Food, glorious food

I have a problem: I can’t stop eating.

Yes, I’ve gotten to the point in my pregnancy where I’m concerned again about how much weight I might gain. I had this concern last time around, too, and I had thought that as long as I had a healthy baby this time, weight be damned.

Except.

I’m not a very healthy eater. Pre-pregnancy, I wasn’t bad: Although I love sweets, I was usually able to limit my daily snacks and I exercised semi-regularly. Now, however, my cravings are taking control of my life, and I’m concerned that that will mean I gain much more weight during pregnancy than I should.

Women rarely talk about their weight or size. However, if I can’t talk about it here, where can I, right?

I’m five feet, five inches. Pre-pregnancy #1, I weighed somewhere in the mid-130s. If I remember correctly, I weighted 137, then lost 2 pounds during my first trimester food aversion phase. Before I delivered Zach, I had gained 8-10 pounds. After losing some of the pregnancy weight, I settled at 139. I was happy with the number, but not the size; my weight settled around my mid-section and I had to move up a size in pants.

I am now 21 weeks along in pregnancy #2 and I’ve gained 14 pounds. That’s still within the limits I find on Dr. Google (albeit the upper end of those limits), but the informational paragraphs always say, “as long as you’re eating a healthy diet, don’t worry about the weight you gain.” Um. Do you consider a handful of mini-Reeses cups each afternoon, a healthy serving of ice cream each night, and the occasional mini bag of popcorn in between a healthy diet?

Yes, I do eat healthy things, like salads and string cheese and granola bars and cereal and soup, but I can’t seem to stop snacking. Chocolate is my enemy! I cut up some celery last night and stuffed it with peanut butter in hopes of offering myself a healthy alternative, but I can’t help it—when I’m bored or at a loss, I snack.

What do you do to curb your cravings? What are your favorite healthy snacks? (And no, I DON’T like cottage cheese!)

Preparations

I am now reaching that point in my pregnancy at which I have little else to talk about, really, except for baby preparations. While fear is always present, it’s no longer foremost in my thoughts.

If you are at a bad place right now, it’s probably best for you to take a break from reading my blog because it’s just going to cause more pain.

That said…

I have been reading the B.aby Bargains book, and boy, is it a wake-up call! I had no idea, for example, that the expensive quilts often sold in bedding packages are not at all necessary. Or that you don’t really need to register for dozens of onesies. M and I already spent an evening registering at T.arget for the easy stuff, and we plan on dragging a friend who’s “been there, done that” to B.ab.ies R U.S. in a couple of weeks to help us register for the rest of the stuff. There are so many choices to make!

One thing I don’t plan on doing, however, is hunting through rummage/garage sales—even though ‘tis the season. One of my friends is absolutely thrilled about all the hand-me-down baby clothes she got from a couple of neighbors who were cleaning out their homes. I, however, don’t think I’ll be needing anything until the baby is about a year or older. We are blessed to have many friends, family friends, neighbors, relatives, etc. who just love giving baby gifts. And between the showers and post-birth gifts, I think we’ll have more than we need for clothes, equipment and toys. (Actually, I’m kind of disappointed that my friend has all the clothes she needs, because what am I going to get her for a baby gift when her daughter is born?)

The conversation killer

I think I must get some kind of high out of causing trouble. Several times over the past week, people (mostly family members) have made reference to the fact that I’m pregnant on Mother’s Day. As in: “Happy Mother-to-Be Day!” or “Next year you’ll be able to celebrate Mother’s Day” (that one came from my Grandma). Each time, rather than letting it go, I decided to remind the well-wisher that I’m not just a mother-to-be; I’m already a mother. My child is just in heaven.

Cue an awkward silence, then a lot of blustering and back-pedaling.

Then, while I was talking with my brother (who is expecting a baby in August), he was babbling about how they might be moving this summer, and he might be getting a new job, but the only “definite” in their family is that they’ll be having a baby. I briefly considered, then decided to go ahead with what I wanted to say, regardless of the potential tastelessness of it. “Well, B,” I said, “you know, nothing is ever definite.” Fortunately, he had the grace to be embarrassed for forgetting his audience, rather than being pissed off at me for suggesting that his baby might die.

