Monday, October 15, 2012
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Que Sera, Sera
So today I've been having some really awful cramps. Really. Awful. They scare me. To be fair, everything scares me, but these are different, because I don't know what's causing them. Is it normal growth and Ute stretching? Or is it Something Awful? There's really no way to know. You just have to wait it out. And this is the worst thing about having anxiety issues. The waiting.
Like the vast majority of our civilization, I have a love/hate with Dr. Google. I find myself scouring the search results for happy outcomes and then swearing off the internet forever after I find the one story among hundreds that doesn't end so happily. Same thing with my pregnancy message boards and the blogosphere. There's only so much reading I can do before I'm overwhelmed with negativity and have to step away.
I know that statistics are on my side. I'm 8 weeks, we've seen the heartbeat, it was within normal range - but there's always that what-if running through my head. C mentioned that he thinks my anxiety is worse this time than last time. I'm kind of in agreement with him at this point. My next OB appointment isn't for another 2 weeks. It's the day before I leave for a conference a few states away. I want to get down on my knees and beg and plead for a pity ultrasound, but I know that it's just a waste because the NT scan will be coming up a week or so later. Nothing I can do to change the outcome, anyway.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
Like the vast majority of our civilization, I have a love/hate with Dr. Google. I find myself scouring the search results for happy outcomes and then swearing off the internet forever after I find the one story among hundreds that doesn't end so happily. Same thing with my pregnancy message boards and the blogosphere. There's only so much reading I can do before I'm overwhelmed with negativity and have to step away.
I know that statistics are on my side. I'm 8 weeks, we've seen the heartbeat, it was within normal range - but there's always that what-if running through my head. C mentioned that he thinks my anxiety is worse this time than last time. I'm kind of in agreement with him at this point. My next OB appointment isn't for another 2 weeks. It's the day before I leave for a conference a few states away. I want to get down on my knees and beg and plead for a pity ultrasound, but I know that it's just a waste because the NT scan will be coming up a week or so later. Nothing I can do to change the outcome, anyway.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
8 Weeks: Raspberries and Grapefruits
8 Weeks today, and my baby is the size of a raspberry.
Source
My boobs, however, are much larger. MUCH larger.
Source
Broke out the bigger over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders this week. (Bonus points if you name the movie!)
How far along: 8 weeks
Total weight gain: down a pound
Maternity clothes: Not yet, still too paranoid to buy anything except a bella band. Definitely need to do some shopping, as everything else I own is form-fitting and it's getting pretty obvious that I'm pregnant. Or fat.
Stretch marks: Just the ones from speedwork. Damn them.
Sleep: Going to bed at 9:00 is nice! Getting up at 4:45 to run is not.
Best moment of this week: Family photo shoot!
Miss anything: Coffee. I'm not anti-caffeine, but the smell and thought of hot coffee makes me want to puke.
Movement: Nope. Raspberries are pretty tiny.
Food cravings: Carbs, carbs, carbs. Last week I ate leftover chicken lo mein at 10:30 because it was the only thing that sounded good. I also made a meal out of rice and stuffing.
Anything making you queasy or sick: coffee and yogurt, my breakfast staples. Sad!
Have you started to show yet: I'm awfully bloated and I look pregnant. My SIL called me out over the weekend. Still a secret, but I'm running out of tent-like clothes to wear to work.
Gender: No idea. No guesses.
Happy or moody most of the time: Cranky, crabby, pissy, whiny, you name it. And I cry about everything. EVERYTHING.
Looking forward to: Day trip to DC next Tuesday. I have just enough time between the end of the conference and my plane taking off that I can make it to Georgetown Cupcake or Ben and Jerry's. OR BOTH!!
Source
My boobs, however, are much larger. MUCH larger.
Source
Broke out the bigger over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders this week. (Bonus points if you name the movie!)
How far along: 8 weeks
Total weight gain: down a pound
Maternity clothes: Not yet, still too paranoid to buy anything except a bella band. Definitely need to do some shopping, as everything else I own is form-fitting and it's getting pretty obvious that I'm pregnant. Or fat.
Stretch marks: Just the ones from speedwork. Damn them.
Sleep: Going to bed at 9:00 is nice! Getting up at 4:45 to run is not.
