Baby, Baby, Baby Ohh!

So if you haven't heard....

Hold my hand, Daddy!

Our boy Conrad was born on October 16th at 8:21 pm. He arrived via cesarean section after two days of labor-inducing drugs and fetal distress when my contractions got stronger.

Before I start talking about the events leading up to Conrad's birth, I feel like I should preface by saying that the induction was scheduled after a rather worrisome ultrasound where the baby did not respond to outside stimuli. Also, I kept needing non-stress tests because I wasn't always getting movement when I'd do kick counts. His heart was always healthy, but he was pretty lethargic in the last few weeks, and the doctor and I were both worried that something would happen to him and we wouldn't know until it was too late.

Mark and I checked into the hospital at 6:00 pm on Sunday, October 14th, where I was given Cervidil to begin dilation. If I had known that I wouldn't be allowed to eat after it was inserted, I would have had a huge meal ahead of time. But anyway. I had all the water I could want, so it wasn't like I starved ... not really, anyway....

My parents and my sister drove up from Arkansas to be with us during this time, which really meant a lot to me because I wasn't sure if there would be anyone besides Mark at the hospital. Unfortunately I was terribly boring company, because I pretty much just watched the National League Championships whenever they were on.

I was checked at 6:00 the next morning and was not terribly surprised to find out that the Cervidil did nothing to progress labor, that my cervix was still behind his head and I hadn't dilated at all. They began Oxytocin, and told me there was a good possibility that it would get things moving.

Unfortunately, by evening my cervix was still in the same place it had been when I checked into the hospital. This was when they took me off everything and I was allowed to have a real dinner. They brought me something from the cafeteria, which wasn't too bad, but Mark went out and got me one of those Chicken Parmesan sandwiches from Burger King. I already love those sandwiches, but it tasted even better after eating only ice chips and Jell-o for the last 24 hours. Yummmm.

Later that evening, Cytotec was administered to convince my stubborn cervix to dilate. I was put back on a water/ice chips/jello diet. This was the night that the nurse had to keep coming in to adjust the monitor that picks up the baby's heartbeat because I slept so fitfully that I was moving them around without meaning to. By this point I was trying really hard to think positively, but I was getting increasingly discouraged that this induction was going to fail.

Tuesday morning came and I was checked again. One centimeter dilated! And man, my back was really starting to hurt. Yes, those were contractions I was feeling. But why wasn't I feeling them in the front? Turns out the ladies in my family go through back labor, which my mom and my sister told me about when they arrived later that morning. Oxytocin was restarted.

The doctor tried to put in a Foley Bulb to force my cervix to dilate, but had a difficult time getting it in place. At one point I felt a gush, and thought my water had broken. The doctor immediately withdrew all efforts to put in the Foley Bulb. The gush I'd felt wasn't water, but blood. She was able to determine that it wasn't something serious, but it still scared all of us. By the way, if someone tells you that you had some blood loss and you need to change your gown and they need to change your sheets, do not turn around and look at the bed on your way to the bathroom. It will freak you out. Seriously.

They turned off the Oxytocin after this, and I was having good, strong, regular contractions on my own. My back was beginning to hurt enough that I was starting to wonder when I could get pain medication. Not now, the nurse said. I wasn't far enough along. They did have me go ahead and sign forms agreeing to an epidural and, should there be an emergency, a c-section.

At some point they turned the Oxytocin back on because my contractions had tapered off. My doctor broke my water sometime around 1:00 pm. Soon after, the contractions got really intense. Intense enough that I couldn't really talk through them. Can I please have something? "No," said the nurse. "If we give you something now, then your body will get used to it and it won't work for when the pain is really bad later." That's bull, I thought to myself. They put me on a ball to see if that helped the pain. No good. They put me on my hands and knees. No good. They had me stand up and lean over a rail on the bed. I was crying during contractions by this point. The nurse asked where my pain was on a scale of 1 to 10. I just cried, because I was contracting and couldn't seem to make my voice work enough to scream I'M AT TEN YOU FOOL GIVE ME SOMETHING. My mom and my sister both played my advocates, trying to get someone to give me anything for the pain, especially since I'd already signed off for it. My sister had to leave not long after this, though, because she needed to get back home and back to homeschooling her two boys. I was sad that she saw me at the worst part. If she could have stayed for another hour she would have seen me after they finally gave me an epidural, and she would have felt better.

