30 Weeks: Things We Now Know...

At 30 weeks we now know some more things about Little No Name that we did not know a few weeks ago.

1.  She looks an awful lot like her daddy.  She has his nose and we think she may have a cleft in her chin as well.

2.  She is camera shy.  She keeps her hands (and feet) in her face a lot (which is why we can't tell for sure if she has a cleft in her chin or not.)  We had to do two different 3D-4D ultrasound sessions!

3.  She has pout-y lips... Husband doesn't and I don't really posses this trait either, but my father does, so I'm claiming this trait for my side.

4.  She has my long toes...the trademark long middle toe that towers over the "big toe."

Things have been going pretty well lately besides being extra tired.  We started birthing classes last week and we are well on our way to getting the nursery together.  I finally decided on a crib mattress and I finally ordered the crib bedding.  This past weekend I took the bedding swatches to my favorite fabric store and picked out fabric for the glider rocker I want to recover and a fabric for the curtain panels I want my grandma to make.

Things are coming together!  I want to get a rug maybe, this really cute vintage chest I found at a local store (if it is still there), a new lighting fixture and possibly a bookcase for display.  Still a lot to do, but we are making progress.

I'm thoroughly disgusted from last night's birthing class.  The image of a large half naked woman hanging from a metal pole while pushing out her baby is burned into my brain.  Last night was birth video time.  I've decided that the moment that this is suggested as a pushing technique I should consider... well, that is when I request an operating room and a C-section.  However, I seriously doubt any doctor would willingly want to see that either-- I think it has more to do with the hippie-dippy Douala and that woman's medicine free birth.

We got to take a tour of the birthing center as well and I never once saw the metal pole hanging over any hospital bed.  The "natural childbirth" couple however did ask where it was because, of course, she wants one.  Apparently they hide them in a closet somewhere.

Recently, I learned that 10 extra pounds means I can't wear 6 inch heels all day long and not have sore feet by 3:30pm.  I have resorted to wearing lower heels or (gasp) flats(!) to work.  A pair of flats is in my pocketbook everyday, just in case.

So I think that catches everyone up on where things stand at the moment...  Have a good one!

28 Weeks: Sick, Sicker, Sickest...

The mouse massacre in my car's A/C was not the only surprise we came home to after spending a couple of days at the beach.  No, Husband brought home a cold and since Saturday week, we've been busy passing that sucker around the neighborhood.

Saturday, when I was discovering my latest kill, Husband was coming down with a sore throat.  By Monday he was in the throws of a full blown head and chest cold.  I did my best to stay away... but by Friday afternoon I, too, was starting to feel the beginnings of a sore throat.  Since Sunday I've been feeling a little lot less than human.

Apparently this is one of the most contagious colds known to man.  Since coming down with the cold, Husband has passed it to his brother and cousin.  I was his latest victim... however he believes that it is likely that I could have caught it from my sister, who also has had the cold and was sick enough that she was throwing up and missed two days of work.  She passed it to her husband and I believe that I have passed it to a co-worker.  If I had known I had the bug on Thursday, I would have not sat with her during our back-to-school meeting.

I think the orginal carrier monkey was the little boy who was at the beach... I don't remember him being sick, but I do recall some instances of a runny and snotty nose, a couple temper tantrums that could have been a tell-tale sign of a cold and a few unfortunate snot-rocketed sneezes--unfortunate because of one which sneeze landed on a certain cousin of mine.

Carrier monkey or not, there must be something going around.  At the doctor's office today for my 28 week check-up it was mentioned that several people have complained of a cold.  So my theory might be busted...

As for my 28 week check-up, besides not feeling 100%, things are looking good.  Little No Name had a really strong heartbeat-- like 160 beats per minute!  My belly is measuring right on track, which I think surprised my doctor because I've not gained a huge amount of weight and I'm a smaller than average sized human being.  That being said, 107.4 pounds (my current weight) is the most I have ever weighed in my entire life.

