1000

Yes, apparently this is my 1000th post.  I should say something smart, right?  Or at least interesting.  Perhaps a recap is in order.

I began Something Remarkable just over three years ago, when I was beginning the process of trying for Baby #2, which has turned out to be much longer and much more complicated than I could have imagined.  My daughter, who will be 8 in February, was conceived after a year of ttc, on my 10th IUI cycle, following a miscarriage and an APA diagnosis; I started trying for her at 29.  Perhaps that should have been the first clue that trying at 35 would not be smooth sailing.  I thought perhaps the universe would cut me some slack.

In October 2002, I had my first miscarriage.  It was a long, drawn-out affair, technically a blighted ovum (hate that term--prefer anembryonic pregnancy), but it took almost six weeks, methotrexate, and a D&C to get rid of it.  I was 11.5 weeks pregnant.  I started lactating a couple days later.  Happy 30th birthday.

In October 2008, I was a sparkly new fertility patient again, just undergoing unmedicated IUI #2.  I actually thought that might work.

In October 2009, I did IVF #1 (or IVF attempt #2, the real first was converted to an IUI).  Following the failed cycle, I ended up with a uterine lining of over 3 cm.  My RE stuck me on iron-supplemented birth control pills and told me to expect to bleed for the entire pill cycle.  I think that was the first time she mentioned donor egg as a possibility.

In October 2010, I had a consult out of state to discuss IVF #2 (or 4, depending on how one counts these things) vs. donor egg and started the crazy acupuncurist-inspired anti-inflammatory diet that almost starved me.  By December 2010, I'd made up my mind to do DE with my current RE, assuming I didn't conceive on my last IUI (or the one after that, you know, because it's hard to stop).

And, now, in October 2011, I find myself pregnant (via DE-DS) with a little boy who, so far, has seemed to overcome every horrid obstacle thrown his way.  An evil, life-sucking vanishing twin.  First trimester oligohydramnios and a gestational sac too small to hold him.  Threatened (or real?) IUGR and placental insufficiency.  By the end of October, he might actually be a person I can hold in my arms.

Throughout, this blog has introduced me to many fabulous people who've had stories similar to mine, or harder than mine, and really put mine in perspective.  I doubt I could have made the move to DE had I not had online friends like Sprogblogger, who made it seem not only doable but the best possible way of handling a very sucky situation.  I only hope that my story has helped someone else--perhaps even a quiet someone who never comments--as well.

So if you haven't introduced yourself, please do.  And if there are things you'd like me to chat about, dear readers, let me know.  Very soon I hope to be an academic single mama to two beautiful hard fought children.  And you know, despite all the tears and sleepless nights, I don't think I'd have it any other way.

34 weeks!

A. threatened to take away my computer and cut off my internet access.  Look up pictures of frank breech babies (yes, I know he isn't anymore, but he's still got his legs over his little head instead of in the "fetal position") or google "breech head" and you'll see why.  Oh, yes, the crazy is back.

Then again, I'm also having moments in which I think this just might work out.  And he just might be healthy.  And not deformed.  And even if he were born tomorrow, which he probably won't be, he'd likely still be bigger than I was at birth (last estimated weight was 3 lbs 11 oz), and he's had the benefits of steroid shots, which I did not, back in 1972.  And given that I'm being monitored twice weekly, the chance that my doctor misses something going awry is really small; from what I've gathered, a reactive NST seems to be a pretty decent guarantee that the baby will be okay at least for the next few days.  Placental insufficiency, be damned.

*

LG and I went back to BRU yesterday and got a crib mattress and mattress pad and all that kind of stuff.  And A. dropped off an old bouncy seat, which LG has been playing with, despite the fact that she loathed such contraptions as an infant (which is why I no longer have any baby containment apparatuses).  That is, I'm getting prepared for the (likely?) reality that there will be a baby at Chez Gwinne sometime in the next 2-6 weeks, and probably no later than 4.  Imagine that:  we might just have a baby before Thanksgiving and my 39th birthday.  And that will be something to celebrate, indeed.

Nesting (31w1d)

I think I am nesting, a week earlier than my self-imposed time frame. 