Best moment of this week: Family photo shoot!
Miss anything: Coffee. I'm not anti-caffeine, but the smell and thought of hot coffee makes me want to puke.
Movement: Nope. Raspberries are pretty tiny.
Food cravings: Carbs, carbs, carbs. Last week I ate leftover chicken lo mein at 10:30 because it was the only thing that sounded good. I also made a meal out of rice and stuffing.
Anything making you queasy or sick: coffee and yogurt, my breakfast staples. Sad!
Have you started to show yet: I'm awfully bloated and I look pregnant. My SIL called me out over the weekend. Still a secret, but I'm running out of tent-like clothes to wear to work.
Gender: No idea. No guesses.
Happy or moody most of the time: Cranky, crabby, pissy, whiny, you name it. And I cry about everything. EVERYTHING.
Looking forward to: Day trip to DC next Tuesday. I have just enough time between the end of the conference and my plane taking off that I can make it to Georgetown Cupcake or Ben and Jerry's. OR BOTH!!
Monday, October 8, 2012
Treadmill Running
So I mentioned before how difficult running has been for me. Mostly the crappy hills in my 'hood, but even a surprisingly exhausting route down a relatively flat straightaway. I think I've found the solution - and it lies with the Dreadmill.
When I started running, it didn't take me long to figure out that the treadmill sucked. It was boring and noisy and boring and lonely and boring. I avoided the treadmill like the plague. Then I realized that the treadmill had its place - it was PERFECT for speedwork! So twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I'd hop on for a ride. Then I got pregnant and gave up on speedwork, because there's no racing in my future, anyway. And so the treadmill went untouched. But then after 3 weeks of absolutely horrible, lung-heaving, energy-sapping runs through my hood, I decided to plug it back in. And that's where I found my running solution.
The best thing about the treadmill is that I can watch TV while I run. The worst thing about the treadmill is that I can watch TV while I run. Do any of you watch Parenthood? The NBC drama on Tuesday nights? That's my guilty pleasure. It makes me tear up on a regular basis, even without the pregnancy hormones. Which is why my bloated ass was full-out sobbing, complete with tears dripping down my face and snot dripping from my nose, clomping along alone on the treadmill in the basement at 5:00 in the morning.
On Sunday morning, I comfortably passed the five mile mark. Ok, so 5 miles isn't that far, but it's been a while. Yay for the treadmill! Treadmill to the rescue! I've been able to keep up with running three times a week. Hopefully I'll be pounding the pavement again once this 1st tri laziness has passed.
When I started running, it didn't take me long to figure out that the treadmill sucked. It was boring and noisy and boring and lonely and boring. I avoided the treadmill like the plague. Then I realized that the treadmill had its place - it was PERFECT for speedwork! So twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I'd hop on for a ride. Then I got pregnant and gave up on speedwork, because there's no racing in my future, anyway. And so the treadmill went untouched. But then after 3 weeks of absolutely horrible, lung-heaving, energy-sapping runs through my hood, I decided to plug it back in. And that's where I found my running solution.
The best thing about the treadmill is that I can watch TV while I run. The worst thing about the treadmill is that I can watch TV while I run. Do any of you watch Parenthood? The NBC drama on Tuesday nights? That's my guilty pleasure. It makes me tear up on a regular basis, even without the pregnancy hormones. Which is why my bloated ass was full-out sobbing, complete with tears dripping down my face and snot dripping from my nose, clomping along alone on the treadmill in the basement at 5:00 in the morning.
On Sunday morning, I comfortably passed the five mile mark. Ok, so 5 miles isn't that far, but it's been a while. Yay for the treadmill! Treadmill to the rescue! I've been able to keep up with running three times a week. Hopefully I'll be pounding the pavement again once this 1st tri laziness has passed.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Pregnancy Brain Sets in Quick
Last week I made an emergency trip to Target to pick up one of their Bella Band knock-offs. It's gotten to the point where I need to unzip my skirts late in the day because I can no longer breathe thanks to my bloat bump. (let alone the fact that I've actually lost two pounds)
I wore it twice... and then lost it. I have NO idea what happened to it. I tore the house, car, and office apart looking for it. I can't for the life of me figure out where in the hell I would have put the damn thing. Of course, this would be the day that I'll be working until 7 for a special event. I'm usually long into yoga pants by that point in the evening.
