Pregnancy News

My regular OB sent me to see a high risk OB for an anatomy scan ultrasound.  I was excited for this ultrasound but also terrified that they would accidentally reveal the gender of our baby.  Thankfully, the tech was incredibly conscientious when we told her we didn't want to know the sex.  She would warn us to look away from the screen when the entire body was in view, and she called it 'baby' instead of using he or she.  I was relieved.

The ultrasound revealed a healthy baby and a slightly abnormal placenta - that's just one on a list of many abnormal things about me. The Dr. suspects a condition called circumvallate placenta. It means that the membranes of the placenta fold back around its edges and it isn't attached perfectly.  It can increase the chance of preterm delivery and placental abruption.  It also causes concern that the baby won't get enough nutrients because the portion of placenta on the baby's side is too small.  I was quite concerned when we left the appointment but then called my medically-trained sissy and she reassured me that it would fine.  

Thank goodness for medically-trained feminist hippies.  I intend to seek her opinion every time my Dr. gives me counsel. Nothin' like free medical advice.

So now I will have an ultrasound every month to monitor the baby's progress, and then more often the closer we get to term.  I'm excited to get to see the baby regularly.

I mean...come on...look at that beautiful baby with the beautifully-shaped head. Even with my abnormalities I've clearly grown a normal baby so far.    

So there.  

Lovely Saturday

I know that you know the location of our most recent Saturday excursion.  If you don't know that I'm going to say that we went to Pigeon Forge, you haven't been paying attention. 

Our plan was to hit up a place called Anakeesta in Gatlinburg.  That was our plan but that was not what happened.  First of all, it was arctic weather outside and I awoke feeling cruddy.  I would've rescheduled the trip but we had a non-refundable hotel reservation. Secondly, when we planned this excursion, I didn't realize that it was a long weekend because of MLK day.  Michael didn't have that day off so I was only looking at the dates for Saturday, not realizing that the rest of the world would be there for the long weekend.  We sat in horrific traffic trying to get to Gatlinburg, couldn't find parking once we arrived, sat in traffic again, Michael started to lose his mind, and I tried desperately to distract him with Star Wars trivia.  Which, by the way, Kitty knew nearly all of the answers to the questions.  After a few maddening hours, we pivoted and found other things to do.  

Like indoor snow tubing

And a jaunt to a place called The Island. Kitty did a ropes course, we rode a Ferris Wheel, and Michael and Kitty went on a SkyFly adventure. Don't be fooled by my radiant beauty on the Ferris Wheel.  I was freezing cold and not feeling well at all. While Kitty and Michael explored, I huddled inside the arcade trying not to vomit or poop my pants.  Some other kid wasn't so lucky and barfed all over the arcade floor.  It nearly sent me over the edge.

But, despite the setbacks, we still managed to have a great weekend together.

Next time I'll read the ding-dang calendar more carefully.  

Kitty in a Nutshell

My kid is quirky and obscure in the most wonderful way.  She has a brilliant mind and a sharp wit.  (Remind you of anyone?  Hmmmm?  Maybe her mother?  Don't say you don't see it, ya jerk.)

The other night I asked Kitty to brush her teeth.  She sauntered into my bedroom with her toothbrush whirring.  Upon closer inspection, I realized she was wearing and brushing her Halloween Dracula teeth.

I'm still giggling over that image.

Here are some other ways in which my Kitty is unique:

Hanger as a bookmark

Nighttime cup hoarding

Sweet notes left on my pillow

Fantastical addendum to my grocery list

Hoverboard book perusal

Considerate gestures for a coughing father

Star Wars obsession

Yeah...I'll keep her.

Pregnancy News

I'm now 16-ish weeks pregnant. Nothing exciting has been happening at my OB check-ups.  My blood work is normal, I'm feeling good, and we will have an ultrasound in a few weeks with the high risk OB to make sure everything is on track.  

My only complaint besides that my ankles are swelling ALREADY is that I have a canker sore on the inside of my bottom lip that is the size of the iceberg that sunk the Titanic.  My lips are also swollen and incredibly chapped.  I look like I've had lip injections from an incompetent plastic surgeon.  It's disturbing.

But not as disturbing as my urine test.  Since I'm a senior citizen and pregnant via IVF, my risk of preeclampsia is increased.  My Dr. asked me if I wanted to do a 24 hour urine test to monitor for the condition.  In my mind, a 24 hour urine test meant that I would give a sample now, and then return in 24 hours to give another.  "Sure," I said, "that sounds like something I'd like to monitor."

She sent me down the hall to the lab, where the woman handed me a plastic jug that resembled a gas can.  I looked it over in confusion.  She then instructed me to collect my urine in the jug for the next 24 hours.  Wait.  What?  You want me to pee into this Tide laundry soap jug?  Does she not understand how often I have to use the bathroom these days?  And does she not understand that civilized people don't pee into plastic jugs?

Nope. She does not understand.

"Oh, and keep it in the refrigerator," she called out to me as I exited.

Have you ever stored a jug of urine in the fridge?  It feels wrong and dirty, like all of the food is instantly contaminated by pee fumes.  I kept the jug in a plastic grocery bag to help me feel less creepy.  It only slightly helped.  I also found myself worried about the expectations for quantity.  What if my jug was underfilled?  What if it was overfilled?  What if my jug was incredibly odiferous when the lab tech opened it?

It was anxiety-inducing.

24 hours later, with my jug-o-pee sloshing next to me on the front seat of my car, I returned my specimen to the lab.  There I was, an old pregnant woman with cankles and duck lips schlepping a jug of urine through the parking lot.

I'm officially demoralized.     

Welcome to elderly pregnancy.