Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Lighter fare...

(First of all, as an aside, just wanted to say thanks for the outpouring of support. It meant more to me than you know. I spent all day yesterday feeling uplifted and as soon as my post was published a profound sense of peace settled over me that is with me still. Thank you all for your kindness and encouragement.)

Yesterday's usual Monday blog was kind of a heavy hitter, and I still have the writing bug this week so I figured I'd follow it up with something a little easier on the eyes.

In recent news,

I still haven't been scheduled for the 3 hour GTT (that reminds me, I need to call the doctor's office today). I suppose it's just as likely that they forgot about me, but I like to imagine that it's because Dr. W. isn't concerned. Part of me is tempted to forget, too, but if I do have gestational diabeetus I want to know about it, so Wilford Brimley and the fine folks at Liberty Medical can immediately start helping me live a better life.

I'm also working this week to try and get some more things done in the nursery (anything, for starters). We have a chest of drawers that was in Jeremy's nursery when he was a baby that I'm going to be sanding to get ready to paint white (it's a brown/wood grainy finish now). It's a little banged up from use over the years, but the drawers are all in good shape and I don't feel like I have to be able to bench 250 to get them to close. I've never been opposed, per se, to white furniture, but in the beginning I wanted to do furniture with dark wood - close to an espresso color. For some reason this seemed more 'unisex' to me, and I figured if we ever get a little boy I'd like to have something I can make more masculine with a different crib set. This went out the window for a couple of reasons.

One, the crib I initially selected as the cornerstone of my room design idea (that only comes in dark finishes) is kind of expensive. Okay, it's a lot expensive. Generally, this wouldn't be the hill my nursery died on because (let's face it) I am a stubborn woman and I want what I want, but there is a very specific alcove in her room where I wanted to put the crib. Not negotiable. I've tried putting the imaginary crib in other areas in the room, and it just doesn't work. The crib I picked out is about 5 inches too long to fit (I'd selected a convertible crib with a changer on the end). And it's really expensive (did I mention that??).

Two, I realized that it's a little ridiculous to assign a gender role to the absence of color. That, and if we're ever blessed with Baby Boy Jones, I'm sure he wouldn't give any of his many, many daily craps that he's sleeping in a crib that's white and not 'espresso'. If this turns out to not be the case, I'll eat my hat and the cost of the years of therapy he will undoubtedly need. I wonder sometimes if I would have had this worry before the unfriendly amounts of pregnancy hormones flooded my system. Somehow I doubt that fathers everywhere sit amongst themselves and debate the social ramifications of letting their sons sleep in white cribs.

For any that are wondering, the theme I finally decided to go with is muted spring colors and birds. Not the scary Alfred Hitchcock kind - the fat, happy kind. The bright, cartoonish version of little sparrows and finches and such. Bananafish makes a crib set called "Love Bird" that is the basis of my idea. It is mostly pink, but a light pink, and there are a lot of different accent colors - green, blue, purple, etcetera. I didn't want my (I mean HER... it's HER nursery, of course...) nursery to look like I was running an illegal Pepto Bismol lab that exploded.

Anyway, now that I have a clear idea of what I want it to look like in there, it's easy to be excited about buying things. I'm waiting until much closer to due date (and after the shower) to finish up with everything, but I'm looking forward to being able to have everything in its place. As soon as that happens, I'll have pictures to put up.

27 weeks...

Nope. Not too much longer, now!

Monday, March 28, 2011

Kind of a heavy read...

It's Monday (you know what that means)!

We are 27 weeks along today, and officially in the last week of my second trimester. J pointed that out to me last night, and I was a little taken aback. It's not that I didn't know the transition was coming, I just don't think I was prepared for how quickly the second trimester would whiz by.

Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that we're getting closer to being able to hold our little girl in our arms and that said little girl is bumping along just fine despite scaring us half to death 5 weeks ago. But it's a little sad, too. Despite my many (J would probably add a few more "many"s here) complaints about the aches, pains, and general make-me-feel-bad's about pregnancy, I have enjoyed having her with me every moment of the day. When I wake up, she's with me (at this point she's usually the reason I'm awake)- when I'm waddling around the supermarket, she punctuates the mundane shopping decisions I make with little kicks and flutters and when I lie down to sleep at night (after the inevitable hour or so of indignant squirming subsides) I can feel the outline of her little body snuggled into mine. I am so excited to have her on the outside (in 13 short weeks) to share with J, our families and our friends, but a part of me is a little heartbroken, too. After I deliver her, I will never be pregnant with this baby again. My worries about her will no longer be able to be soothed with a wiggle - she will be out in this big, bad world and there's not a thing I can do about it. I treasure the time that I have her with me like this, and as much as I am looking forward to getting to know her as an individual and my daughter, I feel almost like there will be some separation anxiety when she's not quite as literally close to my heart.

