/ The RE's Muse: January 2005

The RE's Muse

After 4 years of infertility, 2 surgeries, 1 miscarriage, and 19 months of high risk pregnancies, hubby and I now have two little women in our lives--one a toddler, the other not far behind. Buckle your seatbelts, it's gonna be a wild ride.

Monday, January 31, 2005

Time to FISH and salute Tom Petty

Today's a.m. appt with the genetic counselor went off without a hitch. Of course, she was largely doom and gloom, but both A and I understand that her job revolves around percentages and numbers, etc. We were firm in our decision to go with the level 2 ultrasound today and see where we went from there. I asked her if we could do the FISH test to get the results and she said we couldn't, that they only did that in cases where the timeframe was cutting it close for the patient to make a decision to terminate if the results came back abnormal. And being as we still have a few weeks before that timeframe yada yada yada....

Fast forward 4 hours to the 1 p.m. appt--where we then waited 2 hours and 20 minutes before being called in. Before your ire rises for us for that, know that one other couple was there an hour longer than we were. But we understand that emergencies come up when you're a high-risk pregnancy specialist so what could we do but wait (unlike the other couple, in which the male of the pair was indignant). C'est la vie buddy.

So--the level 2. In we went (me with a painfully full bladder may I add) and the sonographer did her thing. Measured numerous things, none of which I could see because the screen was turned away from me. But A got to watch--not that he really knew what all he was looking at but he made out a few things here and there.

After much tinkering, the sonographer tells me that she's really not seeing all of the structural things she needs to see (like the kidneys, etc.)--and not because there's something wrong with the baby. No, she can't see them because I am 17w3d today and this ultrasound should be done between 18 and 19 weeks optimally. She said that those few days growth time make a world of difference. So before she started thinking that I impatiently booked my level 2 for several days ahead of 18w, I explained to her that this appt was made for me by the nurse/receptionist and I just followed their protocol. She was cool with that and went on to say that she'd like to see me next week or the following week for the level 2 and she'd get better visuals then. And that would still give us time to do the amnio if we decided, and time for a decision should we need to make one post-amnio. But from what I read of the measurements she took, I am measuring slightly ahead at 17w5d overall (when all measurements are averaged out). The head, however is measuring slightly behind at 16w3d (but is in the 62nd percentile for growth while, according to my SIL, microcephaly is usually indicated in the 10th-20th percentile so I don't think we're measuring positively for that trisomy 18 soft marker--which is a good thing). At the same time, the sonographer didn't look for any soft markers as we had hoped for so there went that thought on our part. It was strictly a structural scan (but the tech did say that if she had to guess--since it's still kind of early and the scan wasn't the best--she thinks it's a girl).

She left the room to get the doctor and A and I conferred. Well, we're here, we've come this far. Why not just do the amnio and get definite confirmation? I told A to make the decision for me, that I was fine with whatever he thought best. And he thought we should do it. So when the gal came back in the room to tell us the doctor would be in shortly, we told her our decision.

One signed consent form and a betadine wash of the belly later, in came the doctor. They scanned out a location via ultrasound and in went the needle (which wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, a stick then a short burst of discomfort when she went through the uterine wall and some pressure when the fluid was removed but not too bad all in all), out went the fluid. And, yes, I cried quiet tears. For my fear, for my anxiety, for my baby, for what we could stand to lose.

But bless the good doctor. Immediately after she drained the fluid, she said, "You know, let's FISH this. You don't need the stress and I don't want you to live with that so let's FISH it." (So take that, genetic counselor!!) I thanked her--in fact, I actually said she was an angel among doctors. Because honestly, the anxiety level would likely have amped up to near record levels. So, now we wait to get the FISH results. They should be in in the next two days or so, or by the end of the week at the very latest, they told me. How I hope the results are completely normal because right now, I can't even think of the next step if they're not.

So come along with me my friends and wile away the time...and in the spirit of those who've gone before me in this wait (off the top of my head, i.e., Jodi at The Crooked Cervix)...can you maybe create a diversion for me? Something to make the next few days go by? You know, tell me corny jokes, embarrassing tales, or send great recipes, links to entertaining web sites or any other general info you think would help me pass the time. I'd be ever so grateful--and would hope to one day return the favor should you ever need it....

Tom really knew what he was talking about when he said the waiting is the hardest part...sheer genius (and one of Florida's own).

