Word from the Doctor: You Could Break Your Placenta Doing That

This morning we had our fifth doctor's appointment. Other than getting to hear Baby Neener's heartbeat again, the visit was pretty dull and uneventful.

Well, scratch that - I did learn something new. I told my doctor about the unfortunate tumble I took last weekend because the right piece of my "landing gear" is still a little tender. I figured it was fine, but it was the only thing I could think of talking about when the doctor does her usual pressing us to ask her questions or discuss things. I always feel like I'm a bad, uncaring mother when we go in there and never have hardly any questions for the doctor, but with all of the pregnancy books, the internet, and friends and family members who have recently been pregnant, most of my questions or concerns get answered prior to my doctor's visits. But, I want her to feel like she's important, so I try to come up with a couple of random things to discuss. This time I chose my sore boob. She reassured me and stated she highly doubts I've broken any milk ducts. However, shame on me, I should have called them after I fell and if I ever fall again I had better inform them right away in case they need me to go to the hospital for a few hours of monitoring. I replied that I would have had I landed on my stomach. She informed me that it doesn't matter - even if I don't land on the baby, even if I land on my butt, the fall could jolt my uterus and cause bad things to happen, like make the placenta rip away. Luckily, she said if everything has been fine this past week and the baby's been active (oh God has he been active), then I didn't do any damage because there would have been signs by now if I had. WELL THANKS FOR TELLING ME NOW! Maybe it should have been common sense for me to call in, but honestly, if I didn't land on my stomach, how was I to know I still could have harmed the baby? Shouldn't they have instructed me at the first appointment that if I fall, no matter how slightly, that I should call them because I could do damage without knowing it? I mean, wasn't the "clueless" sign I had written all over my forehead noticeable enough?

I'm not bitter or anything. And I don't feel like a moron. Or a bad mother. Really, I don't. Not at all.

Aside from that, everything appears to be fine. I've put on another five pounds over the past month, which brings me up to a total weight gain of a whopping seven pounds (I'd lost three in the beginning, but I'm up ten from that point). The baby's heartbeat was normal and stronger than last time - the nurse didn't have to search for it at all like they have had to in the past. Next month I will have what will hopefully be my last batch of bloodwork when they do the glucose screening test. And then, after the next visit, I'll start going in to see the doctor every two weeks instead of every four. The last trimester is quickly approaching!

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Big Realization

I was reading my "What to Expect When You're Expecting" book last night before I went to sleep, which I hadn't opened in at least several weeks. I flipped forward to the next month from where I had last read, only to discover I'm not in month five as I'd been thinking. I'm in month six.

Yikes.

Actually, I'd overheard my attorney talking about me to someone on the phone the other day and the fact that I'm six months pregnant. I remember thinking, hello, five months pregnant, come on don't you pay attention at all? Guess it's been me who hasn't been paying attention. But, since they don't really count pregnancy in months anymore, rather it's kept track in weeks, it can become difficult to figure out exactly where you are on the scale without doing some serious calculating in your head. And looking at the calendar. And I just don't have time for such nonsense. I've got lots of episodes of "Law & Order" to keep up with on TiVo.

Anyway, I skimmed through month six of my book, and do you know what it fails to mention? How I'm going to feel when six months of carrying Baby Neener slaps me in the face unannounced, making me realize just exactly how quickly this incubation time is passing, and also making me realize how unprepared we are.

Sure, we've got some of the "important" things taken care of already. We're in love, have a strong relationship that's been built over eleven years, married for several years and out of the "honeymoon" phase, have a house, have insurance, and have supportive family and friends. And, oh yeah, we planned on having this child. I mean, we actually had sex for procreational purposes. Crazy, I know.

But the "little" things, the things I would oh-so love to have all figured out and taken care of by the time January rolls around, the things I have no guarantees will get done? Driving me insane. And now that this deadline we've created for ourselves is fast approaching, I'm finding myself even more panicked. The baby's room is still mostly full of office clutter that needs to be boxed up and moved to I-don't-know-where. The baby's room still needs to be painted, and in order to do that, paint needs to be purchased and afore mentioned office clutter must be boxed up and moved to I-don't-know-where. Baby Neener has no crib, no dresser, no curtains (but does have curtain rods, thanks to the sweet deal I found online at Land of Nod several months ago - I rest so much easier at night knowing I rushed out and found flippin' curtain rods), and no rocker with which his mommy can rock him to sleep. Of course, I guess he doesn't need to sleep considering he has no crib. Ah, but wait - I did read in one of my books that you can let your newborn sleep in a drawer - whew! Guess he's good to go, then. Our financial planning came across a very big and unexpected hurdle when the new job Stephen took in early June didn't work out. Unfortunately, he's still yet to find anything solid or anything more than part-time crap work. Which not only leaves finances tight, but also leaves potential plans we had made - such as us wanting me to stay at home with the baby - up in the air and needing possible alternative plans in place. Like daycare. Which leaves me with one word on the expense of good, reliable, well-accredited daycare - OUCH.

