I’ve been slowly collecting baby clothes for months now. Baby boy clothes, so I suppose it’s a good thing I was right about that. I mean, I knew I was right about that, but I suppose returning or re-selling it all would have been a pain. (Honestly, I probably would have just dressed a girl in blue for awhile)
The room seems to be taking an inappropriate amount of time to clean/sand/paint. You wouldn’t think yellow would require 17 coats to cover an off white, but apparently it does.
We are finally rid of the green couches, (circa 1982.) The dogs jumping up and down on them split them at the seams. I tried to donate them but Salvation Army doesn’t FIX things anymore. Of course, for any piece of junk you can imagine, there is someone on Freecycle willing to come take it away. (Seriously, Freecycle is pretty awesome)
Here’s hoping the new couches can withstand the dogs, the kid, and a new kid, complete with all the standard kid-goo.
I’m not even halfway done, and I am tired. And I can’t shake this urge that everything needs to be DONE already. It’s really early for the crazed nesting instinct to kick in so I’m wondering if this is an indication that I’m going to end up on bedrest. Or maybe it’s an indication that I’m crazy. Either way, I know I’m driving the man crazy.
Part of it is just me trying to… get excited again. Everything is still tinged with a touch of sadness, and I’m so afraid to let myself get attached. At the same time, I need to get attached, I need to see some evidence that this is really happening. I need a crib set up so I can imagine him in it. I need to put his tiny things away. I need to prepare. To bond. To get excited.
Apparently, my body didn’t get the memo about there only being one baby in there. I’m about the size I was at 32 weeks with The Kid.
When my pancreas flares up I tend to look pregnant anyway, so I suspect that is helping some, though surprisingly, I can feel baby from about my navel down. He is also extremely active. This kid moves ALL the time, (and has been since before 12 weeks, though my Dr’s all think I’m full of shit when I say that.)
Hi, this is my 4th pregnancy, I know what it feels like.
It was light and sporadic at first, but now, it’s almost constant.
Oh, and when I said He? I meant it.
Tumbleweeds have been bouncing around this place over the last month, (or so…) I know.
I still haven’t really had much to say, I’m still just… dealing with things, I suppose. Sure, I could tell you that I feel like complete crap, physically. Or that I now have a constant earache to go along with my other issues, because I may or may not have another tumor, but can’t do anything about it until after the baby is born. I could tell you all that. But, I’m sick of being all about the bad news.
So, here’s some good news. Mentally, I am still doing O.K. We visited my stepfather and he seemed, well, O.K. Handing it all well. Better than the rest of us. School is out in two weeks, and in July, The Kids will be here. Oh, and Sunday, I am going to a 3D ultrasound place to find out the sex of the baby for sure. Hurray.
I know. It’s been awhile. I simply haven’t been in a writing place.
I’m ok. I am. Mostly. Sort of.
The baby is doing well. I did the early screen, because the AFP won’t give us accurate results because of, well. Because. And it came back perfect. In six weeks I will go back for a more detailed ultrasound, to check out the organs and such.
I have seven different appointments with various places over the next two months. Specialists for me and the baby on top of regular dr’s appointment. And an ENT, for me, because my ear tumor may have reappearred.
I’m also shackled to a blood pressure cuff. It’s been high, and one doctor put me on meds I didn’t need, even though I told them WHY it was high. (Pain. Duh. Needless to say, after the meds made me feel like I was dying, I found a new doctor.)
When I am not in pain, my BP is fine. And while numerous doctors and specialists have told me that the medicine I used to manage the pain will NOT hurt the baby or cause birth defects, no one wants to actually give it to me.
Which I understand on some levels… but shouldn’t it be my choice? Nothing is 100% safe. And managing a pregnancy with underlying chronic health issues is all about calculated risks and if the benefits outweigh those risks or not.
Anyway, I am doing the best I can, but I can’t promise I will be a ball of sunshine for the next five or six months.