So everybody knows that when you get pregnant, your need for sleep exponentially increases. What they don't tell you is that while you're getting all this glorious shut eye and letting your body grow a little person with all the energy that would otherwise be put to different use, you can have some seriously whacked out dreams. We're not talking the normal cycle of dreams that you have on repeat and that when you get up to pee in the middle of the night and fall back asleep, they are gone for good. These dreams are very realistic and are akin to being Tivo'd in my head. I can get up to go to the bathroom for the third time in the middle of the night and as soon as I fall back asleep, the dream continues as if someone politely paused it for me in my absence.
These dreams are weird, too. Last night was the first night that I actually played the role of 'me' and my husband played a part. Before this, I was always someone different, most of the time someone I don't know and I was experiencing all kinds of crazy things in places I've never been. Like this morning, I woke up and told John that we'd been on a trip to England. I've never been to England and the scenery didn't look like what I'd seen in movies based in England, but I was sure it was England. Also, for the most part, they've been pretty pleasant dreams. Every once in a while, they can get a little crazy and scary, but really only one 'bad dream,' that of course is the one I can't forget.
Some other interesting facts about these dreams are that A) They are never in the same place, and B) They are not PG-13 rated the majority of the time. This makes me wonder when I'm going to reach my dream 'limit' because I've only been so many places and am going to have to run out of background/scenery for them at some point unless we start to recycle. Also, when you're not playing yourself and your playing, say, a guy who you don't know, it makes it a little awkward when you're engaged in 'certain activities' with a chick you don't know either. It's like you wake up feeling a little like a voyeur crossed with the feeling that, 'hey, I didn't even get dinner out of the deal.' Not only do you have these weird feelings, but you also wake up exhausted because it's seemed so real and you feel like you've been up all night participating in all these crazy movies.
The other kicker, much to my hubby's chagrin, is that after dreaming about these 'certain activities,' you wake up STILL THINKING about this and reach over to see if maybe your baby daddy has had similar thoughts. However, he was up an hour ago, working out in the 43-degree garage and there's no one else there but the pillow he pushed up next to you so you wouldnt' wake up when he ditched you earlier. He also tends to not really appreciate it when you share with him these thoughts and your earlier intentions when he's just showered and now has to leave for work and cannot take advantage of the situation. FYI kids- this will significantly frustrate your beloved if you remind him of this on a daily basis as well, especially since you've been 'too tired' at night when he is available.
Is it the hormones, the gratuitous tylenol PM use, the significant amount of sugar I've been taking in? Who knows, hopefully it slows down soon so I can get some 'rest' while I'm sleeping before this little monster starts letting me feel his hyperactive movement and then I'll be SOL in the sleep department. Oh yeah, it's no longer a gummy bear. Our baby went from a stumpy one incher to having arms, legs, hands, feets and even nails in the last week or so. He's still hyper as ever, though, which has brought the chicks at work to nickname him 'Disco Stu.'
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
To Screen or Not To Screen, That is the Question
So there are a handful of screening tests that one can do throughout the different trimesters of pregnancy, some in the first, some in the second. Which one you get, or if you even elect to have them done, depends on your personal choice and risk factors which are a culmination of all the risk factors you, your baby daddy and the rest of your inbred family have. They are purely SCREENING tests which means they are manufactured so that they will catch more people then they will miss, i.e. more false positives, less false negatives. If they come back positive, you then get the joy of deciding if you want to proceed with confimatory tests, like amniocentesis, which have their own risks and benefits. FYI, amniocentesis is a big 'ole needle into the belly to suck out a little fluid from inside baby's water balloon house and has baby's genetic material floating in it, so that it can be analyzed for diagnosis.
Some people say, "I won't have any screening for genetic disease done, because I wouldn't do anything differently with the pregnancy." I respect this and, in fact, tell my patients the same thing when trying to help them decide if they should do the testing or not. Some people, however, are Type A crazy planners who have to know this, just like they have to know the sex of the baby, so that way they can prepare themselves for what is to come. You can guess which category we fall in to. That's why we did decide to get the first trimester screening done. No, it won't change anything about our plans for our baby, but, yes, we would like to not be blindsided on what is sure to be one of the happiest days of our lives.
You would think this decision would be a non-issue, but for some nosey posey's, it has been anything but. Let's just say that some people were appalled (actually pissed) that I would decide to do such a thing. They were like, 'What if your patients find out? What will they think of you? What will they think when you convinced them not to do it?"
This was annoying.
