Category Archives: Babies ‘n Stuff

Baby 2.0 Prep

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Lately, I’ve been feeling like maybe the Lexapro is finally starting to kick in. Everything in my life is starting to feel calmer and more relaxed. Sort of like, OK, I know this baby is coming and it’s going to bring chaos into our lives (because that’s what babies do), but we’ll just put on our seat belts and go along for the ride. It feels manageable, where it absolutely did not feel that way a month ago. So that’s good.

And since I’m feeling calmer, I’m starting to focus more on what needs to be done before this kid arrives. I realize, of course, since this isn’t my first baby, that I don’t need to do that much. It’s funny, I had this ridiculously long to-do list before Catie was born, and this time, it’s more like:

* The infant car seat needs to be installed.
* Wash some newborn-size clothes.
* Have some burp cloths, bibs, and receiving blankets on hand, in case she’s a puker.

That’s really about it. And I’ve done all that stuff, so now I get to chill out and focus on the other non-essential stuff. Dave painted the baby’s room and set up the crib (even though she’ll be in the Pack ‘n’ Play in our room for at least the first several weeks). I got a new, super-cute diaper bag from my sister. I’m thinking about what type of bottles I want to buy, since our old ones were before that whole BPA thing was a known issue, and I’ve since thrown them all out. I have some cute wall stickers to put up in her room. But it all feels like bonus stuff at this point, nothing urgent or mandatory.

Of course, nevermind the fact that this this poor kid doesn’t even have a name yet, because Dave and I can’t make up our minds, but I’m not really stressed about that. Either we’ll figure it out when she gets here, or I’ll wait until Dave isn’t paying attention and put down the name that I want on her birth certificate. (Ha! Just kidding, Dave!) (Mostly.)

And it’s weird, I have had a sneaking suspicion throughout this entire pregnancy that this baby might come a little bit early. I don’t know why, but way back when I was first given my May 31st due date, I thought, “Nope, it’ll be sooner than that.” Of course, I don’t want her to come dangerously early or anything, but this is just a weird gut feeling I’ve had all along. Catie was born a week early (her due date was February 2nd, she showed up on January 27th), so I have no real basis to think that anything different would happen this time around. But for some reason, I can’t get that thought out of my head.

So, you know, if I’m looking at this kid showing up within the next month, instead of six weeks from now? At least it’s nice to know that I feel somewhat prepared.

pass the kleenex

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For the last few months, I’ve had this really embarrassing issue: I cry at all of my OB appointments.

I guess it’s no big secret that I’ve been dealing with some pretty heavy-duty anxiety issues lately. My doctor’s office is aware of that too. So now, every time one of the doctors walks in and asks how I’m doing, I just lose it. And I hate, hate, HATE crying in front of people. But I can never seem to hold it together.

I think it’s the waiting room that gets to me the most. I sign in for my appointment, and then I have to sit there, surrounded by a bunch of glowing, happy pregnant women, and I feel like I’m… failing. Badly. Like I’m the worst pregnant lady who ever lived, and I don’t deserve this baby, and blah-blah-negative-thoughts-spinning-in-my-head-blah.

Logically, I know that’s bullshit. I know that I’m not the first (or even the millionth) woman to deal with anxiety during pregnancy. But logic is not my strong suit these days. I’m a walking ball of hormones and overactive tear ducts, apparently.

Sometimes I wonder what on earth my doctors have written down about me in my chart. But I think I’m probably better off not knowing.

Baby 2.0, 30-week update

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I had back-to-back doctor’s appointments yesterday. First with my regular OB’s office, then with the special high-risk ultrasound center that I get to use because of that big ol’ Advanced Maternal Age flag on my chart.

So, first up: the obstetrician. Baby 2.0’s heartbeat is good, my weight is on track (I’m up 14 pounds at 30 weeks, no complaints there), and my stomach is measuring on target. That’s all the physical stuff.

The emotional stuff? I told my OB about all of my anxiety problems I’ve been having lately, and how it was really very sweet of them to call in xanax for me last week, and I do appreciate it (I probably enjoy the way that xanax makes me feel a little too much, considering that it’s highly addictive), but I also need to be realistic: I can’t take xanax all the time. I need to be able to drive, do my job, and take care of my kid. And I can’t do any of those things if I’m all loopy on sedatives. So I really need something that won’t turn me into a zombie, and that’ll help me keep my anxiety in check at the same time.

