’re not going to eat it then I will.  We don’t throw food on the floor.  So, what are you going to eat.  Do you want some graham crackers?  No?  Ok, what if we dunk them in milk.  OK.  Mommy will have some bites too.  Right after I finish your grilled cheese. 

7:45     I’m hungry.  What was the last thing I ate?  I should probably just go to bed because otherwise I will eat until I pass out from exhaustion.  Oh, but wait. I did buy ice cream today.  Just one little bite won’t hurt… 

@25 weeks & 5 days pregnant

I was going to write about my pregnancy today.  About how I love these weeks.  I am comfortable in maternity clothes but still rocking the 3-inch heels.   The baby is moving around a lot, I feel pretty good and am basically just starving all the time.  For serious.  I found myself justifying eating my lunch at 11:00 this week because “my stomach hasn’t adjusted to daylight saving time” and then eating more at noon.   Which leads to cringing when I get on the scale in the morning, but whatever. 

So I was going to write all about pregnancy and the baby and post another belly picture, but then, yesterday a coworker said to me AND-I-QUOTE “you must be having a boy, because with boys you carry the weight ALL AROUND your body.  (Still quoting) Even your butt and your feet know you’re carrying a boy.”  And since I can only interpret that as “boy your ass is getting big” I decided to eat a second bowl of Captain Crunch and post a cute picture of my kid playing in the leaves instead. 

You are welcome. 

I’m not one of those people that particularly enjoys being pregnant.  Yes, it’s miraculous and wonderful and the clouds part and the angels sing when the nurse hands you that (slimy, icky) beautiful little baby.  But, the getting there part?  The part where I feel like I have a constant hangover for the better part of three months.  And the part where my regular pants don’t zip, but maternity pants don’t stay up.  The part towards the end when my hands swell and I have to take off my wedding rings.  Or the part where my face breaks out like it did when I was 14 and had big bangs that I spent every morning painstakingly curling under and teasing to ridiculous heights.  Those parts?  They sort of suck. 

Right now, I’m in the sweet spot of this pregnancy.  I finally stopped feeling like I could toss my saltines all the live long day, I don’t want to crawl into bed as soon as I get C to sleep and I almost feel motivated enough to venture out on the weekends and do things.  And, every once in a while, if I sit just the right way and pay attention at just the right time, I’m pretty sure I can feel the flutters of the baby as he or she moves and grooves.  Finally, at 17 weeks and 5 days, I feel human again.  And this time, I know enough to enjoy these moments while they last. 

# # # # # # # # #

On a related note.  We had a doctor’s appointment today.  With the Doppler on my belly, I could hear the familiar sound of the babe’s heartbeat.  But instead of a quick check and a pat on the leg telling me I could get up, the doctor kept listening.  And kept listening.  I was hearing other noises too, and thought maybe the babe was just moving too much and she was having a tough time getting the count.  So we waited.  And she listened.  And listened. 

After a few more anxious moments, I bit my lip.  A few moments more, I threw an anxious look at Craig.  “We’ve been here before,” I thought.  And my mind flashed back to the appointment last August when Dr. S. heard an irregular heartbeat and sent us for an immediate ultrasound.  “Not again,” I thought. 

“Too noisy,” the doctor finally said. 

“What’s that mean?”  I asked.  She shook her head, wrinkled her brow and changed some settings on the Doppler. 

Finally she smiled and I let out a deep breath.  “There we go.  150,”  she announced. 

I sat up and asked again what was wrong.  She explained that there were, uhm, other things moving around in my stomach.  And then, from across the room, Craig let out a deep breath and said, “I thought you said there are TWO noises.  I thought you were trying to see if we were having TWO babies.” 

Note to self:  Don’t eat lots of veggies before another OB appointment.

Dear Labor & Delivery Nurse:

First of all this letter is way overdue, but in my defense I have a baby.  So forgive me, mmkay? 

Nearly seven months ago, I checked into the hospital with a nervous grin and an anxious husband.  A week past my due date with no signs of entering labor on my own, it was officially time to prod this child out.  I still remember you asking me if was ready because, “once we start this, you’re not leaving without a baby.”  I looked at Craig and answered quickly because if he had a chance, he would have opted to wait a little longer. 

If he was a little anxious, I was scared shitless. Beyond the typical, Oh.My.God, I have to push out a HUMAN scared.  The idea of induction had terrified me for weeks.  Being hooked up to an IV, contractions that I was sure would last for days and pushing for hours were just some of the very bad pictures in my head.  But you, L&D Nurse, you made it so much better.  You calmly explained what was about to happen.  I’m sure someone somewhere had told me before, but you explained it again.  You made sure I was comfortable, got me set up with blankets and the remote control and let me keep my bra on.  (God only knows why that was important to me, but it was.) 

You didn’t scoff when I said at 8:30 that I wanted to try to make it through labor without an epidural.  You talked to my husband and kept him distracted while I tried to breath through the cramping.  You helped me to breathe and encouraged me when the cramping became intense contractions.  A few hours later when I changed my mind about the epidural, you didn’t say, “I told you so,” you simply found the man with the giant needle and held my shoulders as he stuck it into my back. 

When it was time to push, you coached both Craig and me.  And maybe his face didn’t show it but having to hold a leg was really a fun surprise for him.  Then, dear nurse, when the pushing wasn’t working because of that glorious epidural, you suggested I take a nap.  I think it was then that I decided you were my favorite person on the planet.  However, what you didn’t tell me is that it would be the last nap I would take without a baby on my chest of a baby monitor within reach. 

Then, when it was time to bring this kid into the world and at that exact moment someone in the parking lot backed into my car, you called security and told them that no, in fact, the owner of a black Mazda could not be bothered at the moment. 

When it was officially time to deliver, you gathered a few other nurses and a couple of doctors so that Craig could give up holding my leg and instead make the phone calls and take the photos. You were all calm, easy going and sort of funny as the room filled with excitement.  You talked me through the pushing and the contractions, telling me exactly what to do and when to do it.  You cleaned up the mess around me and let me keep a little bit of dignity. 

After C was born, declared healthy and cleaned up, you respected our privacy and  helped to keep our room clear of visitors and medical personnel.  With two sets of parents in the waiting room, I’m sure that was not an easy task.  And, finally, after our hour was up you carefully took my daughter from my arms and helped me move out of the delivery room.  As you wheeled me down the hall, I thought, I need to send this woman a thank you note and a box of chocolate. 

So, while it’s a little late, this is your thank you note.  And, about that box of chocolate?  Um… sorry, but it’s gone.  I have a baby.  I think I need it more. 

(don’t forget about clicking that ‘lil link)