The OB Conundrum

Never did I imagine that a decision could be so difficult or complicated. Having moved around quite a bit over the last 15 years and having been of healthy stock I have long since accepted that I won't have long-lasting relationships with the doctors I see. More often than not, I have simply taken whomever could get me in for an appointment.
Fastforward to the first time that I had to choose a doctor for me AND for my little gummi bear and essentially for the father of that gummi bear as well. I dove into that decision with a good amount of internet research and lo and behold I found out that everyone complains about everyone online. Either as a general population we are a dissatisfied bunch or it is only those who tend towards the unsatisfied that take the time to do reviews. Needless to say, I read of doctor's dropping babies, doctor's forcing c-sections so it didn't ever interfere with their evening plans, and doctor's forcing religious opinions on their patients. When I finally settled on my first-ever OB, it was simply the one doctor's name that I found that I couldn't find anything else about (no ratings, no educational history), just a name followed by the all-important "M.D."
Well, turns out this logic worked (or so we thought) and Kev and I found ourselves face-to-face with a jolly, rosy-cheeked man of middle-age who got our jokes (both the American and the British ones), answered our questions and generally made us feel good. This relationship was developing quite nicely when I suddenly realized this week (okay, maybe it was the crazy cramping that jogged my memory) that I hadn't heard from the Doc in about 5 weeks. Being a "first-timer," I don't really have a clue as to how often early pregancy appointments should be but my mind has been playing tricks on me (as in your not really pregnant, just retaining a whole LOT of water tricks) so I figured I would like a little reassurance. I called up my OBs office (don't get me started on how much I have hated the office itself... I just figured the cranky and absent-minded receptionists aren't the ones delivering me so it would be okay) only to be told, "Oh.........(long, long pause)........ Dr. Shaw hasn't shown up for work in awhile." Say what???? What the heck does that mean: is he sick, is he out of the country, is he taking some "me" time? The response was a combination of trying to cover up with lies and a "we don't have a clue where the man is." I try to remain calm and tell them that I was thinking I might be due for an appointment and then I proceed to have the usual 5 minute run-around with them where they have no notation of me being pregnant i.e. they say, "well you just had your annual exam...so what are you wanting to come in for?" (seriously, happens every time). Once I had them convinced I was an OB patient they offered to let me see the other Doctor in the practice with the caveat that "she only works half-days and is really busy with Dr. Shaw's patients, she might be able to see you in December...." Oh no... oh no no no. This other Doctor was one whose reviews were so poor that I would not go near her with our dog let alone our gummi bear. So, I set about calling a gazillion other doctors in town and I will spare you too much detail but essentially, there is a wait-list for an OB in this town as in .... well, if you aren't due till after next August, we might be able to get you in. HUH? Anyway, the story has a somewhat happy ending in that we have found someone to take on our poor cause and that someone has an opening before 2012 and that someone actually delivers at the hospital that we can see from our bedroom window so... fingers crossed. Although, I am now completely convinced that the one doctor with availability has got to be the worst doctor in town. Oh well, if only my Cousin Carrie was licensed at our local hospital ..... Anyway, that's the news for now. 3 1/2 month belly pics coming soon. xoxo

Still Waiting....

I feel like I have taken many of pregnancy's punches like a champ. To be fair, it hasn't been that bad but there has been the constant undertone of nausea, the super-sonic sense of smell, and the disdain for any "normal" foods. I have gladly accepted all of this because pregnancy has promised me some bright spots. Pregnancy is supposed to give you that rosy glow, luscious locks, long and beautiful nails, and the adorable little round belly.
Well ....my belly is round all right but it is hardly that cute little shape that just shouts, "I'm pregnant, rub me." Nope, instead I have what I always knew would be my lot which is that I am just getting ROUND, there is no shape, no pregnancy paunch, just an ever-expanding waist-line. Kevin keeps wanting me to take the obligatory monthly belly shots and I am tempted to cram myself into a mold ahead of time (or better yet, borrow the fake belly from the maternity store) just to have something documented but alas, it's pretty much looks the same as it does after a big night out at the buffet. This rounding is no doubt exacerbated by the fact that my parents bestowed upon me there infamous lean legs (they do have nice legs) and so I look like someone shoved an apple on top of two toothpicks.
If that is not enough, don't even get me started on the hair. Although first a side-note: I have been poring through the pregnancy books and have to admit that most of them leave me shocked, depressed, or frightened (or all three) but the one I have found to be the most palatable is the "Girlfriend's Guide." I was enjoying this book right up to the point where the author puts out a huge disclaimer on cutting your hair short anywhere near the time of pregnancy. She is adamant that this is a huge mistake that will surely be a major regret. Well.... too late for me given that I had a bad mishap at a Great Cuts (don't ask) just a few weeks before becoming pregnant. So back to the unfulfilled pregnancy promises; rather than cry myself to sleep about my supposedly awful mistake (the worse part is that the picture in the back of the Girlfriend's Guide" is of the author and her 4 kids sporting a super-short as in boy-short haircut!!) I comforted myself with the notion that I would soon be growing hair faster and longer than Rapunzel and would have such sheen and shine that it would distract from my apple physique and any other flaw.
Alas.... my hair doesn't seem to be growing much at all and instead of luscious I have actually spotted my first grey hair!! (it's all the worrying caused by the pregnancy books). And how about the nails, every morning I inspect mine and even in a generous moment, I cannot say they look like anything other than the short, ratty, stubs that I have been sporting since high-school (only now, I don't have the excuse of "Um, I purposefully keep them this way for basketball").
So... I am a bit down but am certainly not out. I have many more months ahead and I will continue to inspect myself for pregnancy perks, I will also try to coax my belly into submission, but most of all, I will continue to count my blessings and be honored that I get to partake in this journey in the first place.