My mom was here this weekend, so we did the Great Dresser Swap of 2011, which entailed emptying out two dressers and LG's closet, sorting various kid/baby stuff, physically moving the two dressers (so LG no longer has an infant dresser/changer), and then putting everything away in their respective new locations.  What I discovered in this process is that other than a few "sleep sacks," this boy should need nothing--at least in the clothing department--until he's about 6 months old.  And apparently I bought and was given a lot of duckie stuff.

Then today, instead of doing actual work since I was operating on about 4 hrs of sleep, I ended up buying LG the long anticipated bean bag chair (she's soon to lose the rocker/glider to her baby brother) and a bedside table.  We may or may not (let's get real, probably not) paint her room so it looks less like a nursery and more like a big kid space.  Of course, she'd like BLACK walls, so until she's ready to agree to purple or blue or something somewhat inviting, I'm not purchasing paint.

I'm exhausted.  And having a lot of contractions.  Almost enough to call my OB.

But I think I'm going to go slice vegetables and figure out something to feed LG before I give Yoga for Pregnant People one last go.  I think I will conveniently need to use the bathroom during "sharing time" or perhaps I'll just scare the shit out of the rest of them with the whole High Risk High Anxiety truth.

31 weeks.  How did that happen?

The Thing About Yoga for Pregnant People

So I ended up in tears again last night, on the drive home from Yoga for Pregnant People.

A large part of the problem, I think, is the moment the instructor has us talk about what we'd like to work on in class (i.e. certain body parts) which ends up being a general whine fest about various pregnancy goings on.  And it's not that I don't have some of those goings on (i.e. heartburn) but I am so grateful to be pregnant and to have this experience that I would never whine about them in a public setting (among "normal" pregnant people) and I end up thinking about things that I absolutely cannot say.  You know, dead baby thoughts.  And I'm going to yoga ostensibly so I keep my stress level down and stop thinking the dead baby thoughts.

Because even now, at 30w2d, I do not assume that I will have a healthy baby living with me in 10 weeks.  Yes, it is more likely than not, but it is SO not a given, not in this community, and not with my medical history.  And I really wish that my crappy new insurance was accepted by my old therapist, because she'd actually be helpful in this regard.

The hematologist asked me last week, when we were talking about getting me finally off the shots, if I'd be able to forget all this.

I really don't think so.  At least not today.

Small Good Things (30w0d)

1. I've made it to 30 weeks.  Yeah, pretty astonishing, esp. when I consider that I was born at 33-34 weeks.  I think if I hit 32 I'll get the crib out of the basement and make that trip to Babies R Us with LG.
2. LG and I went to a recycling event yesterday, where I got rid of 1 box of old clothes, 1 box of kid books I won't choose to read to The Boy, 5 sharps containers, a couple boxes of Fragmin (Lovenox equivalent I stopped using in 2009), household batteries, an indoor grill that stopped grilling, and a TON of styrofoam containers that once shipped Follistim across the country (courtesy of Special Order Pharmacy from Hell).  We also have 6 more boxes of clothes/boots/etc for pickup tomorrow.  And she helped me lug an assemble-it-yourself cabinet up from the basement to put outside with a FREE sign on it.  Yes, I'm purging.
3. In exchange for all our unwanted goodies, we received coupons for a coffee shop and ended up with free drinks for both of us.  LG was in caramel cider heaven.
4. My wickedly overpriced lapdesk showed up yesterday; I'll give it a week, but I think it's exactly the right thing for a pregnant woman who spends much of her workday camped out in bed (and evenings watching TV on the computer).  I tend to be one of those people who makes do with what's around (i.e. I've been using a large book for this purpose) and finds herself astonished that sometimes gadgets really do serve useful purposes. 
5. New link on the sidebar, courtesy of our friends L and E. If you're looking for out-of-the-box baby clothes, check it out!

Yes, apparently this is the consumer edition of Small Good Things.  Now I must coerce LG into getting dressed so we can stock up on produce from the farmer's market...

In Which Gwinne Goes to Yoga for Pregnant People

Well, I decided to take the $10/week I would have spent on LG's Friday aftercare program (apparently they don't let you do only one day per week) and put it toward paying our 13-year-old family friend to oversee LG's bedtime rituals while I go to what I am referring to as Yoga for Pregnant People.  Seems like a good use of funds, though LG is not as keen as she was last year on having a teenager!!!! watch her.