FYI--It's not a big fricking secret since I told EVERYONE who happened to be around me that day and saw the evidence of the vampire attack on my arm and asked what was up. If my patients find out (which isn't likely unless they are seriously awesome hackers who somehow manage to breach the wicked security on our electronic medical record...or you loud mouths put a post in the local newspapers because you're so worked up about it) and to actually have the sack to ask me about it, I'd tell them the same thing I told you (Please see above 3 paragraphs b/c I'm sick of the redundant typing...and the parentheses).
What will they think of me? Probably that I have some genetic disease either in my or my husband's family and then they'll proceed to feel very, very bad about even asking me once they realize this...even though this isn't true. Then they'll realize that the reason they come to me and love me and trust me with their lives is that I'm very thorough and detail oriented and, at times, an anal spaz, and so they wouldn't be the least bit surprised if I had every test allowed by the FDA and ACOG done.
What will they think when you convinced them not to do it? Well, I'm not in the business of convincing anyone to do anything (unless it's to quit smoking.) That's called 'paternalistic' and something they beat out of you from day one in medical school. I'm in the habit of giving them informed consent, i.e. risk and benefit profiles for each and every option, including doing or not doing prenatal screening. It's a very individualized process as each patient has their own background, risk profile, and general personality traits that can pretty much tell you what they want to do before you even tell them all the gory details. Not to mention, that the majority of these diseases, while they do cluster in families and with older parents, are random mutations that can happen to any parent, at any time in life, with any risk profile.
So, there.
Yeah, it's a little whiney, but it's a little annoying when people word vomit their opinion all over you without you asking, too. (I don't count my word vomiting, obviously, not because I'm trying to be hypocritical, but you all chose to read my random goings-on). It's like when I told someone the names we had picked out for a boy or a girl and said that we had actually chosen them before we found out we were pregnant and just really liked them. This comment was followed up by this person saying, 'huh, really? Well, I hope it's a girl/boy then (depending on which name they hated the least).' Okay, assmunch. I didn't say these were CONTENDERS, I said these are the names that our child, boy or girl, will be blessed with for the entirety of their priviledged life. End of discussion. Thanks for your input. Your baby shower invite, announcement, and any and all communication about my perfect little angel has all been lost in the mail.
Enough of the negative biz. Everything else on the knocked up front has been getting better by the minute. I quit feeling like I was going to yak at any second and have gotten back to a less dairy-centered diet (only a little less). I am, however, super wasted tired ALL THE TIME. I'm a sleeper anyway, but this is getting ridickerous. I could go 12 hours a night, every night, easy. Needless to say, this cuts down on other bedroom activities...well, any other activities really. Also, while eating like a cow for the first 5 weeks, I didn't manage to gain any weight, but things are a little...oh...mushier then they used to be. So, the new goal is to A) sleep like a 6 year old (bed by 8, up by 7), and B) get a little exercise in a couple times a week (as long as that doesn't get in the way of my eating...or sleeping...or eating,) and C) eat for one. I'm making a slight effort to trade in my Little Debbie stockpile and other 'for the baby' treats for some healthier grub. I'm pretending that the mushy is 'baby weight,' but it's more like my husband silently musing, 'baby, wait...before you eat that third cupcake.'
Some people say, "I won't have any screening for genetic disease done, because I wouldn't do anything differently with the pregnancy." I respect this and, in fact, tell my patients the same thing when trying to help them decide if they should do the testing or not. Some people, however, are Type A crazy planners who have to know this, just like they have to know the sex of the baby, so that way they can prepare themselves for what is to come. You can guess which category we fall in to. That's why we did decide to get the first trimester screening done. No, it won't change anything about our plans for our baby, but, yes, we would like to not be blindsided on what is sure to be one of the happiest days of our lives.
You would think this decision would be a non-issue, but for some nosey posey's, it has been anything but. Let's just say that some people were appalled (actually pissed) that I would decide to do such a thing. They were like, 'What if your patients find out? What will they think of you? What will they think when you convinced them not to do it?"
This was annoying.
FYI--It's not a big fricking secret since I told EVERYONE who happened to be around me that day and saw the evidence of the vampire attack on my arm and asked what was up. If my patients find out (which isn't likely unless they are seriously awesome hackers who somehow manage to breach the wicked security on our electronic medical record...or you loud mouths put a post in the local newspapers because you're so worked up about it) and to actually have the sack to ask me about it, I'd tell them the same thing I told you (Please see above 3 paragraphs b/c I'm sick of the redundant typing...and the parentheses).
