RoboMom News

Nothing like having an hour+ appointment because She Number Three decided to be inactive. Inactive as in after being buzzed several times- gotta love "through the belly shocks" (no they really did not shock her but it sure felt like it!) and having to chug some nasty juice during the 40+ minute fetal non-stress test in hopes to get her moving. The juice may not have been too bad except for the fact my mouth was tainted minty from chewing gum.

At that point Dr. R. asked about her recent activity. When I informed him it had decreased he opted to stop the test and perform... another sono! (Truly are we breaking sono records or what!?!?!) This time he didn't give me a picture though. I assume it's because he possibly didn't feel a lovely pic with a cord wrapped around her neck was baby book worthy. I might have to agree. So far there's just one loop around her neck which he feels explains her decreased movement. Due to her inactivity the tightness of the cord is unknown.

Let's just say he's pushing really hard now for me to highly consider picking a date to be induced. I'm sure I don't need to reiterate my displeasure over the idea of an induction. But for obvious reasons I fully want a very controlled labor and delivery situation unlike Ziva's borderline mess because they had no idea I would progress as quickly as I did and well, Abby's just absolute chaos. lol

So next week at my appointment when they will do another non-stress test (which hopefully that one will help reveal the tightness of the cord) and check my cervix for dilation and ripening. A decision will then be made as to how to proceed. In the event I still choose to not be induced they have already determined they will not allow me to remain pregnant beyond my due date.

Otherwise everything is running right on track- the restless nights, heartburn, pressure, swelling, etc. And I guess between this week and weekend I better at least work on getting a suitcase packed and purchasing some needed items because sporting things like Gibbs' flannel Baltimore Ravens pj bottoms with his tshirts might be frowned upon.

RIP Captain Phil Harris

My heart was saddened today as I heard the news announce the death of F/V Cornelia Marie's Captain Phil Harris. I have always loved Phil and his boys- just a few of my favorite people of the Deadliest Catch series especially the "After the Catch" segments.

May our Father of Fathers graciously welcome you into His Kingdom and may a host of angels minister to your family during this time.

Gearing Up For RoboMom Appointment

Sleep has been eluding me. Heartburn has been attacking me. Unfortunately for Dr. R. on Thursday I will be seen in his office with a laundry list of questions. Beginning with is he sure my belly can handle She Number Three gaining another pound because I’m really feeling like it’s going to bottom out any minute now… to I recently read on the OBs website that IUGR (intrauterine growth restriction) is the leading cause of fetal mortality, aside from premature birth, because the infant cannot handle the stress of labor.

Hardly ever do I enter the office with a question or concern. But as we near D Day I want to be fully informed and ready. Especially since they are highly encouraging me to consider the option of induction. Which, by the way, I did read for IUGR babies induction is almost always the course of action for labor. Though for me personally I am not an advocate of being induced, I feel it is worthy of consideration if complications can arise such as in this case.

The real problem remains that we were so excited with the sonogram and results, and knowing IUGR can be reversed, I’m not sure She Number Three is still diagnosed with it. Neither Gibbs nor myself recall if Dr. R. stated my blood pressures meds helped her become fully reversed or not.

I’m skeptical though as Thursday is her fetal non-stress test—a test commonly performed with IUGR babies. During my appointment I will become RoboMom hooked up to a machine for 30 minutes while they evaluate her heart rate and activity levels.

Thankfully peace continues to reign over me. One of the ladies in my women’s group commented on how gracefully I was taking all of it. Really I am. I have my moments—far and few in-between. I mean who reads the two pink lines, gets excited and then wants, wishes or desires for complications to arise?

My only hope for Thursday is the snow we are suppose to be hammered with does not delay my appointment. (Have I mentioned we already have record and state of emergency declaring 20”-30”+ presently on the ground?) But most of all I just want the results to be accurate. If She Number Three is happy incubating, then I want the results to reflect that. If she is not thriving or not handling incubating well, then I want accurate resulting detailing that. I’m not picky for the outcome—just the accuracy.

So thirty minutes sounds exciting don’t you think? I mean lounging around with my Beluga Belly exposed doing nothing but watching the results. For just a mere thirty minutes. Given her size and my lack of size, according to others—not me, maybe Beluga isn’t the most appropriate word.

Do I bring my laptop? Play on Face Book with my phone? Read a magazine? Text Gibbs nonstop since I am the one telling him he’d be bored to tears and should skip this appointment? Or shall I bring one of my baby name books?

THE FOUL EXODUS

Normally it takes great events to cause me to partake in the social faux pas of foul exodus. Apparently I’m not picky or discriminatory lately- just about any four, five, six, seven or eight lettered word will suffice.

I guess as I’m nearing the final weeks my patience levels are diminishing. Exhaustion is starting to set in. And my body is absolutely on the verge of revolting. I think that may be why here lately the list of acceptable instances is ever increasing. For example:

Dogs barking- Neighbors please do consider that fences are not babysitters and just maybe the first, thirtieth and thousandth bark from your dog could mean that hello it’s freezing and they are too!

Football games.

Whiny, bratty teen and tween angst.

Braxton Hicks- Exact text sent to Gibbs: Hunched over in bed again. Braxton Hicks r effin unbearable- God I hope the real ones r not like this.

Walking and/or tripping over items on the floor when I cannot see my feet.

Dropping something that requires me to bend over and pick up.

The Scale- the most basic and pure handiwork of the devil if you ask me.

Insomnia- Irony wouldn’t you say considering my body should be doing its best to force me into vast amounts of sleep.

No bagger at the grocery store- inhumane treatment towards the elderly and pregos of the world.

Repeat television shows.

Wow I was getting ready to continue the list when it dawned on me that maybe, just maybe, I should divulge exactly how often this is happening!