11 Week Ultrasound

I completely forgot to put the latest picture up.  It’s from Monday’s appointment with The Gynie God, using a little portable ultrasound machine.

 

 It’s definitely my kid.  Huge head and big belly.

Peeved.

I think I’m going to change the name of this blog to Crabby Mommy.

Today’s extremely trivial yet blown-out-of-proportion gripe?  It’s Mother’s Day in England on Sunday.  And my dipsh*t husband forgot to send anything to his mother, despite the fact that I reminded him, oh, I don’t know, 12 or 15,000 times before he left for Argentina.

She and I can’t stand each other.  I’m the daughter-in-law who can do no right; the evil manipulative conniving yankee who stole her precious son away.  I believe most of my in-laws know me as “That American Woman”, and couldn’t tell you my first name if their Earl Grey Tea depended on it.

So, what did I do?  The honorable thing of course.  Sent her a beautiful bouquet of lilies & roses to be delivered tomorrow, at a whopping cost of $112.98.  I really wanted to send her black carnations and a dead skunk; but the local skunks are still hibernating and seem to be in short supply.  Oh, well.  I’m sure she won’t like it and the greenery will make her sneeze and the lillies will be overwhelming and I’ll hear all about how much she hates pink (in an e-mail which will be deleted before it even gets opened).

But that……that’s not even the point.  While I was flipping through my calendar, I got hit with an enormous slap in the face.  This will be the first Mother’s Day I get to enjoy as a mother-to-be.  This will be the first Mother’s Day where I won’t want to stay in bed and cry all day.  This will be the first Mother’s Day where I can officially celebrate the day without feeling like a fraud.

And where will my husband, father of the child I’m about to become a mother to, be?  In bloody Brazil, on yet another work assignment.  We won’t get to celebrate our anniversary, which falls on a Saturday night, because he’ll be leaving at 6:00 the next morning.  We won’t get to celebrate his birthday AGAIN (for the 4th year in a row, I think, because he’s always been somewhere else).  And he won’t be around to spend our first real Mother’s Day together, which hurts me most of all.

Over the span of eight months, my husband will have gone to South Korea for 4 weeks, missing Halloween and Thanksgiving.  Followed by Peru in January for another 4 weeks.  February and March?  Argentina for almost 4 more weeks.  And what about May and June?  Brazil.

I’ve been coping with it so far, because what else can I possibly do?  But it’s lonely when he’s gone, and I can’t talk to him about all of my pregnant pains or childbirth fears or include him in all of the ups and downs this pregnancy has brought.  I think I’m going to have to attend breathing classes and breastfeeding classes and newborn care classes all by myself, because I don’t know that I can count on him to be here.

His employers already are asking when he needs to stop travelling.  My suggestion?  Throughout my 3rd trimester, starting in mid-June.  But I’m sure they’ll squeeze in another trip or two in July and August, leaving me to deal with all the shopping and nursery preparation on my own.  Dammit.

And I’m grateful he has a job with a steady income.  But it’s hard to feel like a single mother, when my absentee husband is never around.

Leap Day

Today, I am 85 days pregnant.  Just 195 more days to go!

Nothing new to report with the wiggle worm.  Still puking while brushing my teeth, and still only eating two meals a day.  I had a ham sandwich & a bunch of grapes for breakfast, and an egg salad sandwich for lunch.  I found out that Hormel does a line of 100% natural lunch meat, which is safe for pregnant women to eat.  I think it’s called Natural Choice, and you can get it in a variety of honey, smoked or regular turkey; honey, smoked or regular ham; and roast beef.  I’ve only tried the smoked ham so far, but it’s really tasty. 

I finished up the last round of antibiotics for the latest UTI, and decided to stop doing my progesterone suppositories.  It’s only a week early, and since the placenta has taken over the yolk sac, my body should be producing enough progesterone to support the pregnancy.  If I get another bladder infection, I’ll know my theory of the link between the progesterone & the UTI’s was horse puckey.

And I canceled my appointment with The Gynie Goddess.  A good friend of mine, my aunt, and my cousin all see the same doctor, so I decided to go with one of his partners.  It’s closer to the house, and I can choose which of the 4 local hospitals I want to deliver at. 

And I’m still wading through 100+ pages of insurance claims from my 2 trips to the emergency room in January.  First the insurance company denied everything, claiming I had other insurance through my non-existent employer.  Then, when the hospital re-submitted all the bills per the insurance companies’ instructions, all the claims were denied as duplicate submissions.  And now, the insurance company is trying to blame my kidney stones on a work-related accident.

In the interim, I’m getting statements AND phone calls from the hospital, the radiologists, and the ER physicians demanding immediate payment.  The grand total is over $3,000, and I’m not going to pay any of the bills until I get proof that they’ve been approved by the insurance company and applied to my $9,000 deductible.