What will they think of me? Probably that I have some genetic disease either in my or my husband's family and then they'll proceed to feel very, very bad about even asking me once they realize this...even though this isn't true. Then they'll realize that the reason they come to me and love me and trust me with their lives is that I'm very thorough and detail oriented and, at times, an anal spaz, and so they wouldn't be the least bit surprised if I had every test allowed by the FDA and ACOG done.
What will they think when you convinced them not to do it? Well, I'm not in the business of convincing anyone to do anything (unless it's to quit smoking.) That's called 'paternalistic' and something they beat out of you from day one in medical school. I'm in the habit of giving them informed consent, i.e. risk and benefit profiles for each and every option, including doing or not doing prenatal screening. It's a very individualized process as each patient has their own background, risk profile, and general personality traits that can pretty much tell you what they want to do before you even tell them all the gory details. Not to mention, that the majority of these diseases, while they do cluster in families and with older parents, are random mutations that can happen to any parent, at any time in life, with any risk profile.
So, there.
Yeah, it's a little whiney, but it's a little annoying when people word vomit their opinion all over you without you asking, too. (I don't count my word vomiting, obviously, not because I'm trying to be hypocritical, but you all chose to read my random goings-on). It's like when I told someone the names we had picked out for a boy or a girl and said that we had actually chosen them before we found out we were pregnant and just really liked them. This comment was followed up by this person saying, 'huh, really? Well, I hope it's a girl/boy then (depending on which name they hated the least).' Okay, assmunch. I didn't say these were CONTENDERS, I said these are the names that our child, boy or girl, will be blessed with for the entirety of their priviledged life. End of discussion. Thanks for your input. Your baby shower invite, announcement, and any and all communication about my perfect little angel has all been lost in the mail.
Enough of the negative biz. Everything else on the knocked up front has been getting better by the minute. I quit feeling like I was going to yak at any second and have gotten back to a less dairy-centered diet (only a little less). I am, however, super wasted tired ALL THE TIME. I'm a sleeper anyway, but this is getting ridickerous. I could go 12 hours a night, every night, easy. Needless to say, this cuts down on other bedroom activities...well, any other activities really. Also, while eating like a cow for the first 5 weeks, I didn't manage to gain any weight, but things are a little...oh...mushier then they used to be. So, the new goal is to A) sleep like a 6 year old (bed by 8, up by 7), and B) get a little exercise in a couple times a week (as long as that doesn't get in the way of my eating...or sleeping...or eating,) and C) eat for one. I'm making a slight effort to trade in my Little Debbie stockpile and other 'for the baby' treats for some healthier grub. I'm pretending that the mushy is 'baby weight,' but it's more like my husband silently musing, 'baby, wait...before you eat that third cupcake.'
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Gummy Bears Rock
I had the good luck of hanging out in the perinatology clinic at just the right time on Monday (otherwise known as 9w3d) and the fruits of this labor are available for viewing at the top of the post. Let me just tell you that to think you have a docile little bean floating in peaceful oblivion is completely...oh what's the word...not at all how things are going down in there. That was the recurrent idea that I had, picturing the bean floating in his little water balloon house, and this was furthered by the fuzzy ultrasound pics posted on the earlier blog. Having this new found clarity (literally, on the fancy schmancy ultrasound machine) has opened my eyes to the reality that is the constant frat party that's going down in my belly. No freaking wonder that I've been crazy hungry alternating with crazy vomiting, super tired every second of every minute of every day, and more emotional than a recently pubertal fourteen year old who just realized that Rob Pattinson is nothing like Edward Cullen in real life (i.e. hysterical beyond consolation.)
Is he floating happily, with no awareness or cares about the outside world? Oh no, not my kid. He's in there rocking out to his own inner Ipod. I can't believe it still and I saw it in crystal clear real time. Lets just say he has moves I haven't been able to pull off in years. First, his big giant head is bobbing, then he starts to bend at the waist (or the general area) and his top half kind of sways side to side. Then all this stops and his little arm buds (that's right folks, all he's got are buds at this point) start doing his own little version of the Carlton. Don't act like you didn't watch the fresh prince in between saved by the bell re-runs like the rest of did while skipping class in college. Back to the muncher, then his little leg buds are moving in, then moving out. It's just unreal. The two collages of four pics show him having a grand ole' time in there in various positions.
There is also a pic of his developing spine and of his heartbeat and his enormous water balloon house. This kid has some serious square footage, people. He's going to be disappointed when we bring him home from the hospital to our meager dwelling and he's like WTF? Where's the hot tub? I'm sharing a bathroom?