Friday, January 28, 2005

Partly cloudy skies with a side of hope (updated)

Some days, and we all have 'em, are tougher than others. Yesterday was one of those days for me. But you fantasic, wonderful, generous women helped make it a bit easier. Thank you, each of you. I know I've said it before when you've so generously given of yourselves, but gratitude never gets old.

A big hearty kiss and thank you also goes to my SIL--the physician assistant (PA) whose praises I have sung on this blog before. She sent me the following (among other very useful bits of info) and it raised a red flag immediately this morning:

Women with a false-positive trisomy 18 screen were heavier (175.6 +/- 43.8 lb versus 159.9 +/- 37.9 lb, P < .001) and younger (29.7 +/- 6.5 years versus 32.3 +/- 6.5 years, P < .001) than women with a normal multiple-marker screening test, but were not at increased risk for pregnancy complications.

Hmm...this made me go look at the test results (which I had the OB's office fax to me yesterday afternoon--so I could dissect the shit out of them and google myself to death). The results showed my weight as 140--140! I tell you. Ha, a number I've not seen since high school...scout's honor. So today I called the nationally known biotech corporate giant lab that performed the test to ask if an incorrect weight would skew the results. And you know what? It most definitely will! Holy mother of g-d--what do you know?! The lab said that if I would have the referring physician call them to correct the data, they could recalculate the risks again using the corrected information--something they assured me would take a few hours at most to do and it could even be done either by the end of the day today or first thing Monday.

And we're talking a bit difference in weight (okay, I'll throw this out there since we're honest with one another in this blog world--a 43 pound difference in weight!--and before you think I'm a giant fat ass, know that I've put on 16 pounds so far in 17 weeks of this pg--yikes! And even though the OB says I look great, I don't know if I agree. In the meantime, I prefer to refer to myself as pregnant with a side of chunky.)

So this afternoon, I called my OB's nurse and pointed out the error in weight to her. And yes, she agreed, such a large discrepancy would equal a wonky result and she was so sorry that this had happened--she apologized for the fear it must have caused me. She also said they had received three test results back yesterday and that she had gotten to check the data on two of them before the doctor took them to sign off on. Yeah, lucky me, mine apparently was the third one, the one she didn't get to check, which is why the error slipped by unnoticed (or so she says). Then she said the best part--she'd call the lab immediately and give them the correct weight information. And I'm hoping it sends those trisomy 18 odds right into the stratosphere (because well, 1 in 5? Gah, 20% is not a number I'm comfortable with). Needless to say, I'll be calling the nurse back later this afternoon to confirm that she followed through on her promise and see if the revised report has come back in.

I'm on for the genetic counselor appt Monday morning at 8:30 a.m. If the revised test result doesn't come by then, I'll have her call both the OB and the lab company to check where it is (unfortunately, the lab is in the Western time zone though). In the meantime, A and I have decided that we will have the level 2 ultrasound Monday at 1 p.m. and will ask them to look for "soft markers" for trisomy 18 (small head, clenched hands, rocker feet, choroid plexus cyst in brain, etc.) and if any of those show up, we will have the amnio done right then and there. That's the best I can do with the information I've found so far.

So thank you all again for your strength, your good wishes, your caring and your hope. You don't know how much you fuel my own hope as well as my strength. How I hope to share better, if not good, news with you soon. Have a lovely weekend ladies--you deserve it!

(7 p.m. UPDATE: The OB's nurse, bless her heart and tenacity, kept in touch with me all day. She just called a few minutes after 7 to let me know she had heard back from the lab--after numerous calls on her part--and the results had been recalibrated. My new risk for trisomy 18 is 1 in 25. Still not stellar by any means, but far better than the original 1 in 5. I now have a 4% chance of it being positive as opposed to 20%. I'll take those odds. A and I still agree to do the level 2 u/s on Monday to look for trisomy 18 soft markers. If none show up, I'll sleep better; if some do, we will not pass go and will proceed directly to amnio. Thanks again for your continued well wishes...will post more late Monday if possible.)

Thursday, January 27, 2005

And now the panic is real...

I just got a call from one of the doctors at my OB practice (one who I haven't yet met). It seems that my integrated serum screen test has come back in the abnormal range. Yes, I'm aware of the false-positive capability of this test (though supposedly not as high a false-positive rate as the standard triple screen test) but my terror level has now racheted up to unbearable.

The doctor said the first thing they need to do is confirm my dates with ultrasound. I reminded him that I have the level 2 ultrasound on Monday so he's going to fax my results to the peri's office and also let the genetic counselor there know as well. The doctor was kind enough to tell me that a lot of times it turns out to be nothing but they need to be certain of dates, etc., before knowing what the next step may be.

