Over the course of the past several weeks, I've definitely started to feel bonded to the baby. I was worried for a while there. I loved him from the second I knew he existed, but then everything got too crazy too fast and I found myself in the awkward position of being in the middle of a very much wanted pregnancy and not being able to stop crying.
Anyway, between therapy and a super-active little guy who kicks me all the time, the warm fuzzies are starting to overwhelm the paralyzing fear. Except now I'm worried that I won't feel the same way about Tad after he's born. I mean, I feel like I know him now; I don't just love him as an abstract baby but as his own hyperactive, stubborn little self. What if all that changes after he's born? What if he feels like a stranger again? It would be weird to have a newborn and be sad over the absence of the baby I got to know for all these weeks.
Yes, my brain is a strange place.
Scott and I went to a breastfeeding class on Tuesday night. I didn't learn much, but I still found it more engaging than I was expecting it to be. Scott says he learned a lot. I will have to ask him to find out what he learned, because I'm curious.
Also, on the way home:
"I refrained from asking which one makes chocolate milk."
"In my case, probably both."
I'm on antibiotics again. Same reason as last time. At least this time I got diagnosed via a nice sedate little office visit instead of a middle-of-the-night hospital run. (Well, technically I self-diagnosed, but I wasn't going to take an antibiotic prescription without seeing somebody first. So they got me in the next day.) Still: Blargh.
(I weighed 203, had blood pressure of 130/72--prompting some clucking from the MA--and Tad's heart rate was high 150's as usual.)
Oh, I passed my glucose screen. That seems like forever ago already so I almost forgot that the blog didn't know. Not by much, though--my blood sugar was 130 and my doctor sets the cutoff at 135. I know a lot of places these days do 130. Anyway, I'm still dutifully taking my Metformin and trying not to hit the carbs too hard, but at least I don't have to get labeled high risk and deal with stupid diet advice, right?
Also, my hemoglobin was 10.6, which is apparently a little lower than they'd like it to be. I reeeeeally don't want to take iron pills again, so I am planning terrible food experiments involving spinach. We'll see how it goes.
We got our first baby present this week, from Youngest Elder Brother and Mrs. YEB. Unless you count the many hand-me-downs. Anyway. Look!
They're off my registry, so I was not surprised (especially since Amazon tells you everything), but it gave me warm fuzzies anyway.
And here I am earlier this week, at 30+1. I wore the same shirt this time, just for you all. Compare away:
(Scott took two pictures; this one shows the belly better but is a worse picture of me in general. So please ignore the fuzzy hair and optical illusion giant elbow.)
Scott and I are going to a Schola picnic tomorrow and I bought a bag of chips and a thing of dip as my potluck contribution. This has nothing to do with pregnancy/the baby except for the part where it took third trimester exhaustion to get me to the level of not caring that that requires. Baking is one of the few things I'm excellent at. I mean, I'm competent at a lot of things, but I will never get effusive praise on the cleanliness of my kitchen floor. So I take affirmation from random strangers where I can get it. Except this week I just don't care. Not being stressed out all day because I overscheduled myself is way higher a priority than making fancy cupcakes that everyone will admire.
And on that note, I'm going to hit "publish" and go do the dishes or something.
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