Anywho, we had the first nurse visit today which was enlightening...or not. But the chick was just doing her job so kudos to her. I'm glad she's there for all the other people who haven't been learning about this crap in school/training for the last seven years. They did sick the vampires on me, though, for all the glorious prenatal testing. Here's hoping I'm really as normal as I think I am!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
The Moo Cow
So, I'm fairly certain at this point that, girl or boy, my child will be brought into this world weighing well over twelve pounds and mooing with his/her big brown cow eyes. Why do I surmise such crazy things for my bundle of joy? I've always been a cheese loving kind of girl and have never been a stranger to ice cream treats, but this is just getting ridiculous. I've been pregnant for all of four seconds and already the cravings and results of those are getting completely out of hand. I literally jones for food every hour on the hour like a carb-loading fifteen-year old track star. Not the kind of jones where your high will where off if you don't get some, but the kind where you'll pass out while talking to a patient if you don't keep to the crazy schedule of stuffing your face. Literally, standing up, you think you can close your eyes for a single second and the next thing you know, you're leaning on the door and everyone's looking at you like you have a third eye. Yeah, snacks on the hour or pass out and fall down and break your face. Snacks on the hour it is.
Now, the type of food on the daily menu is even more crazytown. Maybe my baby has some paranormal instinct that she's coming into the world with less than adequate feeding fun bags so she's trying to be a little type A problem solver (just like mommy) and getting things taken care of before here grand diva entrance. I eat more cottage cheese, cheese sticks, yogurt, milk, ice cream, cream cheese, frozen yogurt, shakes, milk chocolate (a stretch, but I'm pregnant so shut it), white cheddar rice cakes, anything that has anything to do with anything remotely related to cheese or dairy or milky goodness. We go shopping, the hubby, munchkin and I, and he keeps asking me if I'm okay from the things I'm putting in the cart. I have eaten apple cinnamon oatmeal with a tablespoon of peanut better almost every day for the last two and a half years. Now, I get up and decide I need to make eggs (?), a bagel with cream cheese, fruit out the wazoo or cereal. It's a little crazy. These are all normal foods, yes, I know. But the amounts and combinations are enough to send a much stronger stomached person to their friendly gastroenterologist on a daily basis.
The kicker, despite eating enough to necessitate my husband getting a second job to finance all these chow sessions, is that I've lost 3 lbs and haven't started to gain it back yet. I'm sure this will eventually catch up with me and I'll balloon to the estimated final weight of 199.9 lbs just before delivery. The baby daddy doesn't believe that I can pack on 60 lbs (63 now), but, ha, don't doubt the hormonal garbage disposal. We started taking weekly pictures of my previously svelte (funny) belly so you can all follow my husbands horror as I pack it on.
Now, the type of food on the daily menu is even more crazytown. Maybe my baby has some paranormal instinct that she's coming into the world with less than adequate feeding fun bags so she's trying to be a little type A problem solver (just like mommy) and getting things taken care of before here grand diva entrance. I eat more cottage cheese, cheese sticks, yogurt, milk, ice cream, cream cheese, frozen yogurt, shakes, milk chocolate (a stretch, but I'm pregnant so shut it), white cheddar rice cakes, anything that has anything to do with anything remotely related to cheese or dairy or milky goodness. We go shopping, the hubby, munchkin and I, and he keeps asking me if I'm okay from the things I'm putting in the cart. I have eaten apple cinnamon oatmeal with a tablespoon of peanut better almost every day for the last two and a half years. Now, I get up and decide I need to make eggs (?), a bagel with cream cheese, fruit out the wazoo or cereal. It's a little crazy. These are all normal foods, yes, I know. But the amounts and combinations are enough to send a much stronger stomached person to their friendly gastroenterologist on a daily basis.
The kicker, despite eating enough to necessitate my husband getting a second job to finance all these chow sessions, is that I've lost 3 lbs and haven't started to gain it back yet. I'm sure this will eventually catch up with me and I'll balloon to the estimated final weight of 199.9 lbs just before delivery. The baby daddy doesn't believe that I can pack on 60 lbs (63 now), but, ha, don't doubt the hormonal garbage disposal. We started taking weekly pictures of my previously svelte (funny) belly so you can all follow my husbands horror as I pack it on.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Write that Down
Okay guys. Now, upon discussing this blog with the chicks at work, they were giggling and pointing out that because of my chosen profession, readers might take what is written here as medical advice. This is in no way anything other than the musings of myself, people I know who take care of pregnant women, deliver babies, take care of babies/kids and take care of all ages. So needless to say, we're way underqualified to give people any medical advice. Just a joke, but seriously, this has absolutely no medical information written that is meant to be taken as law. Talk to your own doctors people.