I'd read (on another blog, can't remember whose right now) that several factors can cause an abnormal result--particularly if you have factors that are not in keeping with "normal" pregnant women (those without PCOS, not on any meds, not heavy, etc.). I don't have PCOS, but I am insulin resistant, and while not heavy per se, I'm definitely of 'hearty' stock, and I'm on two medications that may play a part (metformin and dexamethasone). Do those factors play a part? I don't know. But I do know that I'm so very scared.

I'm at work, but I can't stop crying, can't stop worrying that something has gone so wrong. I'm terrified at the thought of doing amnio, at the risk of loss from it when it's 1 in 250 (per the rate quoted me by the genetic counselor), and at the risk of not knowing if something is horribly horribly wrong with himorshe, something my own fucked up genetics may have caused.

How can I get through the days until Monday? Until I have to make the decision on what to do next? I just don't know--so many things--and that is the worst part.

(UPDATED TO ADD: The peri office called me to reschedule my Monday appt--they now want me to see the genetic counselor at 8:30 in the morning and changed my ultrasound from 4 p.m. to 1 p.m. When I just called back to confirm and see if we could move the appts up to tomorrow so I could reclaim some semblance of normalcy to my heart and mind, I was told that both perinatalogists don't work on Fridays--and also that my 1 p.m. appt for Monday is not for an ultrasound, it's for amnio. I explained to the receptionist that the girl who called me never said the words "amniocentesis" when she called to reschedule me; instead she led me to believe that I'd just be having the ultrasound, 3 hours earlier than previously scheduled. Now I wait for her to call me back to clarify--especially since A has a 2 p.m. appt on Monday that he can't reschedule--and there's no way I can even begin to contemplate doing amnio--if that's what this comes to--without him with me. Turns out the visit is for either a Level 2 or an amnio, depending on what we decide to do.--ALSO, test results show that I have a 1 in 5 risk for baby with trisomy 18--the age related risk for this in my age group is 1 in 970. My brief google research found that 90% of babies with trisomy 18 don't live past age 1, 20-30% die in their first month. What to do, what to do....)

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

Where mild panic sets in

* I preface this by saying I am a worrier by nature but NBHHY--no bleeding, etc.--so I am sorry for any alarm caused you by this entry's title but after you finish reading it, you may see why I'm in a mild state of panic *

So we went to last night's "cheat" session ultrasound, hoping to find out himorshe's gender and just say hello since it's been a few weeks since we last saw the growing tyke. First things first, the gender was inconclusive. At first the tech thought it was a girl, then a boy, then said he didn't know as we're just now at the time where gender can be seen but that a definitive answer would be apparent between 22 and 24 weeks. Thanks for nothing.

Oh, wait, no, thank you for the small heart attack you gave me prior to that when the first sentence out of your mouth after taking a look at himorshe's head on ultrasound was "Did your triple screen test come back okay?" WTF? Were you insinuating that something was not right with the baby's head and perhaps you wanted to make sure the test results were okay/not okay so as not to slip and tell me something I might not already know? The tech training with him took the head measurement and it came up about 4 days ahead of the baby's actual gestational age--did that mean something? I don't know. They then remeasured it and it came out 1 day ahead of actual gestational age--which, of course, I assumed they did in order to cover their tracks--perhaps lowering the number arbitrarily--and change the larger measurement that perhaps is indicative of some sort of problem. You know, CYA and all. Or it may just be that I'm being a paranoid freak about this.

And add my thanks to the tech-in-training with him who started out the session by putting the ultrasound transponder too high up on my belly so there was no baby to be seen on the screen. It took her a while to migrate the unit downward and get the baby in the picture. A said as he watched that, the only thought going through his head was that I was probably starting to freak out and think the worst as no image of the baby came up on the screen for a minute or two. Actually, what I was thinking was along the lines of "Hey dumbass, the baby's not yet anywhere near my belly button--how about I show you where the fuck to find it or at least point you several inches to the south, rocket scientist?"

So now, because of this debacle, I am on pins and needles waiting to find out the results of my integrated serum screen/triple screen--which I won't get until my next OB visit on Feb. 15th (but I will be calling today--8 days after the second blood draw for the test--to ask when the results are known and clarify if they'll call me with them or go over them at my next visit). Of course, I'm now expecting to hear that it's abnormal and something is very wrong with the baby. Because nothing can be easy in this.