Sometime before 4:00, my saving grace came in and talked me through the epidural procedure. She was funny, and a great distraction from what I was going through. Apparently I have a small spine, because she had some trouble inserting it without my right leg suddenly feeling like it caught fire, but eventually she got it and the relief was almost immediate. I finally felt like I could relax, and I wasn't dreading childbirth anymore. At 20 minutes til 5:00, the doctor came back in to check me. 3 centimeters dilated and 75% effaced! Wait ... just 3 centimeters? Whatever. I can sleep now.

About three hours later, the doctor came back to wake me up. She'd been watching my monitor out in the nurses' station, and Conrad's heart wasn't doing so good. Earlier that day, his heart rate had dropped during my stronger contractions, but it came back up when they started to taper off. Now it was down and staying down. She checked me again. 4 centimeters dilated. She said she didn't feel comfortable letting me labor to 10 centimeters with his heart behaving the way it was. If I had been at 8 or 9, that would have been another story, but I was progressing so slowly. I agreed that a c-section was best at this point - and hey, I just wanted to have this baby already. Mark was given clothes to wear into the operating room, and soon I was wheeled off.

The cesarean was a nerve-wracking experience for me. I was given a new medication through the tube in my back, and it started to make me sick very quickly. I was given anti-nausea medicine and oxygen to combat the sickness. I started to shake on the bed. I'd heard that this was a pretty common reaction to the anesthesia, but I was shaking so much harder than I anticipated. If I hadn't been strapped down, I'm sure I would have shaken myself right off the table. I started to get scared. I hadn't even been opened yet! But soon I was. I could tell because I felt like I'd gone down the wrong alley at night and was getting punched in the gut by five different muggers. It actually did hurt, but not in the same way that everything had been hurting that day, so I tried to grin and bear it ... except I couldn't really move my mouth. I had been trying not to chatter my teeth, and it made my jaw lock up out of tension. I closed my eyes, trying to relax enough so I could stop shaking, and to get my mind off the fact that my nausea suddenly came back. I mentioned this to the anesthesiologist, who upped my dosage of medicine.

Finally I heard the doctor say, "Alright! It's a boy!" and then "It's okay, not all c-section babies cry at first." I was so focused on not shaking that it didn't occur to me to freak out that he wasn't crying. But then I heard him whine a few times, and I felt relieved. Mark went over to take pictures with him while I was being stitched up. Soon he was brought over to me, but I had lost the feeling in my arms so I couldn't reach out and touch him. I just stared. Was he really mine? No way....

I stayed in the hospital for three more days after this, so there is a lot more to tell. But I'm tired, and I've got a little boy to take care of. Wow. I can finally say that.

Welcome to the world, Conrad.

SOON

aka: Appointment at 38 Weeks

Here's the very basic run-down of today's appointment:

• There is still no change
• I will be induced

However, the induction will happen much sooner than I originally anticipated.

See, I told the doctor that I had gone to the hospital late Friday night because I couldn't feel the baby moving. I also told her that sometimes I can get the kick counts just fine, and other times I have to try again. (The little bugger just does not want me to feel him move anymore.) So she sent me over for another non-stress test and ultrasound.

I really don't like getting non-stress tests done at the clinic, because the belts they use to strap on the monitors are super itchy. I end up giving in and scratching, which makes the heartbeat monitor mess up and then the machine beeps because it can't locate the baby's heartbeat. And I have to sit there for an hour! Just staring at the ceiling! So boring! #FirstWorldProblems

Even though his little heart is doing just fantastic, the ultrasound worried everyone. Nothing was really wrong, but he just wouldn't move. Even after she applied this buzzer thing to my stomach to get the baby to move, he just kept sleeping. Eventually he opened his eyes, but then he drifted right back to sleep.