Back to the chicks at work. A small group of us were discussing water birth today at work. This is a fascination that I do not understand. The only experience that I have with waterbirth is learning about what can go wrong (in medical school), watching on discovery channel and you tube and reading about it in various non-medical texts like 'What to expect when you're expecting."
An aside about this book. As a physician, I felt it was inappropriate for me to purchase this book. I'm supposed to know what's in this book. What if one of my patients who asks my advice on, well, everything related to pregnancy sees me buying this book? The truth is, I've never read the book or even cracked it open, but I was determined to make this a normal pregnancy just like everyone else has, so what was I to do? My clairvoyant, and dashingly handsome, husband solved this issue by buying it for me as a christmas gift to avoid any awkward baby book aisle scenarios. I'm pleased to say that of what I've read, I already knew 95% of it. The rest is the not-so-mainstream stuff like water birth, accupuncture, etc. All stuff that I'm sure is fine and well, but just isn't on my daily radar.
So that's how we got to talking about water birth. While I hear what they're preaching with the 'gentle transition into life', there are multiple things I don't understand about this concept.
1. I'm not allowed to get in a hot tub because the sustained maternal temperature elevation is stressful to the baby. The average temp in the kind of bath that I like to take is between scalding and melting your skin off, so how is it healthy for my baby to be in this environment for an extended period of time during the already most stressful time of it's existence (aka the big squeeze/delivery)? Would I literally be cooking my bun in the oven/tub?
2. Also, the jury is out as to when you actually get into the tub. Is this an all day affair or just as we're crowning? I'm not a fan of lukewarm bathwater or hypothermia or pruney hands and feet so my tolerance for the amount of time in this thing is limited. What if the tub isn't cleaned properly (like a hotel tub...gross) and there are innumerous peoples yucky skin cells/germs, dust, and general grossness floating around in this water I've been soaking in for hours.
3. How big is the tub? Is the doctor gonna fit in there with me? Will she have enough room to cut an episiotomy or turn my dystocia-type baby? Will she be able to flip my epidural-limp body over to help facilitate delivery when I'm soaking wet? There are those that love and that hate external fetal monitoring (aka the lines that strap you to the bed to see the babies heart rate and the contractions). I am a first time mom who is somewhat of a spaz when it comes to the safety of my unborn child so I will definitely be indulging in fetal monitoring. If I want a water birth ( I think you all know the chances of that happening), will strapping me to this monitoring machine and tossing me in the tub be akin to strapping a plugged-in hairdryer to my belly and tossing me in the tub? If so, I'm just not very interested in that. There are just too many logistics that I have neither the time or desire to research. I'm sure it's a great experience. It's just not a great experience that I will be participating in.
Don't be offended people. If you had a water birth and it was great, I'm happy for you. Maybe on my fifth delivery, when the thing could just as easily fall out while watching TV as if I was laying in a tub, it'll be a consideration then. I also heard about a water birth in the ocean. This is a whole different kind of scary that we're not even going in to here. Sharks are not a part of my birthing plan.
Back to the chicks at work. A small group of us were discussing water birth today at work. This is a fascination that I do not understand. The only experience that I have with waterbirth is learning about what can go wrong (in medical school), watching on discovery channel and you tube and reading about it in various non-medical texts like 'What to expect when you're expecting."
An aside about this book. As a physician, I felt it was inappropriate for me to purchase this book. I'm supposed to know what's in this book. What if one of my patients who asks my advice on, well, everything related to pregnancy sees me buying this book? The truth is, I've never read the book or even cracked it open, but I was determined to make this a normal pregnancy just like everyone else has, so what was I to do? My clairvoyant, and dashingly handsome, husband solved this issue by buying it for me as a christmas gift to avoid any awkward baby book aisle scenarios. I'm pleased to say that of what I've read, I already knew 95% of it. The rest is the not-so-mainstream stuff like water birth, accupuncture, etc. All stuff that I'm sure is fine and well, but just isn't on my daily radar.
So that's how we got to talking about water birth. While I hear what they're preaching with the 'gentle transition into life', there are multiple things I don't understand about this concept.
