Falling and Poking

Yes, both of those things have to do with me and my ever growing Junebug. 

FALLING

Yesterday morning I had a business meeting with a dear friend, Blaire (of the fabulous Emblem Documentaries and Geeky OC), to help her out with some writing for her website. My GPS failed me but I was still nearly exactly on time. (I'm a huge punctuality stickler, I am chronically early.) I heaped my purse and laptop on my shoulder, grabbed my decaf iced coffee and ever-present 32oz water jug and headed to Blaire's door. She was watching me from her front window and when I reached the curb she came to greet me. She missed my great fall. From her vantage point all she heard was "THUMP" (which I assume was loud, I ain't so dainty these days) and my quivering voice shout, "OH SHIT!" I had managed to trip up the curb, stumble and land square on my belly on the pavement. I had been in forward motion so the brunt of the force was on the top of my uterus onto the grass where it was raised about an inch. My knees were scraped and my head was reeling. I knew June is very well protected in there but I was stunned and couldn't quite think straight. I fought back tears as Blaire rushed to me. I didn't want to cry or overreact and create more tension than needed to be in my body so I sat there on the pavement, surrounded by my bag and spilled drinks. "I think I'm going to call my doctor," were the next words I could form. Blaire asked if I wanted to move and go into the house. As she picked up my strewn belongings I left a message with my nurse and she said Dr. Man* would call me as soon as possible. I was feeling crampy and sore and out of breath. I sat on the couch in Blaire's adorable house and started feeling like a complete idiot. I wanted to cry and apologize, even though I knew it wasn't really my fault. Sweet Blaire brought me a washcloth, bandaids and some polysporin to dress my wounds (which were oddly in the exact same place that I already had scars on my knees - I suppose I fell like this as a kid too. Call me grace.). I texted my mom and Thomas just to let them know in case I would have to go to L&D for monitoring. Thomas called me only a minute after I texted him and was very concerned. That's one thing I adore about him, he's always very serious when it comes to baby. He's such a laid-back and funny guy so to hear him so serious is oddly reassuring. My doctor called while I was on the phone with Thomas and of course it didn't beep through my call waiting so I had a message when we hung up. Dr. Man* is another very laid-back guy whom I confessed my hypochondria to at our first visit. He does a terrific job of listening to my endless questions and concerns and always reassures me, careful not to play into my imaginary medical issues. His message was detailed but very to the point - she was very well protected in my belly and if there was no bleeding or leaking fluid (which makes me think of a car...) and she was moving then we were fine. I decided that Blaire and I should get on with our work and worrying was unnecessary. June started kicking again within a half hour and all was well. 

I think this was a really good lesson for me. I continually question everything that I feel and it can drive me insane. But this time, even though it was a real cause for concern, I listened to my body. I didn't overreact, tense up or freak out. I breathed through the Braxton-Hicks I felt after the fall and practiced focusing on only my breathing.

Sanity wise, it certainly didn't hurt that we had a 3D ultrasound scheduled for that afternoon. Thomas met me at the office and we got to watch our beautiful, and ever-stubborn, little girl kick and bounce and never move her hand away from her face. She furrowed her brow as if we were seriously bothering her. We still can't really tell who she looks like which makes the anticipation of her birthday that much better. 

POKING

This is a family blog, people! (But if I knew both of our families weren't reading this I would totally be discussing pregnant sex. But as far as either side is concerned - WE ONLY DID IT ONCE! In our entire 3.5 year relationship and 2 years we lived together!) Last week I was poked for the one hour glucose testing and left the office feeling confident. No way this was coming back positive. Right? WRONG. Monday morning I got a call from the nurse telling me that my iron levels were very low and that I had failed the one hour test. Well, crap. I scheduled my appointment for Thursday morning at 830am, was told to fast after 12am and to expect to be there for 3 hours. I frantically texted all the moms I knew that had had babies recently. Nearly every one had failed the one hour but passed the three hour. Which leaves me questioning the reliability of the first test...in any case, I wasn't going to stress over it. I either had gestational diabetes or I didn't. Thursday morning (this morning) I woke up starving. Of course the day that I knew I couldn't eat, I was famished even though I'm normally fine to eat breakfast at a leisurely pace. I arrived at Dr. Man's* office at 830am sharp and his one and only nurse, Theresa, drew my blood. I was worried that I would feel lightheaded because I hadn't eaten but it was fine. I drank the glucose syrup which was the same size as before - 10oz - but double the glucose - 100grams. It was overwhelmingly sweet, for good reason. But I got through it, I was conscious and not puking so we were in business. The three subsequent blood draws and next three hours weren't too bad either. I actually managed to finish a book I had been slogging my way through (The Paris Wife, maybe one day I'll review it but not today). The only trouble with the whole test was when I was leaving. I have horrible veins - except for ONE in my right arm, so guess which one we used all four times? That one vein. After every draw she would place a cotton ball and tape on my arm and I'd rip it off and start again the next time. The last draw she could see that the tape was irritating my sensitive skin so she said we could use just a regular bandaid for me to "wear" home. So draw blood, put on bandaid, I leave. As I walk out of the office my arm started to feel very cold. I looked down and there was a very large, steady stream of blood making its way to my hand. The bandaid wasn't doing its job! I went back in, cleaned it up and Theresa added a little bit of tape to the bottom so I wasn't leaking blood. Overall, not a terrible experience. Now it's the waiting that's driving me nuts. Last week I was told that I would have answers by Friday or Monday at the latest and Theresa called me Monday. So I'm just crossing my fingers and hoping for the best. It is out of my hands and if I do have GD, then we'll go from there! If not, we'll continue with our happy and healthy pregnancy! 

*Dr. Man = my OB, not his real name.

I have so much more to talk about but I will stop here. Perhaps I'll blog tomorrow about our first birthing class this week! And how I can no longer bathe...