In my hormonal state, I appear to have lost my “social filter.”

Good news

I got exactly what I wanted this morning—a very routine, quick ultrasound. To quote the peri: “I’m trying really hard to make this baby look bad, and I just can’t.”

I called my mom and finally told her it’s a boy. Because I was in the office and close to my other co-workers, I was very matter-of-fact in telling her that the news was good. I think she was disappointed that I didn’t sound more excited. I tried to explain to her that I’m better than excited—I’m content. To reference my last post—it was a very 0-type ultrasound. Which sounds bad, but it’s actually very good. I’ve been so sick of the roller coaster. Breathless, nervous anticipation, followed by either the highest of the highs or a crashing low. Instead, I’m even-keeled—and ready to start actually making some preliminary preparations. I’m aware that bad things can still happen, but I’m at least calmer for now.

Huh?

Last night at Bible study, talk turned to babies (which is natural, since two out of the five people there were pregnant, and two more were expectant fathers). In the prayer requests, I mentioned my mild apprehension about Friday’s ultrasound (which, by the way, is the one in which the peri is able to see the chambers of the heart; at the 15-week ultrasound, he simply wasn’t able to do the full anatomy scan). B, the other expectant father, said he wonders what the “Big Ultrasound” is like the 2nd or 3rd time around. It must not be very exciting at all, he said—“OK, there’s the heart, the liver, the bladder, etc.” Not nearly as exciting as the first time!

Let me stop mid-story for a second. B and his wife, A, have become good friends of ours over the past year. They’ve been very sensitive since we lost Zach, and we’ve all been very open about how we’re feeling. That said, B is more the stereotype of the typical “clueless guy” when it comes to babies. He’s also (several times) expressed his disappointment that they’re having a girl.

Thinking that B had just inadvertently stuck his foot in his mouth, I explained that while, yes, an ultrasound can be exciting, that’s not the purpose. The purpose is to rule out potentially bad things. I have no excitement for Friday’s ultrasound, I told him—just excitement for it to be over.

The thing is, he still didn’t get it. He kept on repeating that by the 2nd or 3rd time, it must be getting kind of old. His wife, I think, understood my point (and I wonder what their conversation was like during the car ride home!), but I felt like I was talking to dead air.

Unfortunately, I think I explained it best to M—after everyone had already left: If an ordinary day is a 0, with an exciting day at a +10 and a devastating day at a -10, then B was thrilled that he had a +10 day when they had their 20-week ultrasound. Our 20-week ultrasound was a -10 day. I am fervently hoping for a 0 day on Friday. B, however, hates the idea of having 0 days for the rest of his ultrasounds to come. His idea of boring is my idea of excitement. Just to have avoided a -10 day actually makes it a +10 day for me!

Did you get all of that?

Of course, talking to M was like preaching to the choir. He, too, was kind of irked at B for insisting on his argument—especially considering the company he was in. I’m having a hard time letting go of the conversation and reminding myself that B didn’t mean to hurt us; he was just being ignorant and naïve. It makes me very, very glad, however, that I have such a sensitive guy for a husband! Even before our experience, he would have “gotten it,” and if he accidentally stuck his foot in his mouth with a friend, he would be furiously backpedaling to try to make it up to them.

(And by the way, I’m really not in as much of a tizzy about Friday as I sound. I’ll just be very glad when it’s over.)

To nest or not to nest?

In reading about a few other pregnant bloggers who are nesting, I am reminded of my own conflicting urges.

It is so, so hard for me to let go and assume that things are going to go well unless told otherwise. It’s especially hard, since this Friday is the Big Bad Ultrasound.

It was at the last Big Bad Ultrasound that everything started to go to hell. Four days later, it all really did go to hell.

Let’s put on our logic hats: We’ve already found out that this baby doesn’t have the same problem Zach did. However, I had fear at this moment in my pregnancy last time and I didn’t even know what bilateral renal agenesis was. The fact is, there are still plenty of terrible diagnoses that could greet us when we walk into the ultrasound room in four days.