They gave me a prescription for Lexapro, and I took the first one last night. I feel horrible and groggy today, but that could be because I had to get up at 6 a.m. to drive my mom to the airport, and we stayed up late to watch “Dancing with the Stars.” So, I can’t blame it entirely on the meds, is what I’m saying. I’ll have to wait and see how I feel after a couple of weeks.

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After my OB visit, I went home to pick up my mom, and we went to the ultrasound center, so she could see her second grandbaby live and in person.

Baby 2.0 at 30 weeks

Baby 2.0 (who, yes, is definitely still a she) was not very agreeable about letting us get a good picture, and this was about the best one we could get. You can sort of see part of her profile and a little hand at the top. I think she was throwing an elbow to get that ultrasound wand off of her “house.”

She’s a little on the small side, measuring in the 30th percentile. But Catie was somewhere in the 10th percentile when she was born, and God knows she made up for it later, so I’m not worried. I’m honestly relieved to know that I likely won’t be giving birth to a ten-pounder. An average-sized healthy baby is ideal, as far as I’m concerned.

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My mom flew home this morning, and Catie and I are both sad about it. For the sake of logistics, I had to drop Catie off at daycare before taking my mom to the airport (the airport is about 4 miles from my office, daycare is 12 miles), so they had to say good-bye at daycare. We were afraid there would be tears, but my mom had “going-away toys” for Catie this morning. Tiny little things she got at Rite-Aid for a couple of bucks, nothing major, but enough to make it ok that Mimi was leaving. That plus a lot of kisses, and promises that Mimi would be back soon (well, in a couple of months, anyway), and Catie seemed ok when we left.

Of course, I’m fully expecting her to have a meltdown later. She’s also been crying a lot about missing Daddy lately, poor kid. The last couple of weeks have been rough on both of us.

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In related news: Dave will be back one week from today. I can’t wait.

The solo parenting gig, thus far

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Dave left for England on Tuesday night, which means I’ve been doing the solo-parent thing for the past three days. So far, it’s going ok. Catie and I kind of have our weektime routine down: we get up, she goes to daycare and I go to work, we come home, have dinner, and do the whole bedtime routine. It’s been pretty easy to just coast on auto-pilot, honestly.

I told her I'd turn on cartoons if she smiled.
“I’m just taking it easy on her for now. Next week I unleash hell.”

A few things I’ve noticed, though:
1. I don’t sleep well when I’m the only adult in the house. Now, look, I didn’t meet Dave until I was 28 years old, so it’s not like I’d never lived alone before. But I was always in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. In our current house, I lie in bed and think things like, “Hmm, if someone broke in through the garage door, would I even hear it upstairs?” And I worry about things like what would I do if a fire broke out, things like that. Not exactly conducive to a good night’s sleep, obviously.

Oh, and related: I get very jumpy about unexplained noises in the middle of the night. Which is why I’m just about ready to throw Beaumont outside for good. Seriously, cat, it’s 2 a.m. Do you have to jump up on the kitchen counter and knock over a whole bunch of stuff now? (To be fair, he is totally thrown off by Dave’s absence. The past two nights, he’s been asleep in the hall when I got up in the morning. It’s like he’s trying to keep an eye on both Catie’s room and mine at the same time. “We lost one human, gotta keep a watch on the last two!”)

2. While the routine itself is pretty manageable, I forget how much Dave does in the evenings to help out. Because I’ve noticed that by the end of the day, my body just aches. I know it’s pregnancy-related (since it’s mostly my lower back and hips that hurt), but it’s like I hadn’t taken into account how little “sitting on my butt” time I would get while Dave was gone. I miss my sitting-down time. A lot.

3. I’m really lazy about meals when I’m the only one who eats “grown-up food.” Last night we had mac & cheese with a side of broccoli. Not exactly health food, but whatever, it was easy. (And I love that Catie will eat broccoli.) (Although we did have cupcakes for dessert. You can’t be good all the time.)

4. Trying to wash a four year-old’s hair in the bathtub when you’re 7 months pregnant. I have nothing else to add to that, except: good GOD. And, ouch.

7 months. Holy Moses.
This is not a shape that is meant leaning over the side of a bathtub.

5. As for housework: I give up. I’ve called in the housekeepers. I can’t do it all by myself, so I’m just going to throw some money at the problem and stop worrying about it.