1. I'm not allowed to get in a hot tub because the sustained maternal temperature elevation is stressful to the baby. The average temp in the kind of bath that I like to take is between scalding and melting your skin off, so how is it healthy for my baby to be in this environment for an extended period of time during the already most stressful time of it's existence (aka the big squeeze/delivery)? Would I literally be cooking my bun in the oven/tub?
2. Also, the jury is out as to when you actually get into the tub. Is this an all day affair or just as we're crowning? I'm not a fan of lukewarm bathwater or hypothermia or pruney hands and feet so my tolerance for the amount of time in this thing is limited. What if the tub isn't cleaned properly (like a hotel tub...gross) and there are innumerous peoples yucky skin cells/germs, dust, and general grossness floating around in this water I've been soaking in for hours.
3. How big is the tub? Is the doctor gonna fit in there with me? Will she have enough room to cut an episiotomy or turn my dystocia-type baby? Will she be able to flip my epidural-limp body over to help facilitate delivery when I'm soaking wet? There are those that love and that hate external fetal monitoring (aka the lines that strap you to the bed to see the babies heart rate and the contractions). I am a first time mom who is somewhat of a spaz when it comes to the safety of my unborn child so I will definitely be indulging in fetal monitoring. If I want a water birth ( I think you all know the chances of that happening), will strapping me to this monitoring machine and tossing me in the tub be akin to strapping a plugged-in hairdryer to my belly and tossing me in the tub? If so, I'm just not very interested in that. There are just too many logistics that I have neither the time or desire to research. I'm sure it's a great experience. It's just not a great experience that I will be participating in.
Don't be offended people. If you had a water birth and it was great, I'm happy for you. Maybe on my fifth delivery, when the thing could just as easily fall out while watching TV as if I was laying in a tub, it'll be a consideration then. I also heard about a water birth in the ocean. This is a whole different kind of scary that we're not even going in to here. Sharks are not a part of my birthing plan.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
First pics of the squirt!
Work with me here people. These are VERY early ultrasounds so I'll try and walk you through it, but channel your inner 4 year old and use your imagination.
The first single pic is the very first pic. Imagine, if you will, a clear thin walled circle, in a thicker circle, in another circle. The clear thin-walled circle is the baby's water balloon house. The baby at that time was about the size of a poppy seed so, given that our ultrasound machine was born circa 1954, I'm not surprised you can't see the miniscule munchkin. The second thicker layer is feeding/supporting the water balloon. The third level is the muscle in the uterus (aka baby house). You're looking at a cross-section given the orientation of the probe on the ultrasound to my body. Kind of like you cut my stomach like a loaf of bread and you're looking at the middle of the piece you're about to butter.
The second set of 3 pics is from 7 weeks and change and you can make out the poop machine a little better. The water balloon house is still the most obvious thin walled circle you'll notice. Inside this, is our tiny little blurry bean. It's really the white fuzzy bean shape in the black bean shape. There are markers that look like plus signs on either side of the head and butt (crown and rump). For comparison, the baby was the size of a large pea/small blueberry in this pic.
So, here are the first of many poorly scanned pics for your perusal. Feel free to imagine you see all kinds of things that aren't visible at this time if it makes you happy. I do. I'm pretty sure she's already waved at me with her little arm bud. Yes, I said she. No, you can't see that...yet.
The first single pic is the very first pic. Imagine, if you will, a clear thin walled circle, in a thicker circle, in another circle. The clear thin-walled circle is the baby's water balloon house. The baby at that time was about the size of a poppy seed so, given that our ultrasound machine was born circa 1954, I'm not surprised you can't see the miniscule munchkin. The second thicker layer is feeding/supporting the water balloon. The third level is the muscle in the uterus (aka baby house). You're looking at a cross-section given the orientation of the probe on the ultrasound to my body. Kind of like you cut my stomach like a loaf of bread and you're looking at the middle of the piece you're about to butter.
The second set of 3 pics is from 7 weeks and change and you can make out the poop machine a little better. The water balloon house is still the most obvious thin walled circle you'll notice. Inside this, is our tiny little blurry bean. It's really the white fuzzy bean shape in the black bean shape. There are markers that look like plus signs on either side of the head and butt (crown and rump). For comparison, the baby was the size of a large pea/small blueberry in this pic.
So, here are the first of many poorly scanned pics for your perusal. Feel free to imagine you see all kinds of things that aren't visible at this time if it makes you happy. I do. I'm pretty sure she's already waved at me with her little arm bud. Yes, I said she. No, you can't see that...yet.