Anyhoo...I'm too tired to say much, but I do want to make a few random observations about this experience, some of which I might elaborate on later (who knows--right now I'm just glad I'm somewhat capable of putting a sentence together):

1. It is still very freaky for me to be around other pregnant persons.  Most of these women (all but one) are expecting baby #1 and had this shiny glowy naivete around them.  They did not appear to have battle scars (though I assume I did not, either).  That is, although I was only one of two actual moms in the room, I felt like an imposter, more at home Dr. G's stirrups than in prenatal yoga.
2. I am glad I didn't really have to talk to anyone about (a) husbands/partners, (b) birth plans, (c) pregnancy complications.  That would just be too much.
3. Pregnant women's bodies are amazingly different and lovely in their differences.  Glancing around the room before class, I thought I could guess roughly when people were due based on their size/shape.  I was totally wrong; in fact, the woman who looked to me like she was about 40 weeks already isn't due until a month after me. 
4. Prenatal yoga is lame.  It's taught by my regular yoga teacher, so I figured it would be a modified version of the class she usually does, but not really.  I think I'll continue the class, because my other class (a) cuts into my daily writing time and (b) really did become too challenging there by the end, but perhaps I can talk to the instructor about un-modifying some of those poses that I can still do with ease. 
5. Apparently The Boy is not active at night because I am usually in bed with the TV; he's just active at night.  I had to keep shoving on him during class to get his heel (I think) out from my ribs.  He was having a grand time in there.

Welcome to the Third Trimester

Before I proceed with the business of this post, I will say it again:  this has been a pretty easy pregnancy from a physical standpoint.  I'm sleeping (more or less).  I'm walking without pain.  I am not majorly swollen.  And even the digestive issues are mostly under control.

You know there's a but coming, right?

The exhaustion is kicking my ass.  I took LG to the bus stop this morning, ate breakfast, sat down at the computer and realized sitting took too much energy (I was actually feeling pretty woozy) so I took the computer into bed with me, wrote a paragraph and decided I couldn't actually think clearly enough to do any more.  Although I am incapable of napping, I did curl up with my eyes closed for an hour.  Slugged through a couple pages worth of revisions and here we are.  And I really need to go back to bed.

I don't quite remember feeling this way with LG.  Majorly insomniated, yes.  Finding it difficult to lug my body around because my legs hurt so fucking much, yes.  Glad to sit on my butt and not go anywhere, yes.  But this needing to be in bed all the time?  That's new.

And it's not like we had a really stressful or overly busy weekend.  We ran usual errands (grocery store, farmer's market), I cleaned out the linen closet, I took LG to various activities which generally allowed me to sit/read/flip through magazines.

Hallelujah I do not need to be on campus regularly (though I do need to make it to the library some time today).  But I do need to get something done in the next 11ish weeks and I probably need to be awake to do it.

Sigh.

Work and the Third Trimester

I have to say I'm liking this whole on-leave-during-the-third-trimester phenomenon.  It's entirely serendipitous that I applied for this grant for three years (yes, which overlapped with my ttc attempts) and ended up getting the grant and getting pregnant at the same time.  So while I still need to negotiate my responsibilities for post-maternity leave, right now I don't need to worry about who will cover my classes in the event I go into labor early (and even delivering on time doesn't quite get me to the end of the semester), which was a huge problem for BPF when her twins were born 8 weeks premature.  If everything goes according to plan (yes, you may start laughing now), by December I should have a completed book manuscript and a new baby.

But, regardless of the outcome, right now I'm able to hole up in bed with my laptop, two cats, and the beverage of my choice and work at whatever pace my body demands (which, after not sleeping, fasting for 12 hrs, and having 9 tubes of blood sucked this morning, is pretty damn slow).  I've got a Big Deal work event coming up in 2 weeks, but after that I'm really hoping I'll need to go to campus at most once per week, just for department meetings and such.

I realize how fortunate I am.  I also realize that if I hadn't spent 2.5 years trying to get pregnant, I likely wouldn't have this particular setup.  Perhaps that's what my therapist described as my ability to accept Plan B (or Z) and find something good in it.  And in the continued attempt to make my life just a little bit easier, I wonder if you might have ideas/suggestions about lapdesks or bed trays or similar gadgets, as my coffee-cup-on-a-large-book method will inevitably result in ruined bedding, at the very least.

For now, back to the real writing of the day.

