"You're not fat! You're Pregnant!"

Turns out you can indeed be both.

My appointment this morning kinda blew. It started with a big cup o' liquid sugar. They check the glucose in your blood (for signs of gestational diabetes) by making you drink a fairly large paper cup of fruit punch with an extra pound or two of sugar mixed in - then drawing your blood an hour later.

Checked my weight - 10 pounds higher than last month. The medical assistant and the Nurse Practitioner both kind of chalked it up to a combination of water weight and the fact that none of the scales in the office weight the same... but still.

And my blood pressure was high. I'm not a doctor, but I feel like maybe the HUGE amount of sugar I ingested a half hour before they checked my blood pressure may have had something to do with it. Or not. Again, they didn't seem too concerned.

And I had to pee in a cup. That wasn't too traumatic, but I really hate having to aim.

AND they sprang (sprung?) a cervical check on me! I didn't know I was going to be pantsless for this visit, but that's how it worked out. Poor Android. His second pelvic exam. He handled it well - scootched his chair out of the line of vision. In case you were wondering, my cervix is long, thick and tight. All good things.




So, even though Mom is falling apart royally, Bob is doing just peachy. His heartbeat is strong and sounds great and he moves a whole damn lot. So, yay.

Mmmm...

26 weeks and 2 days. I just didn't feel like doing a belly picture this weekend. I feel bloated and lumpy and the added joy of my swelling feet is just exacerbating my parade float-like body issues.

So, maybe during the week sometime. Maybe.

I'm mostly okay these days, but I'm experiencing more and more "typical" pregnancy things, and when I mention or god forbid complain a little I hear things like "Well, you're pregnant." or "Already? You still have SO much longer to go!".

By the way, 14 weeks no longer seems all that long to me. And really, it's only like, 11 weeks until I'm full term. That's really not that much time.

Son of a bitch.

A friend of mine shared her own love of baby socks with me. I think she may be the devil, but I love her anyway.

I'm obsessed with socks.

But seriously, can you blame me?


My kid will have entirely too many socks.

24 weeks.

16 more to go. Sixteen. That's freakin' forever.

I'll take a picture of the Webbelly tomorrow. I have a feeling there will be even more of a difference this week. It finally feels like a pregnant belly - not like I'm faking it after a big meal.

UPDATE - The Webbelly at twenty-four weeks. I kinda look like a Weeble.

You do the math.

I had an appointment with my doctor yesterday - things continue to be uneventful. I couldn't be happier. Bob is measuring right on, his heartbeat is normal, the kid is doing just ducky. I am also doing well. My blood pressure is good, I haven't gained an atrocious amount of weight (though I have some eating habits that leave much to be desired... cookies just taste so good!).

Oh, I have to go in for a glucose test at my next visit. Apparently they make you drink a supersweet beverage of some kind (I've heard it tastes like fruit punch, orange Crush, and the Devil's piss - it depends on who you talk to.). Then they take your blood and check the sugar levels. I would like to avoid gestational diabetes, please. Yet another reason to lay off the Girl Scout cookies.

My doc is cool and seems genuinely happy to be helping me get this kid grown and out in (preferably) one piece.


Oh, and reason #9,384 why pregnancy math pisses me off:

Mom: So you're how far along now?
Me: Well, it'll be 24 weeks on Saturday. So, six months.
Mom: Wow! There will be a baby in three months!
Me: Nope. Four.
(silence)
Me: Four months. Pregnancy is 40 weeks. 10 months. They lie. I will be 10 months pregnant at the end of July.
Mom: Really? Huh.


She acts like she hasn't done this twice before. Granted, the last time she did it was 27 years ago so she might be rusty.