Before you jump to any conclusions about my mental state (ha!), I should point out - I entertain no notions about being pregnant forever, and it's not really what I want. I can't wait to meet Carys and I know her birth will be the beginning of a new, fantastic chapter of our lives. I have daydreamed since the moment I found out she is a girl about putting her in sweet little dresses, and I can't really start being Mommy to her until she's flown my coop. I can't wait to show her off to friends and family! I, like all new mothers, already know she's going to be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I can't wait for her to be Daddy's little girl (it's happening - I've never seen J so excited!), and I know someday she'll look up to her father the way I look up to mine. J has waited patiently (mostly) thus far, but I know he's chomping at the bit to start his new job as 'best dad ever'. I know he will be, too. I suppose the reality that two-thirds of my first pregnancy is almost over is just a little bittersweet. Everyone says that it will slow down drastically during the last few weeks while I'm waiting for her to make an appearance (and I know at that point I will probably be turning the coop upside down in my desperation to jostle the chick loose). I hope when that time comes, I remember to come back and read this entry and to be thankful for the last few moments of an experience that has been the single most life changing one I've ever had.

Am I uncomfortable a lot these days? Sure. Are there moments when all I want is for her to stop jamming her little feet into my ribs? On a nightly basis. If there was some way I could go back and have the end result without the journey and all that it entails? Not a chance.

(Warning- this next part goes into some heavy territory, and some specifics about me that you may not wish to know. It might serve as a trigger for anyone that has suffered from traumatic experiences, and it is not my intention to shock or upset anyone. I write it for my own benefit, to record yet another part of this pregnancy and to help myself work through some issues that have come up. I completely understand that sometimes people are just looking for a light read -I warn you, you won't find it past this point and I urge you to stop reading now if that notion makes you uncomfortable. I value the opinions of you, my friends and family and I'd be lying if I said I didn't worry at all about how this will affect your thoughts of me, but for my own sake, I have to get this out.).

Along that train of thought, I have been giving more thought to the fact that she will be here in a relatively short amount of time and how that will impact our daily lives. I have noticed a considerable change in the way that I think about things already. Although I didn't always apply this theory during my younger years, as an adult I try to be a forward thinker in daily life. Having a little person on the way that I will be responsible for has immeasurably (and probably irrationally) increased the level of what-if scenarios that I allow to play out in my mind. Over the last several months I have spent an inordinate amount of time comparing and contrasting my experiences and those of my husband with events that I see unfolding, and in turn imagining my daughter going through like situations and her reaction/the bearing it could have on her.
They're not all doom and gloom, I like to imagine happy things - all of her firsts, birthdays, holidays, family vacations, trips to the zoo, etcetera.

But on occasion, my mind traipses down paths that I've purposely sequestered from myself and it manifests in the form of a nightmare or long-hidden memory that pops up unbidden while I'm doing something routine. It serves to remind me of one more thing I can add to my "who am I" list...

I am a wife.
I am a friend.
I am a daughter.
I am a mother.
I am a sister.

and I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse.

I have debated with myself over the last week or so whether or not to touch on this topic in my blog, knowing that people can see it and it will uncover a part of myself that I have sought to hide for a long, long time. The truth is, this topic has haunted me for a great deal of time during my pregnancy and after the baby's gender was revealed, it became apparent that I have to face it in order to continue the process of moving on. I'm not going to go into specifics of what was done to me -I sincerely don't wish to make anyone feel uncomfortable, and what happened, happened. I don't need to recount every gory detail to know that it did. Throughout late childhood and into my years as a teenager/young adult, I spent a lot of time with both secular and Christian counselors, trying to work through my feelings and the lasting repercussions that the actions of the man that I now refer to only as the Offender had on my life.