And it’s going to drop down to minus 2° tonight, with 4″ of snow expected tomorrow.  Blech.

Is anybody doing anything fun for the leap day on Friday?  I wish I had a frog cookie cutter – it would be fun to do something “leap” related and celebrate the day.

When I was a kid, one of my classmates was born on a leap day in 1972; and his mother always tried to weasel out of sending birthday treats to school.  The whole family was crazy, though; and I honestly don’t think they even celebrated his birthday on February 28th or March 1st.  His mother felt that since he was born on February 29th, they would only observe his birthday on leap years.  He was such a sad kid, and now I wonder what his home life must have been like.

Enjoy the extra day this year, and take the time to do something special.  I might bite into a Babe Ruth in my former classmate’s honor, and wish him a silent Happy Birthday while I enjoy a little treat to mark the occasion.

In sickness and . . . in sickness.

Another day, another round of barfing.  After my doctor’s appointment & a quick trip to Walmart, I had a plain roast beef sandwich from Arby’s and a glass of Sprite.  No fries or anything.  And a bunch of grapes around 1:00 this afternoon, with 2 BIG glasses of water.

At about 4:30 this afternoon, my belly started turning somersaults, my mouth filled with spit, and I heaved all over the kitchen sink.  And my back started aching similarly to when I had the last kidney stone.  Damn damn damn damn damn damn damn.

I laid down on the heating pad for a little while, & my back pain seemed to have eased up.  But my tummy is still troubled.  I dunno.  Is this morning sickness?  Is it a touch of the flu?  I’m trying to choke down some ginger ale, because I’m scared of getting dehydrated again & winding up back at the emergency room. 

The doctor’s appointment went okay, although this was definitely my last appointment with The Gynie God.  As soon as I arrived, his nurse whisked me back to the exam room for a blood pressure check.  Shockingly, it came back at 164/98, which is way high, especially considering I’m on meds for hypertension.  When the doctor came in, he checked it again, and got 145/90; but he noticed they were using the wrong cuff size (they had the “small” adult size, and I usually use the “large” adult size).

I got the longest, most condescending lecture about uncontrolled blood pressure and pre-eclampsia, and how dangerous it us (duh!).  He even talked about making me come in for weekly monitoring, even though I’m only 11+ weeks pregnant. 

Finally, the nurse came back with the large cuff, and got a very normal reading of 124/74.  I asked to see the doctor again, so I could lay into him for scaring the crap out of me; but he was already with another patient.

He also told me indoor tanning while pregnant is okay, but only in very short bursts (like 5-6 minutes each session).  He said the problem is that a pregnant women’s temperature should never rise more than a degree or two, and it’s far too easy to become overheated and burn in a tanning bed.

He also said theoretically, I “should” be okay to fly to Vegas in April; as long as I don’t have any more problems with kidney stones and I’m feeling okay.  He said the second trimester is the ideal time to travel, since most women are feeling more energized and morning sickness has usually subsided by then.  We’ll see.  I still haven’t booked the flights. 

I guess what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.  Especially the money coming out of your wallet.

Morning Sickness

(((Ugh – they’ve confirmed it.  Angelina Jolie is pregnant again.))) 

Well, I knew if I started counting my blessings for not getting morning sickness, fate was going to bite me in the butt.

The last couple of days, I’ve been plagued with nauseau and have thrown up every time I’ve attempted to brush my teeth.  I currently use lemon toothpaste, and I’m wondering if that’s somehow triggering my gag reflex.  Ugh.  Just the thought of putting the toothbrush in my mouth makes me feel like heaving.

I think I may have had a touch of the flu (or food poisoning) last night.  At 4:00 this morning, I had liquid flowing out of every available orifice.  Is there anything worse than being sat on the toilet, with the garbage can balanced on your lap to use as a puke bucket?????  And Dave is in Argentina for work, so I couldn’t even ask him to bring me a can of ginger ale.  It was a rough, rough night.

We’re still having the great Vegas debate.  We now found out that we can fly out there & pay coach, but get upgraded to first class to free with our frequent flier (flyer?) miles.  And our hotel will be free.  It would be so nice to get away for a couple of days……but I can’t get the worries about a UTI or more kidney stones out of my head.  I have vicodin from the last stones, but I can’t stand the thought of being sick so far away from home.

And I’m wondering if it’s okay to visit a tanning bed while I’m pregnant.  I can’t find conclusive answers one way or the other, so I’m going to ask The Gynie God about it at tomorrow’s visit.  I know you’re not supposed to raise your body temperature while you’re pregnant, but I usually go to a stand-up booth with a GIANT ceiling fan in the top of the capsule.  I never feel overheated when I’m in there (and I would probably only go for 6 or 7 minutes at a time).  But if he says no, not to risk it, I won’t go.