So my doctor wants to take him out sooner, which is fine by me - more time to wear his My First Halloween onesie that my momma bought for him. The concern is that, since I can't feel him as well, a problem could arise and I wouldn't be aware of it until it was too late. She made a call to the hospital for an appointment to induce after I left, so I'm waiting for them to call me and let me know when the induction is, but I could be there as early as Sunday night.

Suddenly, I feel less prepared.

You Could Say It Was A Busy Night

Baby Cousin was born last night at 8:20pm!

Ryker Lee, born October 5th, 7lbs 5oz, 19.5 inches

I wish I could have been there to show support and to be there for his big day. This day is the most important day in his life, and one of the most important days in his parents' lives. My sister-in-law is so blessed to have so many family members who care about her and her baby.

Mark and I also ended up going to the hospital last night when, after two hours, I wasn't feeling the baby move. It was a pretty nerve-wracking experience, but the nurse I had was incredibly nice about the whole thing, as were the people at the desks (since it was almost 1:00am when I got there, I had to go through the emergency room.) It reaffirmed that I made an excellent choice about the hospital where I'm going to be giving birth.

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This is actually a picture of the birthing suite, but my room looked very similar. I was in one of their "holding rooms" where they put you when you first check in. They're mostly for non-stress tests (like what I needed) and for checking a patient before deciding whether or not she's progressed enough to admit her into Labor and Delivery. The only thing that wasn't in my room was the baby checking station ... thing.

I really do have a way with words, don't I?

Anyway, I hoping that by me going in last night and answering a bunch of medical and family history questions for them that they'll keep that in my file and I won't have to go through it all again when I'm there for the big event.

 

If you've never had a non-stress test done at a hospital, basically what happened was that I was wheeled up to Labor and Delivery in a wheel chair per the hospital's policy - which was a little embarrassing because I was obviously very pregnant and very NOT in labor - and checked in there. They took my weight, then showed me my room where I had to change into a gown and also leave a urine sample. The nurse came in and the first thing she did was put two monitors on my stomach, which displayed their results on a screen next to my bed. You can see it in the photo above. The top graph is the baby's heartbeat, which gets higher when he's moving and drops when he's resting. The bottom graph shows if I'm contracting (which I wasn't. I'm starting to think my body doesn't know what to do with a baby once one gets in there.) Once she heard the heartbeat she went about asking me the standard medical and family history questions and took my blood pressure. She had to leave soon after because another patient needed her attention, so Mark and I had the room to ourselves for an hour. Near the end of the hour, the nurse came back and finished asking her questions and took off the monitors. She said that everything looked great and that the doctor on duty would probably send me home after he looked at my results. Which he did. But of course, I didn't really feel much movement at all during the non-stress test, and I'm not feeling just a ton now, so I don't really feel any better about it. I mentioned to the nurse that I still hadn't been feeling many movements so she felt around my stomach to try to get an idea of his position. She said she couldn't feel his limbs so he must be facing my spine instead of lying on one side like he had been.

At this point I'm trying to take note of the occasional movements that I do feel, and trying to accept that I may just be unable to feel him for a while. I hope he comes soon. I can't help but think that I'll be a little more at ease when I can see his chest rising and falling, and feel the air going in and out through his nostrils. 

Appointment at 37 Weeks

Another appointment this week! Still no change from last week, but since I went in feeling like there wouldn't be any change, I didn't get discouraged this time. It's funny how sometimes you can just tell if your body is different without actually doing anything to find out.

Mark's sister went to the hospital on Monday because of some strong and close contractions, but ended up getting sent home. I think she'll have our nephew soon, probably within a week. While I'm a little bummed that she'll get all the attention first, I like that there will probably be plenty of space between births. Then Mark's parents and family won't have to split their attention between us.

One thing the doctor told me at this appointment is that if I still haven't made any progress at next week's appointment (scheduled for the 10th) then we will talk about scheduling an induction. She kept pointing to the 25th and 26th on her desk calendar, so I've been telling our parents that is most likely when my induction will be if he isn't here before then.

