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...

The Great Weight Gain

I had been getting cocky about my minimal weight gain - only 12 pounds at 24 weeks. That alone wasn't enough to make me feel superior. I really didn't gain much weight until I was about 16 weeks, I had lost some in the first tri and sloooowly put on a few pounds, and my doctor was quite proud of my four pound a month gain from week 20 on out. My last appointment he even said, "You're doing well with this one pound a week, I'm impressed." Which, if you know me, meant a lot - praise from "officials" (doctors, professors, etc.) makes me happy.

Then came my 28 week check up. This morning I woke up knowing I'd have to choke down an awful glucose mixture because they were doing the gestational diabetes test. The fruit punch flavored syrup tasted like really sweet kool-aid. Not nearly as bad as I've been told. I did feel a little nauseous and light headed after pounding it down but pumping 50gms of sugar into your body in 3 minutes will probably do that to you. I headed out to my appointment, checked in and waited until they were ready to take me back. The fabulous nurse called my name and took me straight to the scale. Usually, I pee in a cup first because I have to go so badly but today was different. I thought little of it, dropped my purse and water jug, took off my shoes and stepped on the scale. Last time I was in the office the scale said 180. Not a number I'm used to seeing but I was okay with it. Today it read 188 and 1/2. Seriously? It had only been 4 weeks since I was on this scale. This had to be a trick. EIGHT AND A HALF POUNDS? I didn't believe it. The nurse took me to measure my blood pressure and I joked around saying that if my blood pressure was high it was because I was stressed about the weight gain. I asked if we could re-check after I peed, maybe it was the syrup. She laughed at me but agreed. So second weigh-in went like this: I take off my shoes, close my eyes and peek to see her not move the scale at all. She whispered to me, "I'll take off that 1/2 pound, we'll count it as only eight." She really did take off that 1/2 but that only made me feel 1/8 better. 

I was very concerned that Dr. Man (not his name, just what I call him for the purpose of this blog) would be upset with me when he came into the room. Surprisingly, the 8 pound weight gain wasn't the first thing we talked about. We chatted, went over a few things and then he said, "So, you've gained 8 pounds in the past month." I swore up and down I didn't know how it happened! (Which I really don't know how it happened, I'm still in shock.) I was pleasantly surprised when he said that he wasn't too concerned because of my little weight gain in the beginning. Apparently I'm right on track now at 20 pounds at 28 weeks. And in his words I'm just "making up for lost time." I was still warned not to gain another 8 pounds in a month but that from here out one pound a week is my goal. Which when you total over the next 11 weeks will be a 31 pound gain. And I will officially weigh over 200 pounds. I'm not sure how cute I'll look then. But I suppose as long as Dr. Man isn't concerned, baby Junebug is doing well and my body isn't flipping out then I shouldn't be worried. I'll keep repeating this until I believe it. 

In other news: June is head down and so that fun hard bump I feel in my ribs sometimes is her bum. It's a pretty darn cute bum and I love that I know what it is now! I just scheduled our 3D/4D ultrasound for next Wednesday. My wonderful friend Korey recommended a place that is way cheaper than everywhere else I've researched and she loved it. It does seem a little silly to pay more for an extra ultrasound but I just have to see her little face again. I can't get enough of my little Junebug! 

Now I must go run through the things I do to try to relieve this insane heartburn. These days it consists of Pepcid, Mylanta, a few Tums and some warm milk with honey to top it off. Sounds fun, right?