I think tomorrow will be my last appointment with The Gynie God.  I got a referral to a clinic which is only about 15 miles from my house, versus The Gynie God who is about 25 miles away.  I hate to change OB’s when I’m already close to rounding out my first trimester; yet I want a doctor who’s genuinely interested in my well-being and who can be flexible with his bookings if needed.  I’m not asking him to meet me at the clinic at 2:00 a.m. – I just want to be able to change an appointment if I need to, without being harassed about it. 

On my way out the door, I want to stop at the scheduling desk and yell, “Life is inconvenient, people – get over it!”

Girl Vibes.

It seems the general consensus amongst my family members is that I’m having a little girl.  Which is incredibly strange, because I’ve believed since day one that I’m carrying a boy.

I don’t know which to hope for.  I think boys are easier – they can entertain themselves for hours on end with trucks and legos and books.  But a little boy will bring the issue of getting circ’ed and I really don’t want to have to deal with that.

But girls seems to be so much harder.  They’re whiny and manipulative and sassy little drama queens.  And they’re expected to dress in hoochy mama clothes at the ripe old age of six!

I will definitely love whatever we get.  But deep down, I think I’m hoping for a boy.  However, my husband, father, two aunts, cousin, and goddaughter all think it’s a girl.

Only 10 more weeks until we can find out!

Bon(ehead) Appetit!

Dinner tonight?  One packet of strawberry pop-tarts, straight out of the box.

I’m so cold and tired and craving comfort food.  It’s -1° right now, with a projected low of -13° tonight.  I’m very quickly reaching my breaking point with this frigid weather.  Still no chance of thawing in the 10-day forecast. 

I booked us a mini getaway in April to Las Vegas, but I’m having buyer’s remorse.  We can get 3 free nights at Treasure Island Hotel and $100 in free food, but I’m not 100% sure I want to go back.  (Last time we were out there, I was in a CVS Pharmacy store that got robbed at gunpoint in March of 2007.)

Airfare would be $750/total for a direct flight from Green Bay to Las Vegas, and we’d really only need some cash for taxi rides to & from the airport, food, and a little gambling money for Dave.  Because of the smoke wafting around the casino floor, I plan to spend my time lounging poolside and reading during the day and soaking in the bathtub while watching old movies at night. 

But something is holding me back.  I really, really, really want to sneak away for a couple of days to somewhere warm, and it will be around 80° during the day in Las Vegas.  But I worry about flying at 20 weeks pregnant.  And I worry about inadvertently exposing the baby to secondhand smoke.  And I worry that I’ll get another bladder infection, and end up in the emergency room in a strange city with a $900 bill for antibiotics.

And we could use the money for a new mattress.  And baby stuff.  We still haven’t figured out where we’re going to put this kid, much less thought about buying a crib and changing table and dresser and everything else.

And we’re going to have a whopping $9,000 in medical bills at the end of the year, thanks to my husband’s lousy health insurance.  We have to pay the first $3,000 out of pocket (which I’ve already met, thanks to 2 emergency room trips, 6 ultrasounds, and non-stop bladder infections); and his employer only pays 70% of the remaining bills until we contribute our $9k.

I shouldn’t complain, but I can’t understand why we have to pay the brunt of the monthly premiums PLUS the first $3,000 in claims before they kick in one freaking cent.  It’s a self-funded plan, which means his employer is actually making money off their employee’s contributions. 

And I’m grateful to have coverage.  Really, I am.  But they’re presently trying to get out of paying the claims from my kidney stones with no grounds to do so.  First, they were claiming I had other insurance.  Hello, big fat unemployed pregnant person over here does NOT have other insurance.

Then, they tried to say my kidney stones were work-related and should be covered under worker’s comp.  Apparently, I didn’t make this whole “I AM UNEMPLOYED” thing clear enough to them.

And finally, we got a letter indicating they believed my treatment was the result of an accident and they wouldn’t process the claim until their subrogation inquiry was completed.  Um, yeah.  My kidney “accidentally” grew calcium stones the size of Mount Rushmore while I was quietly minding my own business.  JUST PAYING THE EFFING CLAIM ALREADY!!!!!

Krispy Kreme, take me away……

How we spent our Valentine’s Day.

A nap, followed by a late lunch of egg salad sandwiches and gummy hearts***.  And later in the evening, me watching Lost with him snuggled up beside me on the couch, snoring away.  It would have been a perfect day (except for the part where my doctor is refusing to lift the “no sex” restriction – which is leaving me frustrated & having dreams about making out with Hulk Hogan).

