Oh, it has been MONTHS since I have fed my little bloggie birdies and I apologize for the delay, I promise NOT to disappoint!! I am happy to report I lost 100 pounds, I am walking the runways of Milan for fashion week, I live on a clean diet of carrots, coffee, and purging, and I fit into a size -2. Just kidding, I got knocked up again and actually gained 10 pounds...only runway I'll be walking is in the hospital labor & delivery unit trying to get a child out of my uterus.
So, I could ramble on about how beautiful creating life is (when we all know it really only takes a few glasses of wine, a dirty movie, and the after glow of a cigarette), but, in my case it was science, hard work, and as much fun as a root canal. Mostly because my pregnancy prep started back in January--when this weight loss voyage began. After the whole tumor, losing and ovary, thing a year ago, I thought life would go back to normal, I would be able to conceive effortlessly when I wanted to, and things would be wonderful. That is, until they found another cyst attacking the only ovary I had left. There I was, sitting in my doctors office in a tshirt and the little paper blanket around my waist (which really doesn't make that experience any more comfortable) being told "you may not have years to have another baby, I'm not even sure if you have months...I wish I could tell you this is going to be easy, but, it may not be." Basically, the birth control pill is the only thing that keeps those rascally cysts away, if I wanted to reproduce, I had a small window to get off the pill and get knocked up before the damn things started growing back.
I knew losing weight was my first frontier in all of this--second, it was getting on a better diet, exercise, and major planning. There were rumors a flutter that teachers were about to get fired in Texas, lots of us, but, I didn't worry about those pesky little details, I had a treadmill SCREAMING my name. I started taking vitamins, supplements, and lost about 20 pounds when I went back to the twat doc in March--time was not on my side, it was a "now or never" conversation, this came about a week before I found out my job was going the way of Texas Legislation, down the shitter. My husband and I had "the talk," knowing my paycheck was in jeopardy, he needed to find a better job, we needed to save, and oh, we kinda need to get started on this baby making thing--oh, and it needed to be a girl, because, if I was going to get knocked up again and this may be my last shot, I'll be damned if this fetus has another damn penis (I know, it just has to be healthy, but DAMNIT, unless you have been on the other side of the gooey ultrasound seeing ANOTHER penis and balls staring back at you, shut up). So, I put my degree in "Google" to work, hit Barnes and Noble, and tried to figure out how I could help this fetus not grow a wiener.
I had the diet down...low sodium (which is hard for a person who likes salt on their salt, and still doesn't think it's enough), no red meat (I would eat raw cow if it was safe), lots of veggies, lots of fruits (but none of my favorites, they can't be high alkaline, somehow gives the boy sperm super powers), took calcium supplements, cranberry supplements, some crazy elixer I got off Amazon, and the last two--lemon rinses and warm ball soaks. Oh yes, there was no dignity in making this baby, that went the way of my husband lying in a hot bathtub while I put lemonade where it should never go. We also timed ovulation (thanks again, Amazon for you uber cheap ovulation and pregnancy tests, $3 buck total for like 25 of those suckers!), only Michael could enjoy the moment, which, by the way could only be the good baptist way--it was like high school...I mean, my "wedding night" all over again... (because we all know I saved myself for that). He was only allowed to thrill me up until the day I ovulated, then he was to keep himself and his junk as far away as possible--we had this down to an art form, I had been planning this for months, so, when the time came to put it into action (seriously, no pun intended), I went off the pill mid March, and we started "trying" (I hate that term) May 6th I found out I was pregnant May26th...take THAT modern science--I'm still ridiculously fertile with only one ovary.
Now, the waiting game sucks...meaning, 6 weeks for that first appointment, waiting 12 weeks to get out of the scary zone, waiting 17 weeks to find out if the child has sprouted a penis, waiting 24 weeks until "viability," and waiting 37 weeks until you are considered full term. I am currently almost 21 weeks--at 13 weeks, I went to see the high risk specialist to have the scary tests done, see if baby was developing ok, oh ya, and since baby was being cooperative, the opportunity to see it's bits and pieces. This specialist is one of the top high risk doctors in Austin, I have always remained very polite, non crass, and reserved in her presence--that is, until she went up in between the legs and told me what little one was hiding--I'm not sure if it was the "Are you shitting me?!?!" or the "You have got to be fucking with me...seriously?!?" that caught her off guard, but, she simply smiled and said "it's still a little early, I can't give you 100%, but, yes...just hold onto receipts. I'll see you in 8 weeks" I cried for a good 24 hours, I mean, how could I not?!?! Then, the fact I had to wait 8 weeks to find out whether those receipts needed to be used was going to be a small torture--I mean, anything could happen, although, thus far--when they say "look at that boy!" the penis never fell off before birth...I never got the "I painted my whoooole nursery blue and then my little princess was born"--nope, my little penis baring babies always came out with everything in tact--of course, they say 1 in 4 are gay...one of these days one of them may indeed turn into my princess--thankfully, I am a very active hag with many lovely "aunties" waiting in the wings with body glitter and the "so you like boys!" handbook if that day every comes.
Now, the fact I have had two normal births and two premature births has qualified me for a weekly ass shot of progesterone to keep my little uterus from expelling my baby too early. Those started at 16 weeks and continue until I hit 36 weeks--thankfully, after four kids, and the ball soak/lemonade thing, my dignity is far from intact, so, dropping trow once a week for a shot from a nurse isn't a modesty issue, but, holy cow they are not pleasant! One of these days, I can tell my little angel "you were a pain in the ass from the very beginning....LITERALLY!" Throw in the sciatic and back issues, the 3x a week physical therapy sessions, the modified bed rest, and the fact my weight loss voyage is totally out the window now, pregnancy is not for the weak of heart or mind. If this is my last shot, I am doing everything I can to keep this baby safe, healthy, and viable--we worked too damn hard and went through a lot of heartache to make this baby, damnit, it's going all the way!!! Also, I thank the Texas legislature for cutting the education budget, as a result, I get to stay home, my husband got a great job with Apple, and I can watch an hour of Maury daily.
Now, I have my appt with the specialist next Tuesday, where I am supposed to get final confirmation on her 13 week prediction...but, being the patient flower that I am, there was no way in hell I was waiting that long. Instead, I paid $30 to have a private ultrasound done at 17 weeks--I didn't even sleep the night before, my blubbering, emotional, ass stayed up crying over what baby may or may not be--my poor husband. I explained to the ultrasound tech that the doc had given me a prediction at 13 weeks, that 80% was not good enough, and damnit, I needed to go shopping, baby Gap was having an amazing sale--that after 4 boys and the nonsense we went through just to get pregnant (and swing the odds in the female direction), I was driving myself insane--that of course I want a healthy baby, but, if it does indeed have a penis, I am afraid my 7 year old may potentially sell the baby on Ebay, as Zach had expressed so eloquently "I'm tired of having brothers, we will need to sell it if it's another boy--maybe I can pawn him for a new bike."
Seeing our little one on the big screen is always amazing...whether it's your 1st, or your 20th (I will never get to Duggar numbers, promise). Although, when that ultrasound tech says, "Well, your doctor was right at 13 weeks, that is 99% a little girl" the only thing you can do is cry.
Until next time,
Andria
