Weigh In: Week 39 + 2

142.5 lbs.  And baby is still in utero.  I had a midwife's appointment this morning.  I was supposed to be there in the afternoon, but the office called this morning around 9AM to confirm that I was in fact coming to the appointment (a couple of inches of snow here in Nashville, with most roads unplowed).  I said I could come earlier if that would help, and the receptionist said they were pretty slow and I could come on in.  I got a shower, called Wes to let him know I was going in earlier, and he decided to come pick me up and go with me to the appointment (something we'd planned on, but then he had a meeting scheduled for 2PM and wasn't going to be able to come).  The roads were fine where they'd been plowed, but as I found out on the way home, slippery where they haven't yet been.

It turns out that the receptionist had told a lot of people the same thing she told me, and so we did have to wait almost an hour to be seen.  The midwife, one I hadn't seen before, was very nice and apologized for the wait.  She felt my belly and said the baby wasn't especially big, which is something I was starting to worry about (especially important when you want a drug-free delivery!).  Her heartbeat sounds fine, and she is, of course, still head down.  She checked me again, and I'm now 3 cm dilated, well effaced, and the baby's head is right against my cervix.  I did let her strip my membranes.  I had mixed feelings on this going in to the appointment.  I've heard both the pros and cons of having this done.  Those who favor it say that except for the risk of prematurely rupturing the membranes, there are no real risks.  The process basically involves separating the amniotic sac from the edge of the cervix, which releases prostaglandins, which helps initiate labor.  This argument says that it won't put a woman into labor if the baby is not ready for it, and it can provide a gentle nudge to baby if she is ready and just waiting (like this one is!).  Those who are opposed to it say that the risk of rupturing the membranes is very real and problematic, since it puts you "on the clock" -- meaning you have to deliver within 24 hours, even if your body wasn't really ready to go into labor.  It can be uncomfortable, and it can lead to additional interventions that can lead to a c-section that would not have happened had the stripping not happened.  This argument is the norm among the hands-off crowd, who basically don't want any kind of intervention at all.  That said, I felt like I was okay with having it done if the midwife supported it.  This practice is pretty hands-off about these things and wouldn't recommend something they didn't think was a good idea.  So when the midwife mentioned it, I told her that I knew what it was but didn't have a firm opinion on it.  She said she's never ruptured someone's membranes in the process and definitely felt that it couldn't hurt.  Plus, I'm at my due date and my cervix is very favorable for labor, so it would either nudge baby out or do nothing at all.  It wasn't really that uncomfortable, and I don't feel any different than I did before except for losing some bloody show, which is expected after the stripping.  I've of course done lots of Googling since I got home, and it sounds like for most women, it either gets things going in the next 24-36 hours or does nothing at all.  So we'll see!  I think the midwife felt better that we live so close to the hospital, so we're not putting ourselves at risk of having to brave the bad roads for a long drive if it in fact works.  I have an appointment set for next Monday, when I'll be almost 41 weeks by the midwife's EDD.  If I have to keep the appointment and am still pregnant at that point, we'll schedule an induction for the middle or end of next week.  Neither Wes nor I, based on what we've read, are comfortable going past 42 weeks based on the best EDD, and I would prefer to induce on a Wednesday or Thursday to give me the longest stretch of time out of class and with Wes at home.  I don't know why, but having this in place makes me feel better.  I know I might still be pregnant next Monday, but then I'll be at my last appointment before the baby is born.  Now, finally, there is an end in sight.

Tomorrow is my official due date by first trimester ultrasounds, 1-11-11.  I would be very excited if she were to make her arrival then -- and if not, Wednesday, or Thursday, or Friday.  My sister and her husband are supposed to visit this coming weekend, and while I know they're looking forward to seeing Oliver (and maybe me and Wes a little bit), I'd feel a lot better if they got to see the baby, too.

Weigh-In: Week 27+6

135.5 lbs.  I do not have gestational diabetes.  My glucose blood level was 83.  The nurse said that I should look for a number under 135.  Evidently, I'm okay there.  My blood pressure is that of a normal 9-year-old: 98/60.  "Is it normally that low?" the nurse asked me.  And, just as a reminder that nothing is ever quite like the first pregnancy (read: much more pressure, much more sciatic pain, much earlier with this pregnancy), I've been having clearly discernible Braxton Hicks contractions the last day or two.