I know there are lots of moms who are against inductions and believe that the baby will come when he is ready, but honestly, it's a huge comfort to me to know that there is a definite end in sight. This way Mark will be able to contact his professors in advance so he can get his work ahead of time. My parents and in-laws will be able to make any arrangements they need so that they can be there. And an added bonus? I won't be a freaking basket case if/when he doesn't arrive on his due date. "It's okay, Baby. You'll be here by the weekend."

Appointment at 36 Weeks

After last week's very eventful, almost frightening appointment, I wanted a low-key visit with my doctor.

Be careful what you wish for.

Baby Boy's heart was chugging along at 150 beats, and the doctor estimates his weight to be about 6 pounds by now. My fundal height is on par with how many weeks I am, my blood pressure was good, and everything else was normal. My doctor did a swab for Group B Strep which I'll know the results of next week. Then it was time to check and see if I was dilated yet.

Honestly? I've been looking forward to this part. Yes, it was majorly uncomfortable, as I knew it would be, but I was really curious to hear how much I was dilated and effaced. My sister-in-law found out on Thursday (the 20th) that she was already dilated 1cm and 50% effaced ... a fact which my brother-in-law has been bragging about ... but anyway, if she had already started, surely I have too, right? Her due date is only three days before mine....

Nope. Closed tight. His head is low, but no progress has been made besides that. So all that pain I've had lately is just pain, and not my body getting ready for imminent delivery.

Body, you kinda suck right now.

I've had a few contractions since I left the doctor's office, and every time I've wanted to shout at them like you want to shout at a spoiled child who is throwing a tantrum. "STOP THAT! You're not doing any good and no one likes it when you act this way!" My mood has soured significantly, to say the least. And I know it doesn't mean anything, I've read other people's forum posts and seen that it is very possible that I could go from closed to 10cm in 48 hours when the time is right. I know 36 weeks is still too early to have a baby. I just wanted to be able to tell my brother-in-law to shut up.

I hate that my first pregnancy feels like a competition. Like, if I don't deliver first, then my baby isn't as good as theirs. And it's just going to get worse. "Oh, yours can't pull himself up yet? Well. I'm sure he'll get there eventually." And I'm going to be running home to my pediatrician, in tears, saying, "I saw my in-laws during the holiday and their baby can already do this list of things and ours isn't doing that yet and O-M-G COULD HE BE DEVELOPMENTALLY DELAYED?!"

I can already see the pediatrician trying not to roll her eyes at me now.

Blogging Therapy

Writing these posts has been strangely therapeutic for me, which is exactly what I hoped for, and why I decided to share them. Some of the things that bother me are really heavy topics (what if my son gets bullied by his cousin, and what do I do about my own insecurities with men?) but then again, if I say nothing and bottle it up, what good does that do?

I can see my own irrationality when it's all written out. Why should I be worried about something that may not ever be a problem? Why should I assume that because men I know think poorly of their mothers that my son will think poorly of me? Is it really fair of me to assume that my son will need protecting from a cousin that also hasn't been born yet?

I'm going to make a lot of mistakes in the coming years. Some mistakes will be very minor. Some mistakes will haunt me for the rest of my life. But this could be a learning opportunity. When I admit to my son that I messed up, he will learn that it is going to happen ... but that life will go on. I hope he will accept my faults and not use them against me later. I hope he and his cousin enjoy each other's company.

I hope he grows up to be someone strong, but compassionate. A leader who can also ask for help when he needs it. A person who achieves much, but also knows how to be humble.

In short, I want him to be awesome.

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Appointment at 35 Weeks

Tuesday I went in for (what should have been) a normal appointment. I got a flu shot, hoisted myself up on the table, and had goo rubbed on my stomach so the Doppler could pick up the baby's heartbeat. The nurse had trouble locating it for the first time in ages. Despite the sugary breakfast cereal I'd eaten that morning, the baby was still sleepy and would not be prodded into a better position. But we did finally record a heartbeat of 140 or so.