Speaking of The Gynie God – we will soon be parting ways.  When Dave was flying home from Peru, I wanted to move my ultrasound schedule 2 days so he could join me at the appointment.  They wouldn’t allow it – claimed they didn’t have any open appointments at all.

On Friday, I called the office to change my 11-week appointment from this morning to later in the week.  Again, they wouldn’t allow it, claiming he’s completely booked up.  WTF am I supposed to do if I get sick & need an appointment???  What’s going to happen if I go into labor a day before my scheduled due date?????  Are they going to make me give birth over a garbage can in the hallway?????

I called at 9:00 last night to cancel my appointment for this morning.  I’m not going to reschedule.  I’ve already found a woman doctor (The Gynie Goddess?) who’s slightly closer to home, and set up an appointment for March 3rd.  Hopefully she’ll be willing to take me on mid-pregnancy, even though I’m considered high risk.

I’ve been extremely tired for the last week or so – I could sleep 18 hours a day & still not feel energized.  I’m also feeling kinda nauseated and tossed my cookies Saturday afternoon.  For whatever reason, brushing my teeth sets off my gag reflex, and I end up dry heaving over the bathroom sink each morning.  Blech.

And I think I have another bladder infection coming on.  For those of us keeping score, this would be #3 since January 22nd.  And I can’t get the doctor to just call in an antibiotic – I have to haul my big tired butt down to the lab for another urine culture tomorrow (and another insurance co-pay).

I’m pretty sure all these UTI’s are from my f*cking progesterone suppositories.  They’re extremely oily and greasy, and I think some of it is being pushed into my urethra when I wipe.  TMI, I know - but I still have to do them for 2 more weeks. 

2 more weeks, and I’ll officially be out of my first trimester.  Wow.  Just, wow.  Most days, I still can’t believe I’m even pregnant. 

*** My husband is an enabler.  For Valentine’s Day, he bought me TWELVE BAGS of gummy hearts because we both love them & I’ve been craving them like mad.  And a Ferrero Rocher chocolate heart.  On Saturday, he bought me chocolate chip cookies at Wal-Mart, and a 6-pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter eggs.

My fat pants are getting snug, and I don’t think it’s from my uterus.

Trying Times

My sister-in-law, Nora, who’s also pregnant and due in early April, has been in the hospital since Monday.

She has a severe kidney infection, and her temperature keeps spiking to 103°.  They have her looped up on vicodin/acetaminophen and keep pushing fluids, but they can’t get her fever down.  My brother said she’s also in tremendous pain – her back hurts, her joints ache, and her kidneys are extremely inflamed.

Her doctors say the baby is fine, and as of right now, she’s not at risk for premature labor.  But they’re not sure when they’ll be able to release her from the hospital, which has us all terribly worried about her.

Please send prayers or good wishes her way.  Thanks………

Craving Chaos

Let me preface this by saying that my sleep schedule is all out of whack.  I go to bed between 10 – 11, wake up at 2 to pee, wake up at 5 to pee, and get up for good around 7.  I end up nodding off sometime during the day, only to be jolted awake by the ringing telephone or barking dogs.  My life is nothing but a series of 2 hour naps.

I’ve been having mad cravings for the last couple of days.  In no particular order, I’ve wanted:

• Tootsie Rolls
• Cashew Chicken
• Gummy Hearts
• Oscar Meyer Bologna on ghetto white bread with yellow mustard
• Chicken Lo Mein
• Chips and Salsa
• Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls
• Nacho Cheese Doritos dunked in cottage cheese
• A David’s Deli bagel with whipped cream cheese & corned beef
• Diced Peaches
• Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough
• Brownie Dough (not the actually brownie, mind you – just the batter)
• Strawberries
• Red seeded grapes
• Apple Juice
• Cool Whip

It all started late Sunday morning, when my lovely husband decided to fry up a pound of bacon.  I hate bacon.  I find the smell to be revolting, yet oddly mouth-watering at the same time.

Anyway, he sat down & ate his THREE bacon sandwiches while I warmed up my leftover beef stew.  Out of nowhere, I got an extremely intense craving for a greasy, salty sausage link.  I ignored it, and set about finishing my lunch.

Later in the afternoon, we headed over to my parents’ house for our annual Sunday chicken dinner.  While waiting for the chicken to finish, I started flipping through the sale ads of the weekend paper.  BIG mistake.  I wanted everything that was on sale.  EVERYTHING.  If it was pictured, I could taste it.  From Apple Jacks cereal to ziti pasta.

And the heartburn.  Oh my God, the heartburn.  Zantac can’t keep up to my burning belly these days.

And did I mention that the constipation portion of the program has also begun?

I’m extremely grateful and blessed to be pregnant, but I don’t feel pregnant yet.  I’m tired, I’m hungry, I have a burning esophagus, and I can’t poop.

Is this really what pregnancy is all about?????