On another note, I'm really looking forward to the nursery rug coming soon.  It was backordered, but the company charged the credit card, which I'm hoping means it's on its way soon, if not already.  I'm still hemming and hawing about painting the room a different color (hopefully over Thanksgiving break in only six weeks!!!), but I don't want to decide either way until the rug is here.  I also think I found a rug for Oliver's room that is the right colors, kind of kid-cute but not overly so.  I wish it were wool and not Olefin, but that does mean it's (maybe) a bit more durable and certainly a bit cheaper.  The baby gate at the bottom of the stairs came down yesterday.  I fell over the thing in May, which bent it badly, and it's never been quite the same since then.  I have stumbled into it when it didn't open right several times since then, and Wes admits to having tripped over it also.  A few days ago I noticed it wouldn't even latch, so we decided to take it down.  Ollie is really good on the stairs now, and while he could still have an accident, it seems like we're just going to risk it.  He's much more likely to be able to catch himself if he stumbled or at least stop his fall.  The gate at the top of the stairs is staying so that he doesn't try to wander downstairs in a sleepy haze, should he get out of his room one night.  (And, more likely but less importantly, that keeps Lucy from going upstairs unsupervised and, say, peeing on the bathroom rug or eating dirty disposable diapers out of the trashcan.)  We'll have to replace the downstairs gate when the new baby starts crawling, but that could almost a year out still.  So for now, we're enjoying the relative ease and nicer appearance of the gateless stairway.

No Child Left Behind, 2nd edition

I had my first appointment with the midwife yesterday.  I know most women see their prenatal provider more like 8-10 weeks into a pregnancy, but since I had an ultrasound at 8 weeks, and since I was already on the Prometrium, I decided to wait until I would be able to hear the heartbeat on the doppler to go in.  I was nervous but excited.  The first appointment is another step in making the pregnancy real, as is hearing the heartbeat.  I made an early appointment because I've had problems before having to wait a long time to be seen at this clinic.  I like the place, and they're the only midwives in Nashville (that I can find) that do hospital births.  And fortunately, they do theirs at Vanderbilt, since that's the cheapest place for us to deliver on Wes's healthcare coverage.

I did get seen very quickly.  They weighed me, took my vitals, and I chatted with the midwife a little bit.  And then came the part I was nervous about.  She got out the doppler, and I pulled up my shirt and laid back.  And then she turned on the doppler and started looking.  And kept looking.  She made a comment about the baby kicking a lot, moving around, but she couldn't find a heartbeat.  She looked for several minutes before she stopped, calmly, and said she was sending me for an ultrasound.  Wes wasn't with me at the appointment.  He was sleeping off a late shift, and I didn't think was that important for him to be there.  So I got the order from the front desk, got back in my car, and drove down the street to the ultrasound facility where I had my 8-week scans.  I alternated between preparing myself for a fetus that had not developed past the last scan (when it did have a heartbeat) and knowing that there was a chance the midwife just couldn't find the heartbeat.

The ultrasound office saw me quickly, too.  The technician asked if a Vanderbilt ultrasound student could come in, and I consented.  They need practice, I figured, even if the news was not good.  One day, they would have to give some woman bad news, too.  But after I put on the gown and laid down on the table, they quickly found the baby, measuring almost a week ahead of my dates, and with a nice, strong heartbeat between 155-170 bpm.  It was moving around a lot at some points, and the ultrasound tech said that can make it hard to get a heartbeat on the doppler, especially when it's still so small.  All I could think of was my first midwife's appointment when I was pregnant with Oliver, when the midwife couldn't see anything on the transabdominal ultrasound, and Wes and I sat for 45 minutes waiting for a transvaginal scan to show up that there was, in fact, a baby in there.  I don't know if it's because the tech knew I had been worried or because she was teaching or because she was just having fun, but she spent a while in there looking around, taking pictures, and talking to me about what she saw.  The baby looked great and finally looked like an actual baby.