I mentioned to the nurse that I had some intense pelvic pain on Wednesday night (the 12th) and believe that the baby dropped sometime later that night or early Thursday morning. I said that his movements haven't been nearly as frequent since then. She notified the doctor, who set me up with an ultrasound and a non stress test to be done right after my appointment.

Mark and I hadn't seen the baby since my scan at 25 weeks, and he looks so much more like a baby now. Chubby feet, chubby cheeks, and the sonographer even highlighted an area at the top of his head where little hairs had sprouted.

And then I finally connected with him. He isn't this weird alien thing that was being projected on the wall. He is a human, a human that is part me, and part Mark. He is a tiny little being that needs me and depends on me. I'd been a little scared because I hadn't made that connection yet. Yeah, I loved him and I was going to take care of him, but it wasn't that agape love that parents develop for their children. That unconditional love, that sacrificial love. Some moms develop that love the first time they see the little bean-shaped fetus at their first ultrasound. I worried that something was wrong with me because I didn't. But really, just because you don't doesn't mean that you won't.

He squirmed a bit on the screen, but wasn't really interested in punching or kicking like the sonographer wanted, so she used a little vibrating tool that would elicit a stronger reaction. I think he elbowed me so hard that my entire stomach moved! After that, I went to another part of the clinic for a non stress test. The nurse over there was the first nurse that I've had who wasn't very nice. She was very snippy and didn't explain what the monitors and the button were for - I was glad I had already done some reading on them so that I wouldn't just be sitting there, helpless. She almost made me feel like it was my fault that the monitor wasn't able to pick up the heartbeat, like I was moving around too much. She came in to check on me after I had recorded three kicks and stomped off again, as if it was my fault that I was having decreased movement and was wasting her time. I was glad when a different nurse came in a little later and said that I was good to go after looking over the readout that the machine I was hooked up to had printed.

The doctor wanted to see me again but was falling behind with her appointments, so her nurse came back in to tell me that the doctor was satisfied with my ultrasound and non stress test. I still have been having less movement than before, but I think this is my new normal. I can accept that. I start my weekly appointments now, so I'll see her again on Tuesday the 25th. Since I'll be 36 weeks (9 months) then she'll be checking me regularly to see how close I am to delivery. I can't believe it's almost here! At last! The light at the end of the tunnel!

My Biggest Fear in Raising a Boy

Even though I have more experience raising and being around boys, I feel infinitely less prepared to handle this than I did when I thought I was having a girl. To some extent, I am afraid of having a boy.

So what am I going to do? Even admitting this will make some people raise their eyebrows and mutter "ungrateful." But being judged isn't making them go away. It just makes me feel belittled. For now, I can put aside most of my fears. A lot of them are petty, and I may not have to deal with them at all, so worrying about them now is silly. But there is one fear that nags at me.

I worry that he will make me feel stupid.

Ever since I was little, men have been putting me down and making me feel inferior. Male teachers made jokes at my expense when I didn't understand material. Male friends enjoy humiliating me for a laugh. Even men in my family, including a nephew who used to adore me, tend to use that incredulous voice when they talk to me - the one that plainly indicates that they can't believe they're talking to such an idiot.

I can't even convince myself that he wouldn't do that to his mommy. I know just as many boys who think their moms are idiots as I do boys who think their moms hung the moon. My odds are not good. If friends and family already think I'm stupid, he's going to pick up on it. If he ridicules me and anyone laughs at it, his behavior will be reinforced. Then what do I do? Once it starts, if it starts, how do I stop it?

And how do I stop feeling like this? Feeling like I need to be guarded against a baby now because of how he might behave when he gets older?

The Class About Llamas

Spoiler alert: There were no llamas. It was actually a Lamaze class.

Today my husband and I woke up earlier than normal and went to my hospital for a birthing class. Earlier as in 7:30. Considering how little sleep I got, it hit me like a truck. But! I didn't fall asleep in class. It's the little victories. I'm really glad that Mark was there with me to hold my hand while we introduced ourselves to other people in the class. I don't know why I was so introverted today, but I was glad that he would fill in the gaps of silence.