28 weeks

As I type this, my 7-year-old is in her bedroom with a friend, playing with Zhu Zhu pets (a.k.a. annoying chatty motorized hamsters).  An hour ago, they were outside; he was teaching her to skateboard while I vacuumed out our car.  A really nice--somewhat productive, somewhat relaxing--afternoon, I have to say.

It's a far cry from my pregnancy with LG.  In some ways, much easier (thanks, I think, to the large age spread) and in others more complicated.  If I drop something on the floor, LG is happy to pick it up for me.  But if I want to go to bed at 7:00, well, I've still got a kid to tuck into bed.

I'm sad to see this pregnancy winding down.  I spent the first trimester in a complete panic, certain that I wouldn't get past 12 weeks.  And then it wasn't until about 20 that I actually settled in to thinking the boy's heart wasn't just going to stop beating (don't get me wrong, I'm still petrified of the possibility of stillbirth, but the likelihood of that happening seems much more remote than it did).  So I've had very little time in which I've just enjoyed this experience for what it is.  Overall, I feel really good, much better than I probably should, given the long list of complications at the top of my chart.  A little heartburn.  A lot tired.  But otherwise?  Not much going on. 

As eager as I am to begin the mothering part of this experience, I'm really not ready to be not pregnant anymore.  I spent too many years being not pregnant.  And now, it seems I've got only ~12 weeks left...

Notes from the OB (27w3d)

1. That gestational diabetes screening test sucks.  Yes, I've done it before.  Yes, it still sucks.  And I am a terrible patient who took ~12 minutes to drink it instead of 5.  Oops.
2. The Boy is breech.  Actually, The Boy has been in *exactly* the same position for the last three ultrasounds I've had, face forward, with his legs over his head.  My OB said he's got until 34 weeks to change his mind, but I do not think he is going anywhere.  (I was paranoid enough to ask if he has enough space and the answer is yes.  He's just obstinate.)
3. Placenta, on the other hand, moved away from my c-section scar, so if he moves, I might be able to do the whole VBAC thing.  I am not counting on it.  I do not think this is actually a decision I will need to make.
4. The Boy is growing acceptably.  About a week small, roughly 25th percentile, about 2 pounds.  Because he looks good, my next app't has been pushed back until 31 weeks, along with repeat ultrasound.
5. I take it as a good sign that my OB (a) decided not to start NSTs until 34 weeks, unless The Boy falls off his growth curve, and (b) does not see bedrest in my future.

26 weeks

Just a quick pregnancy update.  Still feeling good--so much better than I remember with LG at this stage.  The only real annoyance is heartburn, and it's fine if I take 10 mg pepcid/day.  I've been thinking of this as my last week of "freedom" before all the high risk monitoring starts up, though there's a chance all the NSTs won't start until 30 or 32 weeks.  At the very least, I'll be seeing my OB every other week once we get back from NYC, which kicks things up a notch.

I'm getting a little paranoid because so many people have made comments about how "small" I am for ~6 months.  I've certainly gained enough weight (~22 lbs), and as of my last OB app't my fundal height was measuring appropriately.  But he's also up in my ribs already, which makes me wonder where he's going next...

But in short:  I'm happy.  We're healthy.  All good.  And a far cry from where I was this time last year or the year before.

Today LG and I have much cleaning and errand-running to do, as tomorrow we head to my mom's and then out to NJ/NY on Thursday.  In the meantime, I leave you with this:

Public Pregnancy

I've been waiting for random people--either strangers or acquaintances--to comment on the fact that I'm pregnant.  The department secretary and academic advisor, both of whom know me well enough to notice I'm substantially bigger than I used to be, haven't said anything, and it's not like I'm just going to come out with hey, did you hear my news?  I've been to two doctor's offices, even, where the nurse taking my vitals failed to observe that I'm obviously gestating.  Yesterday I ran into a male colleague who did seem to be eyeing my gut, but really I see why he wouldn't say anything, even if he could tell.

But today, finally, I was standing in the hallway of the building where I teach and a former student ran up to me and started talking.  And eventually, after two glances belly-ward, she said so you're expecting a baby?   Rather bold move for a student, but it was a nice, friendly conversation.

I don't really care what people think.  But I've gone from hiding my belly in that awkward 10-15 week era to being ready for the rest of the folks in my semi-immediate social circle just to know and move on.  What I really need is a gossipy friend to spread the news... maybe I'll put Best Professor Friend on that task in the next week, so I can show up to the first meeting of the year without having it be a Big Deal.

