On the bright side of things, the baby is and has been healthy from day one. She is measuring right on time, September 7th, ironically labor day! I will be 30 weeks tomorrow, and I just can not believe it.
Since I have been slacking I'm going to try my best to go through a time line.
That fuzzy little plus sign appeared first on New Years Day, of course like any other girl in the world that one test just instead good enough, so I took another, and another. At this point I'm shocked the tests didn't start saying, 'enough already'. I was just too excited, and seeing each test was like finding out all over again. We had been actively trying for this little babe since June 2014. We didn't tell anyone at first, which was very hard for me. I just wanted to tell the world! But, like any cautious expecting parent, we waited.
'Morning sickness' didn't come so quick, so I thought I was one of the lucky ones, nope... About 4 weeks after I found out, the bitch came, unwelcomed, and the bitch stayed until about 16 weeks. I never really got sick, just a constant annoying stomach ache. Back up about two weeks, and we found out it was indeed a girl! I was so excited, I mean beyond excited! My brothers all have baby boys, I was so excited to announce the first girl! As we go forward our 20 week appointment (at 18 weeks) went well. Everything measured well, except her heart, they couldn't get a good picture of her heart because she was clearly comfy in her position, I went in a couple weeks later, and she was more lively, she let us see how big her heart already is! Everything was perfect!
Aside from my crazy emotions everything at this point is pretty smooth sailing. No stretch marks, baby is healthy, and the numbers on that scale crept without my permission. That is hard to swallow, but the baby is healthy, and that is ultimately all that matters. Fast forward to the infamous glucose testing; The drink was not bad at all, thanks a lot, to all the assholes who made me worry so much about that dumb little drink. The test period wasn't bad at all, until they tell you, you failed, which isn't a good thing for my thrashing emotions, 'what have I done wrong?', 'Is the baby okay?, 'Did I eat too many Sprees, and not enough spinach?' The list of questions goes on and on. When you fail this test, you have to retake it. Seems easy enough, right? No! No! No! You go in first thing in the morning, and no you can not eat! You wait in the waiting room, on time, while you see all the employees playing grab-ass, and taking their time. 30 minutes past your appointment they finally call you back to the blood drawing throne. I get the rookie who doesn't know what he is doing. He takes a tube of blood, and walks around the corner, I hear, 'she's here for her glucose testing that's the wrong tube, you need the one with the green lid' My thoughts, 'switch the bloody lid!' (no pun intended). No, he just took it upon himself to stick me again, and take MORE blood. After this with a smile they say, 'Okay, don't eat, don't leave, and don't fall asleep, we will see you in exactly one hour.' I thought maybe they'd seat me in a comfy cushiony chair with some People Magazines, in a nice quiet place. No, they basically open the door to the waiting room, and nudge me out. No people magazines, only people, ugh. Marge was sitting in the corner wondering why she hasn't had her MRI yet, and Beth is over there knitting with a Cinnabon frosting dripping off her chin. Don't worry, with Marge screaming about being seen, I wasn't about to go to sleep, but I was tempted to go over to 80-year-old Beth and lick that frosting right off of her face. I was hungry, what?!? After this, nothing exciting happens for the next 3 hours. I sat on that thrown at 9:51, 10:51, and 11:51 until I was done. Finally I was done, now please inform me I do not have Diabetes. I found out at about 7 that night, that I do not have Diabetes! Yay! for this, but the test is something I would not wish on my worst enemy.
I don't remember if I found my first stretch mark before or after this test but this did not help with my emotional bipolar-coaster. I cried, I took a hundred photos at a hundred different angles, I tried to convince myself it was a bruise or a figment of my imagination. It's finally settled in, it is indeed a stretch mark. I have been coating my stomach in special creams, and lotions. Ladies, I didn't believe it when it was told to me but genetics are genetics. You will inevitably get them, no matter what you do. I'm coping now, the tears are dried and Mederma is now on my bed side, in my purse, and on my vanity at all times. If I can not prevent them, I will do what I can to fade them as soon as possible. I have only been using the cream for a few days, I will keep you posted as to how well it works.
Those are the major mile stones, I first felt a definite baby kick around 25 weeks, and from there it's been madness. She was shy when it came to Nick feeling her move around, but now she kicks him harder than I would like to;). I know if I was keeping with with these updates they would be more in depth, and fun, but I just didn't want to do anything, and I still do not want to do anything. I went from working a full time job, going home, and cooking a few times a week, doing laundry, and dishes each night, to just working, and sleeping, and eating out a lot. I was scared for a while that things wouldn't go back to normal after this pregnancy, that I turned into his ex wife, a hermit, and a useless human being. Thanks to my best friend Nichole she assured me (since she just had a baby) that things go back to normal afterwards, and your appetite for life does in fact come back. She has pretty much been my sappy rock through all of this. Shes my web MD, and the person I ask the questions, that I would never want in my search engine, and the person who tells me if I'm being down right loco. I owe you loads, and loads of thanks, Nichole! I wish we didn't live so far away from each other! Anyway, before my mascara runs anymore back to my little bundle, and all the glory of my changing body.
Boobs, are huge, and always have been. weight gain is normal to average at this rate, but it still isn't a nice feeling seeing those numbers creep. I do have some lower back pain, but it's not often, and mostly when it's time for bed. I get swollen ankles, they look almost like I went to one of those clowns, and when he said 'what would you like little girl?', and I said I want an ankle but bigger. Yes, my ankles at the end of some days look like balloons, and the toes look like those little Smokie Sausages, which make me hungry, which make those numbers on the scale creep even higher. It's all just a vicious circle. It might sound like I'm complaining a lot, but that is just because I am complaining a lot. Nothing, however outweighs the excitement brewing in my heart, and soul about meeting my baby girl. I love you already, Hadlee, and I simply can not wait to meet you!
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