Progress

I had another doctor appointment today, this one being the last of my monthly visits. I go again in three weeks (well, aside from a "quick" 45 minute drive over there next week to do the glucose screen someone forgot to schedule for today's appointment -- grrr), and after that I will be seen bi-weekly for a while. You know what that means? It means I am getting closer to having this baby! WOOOHOOO! I am so over being pregnant it's not even funny. Don't get me wrong, I do love feeling my little man bouncing around in there, and I do love having big boobs for this brief stretch in my otherwise B-cup life, but aside from that? Blech. I know two women who say, with straight faces, that being pregnant was the best time of their lives. WTF? I don't know if they were just incredibly lucky for nine months and escaped a lot of the crap that comes the way of most pregnant women, or if they were just smoking some really good stuff at the time (it was the 70s, you know), but I can't identify. I'm thinking of doing a "Why I Hate Being Pregnant: Third Trimester Edition" post, but it has come to my attention that there may be a small number of active infertiles reading this, and because they've already had to put up with one bitching, moaning pg post, I will hold off on doing another for the time being. I think, though, that I will have to do the post eventually, for this reason: G and I are sure, at this point, that three children is the perfect number for us, and we have no intention of ever having another. For lots of very good reasons. But I know the time will come, probably a year or two from now, when it will occur to me that I'll never feel a baby kicking inside me again, never again feel the warm weight of my own newborn snuggled against my chest, never again have a reason to buy those tiny, tissue sized diapers. And I will be sad. I may even start entertaining the notion of trying for an even bigger family and contemplating sneaking some OPKs into the house just for kicks. It is then that I will need the "Why I Hate Being Pregnant" posts. They may save me from myself.

Ok, tangent over. The appointment today went well. I mean, aside from the fact that I am a complete nutjob. See, last month Baby Boy was measuring about five days behind schedule. His head was measuring behind by about eight days. This worried me enormously, despite the fact that the tech and the nurse practitioner both reassured me that they allow two weeks leeway either direction at that point, and hence, he was just fine. Nonetheless, I have spent the nearly five weeks since that appointment hoping and praying that he might at least catch up, if not start measuring a little on the big side. So what happens today? Baby looks great. I am 27 weeks, 5 days, and he clocked in at 28 weeks, 4 days. Fantastic, right? Just what I wanted! But alas -- no. Today I became worried that he had grown too quickly, particularly his head, which measured 29 weeks even. I know, I know. Ridiculous. After much reassurance that all of his measurements fell within the normal range, coupled with additional reassurance that, because of his position, getting an accurate head measurement was somewhat challenging, I am feeling better. But still. Can you even believe that? I get exactly what I've been praying for, and I let it scare the hell out of me. Anyway, everything looked great, and he now tips the scales at 2 lbs., 10 oz. Only 5 oz. less than little E was at birth. Amazing.

Since January, when I saw the peri, I've been taking one baby aspirin per day. Apparently there is some evidence that this can decrease the recurrence rate of preeclampsia. Today the peri told me to continue doing so until I hit 36 weeks and then to stop because if I develop hypertension at that point, they'll just go ahead and deliver the little guy. I did the math, and that means B-Day could potentially be as early as May 9. Yikes! I can't even think about how much there is to do between now and then. Maybe less than two months until I'm a mom of three???