She had warned me that I might start measuring small, but because I'm petite in frame and height, that it was to be expected.  If I start to measure small, they may start doing more ultrasounds to verify that things are still progressing on track... which is absolutely fine with me!  The more ultrasounds, the better as this is one of those times where 'less' is not more... especially when you are a nervous, worry-wort of a first timer like me!

This appointment was my last 'once a month' appointment.  From now on I will start seeing the doctors about twice a month or every two weeks.  During my final month they will bump me up to once a week.  Even though it is a little scary to think that I'm in my third and final trimester, it makes me so happy to be seeing the doctor more often.  I even joked with the doctor today that I'd like to have a window installed in my belly so I can just look down and check to make sure Little No Name is doing okay.  I figure that they can do this to cows' stomachs up at State University to watch digestion, then why not a 28 week pregnant person who wants to watch development?

My next appointment will be an exciting one as we will get to do the 3D/4D ultrasound.  Our first birth class will also be this same week... yes, we bit the bullet and have decided to join up.  But that, my friends is a story for another day.

You Dirty Rat...

Well, more accurately--mouse.

The phone rang at 4:41pm.  A number I didn't recognize appeared on my Blackberry screen.  Deep breath.  It was the mechanic.  (Cue ominous music)

"Hi Emily.  It's Daniel at Family Tire."  Oh, great.  I thought to myself.  What is he going to tell me?  I muttered an, 'oh hey.' 

After what seemed like a long pause, Daniel continued, "Your car is ready to be picked up."  I quickly asked my next question in shock that my issue had been resolved so soon.

"Well, what was it?" Half afraid to know I sort of squinted my eyes and looked at my floor, ashamed that something had chosen my car as it's final resting place.  Over the years I had killed many things with my car-- a little girl's puppy on the first day of school, two black cats at the same time trying to cross a rural road, a crane, and let us not forget the night I hit and killed the deer.  Yes, me and the Civic were a lethal combination.  But in all our happy years together, mowing down unsuspecting animals I never once considered the idea of killing one that called ye ole' Civic home.

"It was a rat."  I could hear the smile.  "It was chopped up pretty good.  But we got 'em out and cleaned the system up real good.  You probably are still going to have smell for a couple of days, but we deodorized and put some air freshener in your car.  The smell should be gone once it airs out."

"Okay, thank you," That is what I meant to say.  Instead of think I responded in a very sophistocated, "Gross!"

I was comforted to know that he agreed with my sentiment.  It was gross. 

About an hour later, standing in the waiting area of Family Tire and Auto, Daniel's dad told me that the animal had made a home in the A/C and had been going in and out probably for sometime.  As he was explaining that it was by far not the worse case he's ever seen-- a case that involved a rotting piece of chicken wedged between two seat cushions was by far much worse-- Daniel and another unidenitified young man gleefully entered into the waiting area caring a blank envelope.  Inside the envelope was my latest kill-- the lower two thirds of a little mouse.

It is amazing to me that something that was less than a couple of inches in length and probably weighed less than a ounce, if even that, can create such a horrible smell.  And more over, if that tiny little body can smell that bad, imagine how bad a big body must smell?  It is truly a wonder to me that dead bodies can go unnoticed at all.

In the end, I paid my bill and took my car home.  I left it running in the driveway with the window's down and the air conditioner full blast for a good thirty minutes to help it air itself out.  The smell, especially in the humid August air, is still very unpleasant, but at least the rotting carcass is out and things should start to go back to normal... I hope.

Soon we will be looking for a new car, and this little incident has made me more motivated to find another...  I just don't know that I can ever feel the same about the Civic after knowing that something crawled up and died inside it... I'm sure you'd feel the same if something crawled up and died in your car.

The Unmistakable Smell of Death...

We spent most of last week living in a yellow and purple beach mansion... a real life sand castle that my Uncle and Aunt rented for the entire week.  They have perfect timing in that this week will be the start of yet another school year. 

