Well, it’s officially ten weeks from today that the newest member of the Squab family will make herself known. Somehow ten weeks sounds like an awfully short amount of time. Shorter even than 2 1/2 months, which also sounds really short. There is a slight undercurrent of panic running through the household – I mean, not that we didn’t know this day was coming and all, but FUCK! TWO KIDS!
On the other hand, if there were an option to have someone else handle the last ten weeks of gestation, I would so be at the front of the line to sign up for THAT. This whole peeing-every-half-hour, can’t-get-comfortable, no-sleeping, still-nauseated, back-aching, ligament-pulling CRAP was getting old like a month ago, and I will not miss it ONE. BIT.
I also had an unpleasant reminder that I’m in the high-risk category of expecting mothers at my OB check-up today. Nothing scary or dangerous, but starting this week they want me to come in twice a week for a fetal non-stress test (where they count the baby’s kicks and monitor its heart rate) and an ultrasound (where they check the baby’s movements and measure the amount of fluid in the uterus). Twice a week. And these aren’t little five-minute things, either – we’re talking a good 30-45 minutes per procedure, not including the time it takes to get to and from the hospital and wait in the waiting room. Oh, and plus I still have my regular OB visits to add in there. Gah. I had to do the same thing last time, but only once a week. When I asked if there was any especial cause for concern or reason why they wanted to see me so often this time, my doc said not really, they’re just being extra cautious because of the hyptertension and the gestational diabetes and the insulin dependency and and and and … The last time around this freaked me out, all this talk of increased risk of stillbirth and labor complications and such, and I guess maybe it should be freaking me out this time, except, you know, last time everything turned out just fine and I really feel like it will this time, too. Not that I wouldn’t rather NOT have all the complications, but it seems like this is just how my body does the gestation thing, and as long as I’m doing my part to miminize the complications, things will be OK. Which is great as a positive mental attitude, but doesn’t do squat for finding me childcare or helping me juggle my schedule to accomodate these appointments. Sigh. It will all work out – Mr. Squab will adjust his schedule some, and some friends have said they’ll watch the Hatchling whenever needed, and somehow it will get done, but – have I mentioned how this pregnancy has only confirmed our decision to quit after two kids? Yeah, you can add this whole post to the growing list of reasons why two will be PLENTY.