Even though it was a Lamaze class, I was actually surprised how little time was spent on practicing breathing techniques and coaching. We did a little bit of massage and birth positions, but they were really just a small portion of the class. I much of the class was spent talking about medical interventions and cesareans. Granted, both of those are much more complicated than a non-medicated birth. Epidurals require a consent form, and they have to talk about the risks involved when you bring those medicines into your body. The video of the non-medicated birth was a little more ... I hate to say it was entertaining, because birth can be difficult to watch, but you felt more connected to the woman who was not medicated versus the women who were medicated and the woman who had a cesarean.

Before we went on lunch break, we got to take a small tour of the labor and delivery floor. It was neat watching the instructor break down the bed just like the nurses will when it comes time to deliver the baby.

When we got back from lunch we were shown things that would be provided for us by the hospital, like the mesh underwear I keep hearing about. They look like the top part of control-top pantyhose! I will remain skeptical of their awesomeness until after delivery, I guess.

We also learned about cesarean sections in the afternoon portion, complete with a computer-generated version of the incisions made and how the baby is removed. Let me tell you, I've read a lot about cesareans ... reading is nothing like seeing it, even in animated form. I was pretty freaked out by the entire thing.

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My favorite part of the day was when we went to the postpartum floor to tour the nursery and postpartum rooms. Two of the three babies were already asleep when we walked past the huge window, but one of them watched us through sleepy eyes. Absolutely adorable.

I can't wait to see my little boy and his little knit pumpkin hat, sleepily gazing at me.

Boy Fashion Makes Me Say "Eww!"

Can I be honest here?

Whenever I walk into the Gymboree at my mall, I die a little on the inside.

On my left is a plethora of lovely dresses and stylish patterned shorts and t-shirts, complete with adorable accessories. On my right are some clothes that are trying oh-so-hard to be cute, but they just don't quite make it there, or they crossed the line entirely and look extremely effeminate. I think the ladies that work there know it too, since the boy-clothes are mostly positioned on the wall with maybe two floor displays, while the rest of the store is girl-clothes and coordinating floor displays.

Avenger Graphic Tee, $6.97
Wal-Mart.com

Bigger, all-in-one stores are even worse. Passing by the boys' department is like walking through a giant advertisement for whatever superhero/cartoon character/wrestler is popular at the moment, designed by people who couldn't be bothered to put something sophisticated on these fabric sandwich boards. The designs on these clothes are so bold that they are borderline offensive.

That's not to say I wouldn't let my boy wear superhero-themed clothes at all. I just prefer subtle designs over boisterous slaps-in-the-face. I would be okay with my son wearing shirts like these onesies at ThinkGeek. They say, "Yes, this is the logo for my favorite superhero," but they don't scream it at you.

One of my favorite stores is Threadless because of their awesome prices and clever designs, which sometimes include subtly nerdy prints. And now they carry baby clothes too! One day I will have to order a kid-sized "Do-Re-Mi-Quack!" shirt so that he can match me.

I think the biggest issue I have with boys' clothing, though, is the fact that there is very little crafting/sewing/knitting/creating done for boys on the internet. There are endless tutorials for pillowcase dresses and giant head-eating-flower headbands, but when it comes to making things for boys, most of the time I see "he doesn't like handmade stuff, so I don't bother." But there are people who are trying. I started following Seven Thirty Three because she does a weekly linkup of boy-themed projects on the internet. Dana from MADE has also done an annual series on Celebrate the BOY, and I really hope that she does it again this year because the projects from the last two years are phenomenal.

Maybe I should be the change I want to see in the world, and start devoting my time to boy-specific projects, to finding fabric prints that are appropriate and not tacky, to creating patterns that result in garments that will make both of us yell, "AWESOME!" and give each other high fives. And then some future crafty mom who's expecting a boy can breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that she can still continue doing her thing but now she can share it with her son too.

It's definitely something to think about.

For legal purposes, I should probably mention that while parts of this post read like a review, I was not approached by any company or person, nor was I compensated for any opinion I had. This post was thought of, researched, and written by me, and only me.

Appointment at 32 weeks

No news is good news - turns out the reason I never got a call after my appointment at 29 weeks is because I don't have gestational diabetes. High fives to all the guys!