This year we were actually able to get away from Wednesday through Saturday, which is a pretty big deal seeing how Husband is a tobacco farmer and tobacco farmers generally do not get that many days in a row to be away from their crops.

All in all, I'd say it was a pretty good vacation.  I got to spend some time with my family which was wonderful.  It is an exciting time for our family... my cousin is marrying a really great guy this coming Spring, another is about to move into a place of her own, two are just before graduating from college with engineering degrees, and we are about to add to the size of the clan with a baby... so with all these happy changes, it is nice to be able to spend some time together and reconnect.

Saturday we returned home and immediately I got busy unpacking our suitcase and toiletry bag.  By six o'clock that afternoon I had everything washed and put away only to realize that I badly needed to make a quick trip to the grocery store.  I sat down and made a quick list, called Husband to see what he needed and headed to the garage.

Tuesday had been a busy day for me.  I had an appointment with the dentist that morning, followed by an emergency hair removal trip that afternoon, as pregnancy prevents me from being able to do my own waxing-- you sort of need to be able to see what you're doing, especially when it involves hot wax.

Of course my dentist appointment took longer than expected which did not leave me much time to get from Smithfield to my next destination.  I made it to my waxing appointment on-time without a moment to spare, but that meant skipping lunch, which can be a little unnerving when you are six months pregnant.

Regardless, after one of the best waxing appointments I've ever had, I quickly made it to a Burger King and got myself a burger.  I'm not sure if it was the hunger or the food, but it was really, really good. 

I next went to my mom's house to pick up a bill for Husband and on the way home my air conditioning started to make a strange sound.  A loud clicking to be more accurate.  I happened to be on the phone with Husband and he could hear it when I held my phone to the vent.  As we were talking I turned up the A/C dial and the sound got louder, then followed by sound-- something akin to paper being sucked through a vacuum.  The sound stopped and Husband said that it probably was a piece of paper that got caught in the vent. 

I paid little attention to the smell the vent was putting off-- a mild sweet smell as I thought it probably was the Burger King bag that had been sitting in my hot car.

The next day I followed Husband to carry his truck for a tune up.  I noticed that the smell was still present, but it wasn't exactly unpleasant, just different.  When Husband sat down in my passenger seat, I mentioned that my A/C smelled different, but we were both quick to point out that it was probably just my super human sense of smell brought own by all the pregnancy hormones coursing through my body, because he didn't smell a thing.

Upon arriving at home, I parked my car safely in our two car garage and forgot about the strange clicking sound and the strange smell and started packing like a mad woman because we were to leave after lunch at it was already 1:30.

So Saturday I went into the garage and opened my car door.  I was hit by a wave of stale, hot air that smelled very much like the unmistakable smell of death. 

I sat down in the car, cranked it up, hoping that getting the air flowing would help the smell.  It didn't.  I backed the car out into the driveway and popped the hood expecting to find a dead something... nothing seemed out of place.  Husband had gone to work and so I called and told him what was going on.  He of course, couldn't help me.  I called my father, who had always taken a more active interest in my car, as he is the one that bought and picked it out for me when I was 16.

He said it probably was a rusted out coil and that what I was smelling was antifreeze.  I drove with my windows down and sun roof open to the grocery store, purchased what I needed, and quickly got the groceries in the boot, rolled down the windows and sun roof again, thankfully there was nothing wrong with the electrical system and headed home.

After unloading the groceries, Husband came home and popped the hood.  He saw nothing unusual and other than the smell, which he said did not remind him of antifreeze, he was at a loss as to what to do next.

An hour or so later, Mama and Daddy were in our driveway inspecting the car.  Daddy confirmed it, it had to be a dead something, probably a mouse or something small that could easily find it's way into an A/C.

I'll be the first to admit, that this summer I'd done very little driving and the likelihood of something finding it's way into my car is likely, but really?  I've had this car for a really long time.  The worst thing that had ever gone wrong with it was when a spark plug cable got messed up and caused the engine to not run properly.  It was an easy fix.

