Labor and Delivery: The Dress Rehearsal

To start – yes, the baby is still fine and still in utero. But I did spend the day at the hospital. Here’s what happened.

Since I tend to be a bit toward hypochondria, I’ve been pretty proud of how many of the randomly occuring aches, pains and just plain weird feelings that I’ve shrugged off in nearly nine months of pregnancy so far. Yes, I’ve had my share of calls to the doctor, but nothing I’d call excessive (would the nurses there agree? I’ll never know). But this morning, I found myself experiencing some jarring, semi-intense pains that I just couldn’t ignore.

I tried to, at first, figuring maybe it was just intestinal or something off in the baby’s positioning. For awhile, I just waited and tried to get on with my work. When it didn’t improve, I went to the bathroom, in case that might help. It didn’t. Then I did some standing and stretching that probably looked pretty odd to anyone passing by my cube. It didn’t help, either.

I didn’t necessarily think the pain was labor related, because although I’ve been having regular Braxton-Hicks contractions for weeks, the pains were mainly concentrated in one place – on my right side, around the middle/top of the giant bump that now encompasses my giant uterus and a big mashup of the rest of my major organs.

That’s what made me nervous. Because I was also feeling mildly nauseous – I had the morning before, too – I started thinking, as any good hypochondriac would, about appendicitis. I knew the appendix wouldn’t be in its normal place – it’s higher up than usual these days – and I started getting a bit anxious.

My next step might have been ill-advised, but I’m a researcher at heart, and Google was right there at my disposal. I looked up appendicitis during pregnancy and confirmed my fears that it could indeed be a very serious issue that leads to serious, even fatal problems, in mothers and babies if not treated promptly.

So I figured OK, I’ll just call the doctor’s office and see if they think there’s any reason for concern. By then, it was about 9:30 and I’d had the pain since a little after 9. But when I called, the person who answered informed me that the doctor wouldn’t be in until 1 and they’d leave a message. I was dumbfounded, especially since that was the second time this has happened. The first time,  I thought it was just because I was calling around the Memorial Day holiday, but seriously, was this regular practice? Telling a patient who’s 37-weeks-plus pregnant complaining of sharp abdominal pains that the doctor won’t be in for more than 3 hours and that’s that??

I hung up in tears (damn those hormones!). At that point, I can’t say I was convinced I had appendicitis, but I was worried enough (and in enough pain) that I didn’t want to wait 3 more hours to find out. I texted Shelly and asked her to call me when she could, thinking she might have some advice. When I didn’t hear back, I got more upset and tried to think if I knew any other doctors I could call. Finding none (mental note: make more doctor friends), I called Andy instead. He tried to settle me down and suggested I call back the doctor’s office and ask if there was anyone at all who could help there.

So after taking a few short laps around the office in case walking might help, I called back. Apparently one of the doctors had just come in, and she told the nurse to tell me to head over to the hospital and get to Labor & Delivery to be checked out. I was shocked. I had thought the doctor would ask me more about my specific symptoms and we’d go from there, but I guess not! I called Andy, and we were off.

So here’s the thing – by the time I was in the car heading home, the pains had pretty much abated. I don’t know if it was that last bout of walking around that did it or what, but they seemed to be gone. Still, they’d told me to head in, so we met at home, threw my hospital bag in the car and made it up to the second floor a little after 10:30. I kept telling Andy that I felt silly, that they would think I was just one of those hypochondriac first-time moms, but he assured me that I’d done the right thing. The pains had been real, they hadn’t been like anything I’d felt before, and they’d lasted well longer than a few minutes.

It turned out to be a long day – we didn’t get out until around 5 – but it did have some payoff. First, there was the whole experience of being in the hospital and seeing how it all will likely go when I do go in for “real” labor. Second, they had me on the monitor all day, and I (and my doctor) was able to see that I am indeed having pretty regular, and not insignificant in strength, contractions (though apparently they are completely unproductive, as my cervix hasn’t thinned a bit, which is the main different between real labor and Braxton-Hicks). Still, good practice for the old uterus, right? That’s what the doctor says, anyway.

Third, we did find out a real potential issue that my doctor wants to monitor more closely. Apparently, one of my unfounded recurring fears – that my amniotic fluid was leaking or low – was valid after all. The levels they saw in the ultrasound were, in their words, low or on the low side of normal. Since the baby seems to be doing just fine (heartbeat strong and bopping around in there like a champ), they just want to monitor me more closely. So now I’ll be doing two doctor visists a week, with monitoring, and one ultrasound a week. It starts with my regularly scheduled visit tomorrow morning.

