Still waiting for the results...

(This Monday's blog will probably be a little short, as I'm exhausted! I will post a longer blog when I find out the results of my GTT)

29 weeks today!! 9 weeks until Carys is full term...

So, last Thursday I had my three hour glucose tolerance test. It was every bit as awful as I anticipated, and I was thrilled when it was over. Then began the long wait for the test results - I didn't hear anything on Friday, and it looks like I won't be hearing anything today, either. I suppose no news is good news - it seems like it would be fairly urgent if I did have gestational diabetes.

In other news, I start back to work next Monday at the country club - I'm anxious to start earning some extra money for the baby, and I'm looking forward to having something to do during the day. We are actually doing okay financially right now, so I don't have to work to keep our heads above water, but the extra money will go a long way to putting back a nest egg. It'll be nice to have that cushion after she's here. The plan is to go back 6 weeks after delivery and work until the end of the season, in October. Next year is up in the air, still, but if all goes according to plan this year I'd like to return for a fourth season.

The rest of this week I'm planning on getting the house in order (deep-cleaning) in preparation for my return to work, painting the dresser that will go in baby girl's room (will post pictures after it's done), and taking these last few days to relax before I'm back in the swing of things. I have a prenatal massage scheduled for tomorrow (thank you, Santa) that I'm pretty excited about and hopefully I'll hear back from Dr. W on the GD front.

So, just a short update today - I walked 2.5 miles with Jeremy at Greenway Park (followed by a massive sandwich and a cinnamon roll the size of a hubcap smothered in vanilla ice cream) and I'm pretty pooped. I'm off to recharge my batteries!

Two thirds are behind us...

Happy THIRD trimester!!!

As of today, the countdown is at 84 days (12 weeks).

We had an appointment today with Dr. W, and she decided that we have been doing so well that it is no longer necessary to do bi-weekly fFN tests! We briefly discussed my birth plan, and I feel as though we are on the same page. I have thought long and hard about the way I want things to go and have come to a conclusion - I trust my doctor implicitly. She made a point at our last visit to tell us about her birthing 'style', but wanted me to also know that she is willing to do whatever I want as long as it doesn't endanger the baby- her line in the sand is when the mother is insisting on a course of action that will harm the baby. She mentioned that she had a previous patient insist that she not use suction to clear the baby's airway after delivery - she said she understood that women need to feel a sense of control over their labor and delivery, but she told the patient that she needed to find another doctor. Although I am making it to be my business to be educated about the birthing process, she has done this hundreds and hundreds of times and we have a great doctor-patient relationship. I know she won't do anything to endanger me or the baby, and I know she won't insist on anything that she doesn't absolutely believe is necessary.

So essentially, my birth plan is as follows -- let Dr. W help me birth this baby in the safest, most effective way possible. She knows how I would like for things to go, but I am also trying to maintain a level of flexibility to ensure that things go smoothly.

As far as Carys is concerned, we had an ultrasound today and she looks great. Her growth is right on target (with a small exception), and she's as squirmy as ever. This week she is breech, but Dr. W assured me Carys still has plenty of room to move and that it won't be considered worrisome until around 37 weeks. We got to see her yawn (complete with sticking her little tongue out), and smack her lips despite her hands being up around her face (as always). Dr. W noted that her brain was developing symmetrically, she had a great heart rate, her kidneys look good, and the amniotic fluid was at a good level. On a personal level, she has the cutest button nose and darling little chubby cheeks.

Her exception to comparisons with fetuses of similar gestational age was her weight - Dr. W said most babies around her age weigh in a few ounces over 2 pounds... Carys is about 2 pounds, 11 ounces!! Dr. W said that she thinks Carys will be 8 to 8.5 pounds. She was really pleased with her size, and so am I. Carys is obviously getting the nutrition she needs! The facts are, bigger babies typically do better as preemies than the smaller ones do, so if I do happen to go into preterm labor and have to deliver, that extra half pounds are going to go a long way to ensure her survival.

Besides, roly-poly babies are adorable! I am glad I haven't bought too many newborn sized articles of clothing - she may not be in them for long.

I will be scheduled this week for the three hour glucose tolerance test - I was supposed to have it done week before last, but the nurse said I didn't get placed in the 'scheduling bin', so it got overlooked. I meant to call last week and check, but it was kind of a busy week (and I admit, it's easy to forget to do something you aren't excited about). Hopefully things will go smoothly and I won't have gestational diabetes.

J and I got to take a walk at the local park today, the weather was beautiful. Birds have been singing like crazy, so hopefully we'll be moving into more permanent warm weather soon- we're looking forward to getting to do some things outside this week. He's working third shift tonight again to cover for a co worker so he'll be asleep long into the afternoon tomorrow, but Wednesday we're planning to get out and do some yard work together. He won't let me mow, but I might be able to rake grass clippings or something. If all else fails, I can sit on the porch with lemonade and get some sun while keeping him hydrated. :)

Milestones...

Ordinarily, I'd wait until tomorrow to blog because it's Monday, which means the beginning of another gestational week for Carys. As my blog title implies, however, today is somewhat of a benchmark and I feel like it deserves its own (however short it may turn out to be) recognition.

Today is the last day of my second trimester.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I have mixed emotions about 2/3 of my pregnancy being over already. Part of me is getting tired of being pregnant (probably the part of me that suffered all day yesterday with cramps in my left leg because Carys found a nerve and sat on it) and wants the rest of this experience to whiz by so my baby will be here already. The other part wants this experience to go a little slower, because when it's over, there's no going back.

My life and how it relates to others has already begun to change, I can't deny it. Thoughts that used to be solely dedicated to myself and my needs have been permeated as much as my body has by this tiny little person -it is a truly unique experience. A friend once described pregnancy as a real life version of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers", the one fundamental difference being that the 'pods' that show up in real life are not alien lifeforms that drain emotions, they are crazy-makers that increase them tenfold. Joy, fear, frustration, pride, etc., all are intensely magnified by the presence of a being that begins life smaller than the tip of a ballpoint pen.

In addition to what I assume are the normal anxieties of impending parenthood, through the experiences of others I am beginning to gain recognition of just how much our lives are going to change when she gets here - this simultaneously thrills and terrifies me.

The ushering in of a new trimester reminds me that;

a) Carys is coming.

b) There's not a thing I can do to slow it down.

and

c) We are in for a wild ride.

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!

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.

Father,

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.

Amen

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.

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.