I realize we all have our own forks in the road of life, ups and downs, battles to conquer - I know we aren't immune from the frustrations of life, even if we are expecting a child. I also realize things could be "much worse" - and, as Stephen so appropriately replies to such phrases, "Well, no shit, things can always be worse, that doesn't make me feel any better." It's just really frustrating when there's this part of me screaming I TOLD YOU SO repeatedly in the back of my mind, the pessimistic part of me that was very, very apprehensive about starting a family, not because I wasn't ready to or didn't want one, but because I just knew there would be problems that would pop up. I know how my luck goes, how the plans always seem to change when you least expect them to - I knew the minute we locked ourselves into starting a family was going to be the minute our problems went from being just our problems to our family's problems. I'm a perfectionist, and it's crippling to me when things don't go exactly as I want them to.

Which brings me back to my realization. I'm in my sixth month of pregnancy. I've got just over three more months to get over myself, to not only tell myself everything is going to work out but to actually convince myself to fully believe that is the case. Because it always does work out. Maybe not the way we want them to, maybe not the way we'd planned them to, but things always do work out. I just wish we had a little more time for things to work themselves out.

Of course, I pride myself in my sweet procrastination skills. Maybe it's a good thing we only have a few more months left to go. I always wrote my best essays the night before they were due. Who's to say I can't work the same magic under pressure in our current circumstances? I think I can, but pray for the sanity of myself and those close to me. I get pretty crazy with stress when I'm under the pressure of procrastination under normal circumstances...mix that in with pregnancy hormones and discomfort and we could have a possible explosion on our hands...Just kidding. I hope.

For the record, one thing is for certain, however, and that is the fact that my baby will NOT be sleeping in a drawer. I will sell a couple of my beloved purses, if necessary, to buy him a crib, but he will NOT be sleeping in a drawer. Call me spoiled or snobby, but that's just a whole other level of sad and pathetic to which I refuse to let myself or my child go.

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Week 24: Goodbye Feet, Hello Jimmy Legs

Things have been relatively peaceful in the world of pregnancy over the past few weeks - I must be experiencing the time that is supposedly the "most comfortable stage" of pregnancy. I still tire pretty easily, but that horrible, sickening exhaustion I was going through seems to be long gone. I'm more prone to heartburn, but as long as I keep an eye on what and how much I eat, and take Pepcid at the onset, it's not too bad. Minor backaches are almost a constant now - doesn't matter if I've been sitting, standing, or laying down - but they've yet to be so bad that I can't handle them and have to take Tylenol. As my feet have disappeared from a straight-down view, I've also noticed that my belly button is beginning to become more and more shallow. I don't know why, but this totally creeps me out so all I can do is try not to think about it or watch it happen. (Although, you know there'll be a future post on my new outie.) With the belly gaining circumference, it seems my center of gravity is beginning to either shift or disappear altogether. I know it's very hard to believe, but lately I've found myself stumbling significantly more than usual. In fact, on Sunday I gave everyone an unnecessary scare when I fell at Mom's. You know if, God forbid, I were to slip in the tub or fall down the stairs and hurt the baby, I could chalk it up in my mind and conscience as a complete accident and maybe one day forgive myself. But, falling because I'm frantically running from a bee as if I were a five-year old child? Honestly, if something had happened to the baby, words can't even begin to describe the amount of guilt I would carry around with me the rest of my life. Fortunately, my right knee and one of the baby's future milk sources managed to somehow break my fall, so I didn't land on my stomach at all. I knew there was another reason women's boobs grow larger during pregnancy - landing gear!

If you're still worried about my tumble, Baby Neener has still been kicking the crap out of me since then. Maybe even more so. I do believe my stupidity has officially pissed him off.

I swear, every week his movements become stronger and more noticeable to me. I feel him almost constantly now - not just when I lay down on my back and concentrate. However, sometimes it's when I'm laying on my back that he puts on the best shows. Last weekend, for instance, I witnessed him press himself (his head or his butt, not sure which) up against my stomach so I could see a large bulge rise up, then slowly move across my belly, then slowly back. It was the weirdest thing and made me equally joyful and creeped out. So anyway, his actions are continually growing more forceful, though they are still enjoyable to me. I do believe he may have inherited his daddy's jimmy legs, and in a couple of months I'm not so sure these kicks will be as wildly entertaining to me as they presently are.

Baby Neener is now around eleven inches long - that's almost a foot long fetus! - and weighs approximately 1 1/4 - 1 1/2 pounds. It sounds like he's pretty busy with important things right now, like more fully developing his brain and lungs, and growing taste buds.

