I’ve been trying really hard this week to get up a little earlier in the mornings, because this sleeping in until 10 is killing my productivity. Plus I’ve been noticing that as I have more energy, I’ve been slowly sneaking back my bedtime too.
So Monday I tossed and turned forever until finally around 1:30a.m. I finally conked out. Not good.
Tuesday I went to bed pretty much on time, but woke up in the middle of the night for almost 3 hours, finally getting back to sleep around 4. Also not good.
Wednesday I stayed up too late, massive thunderstorms rolled in and kept me awake, also until sometime after 1a.m. This is pretty much ridiculous.
Last night I was exhausted, got to bed right on time, fell asleep right away and actually stayed asleep most of the night until 4a.m. the dog decides to have terrible gas. Like wake you up from a dead sleep gagging kinda gas. I told Brandon to take her out last night before bed because she was a little stinky and I didn’t want to get woken up like that, but he didn’t and I had to vacate the bedroom until after 5, when I gave up and had to get more sleep.
I slurped on some (soy) yogurt when I got up, since I’m still feeling a tiny bit queasy/morning-sickness-y if I am awake with an empty stomach. I felt just fine when I went back to bed, and then the most bizarre thing happened. I sleepily turned over and felt the most compelling urge to hurl.
I turned back over, which helped a tiny bit, but found myself fighting severe nausea most of the morning and well into this afternoon. I don’t feel actually ill with any sort of stomach bug, but I haven’t felt this kind of morning sickness in several weeks. I REALLY hope this isn’t some kind of mutant relapse since the nausea I had then wasn’t completely unbearable.
So needless to say, my sleep schedule is still hijacked, probably moreso now than ever, and I have no idea what is up with my digestion. I hope my bland diet today will make for a much more pleasant tomorrow though.
Oh yes, and the ginger ale that Brandon is bringing home after work.
Brandon was absolutely endearing this weekend and took me to buy pants.
He sat very patiently outside the fitting room & even managed to not so subtly check out the ‘rear view’ in my potential new jeans and admire what he saw.
I cannot begin to extol the virtues of making a pregnant woman feel attractive, and he is doing just that, and with flying colors.
So after a couple days delay and consideration, I finally began the process of documenting my growing bump and new baby-carrying body.
Of course after a few attempts at self-portraiture, Brandon also insisted on taking a photo of me himself, so as to ensure no one thought that I was ‘one of those women with no baby-daddy.’ I swear to you, those are his words, not mine.
Yes he chopped most of my head off, after I told him ‘just the bump’. Clearly we both need some practice.
But there it is, in its 13 weeks of glory.
I’m quite exhausted tonight, but staying up a little longer to write you this note. Also in hopes of not getting heartburn from the 3 pieces of lasagna that I scarfed down at your Grandma’s tonight.
Everyone is still dying to know what gender you will be, but I’m still quite ambivalent. You’re growing right along, evidenced by the external bump protruding on my belly, and I’m happy to let you just keep on plodding along doing your thing.
Actually, I’m extremely grateful that you’ve started taking up this philosophy yourself and started allowing me to do my thing as well. Even though I’m still sleeping quite a bit, I’ve felt so much more energetic throughout the day, and as long as I keep a little something in my stomach, nary a wave of nausea has hit me for a little while now. (That is, excepting the extreme case over the wretched lawn mower exhaust fumes, but even Dad says that the mower exhaust can make him feel sick too. So chalk that one up as a safety precaution.)
I’m getting more and more excited to meet you, even though I’m still pretty nervous too. And yes I’ve been kinda stressed out lately over where exactly you will be making your grand entrance. In a couple weeks we’ll be making the drive up to Goshen to see if the nice people there can help us find a little more peace. Would you like to have a water birth? I hear it’s pretty cool, and a lot more comfortable for me too. Of course, a lot of this will depend on the weather, which your Dad is very keen to point out. The funny thing is, he likes driving through snow and crazy winter weather, but I think he just wants to be sure we’re both taken care of.
Also, in case you hadn’t noticed yet, our puppy Magda seems pretty excited to meet you too. Even though she’s really too young to quite understand how this all is going to work, I think she knows that you’re in there, and you’ll be needing protected. She seems to have signed on eagerly to help us out. (Or maybe she thinks we’ll be helping her?)
Well the late hour seems to be getting the best of me, so we probably aught to head to bed. Sweet dreams little one.
I’m not sure what came over me yesterday, or the rest of this past weekend for that matter. Between being tired, nervous and excited, I managed to lose my marbles a little bit.
Today I finally broke down and decided to search some baby websites to see when most people start showing, and it’s literally all over the board. Some as early as 8-9 weeks, some not til 16+. So right smack in the middle at 12 weeks pregnant, I will get over myself.
I also need to be honest with myself that I’m not really dressing to hide my pregnancy in any way. So of course it’s going to show that I’m more ‘middle’ than I was just three months ago cinched up in my wedding gown. And as the morning sickness fades more and more into the background, my appetite is letting me know what’s up.