I, like many others I imagine with similar backgrounds, was angry and bitter for a long time. Resentment followed me around like a lost puppy, and I allowed the Incident to 'empower' me to act out. I justified my actions with a mixture of rage (that was ultimately there to hide the pain I felt) and a feeling of fault and worthlessness. In my mind, if I allowed something so vile to happen to myself, what was the point in treating myself with respect after the fact? I remember feeling like the world had let me down. Horrible things weren't supposed to happen to little girls, and they weren't supposed to happen to me. I was supposed to be protected. I didn't really know who to assign the blame to, just that I wanted someone to pay for what happened to me.

The Offender (as far as I know) was never prosecuted because of a lack of physical evidence at the time it was reported. I ended up shouldering a lot of the guilt, and I spent the next several years punishing myself. I self-medicated, which led to a whole new slew of problems.
But, eventually, after years of struggling with what to 'do' with the backlash of the Incident, I was able to come to a few life-changing realisations.

I can't change history.
What happened was not my fault.
The responsibility for the Incident lies solely on the shoulders of the Offender.
If I put my trust in the world, it will always let me down.

and the biggest of all ...

I refuse to allow my past to dictate my future.

It took a long time to get to that point, and realizing that I wanted to feel a certain way didn't automatically make it so.

I'm not going to sit here and claim that I was not changed by happened. But my prayer was then, at age 19, tired of being angry and sitting alone in a chapel crying out to God to fix me, what it is now.

take what was ugly and make it something beautiful. Make whole what was broken, purify what was defiled and heal my wounded heart.

The upcoming birth of my first child, a beautiful, sweet, innocent little girl, has prompted me to add a few lines, however.

Help me have the strength and the knowledge to keep her safe. Give me wisdom to discern dangers that I may not see on my own. Surround her with loving, fierce protecters that will keep watchful eyes trained on her and those that would seek to harm her. I know that You have fixed what was damaged in me, but I would sooner die than to see her on the roads that I've traveled to get to this point. I beg with everything that is in me that it will not be a part of Your will that she should suffer the way I did. But if it is ... I pray that You wrap her in Your loving kindness. Help her see, as you helped me see, that although the path she walks is dark, You are light. Although human hands hurt, the hands of the Great Physician heal. And that though there are times that she will feel utterly alone, You never left her side. Thank you for never leaving my side, even when I couldn't see You walking beside me. Thank You for putting my pieces back together and for seeing me worthy of love when I didn't see it myself. You have blessed me so much over my short life, and the place I am now is worth every part of the journey I took to get here. Thank You for my sweet baby girl, thank You for my strong, fierce, protective husband, who I know would walk through fire to keep anything from happening to us, thank You for family and friends that have been a constant support over the years.

Monday, March 21, 2011

I am having a moment.

First things first...
26 weeks today! We are officially in the double digits on our countdown- 98 days to go.
I had another visit with my OB, Dr. W today that admittedly, went well for the most part. My fundal height measured at 27 cm., which is right on for Carys' gestational age. At this point in the pregnancy, my understanding is that it is supposed to be 1 cm for every week pregnant, +/- 2 cm. or so considered to be a normal margin. Dr. W said she is a great size though, not too big and not too little. My blood pressure is still hanging out at about 100/60, so she was happy with those numbers, too.
I'd heard from a few other women that the doctor should be able to feel by palpitating the abdomen how the baby is laying in my uterus at this stage, so I asked her about it today. Carys is head down (good girl!) and when Dr. W checked her, she was laying on her left side in the fetal position- her back facing my left side, her butt pointed towards my sternum, and little legs curled. She confirmed this analysis by kicking furiously at the exact spot Dr. W indicated her feet were.
The fFN test we did today to check for risk of premature labor is presumably negative - she said she would contact me if it came back showing anything and I haven't heard from her. As they say, no news is good news. My cervix is still long and closed, so chances are the baby will keep cooking at least for the next two weeks. Her chances of survival outside of the womb went from 50% last week to 85% this week. These are all good things, and I'm thankful for them.
Now, on to the not so good part.
I had my one hour glucose tolerance test today, and I failed it. Basically, they have you either fast or not eat carbs/sugary/fatty stuff before the test (my doctor subscribes to the latter), have you come into the office, drink glucose (awful, super-sweet syrup that tastes vaguely like a melted orange popsicle), wait for an hour, and then they test your blood sugar. In order to pass the test, it has to be below 140. Mine was 171.
Fortunately, this is not a conclusive indicator of gestational diabetes, and from what I understand there are plenty of women that fail the one hour test that go on to pass the later screening and can continue on in their pregnancy happy as clams, eating as they please.
Unfortunately, it does mean that I will have to take the longer version of the GTT at a diagnostic center by my doctor's office. They schedule them early and a 12 hour fast before the test is required - I will be able to eat until about 8 pm on the night prior and then will have only water until the test is completed. They will test my blood sugar before the test and then once an hour until three hours have elapsed. Because of the longer duration I will have to drink twice as much glucose, which I am not looking forward to.
I expect to be a miserable, cranky woman the day of the test until I receive the results and have a full belly.
I was upset to have failed the one hour, though; in a bizarre way, it feels like a personal failing that I didn't pass the initial screening with flying colors. I feel like it is my responsibility to take care of my body and the little one inside of it and that I have in some way let her down. It's not really a rational line of thought but being too rational isn't something I've been accused of during this pregnancy. Surprisingly enough, I found myself really embarrassed to have failed- in my mind when the results came back, Dr. W was imagining me at home wolfing down donuts, ice cream, candy bars, etc., like a piglet -one right after another without regard for my own health. I don't like being 'abnormal', especially as it relates to my pregnancy.
By all intents and purposes, I should be considered low risk for GD.