What does it all mean? It could mean nothing, and I could keep on trucking right through to D-day on July 4, or beyond. Or, as the doctor said, it could mean this might not be a 39- or 40-week pregnancy, and I’ll have the baby this weekend, or next week. He said he’d prefer not to induce, but if the fluid levels get lower or it seems to be adversely affecting the baby, then they’ll go ahead.

I hope they don’t have to – I’d rather things progress in their own time – but I’m certainly in favor of doing whatever they need to do to get little Lexy to us in perfect health. We’ll see what happens …

Meanwhile, a few notes on our hospital experience:

• I’m proud to report that even though I didn’t have a scrap to eat from my bagel at 8:30 until we got home around 5:15, I did not turn into my evil, bitchy, hungry alter ego. Three cups of apple juice goes a longer way toward abating hunger than I would have thought. Still, it really made me think that a light snack before heading into the hospital for the real thing might not be such a bad idea, for everyone’s sake.
• I’d really, really like to have a private room for my labor and delivery. I actually think you usually do there, but in this case they had put me in this “early labor” room, and three different other women came through there during the day. It’s just not really a time when you want to have to whisper to your husband and worry about disturbing someone.
• I’m really glad that (as of now) I’m not having a schedule C-section. A gal came through my room who was supposed to have one tomorrow but went into labor today. For whatever reason, they put her in my room instead of a regular room, and she had to sit through real contractions for a few hours in a room with complete strangers, separated only by a curtain. I don’t know if she didn’t want drugs or couldn’t have any or what, but it sounded like they were pretty bad, even though she did an impressive job of never raising her voice. You could still tell, though, with all the ragged breathing and the “oh, Madre,” comment when she was on the phone with a relative. I think what happened is that the surgery was delayed because her doctor was busy with 2 other C-sections, so they didn’t realize at first how long it would be. And then, when the anethesiologist finally came in to give her the spinal, he first launched into this long explanation of the procedure (actually stopping once to answer his cell phone, a call that did not sound work related from our end), and you could tell she was just thinking, “Get on with it!” We were (thankfully, not literally) feeling her pain.
• Getting an ultrasound at 37 and a half weeks isn’t as fun as the big 20-week event. By now, the baby is so big that anything you can get on screen – a head, a stomach, a leg  takes up the whole screen and just looks like this big, indeterminate mass. We did see the femur (it’s 7 centimeters long – yikes!), an eye (open – freaky), the spine and of course, the fluttering heartbeat that really looks, to me, like a bird. According to the ultrasound tech, the baby has a big tummy compared to her head and leg size. Just like mom!

So that’s the update for now! We’ll see what happens at tomorrow’s appointment, but I’m not expecting anything big. Still, you never know …

The Final Countdown

The other day at work, I was sitting in the cafeteria next to the microwave waiting for my soup to heat up when a woman I don’t know – she had white hair, glasses and that combination of a grandmotherly and professional look – walked up and asked how much longer I had to go.

“About four weeks,” I said.

Unlike most people, she didn’t smile cheerily and say, “Almost there!” or “Any time now!”

Nope, she gave a knowing little smile and said, “That last month is hell.”

I appreciated it.

So far, these last few weeks sure haven’t been a walk in the park. Obviously I’ve been quite unwieldly for some time, carrying these extra pounds (33 at last count) like a hard little bowling ball around my middle. But there was a discernible downward turning point a couple of weeks ago, a night where it seemed all of a sudden I really just couldn’t get comfortable no matter what position I tried.

I’m definitely reaching that point where I’m ready to be done with being pregnant – ready to own my own body again, ready to get up and sit down at will, stop peeing 72 times a day, wear clothes that fit and not have to consider how much I REALLY want it if I’m sitting back on the couch and decide I want a drink from my water bottle on the coffee table.

Even worse – well not maybe worse, but for a food lover like me, pretty bad – I’ve gotten to the point where I can’t even eat as much at a time as I’d like because my stomach, like the rest of my internal organs, is losing the territory battle to my giant uterus. I can see why some people stop gaining weight around this time and sometimes even start losing a pound or two. I also feel fairly certain that neither of those things will happen to me, because I have this bad habit of snacking not because I’m that hungry, but because food is so darned good. Also, at this point, eating tasty treats is one of my few physical pleasures, and I’m reluctant to give that up.