It's a ..... Gummi Bear!!

So ultrasound number two occurred a few weeks back and beyond confirming once again that yes, this is indeed happening, it was nice to see that our baby has grown from a piece of fuzz into a gummi bear. I will add the picture in if I can get it to scan but our little one has a Ginormous gummi head with two little gummi stub arms and gummi stub legs. The size of the head is really a little bit frightening at this point but the baby books have assured us that things will even out at some point down the line (although Kevin does have to have hats specially made... just saying...). Anyway, the whole experience thus far has been a huge lesson in vulnerability. I always expected that having a little one would teach me that it's not all about me or what kind of crazy unrealistic pace I can tackle life with. However, being hit with that fact like a ton of bricks requires a little bit of absorbing and getting used to. I am the first to admit that I probably needed something like this to ground me and between Gummi and his father, they are doing a great job. It's hard to put up a fight against two beings that I love more than anything and thus, I am TRYING to learn what it means to take it easy. I am not saying I like it and quite frankly, I feel at a little bit of loss (as in, if I am not the girl that runs around a mile a minute and tries to accomplish everything than who the heck am I) but I hope I will find peace in the fact that I am someone's partner (with the HUGE privilege of carrying his child) and soon to be someone's Mommy. Everything else (in the famous words of Kathy Griffin) will just have to suck it.

Every 90 Minutes

There are a few things in my life that I have been able to set my clock by; the fact that the animals in the house will wake up at 6am on the dot and start whining for me whether I am ready to get up or not, the fact that every few weeks or so, we don't actually remember to take the garbage out to the curb UNTIL we hear the garbage truck right outside our house. But, never have I been able to count on something so consistently than the fact that since Baby H started operation body take-over, I am hungry every 90 minutes! We are not talking some mild amount of hunger here either. Oh no, when the clock hits that hour and a 1/2 mark, I feel a pang like nothing I have ever experienced before. It is deep, it grumbles, it says, I could quite literally eat a horse right now and still ask what's for dessert? Don't get me wrong, I have always been what I like to call an "eater" there is rarely a time when I am not planning my next meal under the guise of pretending to pay attention in a meeting but this.... this is scary. Case in point, the other evening Kevin made a wonderful meal of pasta and Salmon. I literally inhaled said meal and even scraped out the pot effectively eliminating what was supposed to be our lunches the next day. Then, exactly 90 minutes later, I let out a loud and uncontrollable "Uh-Oh" (note: when you have a doting and worrying partner in the room, "uh-oh" isn't the most fitting or kind word to yell out). Kevin runs to me and I shyly announce, "I am hungry... AGAIN." The last thing I will say about this unquenchable hunger experience is that while the hunger is literally painful, nothing actually sounds good to eat. Sure, I have always been on the picky side and am not known to put out any effort for broccoli or any other green thing disguised as food but this is different. This is where my all time favorite foods don't sound appetizing whatsoever and where I am having to quell my hungry with strange things that will actually make it to my mouth without my super sonic sense of small making me gag. Things like wheat chex, pineapple, and only certain flavors of yogurt and oatmeal. What on earth is wrong with me?? Oh yeah, I'm pregnant.

Tales From the Belly

First of all, it's a FAKE belly people!!! But, I have to tell you, putting this little bit of genius around my midsection when trying on materity clothes was quite a wake-up call and put much of the last 8 weeks into perspective. Clearly, I must cease the constant moaning about weight gain because this is just the beginning and if tying my shoes has become a noticeable chore now, just wait till I can't see my feet at all! In all reality, I cannot complain much about the last 2 months, but here I go anyway:

While I am thoroughly convinced that no one doesn't know they are pregnant (and those tv shows are just a hoax), I do feel lucky that my naseau is easily manageable with a cracker or two, my inability to stay awake has not yet affected work or school, and my aversion to smells (all smells, good or bad) is alleviated by a nice morning or evening walk. Yes, I have had to succumb to the inability to button my pants but I'm also realizing that I may have been squeezing myself into a size too small to begin with and am embracing that cutting off the circulation at my midsection does not really make any fashion sense. So, thank goodness for maternity clothes and specifically the stretchy lycra piece of heaven that comes on the top of most pregancy pants. Where has this majestic bit of material been all of my life? I cannot promise that I won't be wearing these sorts of pants long into my future, with all apologies to Kevin.