I'm white (believe it or not, race is a determination in risk factor), under 25 years old (not by much, but still...), had a normal BMI and exercised regularly before pregnancy, am gaining weight at the pace my doctor dictated, have never had high blood sugar results before, haven't had any previous pregnancies, and have a normal blood pressure. I have a fairly healthy diet (although I do love my carbs and could eat a little more protein), with lots of whole grains, fresh fruits and vegetables, and I don't drink soda, sweetened tea or sugary fruit juices.
I feel guilty now and haven't even been diagnosed yet - I can only imagine the self-flagellation that will occur if the results come back determining I have gestational diabetes.
I know I need to relax about it and that there's a fair chance I'll pass the three hour test, but I'm kind of pitching a fit right now. Maybe putting myself (and baby) down for a nap will fix my wagon and I won't be as inclined to be so cranky.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Deep breathing...

25 and 2 today, 103 days left.

It's been kind of a rough week so far - I feel like a crazy person. I find myself stuck on small things lately (tasks that I want to complete, to be specific) and I know I'm creating stress for J. It's like an unbearable itch, though. I was this way before to a certain degree (worrying about things until they're done), but pregnancy has unleashed the obsessive control freak in me! It doesn't matter what time it is, what I'm in the middle of, what it disrupts, etc., if I think of something I want to get done I have to cater to the compulsion or it feels like a mosquito bite just out of reach. I hate it. And then, as if that in itself isn't whack-a-doo enough, if for some reason I am unable to complete whatever little menial task I'm fixated on, I get so grouchy! I recognize that I am not acting rationally, but it's such a strong urge I have trouble not giving in.

I hope things get better soon. We definitely need a baby-moon before Junebug shows up, so we can both relax.

This is not to say that it's all bad - we have some very positive things happening right now. J has been able to work overtime lately (thank you, H.H.!) and although we're not in the place we want to be financially, we are making distinct headway towards our goal. Hopefully I will be able to start back to work in April (the plan as of right now is for me to work at the country club until baby girl gets here- we could really use the money right now, and I'm kind of looking forward to going back). All of our needs are being met right now, we have a little bit set back for baby things, and there are several expenses that are slated to go away in a few months. Some bills will be increasing a little after the baby is here but with the money we're saving in other areas, we should still be able to continue adding to savings and paying down debt. Although we're not following Dave Ramsey's plan exactly right now (he even says that things are a little different when you have a baby on the way), we are applying a lot of his principles to the way we manage our finances, and it's paying off.

What I'm hoping to do while I'm working is to bank most of my paycheck into savings and continue to live mostly off of J's paycheck. This will help us build up a little nest egg that will hopefully cover unexpected expenses and little things we need during the half of the year that I will not be working.