And what’s up is, I’m growing a baby.
That might be a little harsh, but as the baby starts to give me even more ‘gut’ than normal, I’m feeling a tiny bit self conscious.
It’s no secret, I wasn’t skinny before. So everything I had read was that ‘overweight people take longer to start showing’. And this past weekend I got a dozen belly rubs and nods to my expanding pregnant shape, I’m clearly in former fat girl hell.
I used to be a lot bigger, and ever since I started losing weight it’s been a constant battle. And after dropping 30 pounds over the past couple years (and gaining back ten), seeing my midsection expand is wreaking havoc on my self image.
Yes, I know it’s normal, I’m going to get much much bigger before this is over, probably exceeding my heaviest ever weight, and that is well within reason. But something in me has yet to click that will let me enjoy the bulge.
I guess if everyone around me hadn’t known that I was pregnant, I still might pass for fat, so I should feel grateful that I’m collecting belly pats and not side-eyes.
(Note to self: stop saying “fat”.)
Hopefully my psyche will catch up to my waistline soon, so I can enjoy that, while it might be well padded, my baby is forming quite the bump on my belly.
So I called the birth center like I said I would. They seemed nice enough and let me know that, no, most insurance companies do not consider them to be “in network.” But they were more than happy to schedule a sort of meet-and-greet with me to go over the costs involved and introduce me to one or more of the midwives. I hung up a little more anxious than I started, but decided to call our insurance people to get more information on what our ‘out of network’ benefits may be.
Verbatim: “Um, no. You don’t have any.”
Apparently one of the reasons we have such good insurance benefits in-network is because if we go elsewhere, we’re screwed.
I hung up the phone nearly in tears.
And then I called my sister and vented while a few drops leaked out the corners of my eyes. And then Brandon got home from work and I turned into an all out faucet.
Why should it be so hard to have things done without all the drugs and interventions? Shouldn’t insurance LIKE you for keeping things simple for them?
Needless to say, yesterday I was still kinda depressed. I found myself wishing I had no idea about any of this and could blindly go back to what all forces were telling me were ‘right’. Or at least easy. Even though in my gut, I know that ‘right’ and ‘easy’ rarely go hand in hand.
So today I remembered a nice fancy birth center I had found, oddly enough, through our insurance search results for CNM’s. Only problem is, it’s in Goshen, which is an hour and a half away. In good weather. (Did I mention our baby is due the end of February?)
However, after Monday’s fiasco, an hour and a half drive for something that might be at least partially covered by insurance seems well worth the time and energy to check this out. They were amazing over the phone (even nicer than the other birth center) and seemed very well prepared to answer all my questions now and in person.
I’m not even going to get started on Brandon’s concerns for me driving there all by myself every week as I get very close to my due date, I’m just going to hope for the very best until I have a reason to believe otherwise.
Of all of the parts of pregnancy that should seem the simplest, you’d think birthing a child would rank right up there. They decide for themselves, ‘Hey I want out of here!’ You rush off to the hospital and a few uncomfortable hours later, there you have it: a brand shiny new baby.
What happens though, when the parents decide they don’t especially want to feed their baby into the normal birthing ‘system’?
I am more than a little opposed to being pumped full of drugs that tell my baby to “hurry up”, or tell me that I’m not actually in a great deal of pain, or especially having a completely unnecessary cesarean. I’d like to think that my idea of a normal birth is a lot more, well, normal.
One little piece of information I’ve heard is that using a Certified Nurse Midwife instead of an OB/GYN can greatly improve your odds of having things go more naturally. So that’s where I started. Go through my insurance provider database, and viola! Two CNM’s.
I get my choice of two dozen OB’s, but only two midwives? And through the grapevine, I hear that one of these options sometimes does things more ‘medically’ than most doctors. Eish.
So I make my appointment with the other. She’s pretty great, actually, and very down to earth. So much so that she tells me that she might not be what we’re looking for.
See, she only delivers babies during her normal office hours. Basically, Monday through Thursday, 9am-4pm. No on-call. So if baby Kelley were to come outside those hours, I’d be back with an OB. Also known as square one.
She did however, give me the name of a birth center that’s just 20 minutes away. I couldn’t find them through my insurance, so I’ve been hanging on to the phone number in a stale sort of panic. They have three midwives who will deliver babies at any hour, they’re right next to the hospital if I’d need to transfer, and they sound too good to be true.
I told Brandon that today I would face the dragon: give them a call to see if by some miracle they accept our insurance. If not, we have a lot of choices to make. Do we go with them anyway and pay out-of-network rates? Do we look into nurse midwives who will do home births? Do we roll the dice and hope the baby comes within office hours?
I’m not ready to give up and get fed back into the system, but finding alternatives has been a lot harder than I expected. And to think, once the baby is finally here, the real challenges begin!