PS I might be the most immature person I've ever met, but every time I print pics from our machine, it makes me giggle that the name of the ultrasound machine is Siemens. HeeHee. If you click on the pics, you'll see this little chuckle-inducer in the right upper portion above the pic. Love it.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
January 9, 2010
Hooligan. This can be defined multiple ways including bully, cruel and brutal fellow, a tough and aggressive or violent youth. This little parasite is posed to become a hooligan with the havoc it's wreaking on my previously content little being.
Alright kids. Here we go on this journey into the blessing that is motherhood. Truthfully, it hasn't been so much of a blessing thus far, but I have faith that it'll turn the corner soon. At least it better or I don't know if I can put up with 32 more weeks of this business, let alone do it again in a year or so. Did you ever notice that when you say it in weeks, it doesn't seem as long as if you say 8 months, by the way? This is guaranteed to be long-winded and to be way too much information than you really needed to know. But as no one will be reading this except people who know me very well, they wouldn't expect anything different. Also, a shout out to my chica Kat who gave me this idea, told me about this site and who I'm shamelessly copying pretty much on every front. Love you Gata!
Anywho, as a physician who discusses pregnancy, delivery, motherhood, child rearing and all that jazz with multiple women day in and day out, I find that things are a little different when it actually is happening to YOU. For instance, learning and hearing about morning sickness, does not do this ailment justice. There's nothing 'morning' about it unless it was supposed to be called 'mourning,' as I'm mourning all my old favorite foods that mock me from the fridge now. I like to call my particular brand 'anytime sickness.' Nothing can be described and no empathy given until you're walking down the hallway to see a patient and, literally, two seconds later you're thinking to yourself, "Yep, I'm going to ralph all over this carpet...right now." Not to mention that even if you don't feel like vomiting, there is general unrest in all things related to the gastrointestinal system (think the mouth through the other end) so that you're starving every second of every day, but when you try to eat even the smallest, blandest meal, you're back to the toilet hugging fun.
Never again will I dismiss a preggers morning sickness as 'it happens to everyone' or 'it should get better after the first trimester' or 'here's some medicine that may help' or 'frequent small meals will help." These are all pearls of wisdom that are true and that we learn in medical school and when my medically inclined friends repeat them to me, I want to smack them. I literally have been contemplating becoming addicted to drugs. Not the get you high kind, but the kind that supposedly keep you from vomiting constantly and are legal prescriptions provided by your handy dandy PCP. FYI, I am a huge fan of run on sentences, so if this is something you find highly offensive, you should not return to this site.
So, to catch everyone up, we (Baby Daddy aka John, my husband and I) found out we were with child on December 18th. This is the day that my also-preggers friend called to brag... I mean let me know that she was having a girl. I took a test just because I had one lying around and sort of didn't believe it when that faint pink line showed up. It hadn't been there 2 days before so I really wasn't expecting much. As an aside, there was a funny story about that too. I don't read urine pregnany tests in my clinic. The nurses do. So, I wasn't entirely sure what the test meant as I'd never seen a positive one, so I had to have the nurse double-check my work to assure me that there was something going on in there.
I had the first ultrasound to confirm this unbelievable fact on December 23rd. Nothing says Happy 30th birthday like a transvaginal ultrasound done by someone you work with day in and out. I still blush and avoid this person in the hall at work as they've seen 'the delicates,' as my friend Ann calls them. I continued my ultrasonic stalking of my parasite 10 days later to confirm the gestational age (aka how far along are we) and based on this ridiculously early ultrasound, the official EDC (estimated date of confinement aka the date I will be in immense pain) is August 20, 2010. The last ultrasound we did was today, 8 weeks and 1 day, so that John and Will could see the heartbeat. Needless to say, the 6-year-old big brother-to-be was somewhat underwhelmed by the fuzzy lump in the water balloon in mama's belly that flickered a little bit. Don't worry little guy, it'll be all too real when the baby is here and NEVER STOPS CRYING.
Will has placed his order, by the way. He wants a boy and he wants it to be named Levi, Nick, or Tristan. We've tried to convince him it may be a girl and that the chances of any of those names making the cut is just as high as us naming it Seymore Butts, but I think he senses our feeling that it's probably a boy so he's not too worried. I'm pretty sure John is convinced that because of the evidence of Y-shooting that makes us giggle everyday (Will), that we're in for another blue room and future skateboarder. I'm not going to lie, I would love love love a girl. But, I really just want a healthy baby. And I have no qualms about boys in pink anyway...dems jokes.