I'm hoping the compromise of working half of the year will work for our family. We are not in a position right now for me to be able to stay at home with the baby year round, but this way I will be able to stay with her during the winter, at least, and maybe do a few catering or cleaning jobs like I have in winters past to help out. I'm also currently looking for things I can do from home to add to our income. Obviously, if we end up not being able to pay bills in the winter I will return to work, but hopefully this will be a solution.

To be honest, if we lived hand to mouth we would 'technically' be able to afford for me to stay home year round, but J and I agree that we want to provide a certain standard of living for Carys and her future siblings. We want to be able to take our kids on trips to visit family, take fun vacations, be able to give them gifts (within reason) for birthdays and Christmas, and be able to be prepared for the unexpected as much as possible without any of these events financially crippling our family or pushing the rest of our budget out of balance. We want to be able to just enjoy life with our kids without the added strain on our relationship that having strapped finances brings. We've been to that town, and we don't want to live there!

It would be different if we didn't have such a wealth of trusted family and friends that are willing to help us with babysitting during the summer. With the way our work schedules are right now, it will probably only be a day or two a week that someone will need to watch her. J's weekend schedule, though inconvenient for a lot of things, means that he will be home watching baby girl during the week days that I'm working, and her greatgrandparents and grandparents will be around for any weekends that we're both working. For anything else not covered, there are other family members/family friends that have volunteered to watch her that I absolutely trust.

It just feels really good to have a plan.

The timing and circumstances surrounding the pregnancy and the time that she's due are really great in retrospection- God really knows what he was doing. I had a hard time seeing that as we were going through all of the infertility treatments and the heartache that brought, but it's clear to me now. Giving up on trying was the most productive thing we did throughout the whole process! Our timetable was created from the vantage point of two imperfect beings with no knowledge of the future, and in hindsight, we are thankful that God doesn't work on our time. We may not have planned for Carys to come along when she did, but Someone else did, and His plan is good and perfect.

Monday, March 14, 2011

I love Mondays...

Mondays have become something of a mini-holiday for me. Each new Monday marks the passage of another full week in gestation for Carys.

Today is 25 weeks!

This week her lungs are continuing to develop, and her nostrils have opened to allow practice 'breaths'. Apparently, she's also looking a little more pink due to the formation and filling of blood of new capillaries.

Every day that passes now is extra time for her lungs to grow and mature. According to viability statistics, she now has a 50% chance of survival if born this week. Next week the rate of survival will jump to 80%. I am painfully aware as ever that nothing is guaranteed, but those numbers make it a lot easier to sleep at night.

In other news, if I wasn't feeling pregnant before I definitely am now. There was a brief honeymoon period in between the first trimester and now because I wasn't suffering from morning (morning/noon/night sickness... who the heck decided to mislead first time moms by alluding that you only get sick in the morning?!) sickness, my appetite was back and I wasn't big enough to be uncomfortable yet. Well, as they say, the honeymoon is over -- I have to eat several small meals and try to space out my water intake over the day or I am too uncomfortable to sit. Her kicks are forceful enough to be painful if she hits the right spot these days, and regular sleep is a thing of the past!

J told me in no uncertain terms the other day that he is ready for me to not be pregnant anymore. I don't blame him, I know I'm not fun to be around right now. Being uncomfortable most of the time makes me grouchy, and it's hard to not be snappish and whiny. I know he's ready to have his wife back and I'm eager to have her here and to try and get my comfortable, pre-pregnancy body back. Right now I feel like just an incubator! More than anything, it's important to both of us that she stay in and cook until she's good and ready, but pregnancy is not the warm, fuzzy experience I always imagined it to be. Don't get me wrong, I love that I'm pregnant- I love getting to feel my baby move and watching my body change to accomodate her, but there are a host of uncomfortable side effects that come with carrying another person around that I never knew about! I guess some part of my naive subconscious thought that my pregnancy would be the exception to the rule and I'd coast through it like a warm knife through butter. :)

She's so worth it, though. To be honest, I wouldn't trade this experience for the world- labor scares, painful back, itchy skin, morning sickness (and on and on) and all!! And some day, when we're ready to expand our little family again, I'll happily (well, mostly) go through the process all over again.

The countdown is at 105 days, we still have quite a ways to go. Hopefully hubby will continue patiently putting up with me, mood swings and all, until she gets here!