I see the perinatalogist on Jan. 31st for the level 2 ultrasound where perhaps we'll get to learn the baby's gender and we'll get all the measurements, etc., that may show all to be okay with the baby--or not. My mind keeps trying to visit this topic and I keep kicking it onto something else. In the shower this morning, the brain really wanted to dissect the possibilities of what could be wrong and what it would be like to have to make the decision on whether to end the pregnancy if something horrendously bad shows up. I made it change gears, asked myself what the odds were of this happening--but I don't know the answer. I just know that far too many bad things have happened to incredible women in this community for me to think it couldn't happen to me.

So, thanks ultrasound guy, for fucking up what until now had been a relatively worry-free phase of this pregnancy for me. Here I was just drifting along, thinking happy thoughts...foolish, naive infertile that I am. Oh, and thanks also for helping me waste about 2 hours of my life that I can't get back. Had I known what a farce last night would have been, I'd have saved myself and A the trip, the trouble, and now the worry. Oh--wait, here's the kicker, I got a card for a free return ultrasound at my convenience--with a suggestion from the tech that I come back around 22 to 24 weeks for a definitive gender ID. Here's a suggestion for you: get some sensitivity training or at least learn how to voice your questions in a more neutral manner. Thinking before opening your mouth will also help, fuckstick.

Now excuse me while I go off in my cave for a bit...I'll be in there, breathing into a paper bag periodically until next Monday's level 2.

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

No sex, possibly no videotape, but maybe some lies

*Boring post alert - and with waaay too much himorshe talk*
Not much new to report. Still no nookie-getting in the Dee house and--sadly--no more sleep orgasms. The uterus has been a bit crampy/twingy lately, which I've been assured is completely normal.

Yesterday was our 15/16 week OB visit where I got to meet another one of the five partners. She was very nice, the 'crunchy' type if you will. She asked me the standard questions about how I'm feeling (no nausea, no swelling, etc.) and also mentioned that sometime before I deliver (another one who's convinced I'm having a baby, maybe they know something I don't) they'll give me steroids intravenously and then wean me off them by tapering the dose thereafter (okay, so I'm having visions of a large dose steroid and the resultant "moon face" appearance so I hope that's not what we're talking about here).

I asked why this would be done and she explained that because of my congenital adrenal hyperplasia and the body's tendency to pump out hormones from the adrenal in times of extreme stress, i.e., labor and delivery, this means that my adrenal may or may not do as it's supposed to--or at least that's what I took from her explanation. She told me I looked great (apparently she didn't notice the number that the scale threw out at me before going into her office), my BP was good, and everything looked good. No ultrasound--drats--but we did listen in on himorshe's heartbeat which the doc found on the first go and pronounced as sounding good, which was somewhat of a relief given the fact that...

The last few evenings I've had a difficult time locating the baby's heartbeat with the doppler which, as you can imagine, scares the bejeesus out of me. The doc said the baby simply is laying deep in my uterus at times which is why this happens. Pretty soon, she reassured me, s/he'll be high enough that that won't be an issue any more as space become more precious in there. Let's hope so 'cause it's been causing a wee bit o'stress lo these past three evenings. A thinks I'm just causing myself needless worry so I've been trying not to listen in on himorshe nightly so as not to cause myself undue stress...ha! trying, but failing miserably.

T-minus 13 days to level 2 ultrasound and counting (and I'm told we may be able to get a videotape of this if we bring one along but we'll get more pics regardless--yea!). But, I think I may cheat on the peri with this one--I'm so jazzed to learn himorshe's gender that I have made an appointment for next Monday with a local (well, okay, "local" if I lived in Miami) technology school that has an ultrasound program. For $25, a tech in the program will perform an ultrasound under the guidance of his/her instructor and voila! gender known a full week ahead of the doc's ultrasound. Well, I made the appointment for the tech place but I don't know how I'll feel (or make that, how A will feel) about driving down to Miami for it after work on Monday so I may not go, we'll see. We're talking a 90 or so mile drive but, at the same time, we could combine it with dinner with A's family beforehand. I mean, it's only another week after that until we find out at the peri's but damnit, I'm an impatient person so...maybe we'll go.

Other than that, I've got a "social get together" this Thursday evening with some of the people who've attended our local Resolve meetings (um, what can I say? I'm the 2005 VP for our local chapter), only one of whom (she's sort of my right hand person) knows that I'm pg. I tried to decline, saying I may make others uncomfortable there since I'm now visibly showing but she says my pg is more inspirational than off-putting so I should attend. Gah, I just don't know. They've never met A (I don't bring him to meetings with me) so I'd like them to have that opportunity but, at the same time, I know the pain my presence may bring others and I don't want to do that to anyone. Am I being too sensitive or should I firmly excuse myself from attending?