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My brother is on his way here from Charlotte to hang out with us this weekend, and Catie and I are both really excited. My brother is a great guy and Catie adores him, so it should be fun to have him around. No big weekend plans, just hanging out and enjoying some nice springtime weather. Should be fun.

Hope y’all have a nice weekend too, wherever you are.

and I don't think I'll ever drink fruit punch again

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I know y’all are dying to know how that whole 3-hour gestational diabetes test went down, huh? Well, here’s the breakdown:

My appointment was at 7:30. I arrived at the hospital on time, took a number, and sat in the waiting room. The registration dude (his name was Carlos, he was very nice) called me back, asked for my ID & insurance card, and… he couldn’t find my information anywhere in the system. Apparently my OB’s office forgot to send over the actual order for my test. And my OB’s office doesn’t open until 8:30. And of course, the hospital can’t do jack squat without the correct paperwork.

Back to the waiting room. I sat. Some random lady asked if I had a picture ID so I could be a witness for her living will, since she was about to go in to have her gall bladder removed and wanted to make sure she had her affairs in order. Umm..? Ok, sure, why not.

Eventually, my OB’s office opened, Carlos the Registration Dude got them on the phone, and they faxed over the paperwork. Then I headed back to the lab.

Very Nice Lab Tech (I didn’t catch her name) checked my fasting blood sugar, and gave me that vile Glucola drink. It was fruit punch flavored, and tasted more or less like a melted popsicle. Only more syrup-y. It was gross.

I thought I was going to have to hang out in the waiting room in between blood draws, but Very Nice Lab Tech told me they had a recliner in the back where I could sit and hang out in private, if I wanted to. Yes please! She dimmed the lights and pulled the curtain so I could have some privacy and rest.

The first hour was pretty miserable. I felt like I was going to barf, and even though I was exhausted, I couldn’t sleep because Baby 2.0 was flipping out on some kind of crazed sugar bender from the Glucola. (She was doing freaking barrel rolls in there, y’all. Not conducive for napping at all.)

After the first blood draw, I pulled out Dave’s iPad and my headphones. He rented “The Kids Are All Right” for me to watch while I was waiting. (Very good movie, I highly recommend it.)

Somewhere between during the 2.5 to 3-hour point, I had the most epic blood sugar crash of my life. I basically spent the last half hour white-knuckling the recliner while I had chills and cold sweats, and I was reasonably certain that I was about to die, based on how I felt.

When Very Nice Lab Tech came to do the last blood draw, I told her that I felt really light-headed and awful. She gave me some graham crackers and apple juice as soon as she finished my blood draw. That helped a little bit, but I still felt like I was staggering as I went out to my car (imagine feeling drunk plus having the flu at the same time – NOT FUN). I immediately drove across the street to the nearest drive-thru (which happened to be Burger King) and wolfed down a burger, fries, and Diet Coke. Super healthy, I know, but I was desperate.

So, I guess overall, the test was sort of along the lines of what I expected. But the one thing I didn’t expect was that it would make me feel sick for the rest of the day. I went home and took a nap, and still felt awful afterward. So that sucked.

And the other annoying part? I still don’t know the results! Very Nice Lab Tech said that they’d have the results that afternoon, but when I called my OB’s office this morning to find out what’s up, I had a very bitchy receptionist tell me, “Well, as soon as the nurse has the results, she’ll call you.” She didn’t come right out and say, “Duh!” But it was definitely implied.

I’d better be fine. If they tell me that I can’t have anymore Easter candy, I will cry. A lot. (And probably stash some away to eat after the baby is born.)

Edited to add: The nurse finally called back (only 24 hours after the lab said my results would be ready), and I don’t have gestational diabetes. Yay! Celebratory Easter candy and king cake for everyone!

the three-hour tour

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A couple of days ago when I wrote that post about anxiety (and y’all are awesome for the comments there, seriously, thank you), I was driving home from work and still feeling pretty jittery and stressed out.

Then my cell phone rang, and I saw that it was my OB’s office. That’s never a good sign, is it?

So I answered (yes, sometimes I talk on my cell phone while I’m driving, they haven’t passed a law here saying that I can’t yet, so shut it), and the nurse informed me that I failed my glucose test last week. Like, spectacularly. I believe she said that the typical blood sugar is supposed to be 65-80 and mine was like 145 or something. So, yeah, that’s pretty bad. Even though I’m mostly blaming it on the fact that they scheduled my test at 2 p.m., so it was right after lunch, and it just so happened that I’d gone to Waffle House for lunch that day. (I didn’t have anything with syrup on it – just eggs, bacon & toast – but it was probably still too carb-heavy.)

