Week Seventeen - Happy Halloween

Halloween might as well just blow right on by this year. I barely remembered to buy candy. Mostly I've just been thinking about next Halloween. Yes, the Nubby will be around 6 months next Halloween, the perfect size to dress up in something embarrassing take him/her trick or treating and then eat all the candy ourselves! Good times.

This year it's harder to have good times. Appropriate to the season, there was a very scary article in the New York Times this week about the risks of gestational diabetes, and I honestly didn't realize they were quite so severe. When the doctor handed me the list of low GI foods, he just said this is how you should eat. But after reading that article, I'm a lot more driven to really stick to it which means, sadly, only very small doses of Halloween candy per day.

Sticking to the things that I should eat and staying away from the things I shouldn't has been the hardest part of being pregnant. But every time I'm tempted to have an extra Coke (one per week is my rule) or order sprouts (one of the most popular carriers of e. coli) on my wrap, I just remind myself there's only five months to go. And if I can't resist such frivolous temptations for five months I ought to be ashamed of myself.

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I think I gained a pound this week! Besides that, my belly is definitely taking on a shape. I couldn't button my favorite cords yesterday. Thank goodness for rubberbands and my very handy Bella Band; I can still wear my cozy, familiar fall clothes for a couple more weeks. I do have a decent stash of maternity clothes now, gathered from yard sales, consignment shops, and Old Navy clearance sales. I'm putting off wearing them still, but I'm not sure how much longer that can happen.

Next week we head to our ultrasound appointment and if Nubby is feeling like a little exhibitionist, perhaps we can finally assign it a pronoun!

Week Sixteen

My baby is getting toenails this week! At least according to babycenter.com, it is. Books I have read warn that babies often come out of the womb with crazy long and sharp nails after nine months with no manicure and that you should puts socks on their wee little hands to keep them from scratching themselves in the face. It is hard to imagine what a shock it must be for all the little nubbies, emerging from their bubble of perfect safety to a bright, loud, terrorizing place where you can't even scratch your nose for fear of poking out your own eye. I feel ya, Nubby.

Things are still pretty much the same, which is why I haven't written much. Even my baby daddy asked last night when I was going to start looking like I was pregnant. I guess the irrationality and extra sleeping has lost its charm now and he wants physical proof. But all my clothes still do fit (I'm not complaining) and I weigh less still then I did back in June (again, not complaining). I've read that anytime in the next four weeks I could begin feeling baby movements in my belly. I don't want to wish away the time, but I do wish I could start feeling those movements, just so I could begin to feel a real connection to the Nubby who seems content to just drift in a small space, growing toenails.

My biggest news is that today I told my boss that I was pregnant. I was really nervous about it; not because I thought he'd take it badly - he's a very nice man and a father to boot - but just because I don't like bringing personal things into the workplace and I don't like talking about myself. But of course, it went fine, and he offered me many congratulations. He said that he thought that having a child was the most significant thing a person could do in life and didn't seem concerned about the time I would need off. I'm very thankful that I have such a good job - that both of us do - and that we will be able to provide well for the Nubby. And later, we'll be able to afford therapy for the Nubby to fix all the stuff we screw up!

Friday is our next doctor's appointment. I think it will be fairly low key because I plan on turning down the testing, but maybe we'll get to listen to the heartbeat again. Such a happy, spastic little sound.

Week Fourteen

So I did go to the doctor last week and it was a pretty quick visit. There's the weigh-in (no net gain so far), the blood pressure check and, of course, there's the ever popular peeing-in-a-cup that I suspect I shall become quite good at before this is all over. When the doctor finally came in he produced a little machine that looked like a mix between a Walkman and a Magna-Doodle and proceeded to doodle around on my stomach with it and we got to hear the Nubby's heartbeat. Chuk-a-chuk-a-chuck-a. That is one serious little beating heart. 150-some bpms, reports the doc, just as it should be and just in the right place.

So that's a relief, and we're basking in the glow of our healthy little parasite when we are presented with some pamphlets. Apparently there is a decision to be made before the next visit and that is whether or not to have some tests done to see if 1) I'm a carrier of certain recessive genes or 2) there has been some chromosomal defect in the fetus. My first inclination that day was, sure, if there's a test why not take it - a sentiment that no doubt did little to discourage my fringe status in high school. However, since then the topic has caused much consternation and discussion. First off, if any of the tests prove positive there's nothing that can be done for the baby until it is born. The only action that can be taken at the time the results are found out is termination.

While I am politically pro-choice, I am certainly not pro-abortion. I have always thought, from a personal standpoint, that they should be reserved for worst-case scenarios, but I have never been in a place to determine what that worst-case would be - for me - until now. These are not thoughts that rest easy on me, even in the private recesses of my brain. And this is not a decision I was prepared to make as most of the literature I've read on pregnancy says that tests like these (my doctor has offered the triple-screen) were reserved for mothers over 35.

At this point, I am resolved against having the tests done and my husband agrees with my position. After all my reading, it is hard to think of a case where termination is a better option than a little baby. But of course, once the seed has been planted, the little sprout of worry is there. What if my beautiful little baby was born with some problem that caused it to be in terrible pain? Is that something I should have prevented, given the opportunity?

I don't really know how to end this post. I will note that I had a terrible stomach bug over the weekend. I lost nine pounds in a day, but I have since recovered. I called my doctor on Sunday morning, worried for the little alien that lives off me, fearing there was little of me left to live off of, but the doc was unconcerned and did not miss a beat. "Oh don't worry about babies," he said, "they take care of themselves in there." Here's to hoping I can do half as well once the Nubby is out here.