I’m halfway through my pregnancy and I’m celebrating with a doctor’s appointment, which I would have canceled if it weren’t for the drugs. Say what?
You see, next Wednesday I have my anatomy scan, which means we’ll find out the sex of Gangsta baby. We’ll also hopefully hear that he or she is healthy and that’s really all I care about. I couldn’t care less if it’s a boy or a girl, so long as he or she arrives alive.
Now, about those drugs…
We’re flying to Orlando for our annual family reunion in Disney World soon. The past three years, we’ve taken the Amtrak Autotrain, which I love. But this year, during a moment of security, I decided flying would be fine. And I’m pregnant, so Xanax isn’t an option. However, I hear it’s safe to take Ambien, so today I shall beg. I will beg my doctor to be knocked out for the duration of this short flight. And I realize that means I’ll be a groggy, useless bitch the whole time and that Toby Joe will have to take care of everything, but that’s the way it goes. I would rather be drooling and half awake than worried sick and have that wear off on my 3-year-old. (Em is BEYOND excited about flying on an airplane for the first time. Who am I take away that excitement?)
So today I have an appointment where my doctor will put a device to my huge belly and we’ll most definitely hear a heartbeat. How am I so sure? How am I suddenly so secure? Because just like Baby Ndugu, this baby NEVER STOPS MOVING. And he or she is active at all the same times Emory was. Therefore, I’ve decided that we’re having a boy. They’re entirely too similar.
How I’m Doing Physically
Right around week 19, the nausea finally died down but not before throwing a 2-day grand finale. (I was laid up, sideways for two days at my mom’s house. Brutal.) I still have some nightly bouts of it but it’s easier.
The taste in my mouth has not gone away, however. And that blows. That taste is horrific and I think it’s here for the duration. I’ve read that if it continues for this long it won’t go away until the moment the I give birth.
But the heartburn! OMG the heartburn. About two weeks ago, it arrived. And I haven’t the slightest idea what to do about it. It flares up no matter what I do. Eat too much. It’s there. Eat too little. It’s there. Eat not at all. It’s there. No matter what I eat. It’s there.
So I’ve chewed criminally large quantities of papaya pills; I’ve even sipped milk (which I was told might help) and I hate milk. I’ve chewed on Tums but I’m trying to savor the Tums because I just know they are going to stop working eventually and I don’t want to be 35 weeks pregnant and sobbing due to acid reflux.
The heartburn sucks. I didn’t have it until very, very late with Em, like probably 37 or so weeks. So, this is new to me.
My belly is growing fast. It’s not at all shy, although there are still people who look at me as if I’m tapping the keg too early. But whatever. And I’ve put on way too much weight this time around. I know that today I’ll get a look from my doctor. The thing is, I haven’t the slightest idea HOW this happened. I haven’t been eating a lot. I don’t eat sweets as they make me feel the sickest. With Em I ate cupcakes and cinamon buns like it was my job. This one? Not so! So where are all these pounds coming from?
I’ve put on 8 pounds (probably more at this point but I’m terrified of getting on the scale after last time) in less than 7 weeks. Nuts. My calves are screaming.
But with this pregnancy, I was so sick for the first few months and so terrified of losing the baby again, I didn’t hit the gym. (With Emory I never stopped going.) That changed two weeks ago. I’ve been going at least 4 times a week hoping to curb this weight gain
Otherwise, what can I say? I’m pregnant! And I’m so excited. And every time I look at Em I realize he’s going to be a big brother. He’s told us he wants a brother. He wants to play ball with him. He wants to show him his toys.
“I want a brothah”
“What if it’s a girl?”
“I want a brothah. I want to talk to him.”
And I can’t wait.
I simply cannot wait for them to talk.