I had to go back to the midwife's office afterwards.  I waited for a long time for them to get the ultrasound report, but they finally took me back.  I told the midwife what I knew, which she was happy to hear, and I asked several more questions I had about the practice and prenatal care.  The whole thing took almost three hours, and I ended up missing my class because of it (the only class I missed during my entire master's program!).  I thought I would go back at 16 weeks, since I was seen every 4 weeks at my former clinic, but she said I could wait until 18 weeks and see her after the anatomy scan.  Her office scheduled it on my way out, so on August 12 we'll hopefully know the gender (and that everything looks okay), and I'll see the midwife the next day.

I hate the worry that I had for those 45 minutes or so, but if the worst my babies do in utero is hide from the ultrasound and doppler wands, that's fine by me.  I'm praying that the next appointment will be somewhat less exciting.

Speedy Delivery

Note: The following is a posting about Oliver's delivery. It contains certain details that might freak out, say, a guy. You have been forewarned.

I frequently said going into Ollie's delivery that I didn't know what it was going to be like, and I was prepared for that. And I didn't know exactly how it would unfold, but I found that I was prepared for it. I was worried at times that not taking a class would mean I wasn't really ready to handle labor without meds, but since I wasn't 100% committed to being unmedicated, I tried to embrace that. As it turns out, I think I just knew my own "learning style." All the books and fore-flection (as opposed to reflection) on what could happen left me open to whatever, but knowledgeable enough to feel calm about the situation.

Contractions started around 3am on Friday the 12th. I woke up to use the restroom and notice cramping that felt similar to what I'd heard described as contractions. They weren't terribly uncomfortable and were pretty sporadic. When Wes got up for work, I told him, "I may or may not be having contractions." After he left I fell back to sleep for about another hour before the alarm went off for me, too. When I used the bathroom, I passed my mucus plug and knew then that I was within 24 hours of meeting my son. It was exciting, though I was nervous about what lay ahead.

I called Wes, who nixed my idea of going to work for as long as possible, and then the midwife (at Wes's behest), who confirmed that I was fine to stay home for as long as I wanted (unless my water broke). I talked briefly with my mom. Wes was already on a 6-3 shift, and since things were moving seemingly slowly, there was no real reason for him to use sick call and come home. I'd always believed I would labor better by myself early on, without him watching and worrying, and I think that was in fact the case. Not that he didn't know what to do, but that there wasn't really much, in my mind, that could be done.

I did, in fact, go to school for an hour to drop off some materials and talk to the teacher who would be taking over my classes on Monday. I saw some neighbors and then a bunch of teachers at school who couldn't believe I was up and about. I don't know what it's like for other women, but for me, those first few hours were just like intense menstrual cramps. I had to stop and stand still for some of them, but there was no need to breathe through them or anything like that.

When I got home from school, the nesting instinct everyone talks about really kicked in. I decided, as was only reasonable, that I needed to clean before the baby came. I took all the linens off the bed and started cleaning the bathroom between contractions, which by 9am were a little more uncomfortable and regular. I talked to my sister once or twice, who, when I had two on the phone with her (and that I had to stop talking for), forewarned me that labor was picking up. Wes called to update me on when he would be home and make sure I was okay. I rocked in the rocking chair, tried to get comfortable on the couch (the rocking chair made my lower back ache), and walked some. Kneeling didn't seem to do much for me. I think in that period of labor, I felt okay about being without drugs. I was still nervous about how much had to still happen (and I didn't know if I would be able to feel if I was dilating), but I was mostly focusing on the next contraction. I didn't really time them except for two 10-15 minute periods. I had a general sense of how often they were coming, but mostly I was thinking about the pain level.

Wes got home at 3am, took Lucy to the vet, and jumped in the shower. While he was in there I called the midwife, thinking it might be close to time to go in. I was getting to the point where I couldn't find any relief from the pain. She told me, though, that it sounded like I was doing well, and she would encourage me to stay home another hour or two if I wanted, maybe try the shower, and call her back. I did get in the shower for 30 to 45 minutes, which helped me get some relief before the contractions picked up even more. When I got out, I threw up pretty hard, which made me a little nervous and confirmed my desire to head to the hospital. It took at least another 30 minutes, though, for me to get dressed, to talk to the midwife again, and to get downstairs with our stuff.