I will say it's nice that the only belly touching I've received is from Dr. Gorgeous and my friend M, who accompanied me to transfer.  And that seems to be exactly right.

25 weeks

It's hard to believe I've known about this little boy's existence for over 21 weeks now.  Also really had to believe there might actually be a baby living in my house in another 14-15 or so.  That's not a lot of time, people.

I'm supposed to finish writing a book before then.

I need to clean my house (I mean really clean my house) before then.

I need to do that thing that normal pregnant people do before then:  buy stuff and set up something resembling a nursery (even if that happens to be the other half of my bedroom).

And that's on top of the usual parenting of a 7-year-old, and a trip to New York, and the rigamarole that goes along with being an academic, even if I'm technically "on leave" this fall.  Conference papers and student organizations and meetings, oh my.

And how to do all that if my OB is hauling me in for appointments 2 or 3 times per week?  And what the hell will I do if I get put on bed rest?  (I know, I know...I'll deal, just like I've dealt with everything else.)

All in all, I'm incredibly grateful to be where I am.  For all that's been scary and complicated during this pregnancy, right now things seem to be going well.  And I do not take that for granted.

Dr. Gorgeous, whatever you're doing tonight, I'm thinking of you.  And I can't thank you enough.

In Which Gwinne's Sordid Medical History Is Sorted Out

Well, the trip to the hematologist was interesting, if not entirely enlightening.  Once again, I found myself miles away, in a teeny-tiny town, for medical care (the upside of which is I think LG and I need to take an afternoon and drive there for an ice cream and a walk or something).  The doctor came in with my big stack of records from 2003 and said, well, I hope you can help me make sense of this.  I think she eventually located my original APA lab results.  But, idiot that I am, I hadn't thought to have Dr. Gorgeous send all the repeat RPL workup from 2009.  So once she's able to review those records, she'll decide what I need to be (re)tested for.

I have to say I'm glad I went.  Although the result might be that I'm pulled off Lovenox as I do not technically meet the criteria for APA Syndrome (I haven't had 3+ consecutive losses, nor as far as I know, low platelet count), I'm also confident that she will be testing me for basically every inherited and autoimmune marker for thrombophilia before doing so.  One thing I learned, though, is that if Dr. Gorgeous tested my homocysteine level (which she should have done when she tested me for MTHFR), it would be invalid because I supplement with folic acid and b12, which artificially lowers homocysteine levels; it needs to be a fasting level, and even a prenatal will throw it off.  So the longterm plan for me is that once I'm done with all matters reproductive (breastfeeding, say), she'll pull me off all supplements for 6 months and then get baseline levels of both homocysteine and b12.  She also asked WHY I have a vitamin b12 deficiency, which is usually only found in older people or vegans (hell if I know, but my sister actually takes IV b12); she was less concerned when I told her it had come up appropriately on supplements but suggested that's something worth investigating later on.

In a nutshell, she was smart as shit.  She said she doubts she'll take me off Lovenox as I took heparin already for an entire pregnancy, I've had a complicated history, and even this pregnancy started off rocky.  She said the 3+ loss rule was made up by a bunch of men, and she understood why women would do anything to prevent even a second pregnancy loss.  But she also cautioned me that there's no long term studies about Lovenox use; the concern really wasn't about Peanut but what it might do to me.  (Regular heparin use, for instance, has been linked to bone loss, and I took that for about 12 months in 2003-2004, when long term treatment is only considered  one month).  If I do continue anticoagulation therapy and get switched over to regular heparin at 36 weeks, she said my platelet count would need to be checked weekly, which is something my OB didn't do when I was pregnant with LG; I think maybe it was tested once the whole time.

At this point, I think I'll be okay if she pulls me off Lovenox, as long as my OB is monitoring me as closely as she is.  I've never really been worried about me having a stroke, but I've been petrified of IUGR and fetal death.  I should have asked if my mother's pregnancy history--low birth weight and premature babies [I was a 33-weeker, at 3.5 lbs]--might also be relevant here.  Anyway...I guess I look forward to a mega-blood draw sometime soon, and a repeat visit in early September to come up with a plan.  