All of you glass-is-half-full people out there probably wish you could smack me off side of the face for being so paranoid. But I must admit that after we found out about Zach, I felt like a fool for ever believing this could actually work out. After all, I told myself last October, we’ve made it halfway through the pregnancy. Aren’t we practically home-free?

So now, every happy, hopeful thought is brought screeching to a halt when I remind myself what could happen.

I, like so many of you out there, had started cleaning and organizing and doing varied preparations for another member of our household. I hadn't gone so far as to pick out bedding, but M had installed an organizer in the "guest room" closet and I had cleared two shelves in our hall closet. Those shelves have gradually been re-filled over the past six months.

I have an all-afternoon inservice with the larger communication team my department is a part of. I’m sort of helping to lead this workshop. I would love to wear a gorgeous new top from JCPenny, but because of the way this top is cut, I would be making a rather “pregnant” statement to a bunch of people I barely know and probably inviting conversation about my current state. What if it all goes away?

Also concerning that particularly lovely top—I had vowed I wouldn’t wear my JCPenney clothes until after the ultrasound, because they can more easily be returned (and are rather more expensive than my other tops). What if I don’t need maternity clothes after this week?

I was practically giddy after getting together with my in-laws on Sunday. Before we left, my MIL showed me a list of people she’d like to invite to a shower and speculated turning one shower into two at the end of August/beginning of September to make it more intimate. TWO SHOWERS? FOR ME? Except, that’s so far away. So many bad things can happen between now and then…

I wish I could talk about my fall due date without adding all sorts of “ifs.”

Back to work

It’s a really sad thing when, an hour and a half into your first day back at work after vacation, you reach for the Tylenol.

Ah well. At least I know they missed me here at the office.

Our trip to the UK was wonderful. Here are a few tidbits:

The Good--While we were at Edinburgh Castle, there was a lot of pomp and circumstance surrounding the Queen’s 82nd birthday, including a full Scottish military band and a 21-gun salute. It was very, very cool.
--We both loved driving around amongst the scenery in the Scottish Highlands.
--We sat in on two pub quiz nights while we were in Keswick (England’s Lake District) and spent some time getting to know the locals—our ultimate goal when we’re traveling overseas.
--Our last night in the UK, we were in London and got to see the only show playing on Sunday night—King Lear at Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre. It was very cool. Yes, my feet hurt after standing for three hours (we bought standing room tickets) but it was up both our alleys.

The Bad--We ended up leaving Chicago 15 hours after we were supposed to. Our first flight was cancelled due to “an ability to fly over water.” (?) Fortunately, my parents live in Chicago; they picked us up and we spent the day with them. We were all boarded on our second plane, only to be told that the coffee maker malfunctioned, they had to drain all the water out of the plane and they had to find a different plane for us. Our flight was delayed by four hours.

There was a good reason we had scheduled a day flight; I simply cannot handle night flights. I can’t sleep on the plane and I get anxiety attacks about my inability to sleep. We ended up on a night flight, and sure enough, the combination of discomfort, anxiety and hormones reduced me to a sobbing mess on M’s shoulder. Simply put, I had a meltdown.

I will never fly A.meri.can Airlines again.

--During our nine-day trip, we had two flat tires—partly due to the fact that we were both trying to get used to driving on the other side of the car, and partly due to the fact that near the end of our trip, a driver crossed over the center line of a VERY narrow road (apparently, they have a lot of these in the UK), M swerved to avoid him and ended up blowing out a tire on the rocks by the side of the road. Good times, good times.

--After several days of feeling fetal movement before our trip, I simply stopped feeling it for about a week. By the end of that time, I was convinced we were dealing with another Dead Baby. Fortunately, things kicked back into action again (so to speak) a few days ago.

* * *

Unfortunately, M had to fly out for a four-day work trip this morning—less than 24 hours after we got back—but we’re doing OK. We’re kind of overwhelmed by the number of things we need to do over the next couple of weeks, but I prefer being busy to being bored. Back to reality!