Beyond that, I am just getting used to the new vulnerability that comes with being pregant, the fact that I have had more doctor's visits in the last few weeks than the last few years, that I no longer feel invincible when walking up or hill or even the stairs, and that sleeping on my stomach was a luxury that I may not see again for a long time. All in all though, things are wondeful and I am looking forward to the magical 2nd trimester that has been promised by all those that have gone before.

Is This Really Happening?

I am not sure where to start other than that I swore I would not start a pregnancy blog. Clearly, I am good at promises. Here were the reasons against: 1. There would likely be a strong correlation between not wanting to study and suddenly feeling the overwhelming urge to blog. 2. Who really wants to hear about my personal pregnancy rantings. I am hardly the first one out of this gate. And here, in no particular order are the reasons I gave into tempation: 1. You guessed it, I am supposed to be studying this very minute and I can't read one more sentence on multivariate indexing without falling asleep. 2. We live so far away from so many of our loved ones and don't always keep up with phone calls and emails as well as we should 3. You wonderful people keep asking us how we are doing 4. In this day-and-age and with our busy schedules, this may have to suffice as our little one's official baby book (I still treasure mine so I didn't think it would be fair to rob my offspring of such pleasure). Alright, so I will make this first post as short and quick as the world's most long-winded being possibly can. Yea!!!! We're pregnant!! You will hear me say "we" throughout because I can already vouch that Kevin is going through this just as much as I am. When he's not dealing with my continual tossing and turning at night, he is dealing with the emotions, the fact that my clothes ALREADY don't fit, the fact that I am freezing in our 80 degree indoor temps and 100 degree outdoor temps, and the fact that when he carefully prepares me a beautiful and healthful meal, I literally can't look at or be in the same room with it and end up eating pineapple and cheese slices instead (we will get to that in post #2). For those of you that don't know, Katie doesn't do ANYTHING without some element of planning so the idea of becoming parents had been approached, fully vetted and agreed upon by both of us and the next step was to cease the 13 year reign of the birth control pill and "just see what happens." Our explanation was, "we have pulled the goalie and we are not, not trying..." with the added caveat that "we are very busy and tired and older than average so don't expect much from us." Fast forward a few months and I have one of those sneaking suspicions that something is not right (not wrong mind you, just not right). I get this suspicion late on a Thursday and I am forced to sit through my research class before being able to act on it. As soon as class ended, I beelined out of there and headed straight for the closest Walgreens. What! What's this? Walgreens in Las Vegas, the city that never sleeps, are not open past 10pm? That can't be right. I speed to another Walgreens, ...no dice. I try CVS, nope, apparently there is some sort of conspiracy here. But, that's okay, I was hoping for a nice, quiet in-and-out of a pharmacy but I have a back-up-plan; the grocery store. I am beyond exhausted from my work and school day at this point but I know myself well enough to know that I won't sleep if something of this magnitude is on my mind and I don't have some sort of answer. I head into the grocery store feeling quite smug and DID YOU KNOW THEY LOCK UP THE PREGNANCY TESTS AFTER 10PM AT NIGHT!?!?!? Oh the irony. I am completely dismayed and even a little bit disoriented at this point (am I really in Las Vegas where EVERYTHING stays open all the time). I buy some toothpaste so I don't appear to be just a weirdo lurking around the toiletry aisles and sulk home. The next day, I shut the anticipation from my mind, get through the work-day and head out to prep for a night with our guests from England and our about-to-arrive guests from Salt Lake City. I am feeling very casual at this point and stop by the aformentioned Walgreens, make my purchase and head home for a quick change of clothes and a stop in the restroom. Wouldn't you know it a giant + sign appeared on that crazy piece of plastic practically before I got it removed from the wrapper and in position to work its magic. This result prompted overwhelming disbelief and the panicked calling for Kevin who was somehow supposed to be better at deciphering a pregnancy test than his female counterpart. Needless to say, Kevin took an even faster train to denial than I did and proceeded to tell me that the 99.9 accurate test could not be trusted and let's not get our hopes ups, etc. Well..... I knew for sure at that point but my mind had to quickly switch to how I was going go fake my way through a 3-day weekend full of indulgence. A week later, the doctor's office confirmed the news with a repeat of our prior performance (they said they just put their test stick near the urine and it lit up like a Christmas tree). The result was strong enough that they scheduled us for a sonogram just to make sure we weren't further along than we suspected. The sonogram put us at 6 weeks. We are now 7 and have a another sonogram scheduled in two weeks. That test should give us a more realistic timeline but right now they say we will mark our 34th and 40th birthdays with a BRAND NEW BABY! That's right, I am officially jumping into the Mommy Pool. I can't wait to join all of those who have already swam or have just started to test the water. I suspect it will be a crazy ride but my inpiration is ALL of those that have gone before and who have honestly made pregnancy look easy (actually, that isn't helping me much because this pregancy thing is a little trickier than I thought). On that note, To be continued... Love, Katie (are you supposed to sign your blog or is that just a given?)