Friday, May 30, 2008

She’s our wee, small peanut…but at least she’s still in my tummy

Just to give a quick update: saw the perinatologist today, and I’m still pregnant so that is fabulous news indeed.

Obviously, there was no induction today. My amniotic fluid levels are okay. We saw a beautifully beating heart, “breathing” movements, two kidneys, and a wonderful little profile.

Less than fabulous is the fact that the baby appears to be on the small side - small enough to cause the doctor concern. Not small enough to order an immediate induction today, but enough to order non-stress tests/fluid checks and make the recommendation for induction next week.

Many, many, many details could be given here…call/email me if you’d like them…but basically they don’t know why she’s so small, and it’s not an emergency, but they’d like to get her out once she hits 38 weeks.

(I’ll be officially 38 weeks according to my doctor next Wednesday, so she has scheduled my induction for next Tuesday at 9pm. She’s apparently taking this “induce at 38 weeks” recommendation from the perinatologist quite seriously. Which I kind of appreciate and also kind of freaks me out.)

I’m a bit overwhelmed, but all the testing today said she’s healthy and doing exactly what she should be doing in there so I’m generally feeling positive and confident.

And the docs seem to agree that it would be best if I just go into labor naturally beforehand so I’ll still be using all your tips – and anymore you want to provide – to avoid induction next week.

Wish us luck!

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

37 Weeks!!!!!!!


(Writers’ Disclaimer: I am today, 37 weeks pregnant according to my doctor. I happen to know, due to being ridiculously obsessed with exact date of conception – a common affliction for couples experiencing infertility - that I will not really be 37 weeks pregnant until Friday. And also, this whole pregnancy counting thing has me completely confused. I thought last week that the doctor said that if I made it through Wednesday, I’d be at 37 weeks. But this week she said if I made it to Wednesday that would be good. Ack! Note to doctor: the use use of the correct and exact preposition is very important to women on bed rest.)

Anyhoo…the doctor said yesterday that I am now free to resume normal activities. In fact, she said that I can run a marathon if I’d like. Because now THE BABY IS OFFICIALLY FULL-TERM! Oh sure, I’m still 3 weeks away from my due date, but it’s been clear for several weeks now that I’m not going to make that date, and now the baby is medically considered full-term.

Can I get an “amen”?

That’s right, friends. I am now full-term, and the baby can come out at any time. Don’t think I am not grinning from ear to ear. Don’t think that SRH and I didn’t do a high-five at midnight last night. Don’t think I didn’t have a celebratory margarita this morning. (Okay, I didn’t, but I certainly wanted to.)

And now, irony of ironies, I have to see the perinatal specialists this week and there is a possibility that I will have to be induced on Friday. Why in the world would that occur, you ask? Weren’t you just the lady who was trying to lay down the majority of the day so that the baby wouldn’t come out?

Indeed. That was me. But now, it seems that the baby may be a bit small and/or my amniotic fluid may be low. So I have to have an extra special ultrasound to get the baby’s size and measure the amniotic fluid. There are a lot more details, but the gist is that I was induced with Zane because of low amniotic fluid, and I am fairly determined not to have that happen again.

So today…I was up and around almost every second. I took Zane shopping for new shoes. We had a play date. I carried a 2 year old down a flight of stairs. I sat on an exercise ball and visualized my cervix opening like a flower, and SRH and I took a long walk after dinner. SRH and I were going to do The Old Bone Dance, but he narrowly escaped that task because I just read an article that said that it’s really not an effective way to bring on labor, and my pelvis hurts enough.

So, bloggy friends, any wisdom to share? Any tips for going into labor before Friday at 9am?

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Anatomically Incorrect

Perhaps the child has a point?

Tonight Zane was in champion “stalling for bedtime” form. He yelled messages down the stairs to us, read a book on the potty for a good 10 minutes, complained about imaginary injuries, and asked for extra good night kisses.

At one point, this is the conversation we had – yelled down the stairs because we wouldn’t let him come down to tell us.

Zane: What are you guys watching?

Me/SRH: Just a show on TV, buddy…

Zane: Are you guys watching one of my shows?

Me/SRH: No.

Zane: Are you watching Noggin?

Me/SRH: NO!

Zane: Well, what are you watching?

SRH: Just a show about volcanoes, Zaney. (This was brilliant because Zane is slightly fearful of volcanoes but they don’t throw him into paroxysms of terror like, say, sirens).

Zane: Volcanoes?

Me/SRH: Yep. You wouldn’t like it.


Zane: Do you know what else volcanoes can be called?

Me/SRH: What, buddy?

Zane: Vulvas.