Anyway, the fact that I failed means that I need to go back for the 3-hour gestational diabetes test. Which, oh BTW, is a fasting test, which means you have to get there at 7:30 a.m.

And you know, in the grand scheme of things, this is not that big a deal, right? Obviously my health and Baby 2.0’s health trumps any minor inconvenience. I know that, I really do. But at that moment, when she told me that, I… god, let’s just say that I owe this nurse an apology at my next appointment, because I basically turned into a petulant child.

“But… but… I don’t wanna! No!”

And then I almost burst into tears. I had to work really hard to hold back the floodgates.

Now, leaving aside the fact that the test itself sounds like pure hell (and it does, the one-hour test was bad enough), there’s also the issue of scheduling. And the fact that Catie doesn’t even wake up until after 7:30. And did I mention that Dave is about to leave town for three weeks so I’ll be on solo parent duty?

Oh, right, I haven’t blogged about that yet: Dave is going to England for 3 weeks. And I am 100% supportive of this, because I know he’s been homesick for a while and I think it’ll be good for him to spend some time with his family and friends over there. And this is probably the last chance he’ll have to go before Baby 2.0 makes her arrival. So, it’s FINE that he’s going, it really is. It just throws a major wrench in the works, as far as things like scheduling early morning doctor’s appointments.

I told the nurse I’d have to call her back because I didn’t know what I was going to do. I’m sure she thought I was insane.

I got home, and I worried and fretted for hours. I talked to my mom, then I started to calm down a little. I looked at Dave’s itinerary: he’s leaving on a red-eye flight Tuesday night. (For some reason I thought he was leaving on Monday morning, hence my panic.) So the next morning, I called the nurse back and said that I could do the test on Monday or Tuesday morning if they could manage to squeeze me into the schedule, but after that? I’m screwed as far as childcare arrangements.

And God bless her, she found a way to get me in on Monday morning. The lab they normally use is booked, so she found somewhere else I could go instead. (It’ll be at the actual hospital where I’ll deliver Baby 2.0 someday.) I don’t care so much where it gets done as long as we get this over with as quickly as possible.

So, if anyone’s done this three-hour test and can tell me that it’s not all that bad? I’d really appreciate it. (Also, WTF am I supposed to do for 3 hours? I think I’m renting a movie online and borrowing Dave’s iPad to watch it while I sit & wait. But other ideas are certainly welcome.)

pregnancy anxiety stuff

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More often than not, I seem to be feeling really anxious and tense these days. There are a lot of contributing factors here, but I think it’s mostly pregnancy-related. I feel like I barely have a handle on the whole “working mom” thing right now, and the one kid I have is fairly self-sufficient. The idea of throwing a baby into the mix is… well, really freaking scary, to be quite honest. Babies are really needy (uh, in case you weren’t aware of that), and I’m just not sure how I’m going to balance it all when I don’t feel like I have a good handle on life as it is.

I think a lot of this is that I don’t exactly have fond memories of the first few months of Catie’s life. Looking back, I probably should’ve gotten on some kind of medication for post-partum depression, but I didn’t because I thought my feelings were normal. Now, I’m not so sure. I don’t think it’s exactly normal to feel like your life is a black hole of despair, no? I was just so exhausted that I couldn’t see that things would ever improve. And of course, they did improve, and relatively quickly at that. Sometime after the two- or three-month point, Catie started sleeping for more than a couple of hours at a time, and I slowly (slooooowly) started to feel more sane.

Still, the idea of enduring that again isn’t exactly something I’m looking forward to. Which is probably why it took me so long to come around to the idea of having a second baby, when it seems like a lot of my friends had their second babies ages ago. But it makes me feel like the Worst Mother Ever. What kind of pregnant lady isn’t excited about her upcoming arrival? I mean, of course I’m excited to meet this little person. I just wish there was a fast-forward button for that initial newborn phase. Is that awful? It feels awful.

And yeah, I talk about this stuff with my therapist. I don’t know if I also need medication or not at this point, I’m still trying to figure that out. Mostly, I just think how nice it would be if I could drink something fruity with vodka in it. But that won’t happen for probably at least three more months. Dammit.