By this point, I was groaning through the contractions. I was in our lobby for at least 5 minutes on my knees on the couch moaning while Wes tried to hail a cab -- during rush hour -- on Friday -- while it was raining. The cab driver seemed pretty calm, even with me moaning and groaning in the back seat, though Wes said he was clearly looking nervous when traffic was totally stopped on Lakeshore Drive. It took over 20 minutes to reach the hospital, which is 1 1/2 miles from our apartment. I could feel my water break and leak with each contraction in the cab (which, fortunately, I had foreseen and taken precaution to manage without damage to the cab). When we got out, I had 3 contractions between the taxi and the door of triage, a total distance of maybe 200 feet.

The triage people got me to see a nurse right away. I passed something else (more mucous plus, amniotic fluid, I don't know), and then she examined me between contractions. At that point, I thought I was maybe 7 or 8 cm dilated and had decided that, if so, I was going to get an epidural. I couldn't imagine another 2-3 hours or more in the state I was in. Fortunately, I was 9cm and baby was +2 station. We moved quickly up to labor and delivery, but, for reasons unclear to me, the midwife was not there. Instead, I was greeted by one of Wes's and my good friends who is a 4th-year OB/GYN resident. I had joked with her prior to the delivery that if she was in the delivery room, we could never be friends again. After she checked me, too, I looked at Wes and said, "Brook and I will never have the same relationship." There was some concern by the triage nurse and Brook that the baby was presenting weird, so an attending came in to have a feel, too. I begged to get off my back, which was horribly uncomfortable, and they let me squat on the bed. The contractions were at their most painful and most frequent at this point, and I was 100% dilated and effaced. They broke what was left of my water and encouraged me to start pushing. I tried, but there was no urge to push and it was horribly painful. People kept telling me not to make any noise and hold my breath, but it just didn't feel right.

At this point, I was offered an epidural. I was skeptical that it would work fast enough, but I couldn't fathom pushing through what I was feeling, so I said okay. A nurse got my IV going, which I needed for the penicillin (for Strep B) anyway, and the anesthesiologist did a fast run-down with me. Just about that time my midwife came in. She wanted to check me, too, and got me more on my side to do so. After she looked, she told me I didn't need an epidural, I was ready to push and doing great, and she cleared the room but for two nurses.

And then it just happened. I finally felt the urge to push, I was able to get a bit of rest in between contractions, and the midwife and nurses just encouraged and coached me through it. It's amazing how much difference it makes just to have someone there say, "Hey, you can do this. You're doing great." Wes stood by the bed and held my hand and let me pull against him while I pushed. I could feel the baby's head and the aptly named "Ring of fire." There was almost some comfort, literally and figuratively, in the realization that I was just going to have to do it, regardless of how I felt. That baby was going to come out. Wes asked if I wanted to see or feel his head come out, but I was doing much better just focusing on the pushing without associating it with any product. I know that sounds weird, but I didn't care if I was birthing a watermelon at that point -- I was going to push it out!

If there's one thing that recommends going without an epidural, it's the last 10 seconds of the delivery. I don't know what you can feel if you've had meds, so maybe it's not much different, but feeling that baby come of you is totally unbelievable. That was the moment when it all came together and I realized what had just happened. They put him on my chest, and I just smiled and laughed and rubbed his back. He was yelling up a storm (working for that 9 on his Apgar) and, save for the spots on his head, looked great. About 10 seconds out, he pooped meconium all over my chest, but I seriously could not care. They let me be with him for a minute before taking him to weigh and measure him and inspect his head. I passed the placenta with one easy push, and the midwife got me some meds before putting in a few stitches. It took a few minutes for me to be able to relax my pelvis, and I miraculously felt pretty good. I guess that hormone rush really does happen.

The nurses let us both hold him for a few minutes before taking him to the NICU to see a neurologist for the aplasia. I wanted to be with him, but I felt good knowing he was going to get seen.

The recovery has, thus far, been very good. Wes has been really cute about everything -- he seems so proud of my "performance," if you will, and tells everyone about it. I was in the door of triage around 6:45pm, baby was born 7:30pm, with about 20 minutes of pushing, and I was up and walking within a few hours of that. I know full well that most of what happened is just nature -- some women labor longer, suffer more painful or frequent contractions, deal with complications, etc. I'd like to think that my activeness during the pregnancy and labor helped some, and I am proud of myself for trusting that I could make it through, but mostly I'm just so grateful that things went the way they did, knowing that I owe it to biology and luck.