Everything still measures on schedule. His heartbeat was a comparatively slow this morning (126) but the doctor and nurse swore it was still in an acceptable range. I'm still a little worried about it, of course. I worry about everything. It's just my nature.

I go back in on the 18th of September, and by then I will have attended my Lamaze class and I will (hopefully) have a pediatrician lined up for when the baby is born. After that, it's pretty much just a waiting game.

Honestly though, I'm at the point where I think I'm just about done with this whole pregnancy thing. There aren't just a ton of things left to buy, and the things that haven't been purchased yet are things that can be purchased even after the baby arrives. I'm kind of burned out on clothes shopping - but if you want to buy him something, please look at this hoodie from Gymboree, because I love it bunches. If I had to say that there was anything left that I really ought to get done soon, it's to stop by the fire station and have someone check to make sure the car seat was properly installed. I might wait until the 19th to do that, since I know I'll be in town that day to pick up Wonder Woman #0. I so have my priorities in order.

I don't understand what people mean when they say to enjoy this time. Why? I don't sleep anymore. I lose my balance frequently, and recently had a bad fall because of that. Sitting, standing, and everything in between hurts. Can't I have my reward now, please? I keep telling myself that it's just for another 4 - 8 weeks, but really, it's probably going to be closer to 8. Blah. Come on September! Hurry up and get done so it can be October already!

Appointment at 25 Weeks

Yesterday was my monthly doctor's appointment. I'll have one more in August and then I start going every two weeks - crazy! It's only a matter of time before we meet our baby boy!

This appointment included another ultrasound because they couldn't get clear enough pictures of profile, heart, and hands at the anatomy scan last month. Also, they needed to check on the position of the placenta, which was covering part of my cervix when they checked it last month. (This is known as placenta previa.) Thankfully, it is well out of the way now!

Otherwise everything still looks healthy. Baby's stomach and bladder were full, and his little heart was ticking away at 152. I still can't always feel him kicking or punching, but I was assured that I will feel more as he gets stronger. I was relieved to see that his head was buried in my hip at the appointment. So he does know how to get into delivery position!...roughly.

I rewarded him with pizza after the appointment.

I'm actually kind of dreading my next appointment. Before I meet with my doctor, I need to eat these:

The text reads:
Consume all jelly beans within 5 minutes. Write down the time you started eating the jelly beans. Go to the laboratory and have your blood drawn one hour after you started eating the jelly beans.

I have to...get my blood drawn...AGAIN?

Shut Up and Take My Money

I've been spending a lot of time perusing baby boy clothes on Etsy recently, largely due to the fact that most department stores carry ugly boys clothes with tacky phrases on them. Like, seriously guys? But I will admit that I less-than-three pretty much all of the onesies in these stores.

• Linda Sumner Designs
• The Wishing Elephant

Batman! Mario! Captain America! LEGEND OF MUTHA-FLIPPIN' ZELDA! Do want. And I totally would have just spent my last paycheck buying all of them too, but, you know, I found out that PayPal is run by jerkfaces so I don't have a debit card attached to it anymore. I know, it's an easy fix, but I've gone this long.... But hey, these things are too cute not to be shared. Go look at them and squee with delight.

Left, Legend of Zelda Link Costume from Linda Sumner Designs, $12.50*


Right, Nintendo Gameboy Baby Clothes from The Wishing Elephant, $22*


*Shipping not included

Eww Bugs

Found this guy just chilling outside of our apartment when I took out the trash this morning. Being all buggy and gross. Like they do.

I'm not a bug person. They make me feel creepy on the inside, like they live under my skin or something. Blergh. When the woman doing my ultrasound said, "It's a boy! Congratulations!" my first thought was "Oh wow!" and my second thought was "I hope he's not a stereotypical boy who loves bugs and dirt." I don't like being dirty, and I don't like being around things that are dirty. I can hear the therapy sessions now....

And when I was little, I made Mommy a mud pie to show her how much I loved her, and she said, "Ew, gross sweetie, don't touch Mommy until you've had a bath."