I wore it twice... and then lost it. I have NO idea what happened to it. I tore the house, car, and office apart looking for it. I can't for the life of me figure out where in the hell I would have put the damn thing. Of course, this would be the day that I'll be working until 7 for a special event. I'm usually long into yoga pants by that point in the evening.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
We Have a Bean!
If you know me from my "real" blog, you know that I'm not the praying type. I don't believe in one all-powerful almighty "thing." I don't know what I believe, as I've explained before. I believe in PEOPLE. I believe in family. I believe in the interaction of beings.
Yet, at times of high stress, anxiety, or emotional pain, I still occasionally find myself lying in bed praying. Praying to something. To what? No idea, but the picture in my head isn't of the slightly-scary bearded man that we learned about in CCD. I can't articulate who (or what) I'm praying to. It's just a whispered plea to the universe. Irrational, but comforting nonetheless. And that's where I found myself last night. Please, please, please, let there be something in there. And again in the waiting room, since they were running late and it was 10:30 before I was called back. Still again scooted on the end of the ultrasound table - at first she popped up a gigantic black hole of nothingness and said "well, there's your uterus!" and my heart stopped. And then she moved a fraction of a millimeter, and there it was.
One perfect bean, measuring exactly as expected, with a heart beating at 150BPM. Life is good.
Yet, at times of high stress, anxiety, or emotional pain, I still occasionally find myself lying in bed praying. Praying to something. To what? No idea, but the picture in my head isn't of the slightly-scary bearded man that we learned about in CCD. I can't articulate who (or what) I'm praying to. It's just a whispered plea to the universe. Irrational, but comforting nonetheless. And that's where I found myself last night. Please, please, please, let there be something in there. And again in the waiting room, since they were running late and it was 10:30 before I was called back. Still again scooted on the end of the ultrasound table - at first she popped up a gigantic black hole of nothingness and said "well, there's your uterus!" and my heart stopped. And then she moved a fraction of a millimeter, and there it was.
One perfect bean, measuring exactly as expected, with a heart beating at 150BPM. Life is good.
Big Day
So today is the big ultrasound day. Actually, that's not really true. In the world of online pregnancy discussion boards, the term "big ultrasound" is reserved for the anatomy scan that women typically get at the 20-week mark. For many women, it's the one and only. Then there are people like me, who get themselves all worked up with anxiety. Thankfully my MW took pity on me and scheduled me for a little one this week.
My thought process forces me to plan for and expect the worst. That way, I can be pleasantly surprised when I receive good news. Is it a healthy way to do things? Probably not. Does it work for me? That's debatable.
I talked it over with some very wise girlfriends of mine, and the big takeaway was "that what is already IS. I can't change what has already happened, only deal with things as they are presented to me. I can't control everything, only my reaction to it."
Which makes sense. Really, it does. Spoken by one of the smartest women I know. However, I find myself stuck in thinking of my uterus as a Schrodinger box. And that's just weird.
I know that the statistics are on my side. I spent years working as a freaking statistician, for the love. I just can't apply the same logic to myself. Someone always has to be the statistic.
Anywho. I'm about to jump on the treadmill to run my worries away, and then I'll be working from Panera down the street from my OB office. I'm dying for some hazelnut cream cheese.
My thought process forces me to plan for and expect the worst. That way, I can be pleasantly surprised when I receive good news. Is it a healthy way to do things? Probably not. Does it work for me? That's debatable.
I talked it over with some very wise girlfriends of mine, and the big takeaway was "that what is already IS. I can't change what has already happened, only deal with things as they are presented to me. I can't control everything, only my reaction to it."
Which makes sense. Really, it does. Spoken by one of the smartest women I know. However, I find myself stuck in thinking of my uterus as a Schrodinger box. And that's just weird.
I know that the statistics are on my side. I spent years working as a freaking statistician, for the love. I just can't apply the same logic to myself. Someone always has to be the statistic.
Anywho. I'm about to jump on the treadmill to run my worries away, and then I'll be working from Panera down the street from my OB office. I'm dying for some hazelnut cream cheese.
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