Ever since seeing him during our ultrasound, I find myself spending great amounts of time envisioning what exactly he'll look like. Will he be hairy like me, complete with a little hair patch on his lower back and thick bushy eyebrows? (Thanks, Dad - that's always becoming on a girl.) Will he inherit Stephen's slightly crossed eyes? I hope he inherits my butt, teeth, hair, and feet, but gets Stephen's nose, face shape, hands, and smile. Between the two of us, though, he's bound to be fair-skinned and suffer from acne. Sorry, little sweetie. You'll still be the most handsome Baby Neener of all and, more importantly, you're also apt to inherit some pretty sweet sarcasm skills. Which, I know, one day we will rue for giving to you.

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New Contributor

I, Stephen, have added myself as a contributor to Neener Neener (until Kim reads this and pulls the plug). I have made a post already and hope to make more in the near future.

The Flatulating Unicorn isn't dead. I just have no idea what to do with it.

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All Is Well

Kim and I went to Greenwood to visit the Major and the Colonel to see how they were doing while Mom and Dad were on holiday in Northern California.

The cats are doing fine.

While Mom and Dad are gone, they are being fed and are getting their bathroom cleaned by one of Mom's co-workers.

They were happy to see us. The Colonel enjoyed himself by climbing on everything including the beautifully pregnant Kim. The Major enjoyed himself be constantly being underfoot while I cooked dinner and washed a comforter.

Below are two pics that prove the the felines are indeed in great spirits even though they miss their parents and look forward to their homecoming this weekend.

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Sweater Weather Alert!

I realize it's totally lame to post about the weather, but when something other than an alarm clock or my bladder is able to drag my lazy pregnant butt out of bed before 11 a.m. on a Saturday morning, it just has to be documented.

It's currently a crisp 52 degrees outside, with a high today of 67, sunny, and the sky is a beautiful bright blue with fluffy white clouds.

Thank God fall is just around the corner - I love this weather. In celebration, I'm making myself a couple of hard-boiled eggs, toast, and chocolate milk for brunch (in lieu of my usual oatmeal or cold cereal), and afterward, I may even feel motivated enough to clean out the remaining mess of the office that's still lurking in Baby Neener's room. Or at least some of it.

I know how to live it up.

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The Lone Pregnant Woman

It appears I have lost my two cohorts in pregnancy just since this weekend.

Stephen's cousin, Cassie, had her baby boy, John "Jack" Riley, on Saturday. Unfortunately, I haven't gotten to see the little squirt, yet, but Stephen was able to drop in for a brief visit with the Doyles yesterday after his work training in Cincinnati. I can see from the pictures he took he's certainly quite the little cutie, but I look forward to hopefully finding this out for myself soon. Baby Neener is very excited to have yet another little boy in the family to romp around with at all the *yawn* family gatherings.

Dawn had her baby girl, Emerson Paige, late Monday morning. I visited them in the hospital yesterday evening, and they both appeared to be doing great. Emmie had some issues during labor - she apparently thought she needed to come into the world all dolled-up for her awaiting audience. Unfortunately, a girl doesn't have access to many accessories in the womb, so the creative little gal tried to make herself a necklace out of her umbilical cord. Fortunately, her fashion faux-pas didn't do much harm - she did have to have ample tests run on her and was placed in the NICU, but she's doing well now.

I only have this picture Dawn sent to me off her cell phone (of course I forgot my camera yesterday), but you can be certain I'll have more pictures of her up in the near future. I have to say that Baby Neener's future girlfriend (you know, as soon as he gets his butt out of the womb, too) is quite the looker. I think I'm going to have to keep my eye on him...

Congratulations to Cassie & Pete and to Dawn & Jim! I'm sad to lose my pregnancy sisters, but relieved to gain two more people who can show me the ropes when Baby Neener arrives in his clueless mommy's arms in a few months.

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Baby Neener's Future Friends?

I received word today that Dawn is going to be induced into labor this upcoming Monday. I'm so thrilled! I mean, not only because I'm happy that she'll finally get to meet her baby daughter, but because I can get a head start on the approval screening process. See, Dawn and I have decided that our children will be boyfriend/girlfriend and will eventually wed. Dawn, I hope you realize I'm going to need some evenings of watching your child for you so I can get a full grasp of her character and integrity. I don't want my son marrying a floozy, you know. Of course, when Baby Neener arrives, I would highly recommend you do the same thing because with him being my child, he's very apt to have no self control.

And speaking of questionable characters, look at the picture of Rowan I found while perusing The Daily Squink. I guess this picture doesn't surprise me too much, considering the last time I held him he practically mauled me trying to get into my shirt to my boobs. Is this the sort of fellow my child is going to pal around with and look up to?!

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