24 Weeks!

The title really says it all.  I find myself, astonishingly, 24 weeks pregnant, on a pregnancy that neither my RE nor I thought would make it at 4.5 weeks and 9.5 weeks and...  Many ultrasounds, two OBs, and one perinatologist later, I've hit viability, folks.  I mean, I'd certainly like this little guy to keep baking for another 15-16 weeks, but the idea that there's even a remote chance he could survive outside my body if I delivered today is nothing short of amazing.

I had a normal pregnant person monthly checkup the other day, where I met one of my OB's partners and had absolutely no questions or concerns.  Really.  I'm measuring normally, my blood pressure is back to its usual low, and I've gained ~20 pounds, which Baby Center tells me is way too much but is exactly on track to gain the same ~37 I did with LG.  Just give me a refill on Lovenox and send me on my way.

Next up is a growth ultrasound/placenta check/that horrible glucose drink in 3.5 weeks.  At which point I revert back to the high risk patient my paperwork all declares.  The OB said it would be nice if the placenta thing resolved so she could cross one thing off the list of issues at the top of my chart (I'm not sure exactly what's there, but I've seen MTHFR; I could guess it also includes APA, IVF-DE, RPL, AMA, and/or previous c-section, as it's about 6 things long).

The thing I'm in a huge state of denial about is the VBAC vs. elective repeat c-section thing.  Frankly, I resent having c-section #1 which put me in this position in the first place; I am also somewhat resigned to c-section #2 since I'm not even close to an ideal VBAC candidate.  I'm giving myself until 28-30 weeks, once I see what's going on with this placenta issue, and then I'll make a decision about how I'd like to give birth and whom I'd like to be with me when that happens.

All in all, I'm feeling good.  (But I probably wouldn't say much if I wasn't.  I see absolutely no point in whining about a condition that I very much wanted and take a lot of pleasure in.)  I will say that I'm tired--I never understood all that nonsense about energy in the second trimester--the only thing that really wakes me up is the adrenaline rush right before I have to teach.  Otherwise I'd be happy staying in bed all day with my books and my laptop.

Exactly 22 weeks ago Dr. Gorgeous called me to say there were 14 eggs fertilizing in the lab.  One of them is my son.  And as A. keeps telling me, most people at this point in a pregnancy would assume it would result in an actual baby in about 3.5 months.  I'm sure she'll keep reminding me.

Not Much to Report (22w0d)

Really, not much is going on.  We survived the heat wave, and I got over my fear of having the window unit turned on at night.

The Boy is moving more, or I'm feeling him more.  Lots of little kicks and jabs.  It's enough that I've decided to return the doppler, as I know if I really freak out I can go in for a heartbeat check.  And my next OB appt is just over a week away, I think.

I'm starting to feel really pregnant.  Like, I'm aware that my mobility has been restricted:  can't easily stand in front of the kitchen sink and certainly can't squeeze into all kinds of tiny spaces any more.  I'm not big by any means, but I have gained 17-18 lbs.  My mid-back aches a fair amount, but really nothing to complain about.  I reclaimed the body pillow from the cats, and I'm sleeping just fine (I tried--and returned--one of those Boppy pregnancy pillows, which is clearly designed for a woman at least 6 inches taller than me).  All in all, as I told Dr. Gorgeous, this has been easy from a physical standpoint; it's dealing with all the complications and drama that's been hard.  Really fucking hard.

But right now, things are going just fine.  And that's something to hold on to.

Twelve Week Reunion

It's been 12 weeks since I left Dr. Gorgeous's office in tears.  I stopped by today ostensibly to bring some leftover drugs (really time to clear out the IVF drug box in the basement), but mostly to have an excuse to say hello.  She's got an office that she uses in town for consults (no monitoring, unfortunately, or it would have saved me hours in the car) so it's pretty low traffic compared to her main office.  I don't think I could have handled it otherwise.

Well, I managed to have a conversation with her without crying; I started immediately after leaving.  I'm not entirely sure what I'm emotional about.  Except there are parts of this whole process that just left me so raw that it's just under the surface.  Still, I'm glad I went.  Got a couple hugs and a belly rub (yes, she asked), and she had a bunch of questions about how things were going and she she couldn't stop talking about how cute I looked and asked me to stay in touch.  And she had a big smile on her face and tears in her eyes, too.  I suspect I am one of those patients who are simultaneously her biggest failures and greatest successes, depending on one's point of view.  Or maybe that's just how I  feel.