On a related note, it's been so dang chilly--low to mid-40s--here these past few nights (okay, you can pick yourselves up off the floor from laughing so hard at that one--but really, having grown up here in the "tropics," you get soft when it come to cool/cold weather) that I could perhaps beg off saying it has something to do with the weather and that I'm coming down with something (though I just recovered from something not two weeks ago). What else could be a good excuse? I just think my presence there will be too much for some and, though I voiced that concern--where's my VP clout? (oh, yeah, right, there isn't any)--it didn't seem to warrant any merit. Now it seems it may be the time to lie...something I'm not particularly fond of doing. Any suggestions--WWYD?

Thursday, January 13, 2005

Getting my groove on

At the risk of embarrassing myself by admitting this ('cause I'm demure and ladylike, guffaw!), I've just got to tell you about what happened to me last night.

I don't know what time it was because I keep the clock covered (too much light even on the lowest setting) but I woke up just as I had a -- brace yourself -- orgasm in my sleep! Whoa nelly! Stop the presses--dang, just when I was beginning to think I had forgotten what they felt like. No, not that I don't have them; it's more like A and I aren't having any "conjugal relations" these days. Okay, in all honesty, we haven't had any good ole' fashioned lovin' since we conceived himorshe (and yes, for those of you playing along at home, that means we haven't done the deed since October). To say that A is dying would be an understatement though he is being a real trooper (though I wouldn't blame him if he didn't want to get it on with my currently rashy, hairy-legged self).

Sometimes (but not very often) I want to get back up on that horse (no pun intended) but I'm terrified that it might do something that would put this pg at risk. Okay, so I did ask the peri at last week's visit if we could resume intercourse (had to voice it in clinical-speak, after all) which was the reason she sent me back for the unexpected ultrasound (that and the fact that I had that week-long spotting episode at 5w). It showed a nice long, closed cervix, no evidence of anything wrong, and clearance was given. I next see the OB this coming Monday and may ask him as well, just to cover all my bases--plus, maybe I'll get another bonus u/s for my trouble!

But did clearance from the peri last week mean that I ran out and did it that night or any night since? Hell no...back to my fear that it could cause something to go awry. I'm terrified to think that a simple bump against my cervix could bring on spotting. Am I nuts in thinking his way? What do you think I should do?--'cause I gotta tell ya, that sure felt good last night.

Monday, January 10, 2005

It's not the itching, but the scratching...

Oh, who am I kidding?! It's both....

A few days before Christmas, I awoke in the middle of the night with a terrible itch on my left elbow. I blissfully scratched at it and went back to sleep. Fast forward a few days and I had a dry, scaly patch of skin on that same elbow. A few days later, the right elbow joined it. The itching died off and I thought nothing more of it. The skin on both elbows is still dry and kind of cracked in places but I moisturize thoroughly several times a day and all seems to be returning to normal. SIL the PA mentioned it was likely eczema as the elbows and knees are where it classically manifests itself. Okay, no problem...pregnancy induced eczema...moisturize (g-d bless The Body Shop's Coconut Body Butter), move on. How I wish I could say the same thing about my legs.

About 10 days ago, I woke up in the middle of the night (no oddity this, nowadays I normally wake up at least once, sometimes twice--and on a really fluid fueled night, three times--to whiz). But the difference in that night's awakening was the fact that I woke myself up by the scratching of my left leg with the foot of my right. I scratched so hard, I scraped skin off. There was a red bumped rash on my calf, but several of the bumps had been scratched raw from my toenails (which are, BTW, painted a lovely cranberry in honor of the recent holidays). Alas, the story doesn't end there.

Fast forward several days and there is a similar itchy rash on my right calf. Pass another couple of days and a patch above my right knee joins it rashy siblings. Soon my lower thigh gets in on the action as does a small renegade patch just above my left elbow. And every one of these fuckers likes to wait until I'm several hours into REM sleep to make its presence known. I wake up scratching vigorously most nights. Imagine the condition of my bumpy, rashy calves and upper legs...not v pretty I assure you.

Given my current "delicate condition," I've tried to go the non-medicated route to treat this pesky rash. I've tried ice, I've tried hydrocortisone 0.5% (on the OB's suggestion), I've tried Benadryl gel but nothing gives. This rash laughs at me with everything I throw at it.