Friday, March 11, 2011


Since I'm not working right now, I have a great deal more free time on my hands. I'm still trying to be productive and clean/keep house while getting the baby's room ready, but there's still down time. This week I started reading other blogs and even followed a few. I hope at some point I can establish connections/friendships with other mommy bloggers - I am well aware that my blog isn't super interesting right now to people that aren't directly related to the events going in my pregnancy, but I expect that to change when baby girl gets here. I'm sure the subject will shift from the normal going ons of my life to hers. I'm okay with that.

I love reading about the experiences other mothers are having with their kids, though- on some level I hope that hearing about some of their struggles will better equip me to deal with the newness of parenthood in three and a half months.

108 days to go. That blows my mind. The closer we get, the more I am aware that we are not ready! Her room is not anywhere close to being ready- we're still using it as storage until we have a chance to move the rest of our winter things to my in-law's attic. The only thing in there that is baby related at all is a twin sized bed (for visitors or myself to sleep in when she moves from our room to her own) a few outfits hanging in her closet and a box of newborn diapers. That is it. Beyond the physical preparedness, though, I feel overwhelmed by the changes that are coming. The focus of my entire life is shifting to this tiny little person inside of me. She is the subject of the vast majority of my thoughts, and every little plan I make now is with her in mind. I hope that I am able to take care of her the way she deserves to be taken care of. If my daughter loves me even a fraction as much as I love her, it will be more than enough. I am still getting used to those words.

My daughter.

I've heard stories all my life about the love parents have for their children, and up until this point I thought I understood. It was like my love for my own parents, my siblings, or for my grandparents. And it is, in a way. I love her just for being who she is.

I even likened it to the love I have for my husband- he is my family and when I imagined having children in the past, I always thought of the depth of the love I have for my husband as comparison for how much I would love my child. He is my soulmate, my best friend. I love being around him, I love continuing to get to know him, and I love the journey we're on together.

But it is so much more.

I have always kind of been the protective mama hen to my 5 siblings and I still am. I fought for them when we were kids on a fairly regular basis. Make no mistake, I am still protective of them, even as they transition, one by one, into adulthood. I feel a sense of responsibility for them, and pride at watching them grow and take their own paths in life. I love them more than life and would sacrifice myself for them without giving it a second thought.

But my love for my baby- there is a savage fierceness to it that I have never experienced and didn't expect. Kind of a primal maternal bond, even though I have yet to hold her in my arms. I get the mama bear reference now. Everything I do, everything I am from this point forward plays a supportive role to the most important job I've ever had - mother.

I know I say this a lot, but it's only because it's still as true now as it ever was. I am so thankful that her daddy is who he is. I am so thankful that she has the grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc., that she has.

We may not have a lot of money, but Carys is being born into a wealth of loving family.

Monday, March 7, 2011

A little bit closer...

Today Carys is 24 weeks! Although this doesn't mean we are 'out of the woods' by any stretch of the imagination, it means that if I go into labor any time soon, she's got a fighting chance. I am still cautious, but hopeful. I am coming out of the phase where I am made nervous by every little twinge and ache, and am able to relax a little bit about the prospects of our future. I still feel like a passenger on a rollercoaster, but it's not as scary as it used to be.

I spend a lot of time thinking about my pregnancy, and the impact my little girl has already had on my life. The happiest experience of my life is also a tremendous exercise in trust for both myself and my husband, because we have no control over things.

The difficult part for me was not accepting that God is in control, because there is no disputing that - He just is. The hard pill to swallow was knowing that He is in control and trusting that His will is perfect. It's hard to be satisfied with just, "don't worry, God is in control," when you're worried that His plan might separate you from the child you carry.

My husband carries an even bigger burden than I do, in my opinion. This whole pregnancy he's had to trust that I will do the things I need to take care of our little girl. He can make suggestions, but ultimately it is my job to eat and drink the things she needs, and he can't always be put at ease by feeling her move around like I can. He has to rely solely on me to protect his little girl, and do all that I can to bring her into the world safely. I am honored that he chose to gift me with this responsibility- although she was a surprise, she was certainly a choice.

In lighter news, I finally found a nursery set that I love- it's a pricey one, but so sweet. We don't have a crib yet, but hopefully we'll be able to find one in our price range that fits our needs soon. Her nursery is slowly starting to come together- every day is closer to bringing her home.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Busy, busy day...