Strep...

So I don't have strep throat, but I do have it...elsewhere. My midwife called yesterday to tell me I tested positive for Strep B. It's a random affliction that 20-25% of all women have and that doesn't really cause problems except during pregnancy. The result of this positive strep test is that I need a course of penicillin during delivery. I don't know if that means I have to go to the hospital early or just early enough to get it done before the actual delivery; I have to ask the midwife at my appointment tomorrow. The con, of course, is being strapped to an IV pole for any length of time. The pro is that it reduces to almost null the chance of the baby getting pneumonia, sepsis, or meningitis, the low-risk but possible effects of deliverying without the penicillin.

For as much luck and good fortune as I've had in this pregnancy, this seems like a pretty minor inconvenience. If this is the worst it gets, it's pretty good.

You know the school year's started when...

the blog posts slow down. Teachers have been back for two weeks now, and classes finally start on Monday, which actually means a little more down time for me as I only teach in the mornings (in expectation of a part-time schedule after the baby arrives).

Baby preparations have been coming along quite well. The dresser finally arrived yesterday, just in time for Wes to help me get it upstairs before heading off to work. After unwrapping it from layers of protective cardboard and bubble wrap, we were really pleased with what we found. It's well made and coordinates beautifully with other pieces in the room. I stayed up unreasonably late last night washing all the clothes and blankets and folding them away into the drawers. Suffice it to say we don't need any more stuff for the baby, primarily because there's no room for anything else!

My 36 week appointment was on Monday. Unfortunately, the "delivery talk" that I was anticipating got moved to the next appointment, so Wes attended only to witness the usual pee-weight-blood pressure-belly measure-heartbeat check ritual. In true ER doc fashion, Wes commented on how ridiculous it is for healthy people to be seen by physicians (or midwives) this often and offered to simply check these things at home. I have to go weekly now, and while I'm completely satisfied to be just such a healthy person -- especially while pregnant -- it is a nuisance to get up to the hospital from school every week just to hear, "You're doing great!" I did gain 2 lbs. at this appointment, which puts me at +5 from my pre-pregnancy weight. This was the first midwife to comment on the minimal weight gain, but since I'm healthy and the baby looks healthy and the right size for his gestation, there's really not much to say. If this is the only time in my life I don't gain much extra weight, I'll take it.

It seems my body, too, is getting ready for d-day -- though it may be as many as 6 weeks away still. I've been having increasing contractions over the last 10 days. Last Tuesday I had about 5 hours of contractions 10-15 minutes apart. It was strange to have them come on. At first I was nervous -- those kinds of uncomfortable sensations can indicate something wrong earlier in pregnancy -- but then I realized what it was and got kind of excited. I know the stages of labor, so I wasn't worried I was actually in labor, but it still is an indication of time passing and getting closer to the real thing. I've had them on and off since then, usually when I've overexerted.

And if five pregnant women at my school wasn't enough, another non-teaching staff member announced last week that she, too, is pregnant --6 weeks -- and with twins. That means that by the end of the school year, if all goes well, there will be 7 babies born to faculty/staff at our school -- and there are only about 40 of those! -- and 5 of us will be first-time moms. What else can expect from an all-girls' school?

In and Out

I had my 34-week appointment yesterday with midwife #4 (and still one more to meet in two weeks). It was a quick appointment, like most of them. The midwife actually seemed to be looking for things to talk about, but I just don't have a lot of questions, especially since the 36-week appointment is the "let's talk about how you want your delivery to go". According to the office scales, I lost a pound since my last appointment two weeks ago (thanks, I have to believe, to the walking I've done in that time frame), but the midwife was unconcerned. My blood pressure is still good, and she didn't comment on how I measured, which I assume means everything is right on track.

The only thing that suprised me was hearing that, if I went into labor now, they wouldn't try to stop it. I thought the cutoff was more like 36-37 weeks, but Carol said that at this point I can stay home and labor until I'm ready to come in to the hospital. No rushing out for shots of something to shut down contractions. This is exciting, of course, thinking that it could happen anytime (but probably won't for still a piece yet), but it's also crazy. That car seat needs to hurry up and arrive in the mail!