Anyway, the irony of physically feeling ready to be done being pregnant is that mentally, I’m really still cool with having a few more weeks to go. It’s not just that we have a few more things to buy, a few more things to get done around the house and a few more fun plans this month with friends. It’s that I feel like we’re on this countdown.

When I look at my calendar and see the month of June sliding away, I see the end of this big stage of our lives – the fun, selfish stage that was all about the two of us being wrapped up in our own happy little world – and the beginning of a new stage where, at least for the next few months, I’ll be very nearly literally tethered to this screaming, pooping creature who I know we’ll love desperately but who also will be the focus of our lives for at least the next 18 years. That’s a frightening thought.

I mean, seriously, did you know that breastfed babies need to eat about EVERY TWO HOURS? I know I can express some milk for bottle feedings once I get the hang of it, but even that will need to be done every 3 or 4 hours, they say.

I know I sound ungrateful, pessimistic and unexcited, but really, I’m not. Andy and I are are utterly thrilled to be so close to finally meeting our daughter and feel incredibly blessed to even be in this position, given that so many people who really want kids have so much trouble conceiving.

I’m just being honest about the real fears and uncertainties that come with this stage of pregnancy. Do I have any regrets about where we are? Absolutely not. But I also know the next few months aren’t going to be all cute little coos and smiles either, and I think it’s perfectly okay to sit here sometimes and say, “I can’t believe we’re actually signing up for this.”

And people love to tell you how awful it is at the beginning. Part of it, I’m sure, is just this combined thrill of relief that they’re done with it and that someone else is going to have to deal with it, too, and another part is the honest desire to let the uninitiated know what they’re really in for. And even though they’ll all tell you in the next breath how it’s all worth it and how having kids is the best thing they’ve ever done, you know that it could be true or not true – it’s just part of the script.

But every once in awhile, you run into one of those people who looks at it a little differently, and those are the ones who remind you why you’re here in the first place. It happened to Andy last week when we were at a wedding. One of the groom’s longtime friends, a guy Andy had met only once before at the bachelor party the prior weekend, saw me at the wedding and asked Andy when we were due. It turned out he and his wife had just had their first baby at the end of March. When Andy told him, he didn’t say “Your life is about to change” or “Say goodbye to sleep” or any of those true-but-tiresome cliches.

All he said was, “It’s awesome. Just awesome.”

It sure was nice to hear.

My Pregnancy Diet

You know you’ve reached the last throes of pregnancy when something like a bedpan or catheter starts to sound like a good idea if it means you won’t have to drag your giant belly up from the couch to get to the bathroom 5 times an hour.

Of course, I wouldn’t have to go that much if a) I weren’t consuming about three quarts of water a day (that’s 96 ounces for those of you counting at home) and b) when I did go, more than 2 ounces at a time came out.

But the water’s all part of the regimen. It’s the same one I’ve been following, with a few adjustments, since early in the pregnancy.

I didn’t really get into this with a plan about how I’d eat, but as someone who is both obsessed with food and fairly vigilant about eating healthy (to a good, but not really hard-core degree), I ended up following a fairly regular plan. I’m not going to call it a diet, since that implies too much restriction (and which can’t really be taken seriously from a person who, as I write this, is eating from a handful of M&Ms conveniently perched on the top of my stomach). But it’s the reason why, despite all my concern over my weight gain over the past 8 months (which, as loyal readers know, includes a few tears and a ban on me weighing myself on Wii Fit), I’m generally pleased not only with my overall added poundage to date (about 30 with 6 weeks to go, well within my targeted 35-40 pound range) but with how I actually look.

Sure, some of this is just luck and genetics. But plenty of it has to do with the fact that I’ve made an effort to get regular, if not immensely high-impact, exercise throughout this pregnancy (that’s slowed down quite a bit at this point, but give me a break) and that I have understood, from day one, that the biggest myth about pregnancy was just that – a myth. Sorry to burst the bubble for all of you looking forward to a 10-month binge, but here’s the truth:

NO, YOU CANNOT EAT WHATEVER YOU WANT WHEN YOU’RE PREGNANT.

Despite all the stories you hear about women who consume entire packages of cookies or pints of ice cream in a sitting, grab three Big Macs at the drive thru for lunch or eat French fries with every meal (including breakfast), the truth is that pregnant women only need to consume about 300 calories more per day. Am I eating more than 300 extra calories per day? Yes, I have little doubt that in general, I am. But I’m not eating 1,000 more either – and I’m trying to make the ones I do eat really count.

