From BabyCenter: By now, your baby probably weighs almost 4 pounds and is almost 17 inches long, taking up a lot of space in your uterus. She has tiny toenails now, and her fingernails have grown in, too. Some babies have a head of hair already; others have only peach fuzz.
2005.03.21. nausea better, contractions worse, hubby glowing
My nausea has mostly diminished, although the low appetite remains. I made my healthy ice cream today, and it was nice...filled me up, satisfied my cravings, kept me moving. I keep walking into the kitchen and wanting nothing, only to end up eating all of whatever food I force myself to create.
I'm eating way less than I was a week ago - but nothing to be concerned about, I'm sure!
And...so I'm just going to go ahead and say it, since I tell you people everything, anyway. I finally gave in to my hubbie's cravings and we turned on the Dora marathon for Everett late this morning and shut the bedroom door. And boy, are those contractions coming back to bite me, now.
Afterward, I couldn't even bend over while looking for Everett's running shoes. I had to ask Jonathan to pick up a few things I dropped. After a couple of hours of working, it was vital I take a long, hot bath. From which I had a terrible time getting out.
And let me tell you, this was not one of those rowdy situations you might have had in college that left you limping all day. This was a clean, simple, efficient married people event. And afterward I felt like I was in danger of just looking down and seeing Truman's head peeking out at me. That is, if I could look there. If I could actually bend over.
But the fantastic mood that's come over my husband is worth every pain. He doesn't mind picking up the sweaters and tissues I've dropped. He's actually bragging (to himself, mostly) about his prowess. I have to laugh (yes, out loud, in his presence, doesn't faze him a bit). It's the power of pregnant breasts... a mighty thing, indeed.
2005.03.23. good numbers
Today was my checkup, and although not much of any import happened, I did get some numbers. The first number: 165. That's my weight, only two pounds up from my last checkup. I'm gaining a pound a week, which is normal at this stage of pregnancy. (I'm not holding steady, or losing weight, which would make me extremely happy - but, oh well.)
The second number: 63. That's my blood glucose level. Evidently, were it over 140, I would be in danger of gestational diabetes. 63 is so low my doctor couldn't even believe it. Low low low! Guess my almost-no-sugar low-carb diet is paying off.
The third number: 43. That's how many pounds Everett weighs. Whoa. I make 'em big, don't I?
Finally: two. That's how many inches I've completed on Truman's blanket! It's approximately 32 inches across, knitted of Lorna's Laces Shepherd in a variegated dark purple (without much variation) and a variegated purple-blue-green for the border. I've started the cables. I'm very proud of my developments. Tomorrow: photos.
Yesterday? I felt great, thanks to my good numbers and my recent shower and my relatively good energy. Today, on the other hand? Complete CRUD.
We spent the day at my parents' house, and to get there, I had to stay up late blogging and wake up early. By the time we were halfway there, I was already exhausted. I knit, I listened to seminars, I walked Everett up to "grampa's building," I baked in the glow of the wood stove, I ate and ate and ate. And every hour I felt worse.
By the time we'd finished dinner, my contractions had started and my computer had died for the third time, I felt fat, ugly, gross, yucky, and SO done with being pregnant. I couldn't even get up from the couch on my own. I waddled around the room, I groaned with every movement, I sighed, and *sigh*ed, and ****sigh****ed.
I looked in the mirror in the bathroom. I looked awful. My hair was limp and uninspiring, my cheeks were starting to gain that tell-tale pregnancy weight, I was unattractively flushed, my eyes were dull. I didn't like what I saw.
By the end of the evening I had no desire for work, or knitting, or sentient thought. I just wanted this over. On the other hand, I'm entirely not ready for a baby - I've made plans for all the things I need, but haven't completed any projects yet (except, of course, his cute hat). So I don't want to have the baby now...I just want to feel like a human again. A single human.
2005.03.25. what do you need?
What do I need for the new baby? My mom asked me that today. And I had a list. Most of my desires aren't really register-able. I wish I could register, for instance, for a variety of homemade knitted gifts, and some custom-made onesies from Cafe Press, and a photographer, and a chair-and-a-half, and a little dresser for Everett so I can move Truman's clothes into the changing table, and help with my sewing projects: recovering a bumper and retrofitting it to the family cradle; making a well-pocketed version of Larissa's nappy bag; and mending Everett's "star blankie" (aka fitted sheet).
So I must be patient and wish to my parents (who are roughly as broke as I am and probably won't be shopping a DWR for me) for onesies and a little mattress so we can move Everett onto the floor in our bedroom. *sigh* Well, I need lots of onesies. And, umm, breast pads and nursing bras.
What is this belief that one doesn't need baby showers for subsequent babies? You need way more stuff for baby #2 than you did for baby #1. After all, you know what you need. More importantly, you have dozens of new needs that you never would have considered before. Ergo the chair-and-a-half and the dresser for Everett's clothes.
I'm also worried that our easy-going lifestyle (i.e. no childproofing locks on the toilet, no plastic covers on the outlets, etc.) that Everett made possible may not be workable with Truman. What if he's a kamikaze? A baby without fear or acknowledgement of sharp corners? Hence my recent purchase of a big pack of outlet covers.
The bottom line is, I'm sure, I won't know what I need until it's too late, until we have two babes in their car seats and have to figure out how to fit a dresser into our car, too.
2005.03.26. i have a hurt on my tummy
Owe. Those contractions - they aren't steady, they don't get more frequent, in fact, the bad ones are getting LESS frequent - but they're getting WAY more painful. I had a few last night that caused short puffy breathing. Everett asked Truman to stop hurting mommy in her tummy. Oh, if only Truman had power over these contractions!
2005.03.27. be careful what you wish for
Early this evening I took a trip to the bathroom. The kitty followed me, and as I coughed uncontrollably from the bronchial-type cold Everett and I have contracted, I started wondering if maybe it was the kitty's fault. Oh, no! Toxoplasmosis! Truman wasn't moving at the time. I launched into full-scale silent anxiety attack. I could imagine my imminent visit to the hospital, the doctor's head-shaking diagnosis.
Truman, please move! I begged. And a few minutes later, he set into his biggest, baddest, longest solo wrestling match ever. He's still going. It's been at least four hours. I don't think he's stopped once.
I stopped worrying immediately and moved into my typical guilty annoyance with my little love-child.
It's probably because of my Easter-inspired sugar trip. I must have eaten 15 malt ball eggs (my all-time Easter fave, loaded with all kinds of things I absolutely don't eat) and five or six Palmer's chocolate eggs. I felt way nauseous by 2 p.m. and had to take a chocolate break. Before I launched into the Reese's Peanut Butter Egg.
Tomorrow, though, I'm back on the wagon. Actually, I'm there now. My tummy is not happy with me. Or Truman.