So, off we go, down this road, on this journey, blah, blah, blah. Can I just tell you that the worst thing you can give a pregnant woman is open access at any time, day or night, to an ultrasound machine. I'm glad that no harm comes from ultrasound because I'm pretty sure I'm going to have enough chronological pictures to make a motion-picture flip book.
Alright kids. Here we go on this journey into the blessing that is motherhood. Truthfully, it hasn't been so much of a blessing thus far, but I have faith that it'll turn the corner soon. At least it better or I don't know if I can put up with 32 more weeks of this business, let alone do it again in a year or so. Did you ever notice that when you say it in weeks, it doesn't seem as long as if you say 8 months, by the way? This is guaranteed to be long-winded and to be way too much information than you really needed to know. But as no one will be reading this except people who know me very well, they wouldn't expect anything different. Also, a shout out to my chica Kat who gave me this idea, told me about this site and who I'm shamelessly copying pretty much on every front. Love you Gata!
Anywho, as a physician who discusses pregnancy, delivery, motherhood, child rearing and all that jazz with multiple women day in and day out, I find that things are a little different when it actually is happening to YOU. For instance, learning and hearing about morning sickness, does not do this ailment justice. There's nothing 'morning' about it unless it was supposed to be called 'mourning,' as I'm mourning all my old favorite foods that mock me from the fridge now. I like to call my particular brand 'anytime sickness.' Nothing can be described and no empathy given until you're walking down the hallway to see a patient and, literally, two seconds later you're thinking to yourself, "Yep, I'm going to ralph all over this carpet...right now." Not to mention that even if you don't feel like vomiting, there is general unrest in all things related to the gastrointestinal system (think the mouth through the other end) so that you're starving every second of every day, but when you try to eat even the smallest, blandest meal, you're back to the toilet hugging fun.
Never again will I dismiss a preggers morning sickness as 'it happens to everyone' or 'it should get better after the first trimester' or 'here's some medicine that may help' or 'frequent small meals will help." These are all pearls of wisdom that are true and that we learn in medical school and when my medically inclined friends repeat them to me, I want to smack them. I literally have been contemplating becoming addicted to drugs. Not the get you high kind, but the kind that supposedly keep you from vomiting constantly and are legal prescriptions provided by your handy dandy PCP. FYI, I am a huge fan of run on sentences, so if this is something you find highly offensive, you should not return to this site.
So, to catch everyone up, we (Baby Daddy aka John, my husband and I) found out we were with child on December 18th. This is the day that my also-preggers friend called to brag... I mean let me know that she was having a girl. I took a test just because I had one lying around and sort of didn't believe it when that faint pink line showed up. It hadn't been there 2 days before so I really wasn't expecting much. As an aside, there was a funny story about that too. I don't read urine pregnany tests in my clinic. The nurses do. So, I wasn't entirely sure what the test meant as I'd never seen a positive one, so I had to have the nurse double-check my work to assure me that there was something going on in there.
I had the first ultrasound to confirm this unbelievable fact on December 23rd. Nothing says Happy 30th birthday like a transvaginal ultrasound done by someone you work with day in and out. I still blush and avoid this person in the hall at work as they've seen 'the delicates,' as my friend Ann calls them. I continued my ultrasonic stalking of my parasite 10 days later to confirm the gestational age (aka how far along are we) and based on this ridiculously early ultrasound, the official EDC (estimated date of confinement aka the date I will be in immense pain) is August 20, 2010. The last ultrasound we did was today, 8 weeks and 1 day, so that John and Will could see the heartbeat. Needless to say, the 6-year-old big brother-to-be was somewhat underwhelmed by the fuzzy lump in the water balloon in mama's belly that flickered a little bit. Don't worry little guy, it'll be all too real when the baby is here and NEVER STOPS CRYING.
Will has placed his order, by the way. He wants a boy and he wants it to be named Levi, Nick, or Tristan. We've tried to convince him it may be a girl and that the chances of any of those names making the cut is just as high as us naming it Seymore Butts, but I think he senses our feeling that it's probably a boy so he's not too worried. I'm pretty sure John is convinced that because of the evidence of Y-shooting that makes us giggle everyday (Will), that we're in for another blue room and future skateboarder. I'm not going to lie, I would love love love a girl. But, I really just want a healthy baby. And I have no qualms about boys in pink anyway...dems jokes.
So, off we go, down this road, on this journey, blah, blah, blah. Can I just tell you that the worst thing you can give a pregnant woman is open access at any time, day or night, to an ultrasound machine. I'm glad that no harm comes from ultrasound because I'm pretty sure I'm going to have enough chronological pictures to make a motion-picture flip book.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)