Today we had our 24 (almost) week appointment with Dr. W. Although all of the physicians at the Womens' Center are competent, fantastic physicians, Dr. W is special to me because she has been with since the beginning of our journey. She is the one that helped us through infertility treatments, and she knows who I am. A brag on the Womens' Center - I have never felt like just a chart number at their office (this is a big deal to me after a harrowing experience with an uncaring OB/GYN in TX that put me through the wringer). Dr. W knows who I am, she remembers specific details about me without having to refer to my chart, and she was genuinely thrilled for us when she found out that we'd conceived on our own. She also accurately predicted Carys' gender at 8 weeks - she said she got a 'girl vibe' from her, and she was right!

So anyway, we talked briefly about the hospital visit. She said that she wasn't concerned at the moment about the contractions because of our negative result on the fFN (fetal fibronectin) test but wanted to be cautious. I will be switching early from checkups every 4 weeks to checkups every 2 weeks and a fFN test at every visit to watch for signs of premature labor. She told me that because I was small when I got pregnant that my body (and back in particular) is having a difficult time adjusting to carrying the extra weight, especially as far forward as the baby is. Her thoughts were that a bigger part of my problem was the back pain I was having and so she recommended that I continue taking the muscle relaxer they gave me in my first trimester as needed and that I continue resting when I start to hurt or feel like I need it. Her exact words were, "Sometimes we're not smart enough to stop when something hurts..." ha ha - can she see into my house?! I have a very difficult time stopping what I'm doing when I'm right in the middle of a project. She didn't see any reason for me to be on bedrest at this time(Yippee!). She told me bedrest was the worst thing they do to pregnant women. She's right, I'm sure! It may sound like a picnic to just lay around and watch t.v. all day, but it gets really old, really fast, especially when your brain is screaming at you to clean and organize. I'm glad to still be able to do some of the things I want. Overall, it was a very positive appointment and I'm happy at the outcome. I feel like J and I will be able to be more relaxed if we have a negative fFN test every two weeks. It is a very accurate determination of preterm labor, and Dr. W said that if you have a negative result, you can take it to the bank that you will not be delivering for at least two weeks. I am worried about the cost of the additional visits because our insurance doesn't cover 100% after our deductible, but in the grand scheme of things it doesn't matter much. What does matter is a happy, healthy little Junebug. :)

Speaking of Carys, we also got the opportunity to attend an early run for the Wee Cycle Childrens' Consignment Sale. I was hoping to find some bigger pieces of furniture because the things there are considerably cheaper than buying new! They are all gently used items but you can get really nice things at a fraction of the original retail price and for a family living on one income at the moment, that is a BIG selling point. I didn't find a crib or bedding set that I loved (I don't know what my malfunction is with finding bedding for her nursery - I see a lot of things that I like 'okay', but I keep feeling like I'm going to find 'the one' so I hold out... lol... geez - should not be this complicated!!) but we found this bouncer (that retailed for $50.00) for $15.00.

It was a little dirty, but the whole fabric part comes right off and goes into the washing machine (I checked before buying), and it came clean right away with a little elbow grease and some Shout.

My big prize of the evening was a Chicco Pack and Play Lullaby LX - retails for $190 or so, and we found one in great shape for $90.00! It came from a house where it was obviously well taken care of - it doesn't look like it was used much at all.

Ours is the same exact model but the accent colors are a little different - it's gender neutral, though, so if we are blessed with a little boy next time it'll be his, too!

It was assembled in store and we had to break it down to put it in the car. We were trying to figure out how everything worked (it isn't complicated if you know what you're doing but it was overwhelming to two people that didn't even know what a pack and play was 6 months ago), and it was clear that we had no idea what we were doing. A nice woman that was there with her husband, mother and son volunteered to show us exactly how to break it down and reassemble it. She was a pro! I think she could have done it in her sleep. She said she used the exact same one with her little boy and had nothing but good things to say about it. I'm glad she was around because we probably would've been there for an hour trying to figure it out ourselves.
I'm washing the covers to the P'n'P, too, but as soon as I have everything put together I'll post pictures of ours online.

Today was a busy day and I'm tired, but happy! I can't wait to get baby girl's nursery finished.
So excited to meet her...