From what I've read on the Internet, this is not going to be an easy problem to fix.  This morning my car went to the shop to be repaired.  I need my car by Thursday morning... and I'm hoping that it will be fixed and normal smelling by then. 

I find this so ironic, because over our beach trip it was mentioned that I would have to get a new car for the baby.  My two door car is not really practical after all.  I mentioned how I dreaded getting a new car as my car had been so good to me and that I would not get rid of it, ever!  143,000 miles and still going strong, 13 years later...  when I didn't have the baby with me I'd surely be driving it over the new car.

Now I'm a little more motivated to get a new car that doesn't smell like death... I'll keep you posted on what the poor mechanic finds.

What Do You Really Want?: No to be asked what I really want...

Husband has a huge family.  His dad came from a large family and they are all still very close.  Over the years the family has gotten even bigger as, I'm convinced, they are the most fertile people to ever grace the face of this Earth.

At the last baby shower for Husband's cousin a little over a month ago, the family decided to buy one large present together, this way the the couple didn't get a bunch of things that they either A) already had and would have to return or B) didn't need and would have to return.  So they purchased a piece of furniture that the couple had registered for to put in the new baby's nursery.

Swell idea.  Thoughtful even.  But that is just how they are and that is one of the things I love about them the most... they are practical.

So today when my mother-in-law called me and wanted to know what we wanted them to get us for our baby, I was a little unprepared as to what to tell her.  It was 10am in the morning and perfectly cool in my house... yet I was just before dripping sweat at the idea of having to come up with something for them to purchase for us-- for our baby.

I swiftly directed her to our baby registries, excepting the BabyLi.st because that would have required me verbally giving an internet link over the phone and I'm positive that they wouldn't have gone over well.  Tell me the last time you gave out a long link to someone over the phone with multiple back-slashes and dashes and it didn't confuse someone.  This way the Aunts and Uncles can figure out what big ticket item they'd like for us to have instead of me having to demand it.

Sure I love, love, love the woven storage baskets at Serena and Lily that match our baby bedding.  But they are almost $300 dollars and even though they may or may not want to spend that much, I would never ask for them to purchase them in a million years because it should be their choice, not mine... and for baskets, that is expensive... they are pretty, but they are expensive.  And being practical people, I doubt spending any kind of cash on that sort of item would not be a good thing in their mind or many others for that matter.

I'll be the first to admit, my communication skills are bad.  I'm one of thoes people that would rather give the gift than receive the gift, I'd rather not be the center of attention, and for the most part, I like to do things myself.  That being said, I think it is so touching when someone wants to do something nice for me or Husband or now, the baby.  It blows me away that people would even think to offer such and that kind of love and support means so much to me, it is hard to write down exactly how much it means.

Am I the only person that feels this way? 

No News IS Good News...

My glucose test was on Monday... today is Thursday and my doctor's office never called with the results.  I took this as a good sign that nothing was wrong with me and I was, in fact, gestational diabetes free.  With the one hour test they had called in less than 24 hours.

I had thought about calling the doctor's office in the morning to see what was going on, but I decided just a few minutes ago that I would be brave and call and find out.  No more waiting!  Turns out no news is good news.  I passed the test.  Thank Goodness! 

All my blood draws were in range except one-- the third and final draw was a little high.  But one being a little high was perfectly acceptable as I only had to pass three of the four.  The nurse told me to just be cautious when it comes to my sugar consumption, but my doctor was not concerned and that was all I needed to hear.

I don't think my sugar consumption is out of control.  Although I do love sweet treats, I limit my intake and I have gone back to my habit of drinking unsweet tea (although I only drink one glass a day of anything caffenated if that).

So I finally have my answer and I'm relieved that I'm not going to have to prick my finger and keep glucose journals and risk having a more complicated pregnancy, labor and delivery.

Now I can stop obsessing over blood glucose levels and start focusing on why my swatches from Serena and Lily have yet to arrive...