Well, hello there

(I fear this is going to become a lame pregnancy blog.  And then revert to a lame academic mommy blog.  That said...)

I was getting worried for a while because I wasn't (okay, I'm still not) feeling a ton of fetal movement.  I mean, I felt him rolling around very early on, but as he's gotten bigger, ironically, not as frequently.  Daily, sure, but not often.  I suspect that has to do with the placenta, which is anterior, also getting bigger.  Basically the boy is kicking a pillow.  So color me stunned when I was lying in bed the other night, with the novel I'm teaching propped on my belly, and it jumped.  This morning I had my hand on my belly and I could feel him jabbing away in there.  And then he goes back to being docile. 

I'm hoping we're entering a new phase, when I can finally return the doppler.  I can't remember at what point in pregnancy you can reliably count on fetal movement every hour.  I'm far from it, I think, but for the time being I'm pleased he's using my uterus as a punching bag at least a couple times per day.

That's all for now.  Must eat lunch and prep for class...

20 weeks!!

How did I get this far?!  Seriously!  By all numerical reckonings, I am at least halfway done with this pregnancy.  If I do the elective repeat c-section, that will be at 39 weeks.  And given that (a) my first c-section was done due to a failure of labor to progress, (b) this boy is breech (yes, it's early and he could move, but he has a clear preference for this position, with his feet tucked up by his head where he can grab his own toes [yes, I have an ultrasound pic of that]), (c) I will not be allowed to go much, if at all, past my due date and cannot be induced, and (d) there's that whole placenta problem, well, scheduled c-section seems likely.  Oddly, I think I'm okay with that possibility (oddly, because I'm the kind of person that under other circumstances would give birth in a birth center with a midwife and no drugs).

Anyhoo...we're definitely past the reign of terror.  I think perhaps this is the Reign of Disbelief.  I still don't believe there will be a take home baby at the end of this--perhaps at 24 weeks?--but I need to keep talking to LG about "your brother" and even my OB said at present she's "not worried," so it is at least a rhetorical reality for me.  To facilitate this letting go of all the suckage of the past 3 years, I think I'm going to drop off my extra drugs (lupron and PIO) to Dr. Gorgeous the next time she's in town; she said she'd love to see me.

Yesterday I took LG shopping and we ended up with a bunch of onesies with monkeys and little brown pants and a rainbow of $1 socks from old navy (gotta love the clearance racks).  Given how much I spent getting this boy into my body, the least I can do is let his sister pick out some clothes for the grand total of $40.

In other news, I got my annual review letter from my chair, which places me in the "high" merit category, clearly above average for the past 3 years in all areas, which is fucking ironic and nice recognition given that my tenure case stalled, which he mentioned in the letter.  I'll take it, esp. considering I feel like I've accomplished very little while ttc (given the lags in the publishing industry the effects of that won't actually show up on my CV until, well, about now).  Yesterday I ran into two of my former students at the bookstore where they both work, who mentioned former student #3 who apparently also remembers me fondly and is now in law school (yay!), and that was nice recognition, too.

And now I'm going to go to the farmer's market with LG before it gets wicked hot (I woke up with a headache, and that is never a good sign about the weather) and be one of those pregnant women I was desperately envious of last year.  And then at some point I need to read a couple hundred pages, as this daily summer school thing is kicking my ass.

That is, life is generally good.  It's not exactly what I thought July 2011 would bring, but I have no major complaints either.

Ultrasound Report (19w5d)

Well, I got a nice look at this peanut's legs, feet, arms, hands, spine, brain, stomach, kidneys, heart, and penis.  Yes, folks, if everything goes according to plan, it looks like there will be a Boy at Chez Gwinne come November.

Still processing that one.

Otherwise, my OB is pretty happy.  Blood pressure's good, weight is good, cervix is good.  The Boy's a bit small--measures just under 19 weeks--but nothing to worry about yet.  Even my fluid level looked okay.  The only new glitch--I mean did you really think I could escape another complication?--is that the placenta is currently growing over my c-section scar.  Which apparently puts me at increased risk (gosh, I fucking hate that term) for placenta acreta (sp?) which, in practical terms, means repeat c-section followed by hysterectomy.

Normal app't at 24 weeks, then a growth ultrasound/placenta/fluid check at 28.  And then the fun really begins.