Me/SRH: What?!

Zane: Volcanoes can also be called vulvas.

Me: (laughing hysterically)

SRH: No, no they can’t buddy. Volcanoes are not called vulvas.

Me: (to Scott) Well, they are now.

Zane: Yes, they are. They explode just like vulvas.

Okay, so back to the drawing board on the whole “using the correct terms” for body parts. Apparently, we’ve not been clear enough if our child believes that volcanoes and vulvas are interchangeable.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Whoa there, Nelly!

Dearest Fred,*

There is so much to say to you, sweet baby girl. So much to describe: the awe and fierce happiness I feel about your growing inside me, my heart’s gratitude that we get to have you in our lives, the anticipation of meeting you. But if I get to only tell you one thing, the message is…

DON’T COME OUT NOW!

No really, don’t. We’re not ready. You’re not ready. Nobody is ready.

Scoot back up in there and take a breather. There’s no reason to be hanging down below my ischial spines– you get another 6 weeks in Spa de la Mama, enjoy them. There is no rush.

Not that we don’t want you here. No, siree. Your papa and I are certainly looking forward to your arrival. We’re simply also looking forward to completing the remodel, finishing up some work projects, and getting your nursery together before you join us.

But mainly, we want you to stay in there because we want you to be completely healthy when you come out.

You can imagine my surprise last week at the doctor’s visit when she said that you were about to make a run for the border and deliver at any second. (Or perhaps you cannot imagine my surprise because you are a mere 34 weeks gestational age and so have no experience with obstetrical visits and shocking news yet. And actually, she didn’t say you were coming at any second. She just kept repeating how “low” you were. I have taken a bit of neurotic license with this one).

Anyway, I knew you had dropped, and so I mentioned to the doctor that I thought this tended to happen later in a pregnancy. The doctor wasn’t overly concerned, but decided to do an internal exam after I told her that I’d been having some pelvic pressure since then.

And then the following conversation occurred with my feet in the stirrups:

Doc: Oh…you are very low.

Me: Yeah, I know. I was amazed that I’d dropped.

Doc: Yes, very, very low.

Me: Uh- huh.

Doc: You’re at a +1 station right now.

Me: Hmmm… (that was me faking that I knew what that meant)

Doc: No, I don’t think you understand. If you were in labor right now, you would be pushing.

Me: Oh.

Doc: (shaking her head) That’s very impressive.

There followed a discussion where we determined that I needed to get monitored to see if I was having contractions (I was) and possibly go to the hospital. Apparently since the contractions were very mild, I was allowed to go home to rest. And rest, and rest some more.

So that’s what I’ve been doing…resting. I don’t do that very well, really. But I’m determined to keep you in – because I totally have complete control here - so I’ve been pushing myself like crazy…to rest.

This means, however, that I am left with a lot of time resting and thinking about what needs to be done. So there has been some preparation for your arrival:

- We bought you some preemie clothes, just in case. Completely surreal, that. They’re all “3-5 lbs” size. Yikes! But we gave them to Mimma and told her not to wash them until we actually get a hospital admission. Hey, it’s good to have them, but if you do end up being full-term, we’re taking those sweet little clothes back, mama.

- SRH through action/thought/deed/and strong non-verbals pressured the contractor into speeding things up in the remodel a bit. By this, I mean that he started working beside the contractor and would cast dirty looks his direction all the while muttering, “The baby is coming, the baby is coming” over and over. He’s subtle, your papa.

- I hired the painter to come next week to paint the kitchen, office, bathroom, and your nursery.

- Mimma came over and cleaned the entire downstairs, and Papa and I are pulling the upstairs together. Just so you know, we are filthy, filthy people. Perhaps this will change when you get here, but I wouldn’t count on it.

- We’ve completed the pre-registration forms for the hospital.

- I’ve scheduled the hospital tour and childbirth refresher class. Those both happen by next Sunday, so hopefully that’s soon enough.

- I’ve sorted and washed the 0-3 months clothes that we’ll reuse from Zane, and washed the new stuff that we have for you.

I think that’s about it, chica. The nurse said that we shouldn’t plan to make it to our due date, but there are always surprises, and I’ll know more when I see the doctor on Friday. Or when I go into labor, I suppose.

So, try to hang tight in there, child. There’s a whole big world to see out here, but you have plenty of time.

Much love,

Mama

*And of course, your name is not Fred, but we don’t know exactly what your name is yet. We’re trying to wait to meet you before making any rash decisions…and Zane has decided that if you can’t be named Cabbage or Truck, then he shall call you Fred. So it’s what we have to work with right now.