Three Hour Glucose Test: Waiting Around...

Friday I got a call from my doctor's office, early in the morning.  I failed my 1 hour glucose challenge test with a 174.  The cut off was 140.  The nurse called it "slightly elevated" but I'd call it high.  I'm no math major, but last time I checked 174 is a ways away from 140.  I immediately started to feel "funny."  This was the same morning that my loving husband went to the dentist, got a good report (something that rarely happens for him at the dentist) and to celebrate decided to purchase a bunch of sugary treats from the local bakery.  His farming cohorts got donuts... I got an oatmeal cookie.

And even though I got the devastating news that I was going to have to take the 3 hour glucose test, I still had to eat a little bit of that cookie. And as soon as I ate a few bites I started to feel "funny" again.  And irritable.

I'm the type of person that jumps the gun.  I immediately started to think about gestational diabetes and how I have it... and how much I hate hurting myself... and how much I hate getting my finger pricked... and how much I really love sugar.

So on Monday, bright and early, I went for the 3 hour test.  I had to starve myself starting at 12am.  At 11:30pm, Sunday night, I ate a little bit of cheese and went to bed.  I woke up and immediately felt hungry.  Great, I thought, here we go.  How am I ever going to last without eating a little something?

When I arrived at the doctors office, I was sent back to the lab and the vampire (I realize that vampire is not the correct term for this person's job, but it is easier to spell than the correct term) took my baseline.  Then she gave me the sugary glucose drink.  I had to down it in 5 minutes and then return to the lab in an hour. 

The first hour was uncomfortable.  I was no longer hungry.  I took a few small sips of water to get the fruit punch taste out of my mouth and to make my throat a little less sore.  We (my mom came with me in case I got sick) walked to the car, sat outside on a bench.  She read a book.  I read a book.  I went to the bathroom.  Apparently sugary drinks make my stomach hurt. 

Before I knew it was time for another blood draw.  Then it was more of the same.  The nice little vampire told me to come back in another hour.  I still wasn't hungry.  It was more of the same.  We walked to the car.  We sat on the bench outside.  We watched a new mom being wheeled out of the Women's Center next door.  My mom commented on how scary that feeling was... being allowed to carry your baby home for the first time. 

We read books.  I went to the bathroom.  Sugary drinks really do make my stomach hurt.

At 11:20 I went for the 3rd (of 4) blood draw.  The vampire and me were becoming good friends.  She debated on which arm to use and commented in disbelief at the bruise I had from Wednesday's blood draw.  She talked about how she was left handed just like me.  She commented on how our birthday's were just one day apart.  We even talked about her boyfriend a little.  Apparently he is a hypochondriac too.

She sent me away, only to return for my final blood draw in, you guessed it, an hour.  By this time my stomach was starting to feel better and I was getting a little tired.  Waiting is never fun and getting up as early as I did was probably starting to take its toll... and even though the book I was reading was interesting, it was not helping to make the time go faster.  I went to the bathroom for the fourth time that morning.  A friend texted me a little bit asking about acupuncture.  That helped to make the last hour go by quicker.

12:20pm I went back for the final draw.  Strangely, I felt like I had really accomplished something.  I expressed my concern of the test being positive to the Vampire.  I might be a masochist, but I'm far from ever being a sadist.  The thought of hurting myself is more than I can take and the idea of pricking my finger multiple times a day is just scary as hell.  She laughed.  She pointed out that knowing and controlling gestational diabetes is better than not.  She's right.  I still don't have to be happy about it though.

She told me that the office would call with the results in a couple of days.  I still wasn't hungry but I was ready to leave the doctor's office. 

Now I have to wait to see what's going on or what is not going on.  I'm hoping that I'm gestational diabetes free, but if not, I'd like to know so I can do what I need to do to keep the baby and myself healthy.

I expect to hear something tomorrow.  So stay tuned for updates...  Un-pricked fingers crossed for luck!