Even my beloved Cinnamon Toast Crunch – which I still have at least 4 times a week – hides significant amounts of vitamins and minerals amid its thick, glorious dusting of  sugar. And I don’t have a giant bowl of it, either – just the 1 cup serving (though lately, I admit, it’s a little more – the baby is doing a huge amount of growing right now!).

Overall, my philosophy is to eat pretty healthfully throughout the day, loosen up a bit more at dinner and do most of my splurging on the weekends. I’ve found that keeping a somewhat regular routine helps me stay on track. Here’s the breakdown:

Breakfast: plain oat-bran bagel (weekend variation: toasted bagel with thin layer of cream cheeese, or two eggs and a piece of whole wheat toast, or an open-faced sandwich of egg and cheese on whole-wheat toast)

Morning snack: banana, carrots, clementine orange (in season) or cheese

Lunch: salad with vinegar or low-cal dressing and low cal/fat soup (often homemade earlier on, but as this trimester wears on, often canned but still healthy kinds like lentil, split pea, tomato and vegetable); sometimes I’ll sub in a chicken or turkey sandwich (no mayo) for one of those

Afternoon snack: two of the following: carrots, cheese, trail mix, apple, strawberries, or yogurt and granola (and often a small piece of chocolate nabbed from my editor’s candy jar)

Dinner: something tasty but not overindulgent, like grilled bison burgers and roasted potatoes, pasta with turkey meat sauce or something like tonight’s green curry chicken kebabs, grilled veggies and cilantro-mint chutney

Evening snacks: Cinnamon Toast Crunch, chocolate pudding, pretzels, strawberries or sometimes, chocolate ice cream (it’s so, so good)

Weekends: I’m much less regimented, since I’m running around more and not as limited to what I bring to work (a helpful part of staying on the plan). So that’s the time I let myself indulge more, especially since we usually eat out Fridays and Saturdays. I’ll have that burger, or ribs, or pizza, or other yummy foods I eat more sparingly when I’m not pregnant.

So, really, I’m not here to totally bust the myth of decadent pregnancy dining. I definitely have eaten more chocolate, candy, burgers and pizza in the past 8 months than I normally would. But I eat even more fruits, veggies, whole grains and lean proteins, too. It’s what’s worked for me, and I’m planning to carry it through to the end as best I can.

Wow, that turned into a kind of long diatribe. Man, do I need a snack …

Dream Weaver

30 weeks and 3 days. Wow. Three quarters of the way through!

Just the other week, was telling Andy that I haven’t been having as many baby-themed dreams as I thought I might by this point. Then within the next several days, I had two.

In the first one, it was just after I’d had the baby, and I was sitting in what seemed like a hospital bed. Andy was with me, but the baby wasn’t there. The thing was, I’d had some sort of medication for the birth and remembered absolutely nothing about the whole process. I remember I felt very disappointed, as though I had missed out on something really big and important.

In the second one, I was still pregnant, and I was looking down at my bare stomach (as I often tend to do). When the baby moved, I was able to very clearly see a little foot moving back and forth under my skin. It was a little weird, but I wasn’t completely freaked out.

So what do they mean? Well, at the most basic level, that I’ve got baby on the brain, of course. One could theorize that the first dream represents some sort of mixed feelings about the idea of natural childbirth, but frankly, I’m generally of the opinion that painkillers of some kind are most definitely going to be in order. It could also have been about something less straightforward, like general fears about the birth experience or fears about somehow missing out on important parts of the pregnancy and birth.

The second dream isn’t a surprising one. I’ve been feeling these crazy movements that aren’t so much kicking as the baby sliding various parts  (feet? knees? legs? butt?) around and then settling in places so that I can definitely tell when I feel it that there’s some sort of baby appendage pressing outward. I keep thinking I’m doing to actually see the outline of a little foot one of those times, since I’ve heard about that happening (though I don’t really know how often it does).

Wherever they’re coming from, it’s fun to analyze dreams sometimes, especially funky pregnancy ones. Oddly (or maybe not so oddly, from some of the things I’ve read), one of the most common themes of my dreams these past 7 or so months hasn’t been babies or pregnancy (I’m rarely pregnant in my dreams). Nope, it’s sex. The baby books say that’s pretty common for various reasons (increased blood flow to certain key areas, high estrogen levels, an increased focus on your body in positive and negative ways, etc.).

I won’t get too graphic here, except to say that the dreams aren’t generally about getting into the act with anyone I know or even anyone especially specific that I can recall (you know that odd, hazy quality dreams tend to have). They do, however, often result in very real, shall we say, happy endings.