I'm still waking up to pee every night and it's usually combined with some scratching at the same time. The itch has gotten so bad that I'd convinced myself I had some rare version of pregnancy pruritis (pruritis gravidarum or something to that effect--which is often indicative of some sort of liver dysfunction or something along those lines--thanks Google U). So I'd convinced myself I have some obscure pregnancy malady and am going to become deathly sick soon if the rash is any indication of what's going on internally.

Today, I could take it no more. Luckily, my dermatologist got me in this afternoon and off I went to seek skin nirvana. I show him my rashy spots and he pokes at them each and pronounces it "sensitive skin." Huh? I'm soon sent on my way with an rx for a topical cream to use twice a day (and before leaving I went up to my perinatalogist--whose office is two floors above the derm's--to make sure I could take the med, which I can, but for no more than 2 weeks' duration). It's a pregnancy category C, which worries me, but apparently it's not so bad because I'm now officially in my second trimester (I can't believe I just wrote that--and you should hear how weird it sounds to say it out loud).

But the best information the dermatologist gave me today? Don't shave my legs until the rash has cleared up. Yep, you read that right. I've just been given permission to let my hair grow in until I resemble something akin to Sasquatch (or as it's known here in south Florida, the skunk ape). A's gonna love that bit of medical assvice, ahem, I mean advice. It'd be one thing if I lived in a cold climate but hey, it's been 80 degrees and sunny every day this week. It's shorts and t-shirt weather all year round here. And me? I'll be confined to pants and capris until I can shave again. Let's hope it clears up soon so that my potential market value as a mate for the much feared, seldom seen skunk ape doesn't materialize.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go wrap my hands in towels so as not to scratch the flesh from my legs...right after I slather on my topical cream (which may or may not be killing my fetus with each application but I won't dwell on that--I've got other things to worry about, like whether or not skunk apes like hairy human gals...but I digress).

*Updated to add that last night's initial application of topical cream was a dismal failure. Awoke at 5 a.m. to find myself scratching and itchy as could be (though that was later than my normal scratch awakening time). Sweet jesus gay, will it ever stop? Any (homeopathic/natural) remedies y'all could recommend?

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Happy new year

I hope you each had a great start to the new year. A and I spent the evening at a party hosted by some good friends, where I heartily toasted the new year with can after can of Minute Maid Light Lemonade--laissez les bon temps rouler (let the good times roll)! Don't ever let it be said that I don't know how to party :-)

Despite the new year's festivities (or perhaps because of them), I came down with a horrendous head cold that basically incapacitated me Sunday after it's quick onslaught Saturday. It's no fun sleeping sitting up and it's even less fun when there is essentially no medicine you can take to alleviate your suffering. Good times in the Dee house Sunday and yesterday, I tell you. At least now it seems to be breaking up somewhat and I'm bringing up lots of fun stuff from my sinuses and chest.

Speaking of fun stuff, yesterday found us at the perinatalogist for our monthly visit--where we waited for an hour and twenty minutes just to be called back. Then we waited for 15 minutes more before getting to an exam room. Holy zoinkies. But all was well. I was told to stop taking the prometrium as I'm almost to the 14 week mark. Goodbye goopy panties! They also couldn't find my ultrasound records from my first visit (something about their computer system losing some recently) so I was the lucky recipient of an unexpected ultrasound--and--drumroll please--it wasn't transvaginal! It was a belly ultrasound--how surprised was I? The ultrasound was amazing, himorshe really looks like a baby (currently measuring 11.9 cm, or 4.685 inches) and was moving all over the place, little arms and legs just a'kickin' away. Unfortunately, A had to leave to run a quick errand (we thought I'd be waiting a while for the ultrasound as there were 4 women ahead of me and we figured he be back by the time I was called in) so he didn't get to see it. I felt bad about that as I think he would've been amazed by what was on the screen. But our next visit is in four weeks when we'll get the level II ultrasound so he'll get to be amazed then.

Oh, and it's official, my food baby as well as the real baby, are outpacing my current wardrobe limits. This weekend found me buying my first maternity clothes. I felt like such an impostor, I kept expecting the clerk to ask me what I was doing there. But it was kind of fun and I dragged A along for good measure (or perhaps to make him pay for some small transgression somewhere along the way). I got some cute stuff and I've already worn one or two pieces. They're infinitely more comfy than my regular clothes at this point. Can't wait to see what the future holds for the food and real babies--you'd think this diabetic diet would help quell the food baby's growth but it seems to be on pace with that of the real McCoy. Luckily, my ass and legs haven't joined the party yet--and let's hope they don't.

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