30 weeks and counting

Another appointment with the midwife today, and all is well. I never got a call from my lab work at the last appointment, which means I passed the glucose tolerance test and do not have Hep C (good to know...). My BP is 116/80, which is normal, and I am now officially +3.5 lbs. over my pre-pregnancy weight (and + probably 12.5 over my lowest weight during pregnancy). I don't know how or why I'm managing to not gain more weight -- as I've seemed pretty adept at it the rest of my life -- but by golly I'll take it and hope the moderate weight gain it continues. I'm measuring right on schedule, and the baby seems to be in a head-down position (though there's still plenty of time for him to undo that).

A whole two weeks until the next appointment!

A bloody mess

My 28-week appointment yesterday was largely and happily uneventful. I dutifully drank my orange-flavored sugar water (like flat Orange Slice from my childhood) on an empty stomach for my 1-hour glucose-tolerance test, which I will get the results from later this week. I also got tested for Hepatitis C so I can use the birthing tub at the hospital during delivery (I guess they assume I'm not engaging in the various activities linked to Hep C transmission during pregnancy). This midwife, like all the others, seemed really nice and very supportive of whatever decisions we make about the delivery. I have to start going to the office every two weeks now, which seems insane, but fine, I guess. My blood pressure is now back to the normal range for a non-pregnant me, and my weight is still holding steady. From my pre-pregnancy weight, I'm about +1 -- which probably says more about my pre-pregnancy weight than any strict diet and exercise regime during pregnancy. Most importantly, the baby is measuring right on schedule, his heart rate is in the 150s/160s, and he even kicked the Doppler monitor several times while we listened.

The only real problem I encountered was some unexplained bleeding after having my blood drawn. They took 2 vials of blood for the tests (which also included an anemia check, I think). My veins are really easy to stick, and I'm not woozy about the process so long as I don't watch it happen. The nurse put some gauze and a bandage over the stick spot after she was done, and I went to the front desk to schedule a follow-up appointment. While I was standing there, I noticed that my arm felt wet. When I looked down, my forearm was covered in blood. The nurse cleaned me up and tried again, but the process repeated and I had to go back for a third gauze pad and bandage -- which fortunately finally held. Unfortunately, I got blood on my shorts and the floor of the office and felt like an idiot for bleeding everywhere, but everyone was really nice.

No news is good news

The next midwife's appointment is on Thursday, and even though nothing really happens at the apointment (which, granted, is a good thing), I still look forward to it. Confirmation that everything is alive and growing and the due date is getting slowly closer. Other than that, not much has been happening on the baby front. I've been reading my myriad childbirth books and trying to include more movement into my workouts that mimics the various positions encouraged in unmedicated births. We're still short of making purchases but have tentatively picked out a color for the nursery (Jonquil). The baby is moving a lot, and I can feel him all over now, not just down low. It's nothing strong (the anterior placenta) but certainly noticeable. Wes even got to feel him finally. He came to bed really late after a shift and snuggled up next to the belly. Just then the baby started kicking -- as if to poke Wes on the shoulder for a bedtime snuggle back. I was amused to see how much Wes reacted to it. For someone who sees pregnant women daily and has seen births repeatedly, he's really enjoying experiencing it firsthand finally.

Happy Days

Sometimes when I think about my life, I wish I could store up the happiness of the good times to have saved for the harder times. This week is like that for me. My husband and I are bordering on a state of bliss. Though we've had by and large a very happy four years together, this pregnancy might encapsulate the best 9 months so far. We're both giggly and giddy and excited about the same things. A friend keeps warning me that most couples are less happy after they have kids, and while I don't doubt that might be true, I think Wes and I have an inkling of (though not a full appreciation for) what is to come after the pregnancy. And I think we'll love that part, too. Work is good. I have friends and family who are excited about our baby. And tomorrow, I turn 29 years old. Not the 25 I thought I would be when having my first, but then, who cares.

And in the midst of all this happiness and giddiness, we got to see our son. A big, healthy, wiggly boy laying in me breech with his legs wide open lest there be any confusion about his gender.