I can’t say that isn’t something that never happened to me pre-pregnancy (yes, lucky me), but since I’ve been pregnant, it’s happened at least a dozen times or more – sometimes more than once in the same week!

The power of the mind is an amazing thing, no doubt about it.

The Down Side of the Pregnancy Sweet Tooth

Top 10 fears after finding out I failed my glucose screening for gestational diabetes and have to take the longer, more comprehensive test in a couple days:

1. The baby could be born with health problems.

2. The baby could be more at risk of getting diabetes as a child or later in life.

3. The baby could be more at risk of becoming overweight or obese.

4. I might have to have a C-section if the baby grows too large.

5. I might have to test my blood-sugar levels multiple times a day.

6. I might have to go on a more-restrictive diet and (gulp) exercise more regularly.

7. I might have to inject insulin or take some kind of medication.

8. I would be more at risk of having gestational diabetes in any later pregnancies and have to deal with it for the whole 40 weeks.

9. I could be at risk for developing Type 2 diabetes later in life.

10. I might have to give up my Cinnamon Toast Crunch!

I have to admit I was shocked when I heard the words “you failed the test” from the nurse who called. I don’t think I’ve ever actually had those words spoken to me before. In fact, the only time in college I got a grade as low as a C was when I took a comparative religions class and didn’t bother to study for the test on Judaism because I figured I must know it all, having gone through several years of Hebrew school (guess not!).

I was pretty freaked out at first, but after doing some more research I felt a lot better. The first thing I did after calling Andy was to post a quick note on babycenter asking if others had been in the same situation. Within about two minutes I had a handful of replies, all saying that only a small percentage of people who fail the first test end up having gestational diabetes. They talked about the different blood sugar levels and what they meant, so I called the doctor’s office back and asked what my level was.

They told me that my level was really close to passing, since it was 145 and passing is 140 or under, and that they were almost certain I didn’t have it but they wanted to do the test just to be sure. I agree – better safe than sorry!

I have to admit that I’m really not looking forward to the test, though. On the bright side, the lab at the hospital has weekend hours so I don’t have to miss work. On the negative side, I have to wake up Sunday morning and head there at 8:30, eating or drinking nothing from midnight on the night before, and then drink that super-sweet drink again (which, from what I’ve read, could be even bigger and sweeter this time around) and have my blood tested every hour for three long, boring hours. And I’m always such a delight when I’m hungry, too.

I wasn’t even going to have Andy come with me because he’d just have to sit around, and I know he wants to do more painting work on the house this weekend. Luckily for me, though, my sister (foolishly, given that she knows how unpleasant I can be) said she wanted to come with me, so she’ll be there to chat with and entertain me while I wait.

Wish me luck!

Kicking the Habit

As anyone who knows me well knows, I am a creature of habit. “Spontaneous” and “unpredictable” are not and never will be my middle names – or even remotely associated with me. But 28 weeks and 1 day into this pregnancy, I’m finally realizing that I might have to slow down and change my day-to-day routines.

Part of me wants to keep going at my regular pace and doing all the things I’d normally do because I know I won’t be able to once the baby is here, but the other part of me knows I should just listen to my body and just take it a little easier. After all, I won’t be able to do that once the baby’s born either!

What got me started on this whole line of thinking is how much tougher today was for me than it would have been even a few weeks ago. Sundays are usually pretty busy days for me, and today was no different. Per my usual routine, I woke up around 9, had my coffee and eggs, and sorted through my recipes so I could figure out what to cook for dinner this week and make my grocery list. At 10:30 I left to go for a nice hourlong walk with my sister in the balmy (it was at least 42) spring weather.

I was afraid the stores wouldn’t be open late since it’s Easter, so we walked down to Jewel and I picked up the essentials (onions, apples, lettuce, frozen corn and cheese popcorn) for tonight’s dinner (grilled shrimp over bacon-and-fontina-cheese polenta) and the next couple of days. By the time I got back, I had to jump in the shower to get ready to head over to Andy’s dad’s house for Easter lunch.

We had a nice time over there. It’s so sweet to see how excited his stepmother, Priscilla, is about the baby. She says she’s been trying not to overdo it, but she’s been starting to pick up some cute little outfits here and there and has a special rack going in her closet with the clothes she’s bought. Anyway, we didn’t get home from there until around 5 and I was feeling really tired, probably a combination of the morning’s walk and the fact that I woke up for my first bathroom trip last night at 2 a.m. and was up and down the rest of the night after that.

