I feel like this post is going to be kind of boring, because the anatomy scan isn't until Monday...at which point there will finally be PICTURES again. I got super spoiled by having 3 ultrasounds in the first 13 weeks; I miss pictures.
So, yeah. 72 hours until confirmation of continued not-dead-ness and hopefully confirmation of all organ systems being present and appropriately sized and all that. I'm a little edgy.
I probably won't update here until Tuesday or Wednesday or so, because I ought to email the grandparents (with PICTURES) and allow them the opportunity to acknowledge receipt before I go blabbing all over the internet. It doesn't usually take long to get a response from my father-in-law and my mother, though, at which point I consider the email received and go on my merry way.
(My mother-in-law owes a lot of her pregnancy in-the-loop-ness to her husband. He's much more the bubbly extroverted type--in a manly way--so it occurs to him to tell me that he wants to see ultrasound pictures...so he gets them, and I include my mother-in-law in the emails while I'm at it. She's much more the type who would want ultrasound pictures but not ask and then get all sad because I don't send any.)
(I am an extreme introvert. I pretty much never "push" any kind of social interaction on other people, even obviously welcome social interactions like ultrasound pictures to grandparents. You have to "pull" the interaction out of me by asking or demanding or otherwise indicating that you would like it. It's a trait I'm working on moderating, but I haven't gotten very far yet.)
The other day, Scott accidentally fell asleep on the couch. I must admit I very much enjoyed having the whole bed to myself and my growing collection of pillows. The whole pillow situation is seriously getting out of hand.
Relatedly, I wish there was a way to send a memo to my spine and hipbones and sciatic nerves (especially the sciatic nerves) that they are less than halfway done and it's only going to get worse, so there's no sense in complaining now.
(I'm counting 22 weeks as halfway, because I wasn't even pregnant during weeks 0 and 1, and I'm not expecting to be un-pregnant again until 42 weeks. Babies run late in my maternal line; I'd be setting myself up for disappointment if I saw the due date as a deadline.)
I'm still feeling the urge to DO THINGS before the baby comes, but I've been more successful in channeling that urge into non-sciatic-nerve-using activities like making lists. I love making lists. It's my favoritest thing ever.
For example, a few days ago I stayed up past my bedtime making a list of meals that can be prepared ahead of time and frozen...'cause of course LATER I'm going to have the time and energy to make all these things on top of all the normal cooking that I do. Uh-huh. But that doesn't matter because LISTS ARE FUN. Anyone have good ideas for space-efficient freezer meals?
I've also been making a list of things that need to be done once a year or once every six months or some such. You know, going to the dentist, getting the car's oil changed, that sort of thing. That way I don't get blindsided by my car running out of oil as I cruise down the highway, because my new-mom brain forgot that cars don't just run forever as long as you put gas in them.
Incidentally, so far November and December are predictably packed. There are a lot of birthdays (in order: Matthew's, mine, Tad's [probably], Mr. Cobbler's, EEB's, EYB's) and holidays (Thanksgiving, our anniversary, Christmas). Plus the DMV has this convenient and yet not so convenient habit of making my car registration and drivers' license and such due for renewal on my birthday. It's easy to remember, sure, but who wants to wait in line at the DMV when they could be making themselves a birthday cake instead? Nobody, that's who.
On the plus side, January and February are pretty sparse thus far in terms of recurring events. I'm due for another dentist appointment in January (I just went this week after 2 years of avoiding it. Go me! You'll hear more of that story some other time.), and I should probably get my husband on the same schedule (He can make sure nobody steals the baby while I get my teeth cleaned! I only just realized that!), but otherwise there's a whole lot of nothing. Which is good, because I recall from this past year that we have no money or energy left after the holidaypalooza of November and December, and I bet we'll be even shorter on both of those things this year.
In the books, they tell you that you should start feeling baby move sometime between 16 and 22 weeks in a first pregnancy. (I think that was what the books said, anyhow.) So around 18 weeks I started getting impatient. I reminded myself that I got impatient about "showing" around 13 weeks and by 16 weeks was obviously pregnant-looking (at least according to my mother), so I should wait it out.
And lo, a few days later I started getting discernible movements almost every day. Sometimes very slight movements, sometimes "That's sweet, but WHY are you headbutting me as hard as you can, child?" movements. I didn't post about them last time because I didn't want to end up finding out the baby had died or something and opening myself up to mockery because I projected loving thoughts towards gas bubbles or muscle twitches. But now I'm thinking you probably wouldn't do that. In fact, you all probably think I'm weird for my stance of "Act as if the baby is probably dead unless you have firm evidence to the contrary." 'Cause optimism is unseemly in pregnant women, or something.
Side note: Sometimes I try to provoke the baby with sugar. It rarely works. Ben & Jerry's Phish Food got me a whole lot of nothing. Either I accidentally sent my child into a sugar coma, or he/she is unimpressed by chocolate. To forestall the latter possibility, I'm going to have to be vigilant about prenatal exposure, because one chocolate-indifferent person per household is plenty.
(Of course, Scott would probably love to have somebody with whom he can share the delights of rainbow sherbet, but I am not eating any of that just for the sake of broadening the baby's palate. He'll have to wait until it's a toddler and can eat dessert on its own behalf to start his counter-propaganda.)
Went to therapy today. I don't have much to say about it, but since I told you to pester me if I didn't update, I'm updating.
(Scott did Google-fu and found a guy 10 minutes away who specializes in anxiety disorders. And he did not ask me if I've ever tried just not being anxious, so he might be legit.)
Just got the news that my progesterone was 53 yesterday. Dr. M wants me to try zero progesterone supplementation again; he "expects" that it will go up again in two weeks. I refrained from getting too pedantic about how given the ups and downs so far, I expect nothing. I'm going to take his advice, though. I would have preferred at least 55, to put me in Zone 3 again, but tracking with the curve and blah blah blah. Somebody might need to hold my hand, though. *holds out hands expectantly*
Also, we didn't have to have an argument about my slow-weaning protocol. Apparently he got my message from two weeks ago and tried to have his staff give me a message back saying "Sure, go ahead and do that", but they did not succeed in passing it along; all they told me was that he was out of the office all week and could not be contacted. Rebel that I am, I decided to do what I thought best and if he had a problem with that, well, that's what you get for going on vacation.
(I'm not actually very rebellious. I hate going against authority figures. But sometimes my fear of Bad Things Happening overcomes my fear of disapproval.)
So, pictures! For comparison, see 12 and 16 weeks here.
First, a random 19-week picture because my mother wanted me to take pictures of the maternity clothes she bought me. This is the only one I have so far. Bad me.
Second, the official 20-week picture (actually taken at 20 weeks and 1 day), in which I am wearing a non-maternity dress that somehow still fits.
For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!