And at the midwife's office, more good news -- I'm still 7 lbs. under my starting weight. How's that for the icing on the birthday cake?

Alive and Well

I had an appointment with my midwife today, and everything looks great. We heard the heartbeat the moment she put the doppler on my abdomen, and she said the heartbeat was strong, in the right range, and my fundus was in the right spot. Mmmhmm. Okay. Way to go, fundus.

Next up is the ultrasound in late April, followed by an appointment that same afternoon with her, at which point we'll start talking about things like childbirth classes and the like. And since we'll know the gender then, Wes and I can start looking seriously at some purchases.

11 Weeks

I saw my midwife for my second appointment yesterday. Everything looked and sounded fine, and I got to hear the baby’s heartbeat with the Doppler monitor. It took a few minutes to find, and when I laughed we lost it, but it was there. Either that, or I ate something crazy. I set up the next appointment and also got the order for my 20-week ultrasound. My birthday is the day after 20 weeks, so I think we’re going to schedule it for that afternoon. What a fun present.

We’ve managed to tell all of Wes’s family now. I talked to his sister tonight, who seemed really excited by the news. This is the first grandbaby/niece/nephew on Wes’s side, so everyone’s assuming new titles with this arrival. We’ll see the whole family around 32 weeks for my brother-in-law’s wedding in Philadelphia, so everyone will get a pre-delivery peek at the belly.

I found out that another teacher at school is pregnant. That makes three of us all due August through October. It’s exciting to have someone else to share the nausea and headaches and ultrasounds with (especially since the woman due before me is on #3). It makes me a little nervous about what’s going to happen at work. I fear that I won’t get the weeks out or reduced hours I’m hoping for with this many women out for maternity leave. Hopefully I’ve made myself indispensable enough that my director will meet my requests, but Wes and I will have to really talk if she won’t. Ah, so many things to think about – and fortunately, plenty of time to do so.

No Child Left Behind

Yesterday, we met the midwife. The woman whom we were supposed to meet ended up being unavailable because of a death in the family, so we met a partner in the practice instead. I was referred to the practice by my general internal medicine doctor, not to a specific midwife, so I was content see anyone. Sara, the midwife, was wonderful. She offered lots of information and answered all of our questions. The practice’s philosophy fits mine very well, so far as I have one as a first-time mother. The practice wants to give women whatever kind of delivery they desire, from unmedicated births to epidurals. The midwives don’t see any intervention as bad, but they see don’t see any of them, including an IV or continuous fetal monitoring, as routine, either. They want to make sure that any intervention is really required. They promote moving around during labor and even have telemetry units available so women can still be on CFEM while moving around. A water birth is an even option, which I like.

I had a physical exam and an ultrasound. The first ultrasound that Sara did was on a very old machine was. Wes estimates it was at least fifteen years old and likened it to a Commodore computer. The screen showed a black spot – the yolk sac – but no embryo or heartbeat. Sara looked a little worried, and then we worried. She immediately put us in line to see an ultrasound tech and insisted we not leave until we knew exactly what was what. We waited about 40 minutes for an ultrasound tech to become available. Wes tried to talk to me, and I tried to reconcile myself to not being pregnant anymore. When we went in for the second ultrasound, I couldn’t look at the screen. I just kept telling myself it would all be okay, no matter what happened. But after only a few seconds, the tech and Wes both saw a viable embryo with a nice heartbeat (154). It had been hard to find because it wasn’t as big as it was supposed to be based on the first date of my last menstrual cycle. But I have long periods sometimes, and the tech said I probably ovulated late that month, making me 8 days “less pregnant” than I thought I was. According to Wes, I am a “G1, 7 and 0/7, by first trimester ultrasound.” We got a picture of our “little gray blob,” as Sara described it – and as it looks on the printout we got. It’s on the refrigerator.

I know the chance of miscarriage falls to 3-5% now, but that’s still as high as 1 in 20, so even though I’m allowing myself to get more and more excited, I have to remember that it’s not a sure thing. I’m sure the end of the first trimester – now six weeks away – will help, too. Tonight I made a huge paper chain, something my family does in December to count down to Christmas, but for all 33 weeks remaining in the pregnancy. That’s 231 links until my due date (which I know is an approximation, not a finite end point, but it has to end somewhere).