But I couldn’t sit down and relax because I really needed to start my laundry, since I was pretty much out of underwear that still fits comfortably. It’s not that my butt has actually gotten THAT much bigger, but because of the extreme outward curve of the bottom of my stomach, some of the waistbands can be a little uncomfortable. (TMI? Too bad!) Andy offered to help, but I said I could do it (though I did have him carry the overflowing hamper down the two flights of stairs).

Once the first load was in, it was time to make my salad to take for lunch for the week and start defrosting the shrimp for dinner. Again, Andy sweetly offered to help, and this time I let him. My stomach was starting to feel heavy and sore and I was still really tired, so I let him help throughout the rest of the dinner prep. Working on dinner, tomorrow’s lunch and another load of laundry took us right through 8 o’clock – finally time to eat and relax with a little Sunday night baseball (featuring, a couple innings ago, an amazing, grand-slam-robbing catch over the centerfield fence by Reed Johnson – gotta love baseball being back!!).

So like I said, it was a busy day, but as Andy said to me, a lot of the things I did were things I chose to do, not things I HAVE to do. I can skip my morning walk with Jen (but I really like the exercise and spending time with her!). I could buy my lunch at work this week and have something simpler for dinner (though with it being Passover, it’s a lot harder to grab something quick since sandwiches and pasta are off the table!). I could have put off the laundry or had Andy do it (but he doesn’t know which things go in the dryer and which need to hang!).

As you can see, at the end of the day, it all comes down to me just being a control freak and wanting to do things how I always do them – how I like to do them. But as my belly gets bigger, my back and legs get sorer and my hours of sleep get shorter, I’m going to have to give up the reins a bit and adjust. It will probably be good practice for living P.B. (post baby) – because that, of course, will be the ultimate exercise in giving up control.

Third Trimester – It’s Official!

I can hardly believe it – I’m now officially in my third trimester! Just about 13 weeks from now we will be a family of three instead of two (yes, in my opinion, two is a family, though Andy always argues that two people are a couple, not a family. But I digress.

I’m definitely showing a few sure signs of being in the last third of this pregnancy. I got my first “Are you sure there’s only one in there?” comment from a woman I don’t know at work, I’m starting to have what seem to be sciatica-related pains down my right leg, and the sleeplessness has begun. I’m thinking about starting a pool to see when Andy will finally give up and switch to one of the spare bedrooms so he doesn’t have to deal with my tossing and turning.

We’re also thinking more and more about the unfathomable reality of what is to come. Last night flipping through the channels we came across the movie “Knocked Up,” which we’d seen before. I remember, in fact, walking out of the theater with the streams of girls in their teens and early 20s and saying to Andy, “I was probably one of the only people in there to get out of that movie and think, ‘I want to be pregnant!’” I also remember wondering what someone like the Katherine Heigl character really would have seen in the Seth Rogan character, because other than the fact the he was supportive about the baby thing, I didn’t really see anything there that said “winner.”

But anyway, this time around it was definitely different watching the labor and birth scenes. And by different I mean scary. Yowsah. Watching that one shot where they show the baby crowning reassured us completely about our decision to definitely NOT have them use a mirror so we can see the baby come out. And videotaping the birth? Forget it! I mean, seriously – who is EVER going to want to watch that? Not the baby, and not me. Film can start rolling once the baby is all wrapped up and in my arms.

I’ve been reading up on labor and delivery in the baby books and started preparing a list of questions to ask my doctor about the hospital’s policies because a lot of them are different when it comes to certain things like when they give epidurals, whether you can eat/drink, whether you can wear your contacts. These three things are of critical importance to me.

But other than asking all the questions and deciding my preferences on pain-relief drugs, cord cutting, feeding the baby and all the essentials, I don’t plan to prepare some sort of elaborate birth plan. I’m going to share with the doctor what’s most important to us and then rely on her (or his – it could be any of the six or so OB-GYNs in the practice) expertise the rest of the way. That’s why they get the big bucks, after all.

The books I’m reading – mainly “Your Pregnancy Week by Week” and “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” – both are saying the same thing around this time: “You might be starting to tire of being pregnant and all the symptoms and discomfort that goes with it.” I’d have to say that while I’m not totally there at this point and am still really enjoying being pregnant, I am starting to think a lot about how unbelievable it seems that I’m seriously going to get significantly bigger than this and just how uncomfortable that’s going to be. I already feel so lumbering and unwieldy. Yep, it’s going to be a long 13 weeks …