The last week or so...(in otherwords, "Update")

I took a brief break from the internet over the last week or two. C’s birthday, Christmas, migraines, recovering from migraine while watching VH1’s One-hit Wonders of the 1980’s with an old, inspiring and amazing friend, and New Years demanded my full attention.

Pregnancy update:

I feel huge. Gigantic.  And I feel massively unattractive, too. Not because I’m huge, but just because…well, that’s complicated. But if you read this regularly, I’m sure you can hazard a guess. 

Some very good news, however! Upon meeting with my ob-gyn, he was delighted I wanted to go into labour on my own. “You should be the poster child for what women need to do!” He laughed when I asked him if he would allow me to start labour on my own (assuming everything else is fine). “I’ve never had that request. Most women don’t want to be in pain, and I have no idea what that’s like, but I know I’d be asking for a planned delivery just because I’m such a wuss about my own pain!” 

So…it pays to go to a doctor who believes in choice, in autonomy of the patient, and who respects women. 

He admitted that yes, allowing me to start labour on my own could throw off his schedule that day, but he said that “it’s most important to me that you feel comfortable and in control. You tell me what you want, I’ll do it.”

Damn. Every ob-gyn should be this awesome. 

He spent a lot of time with us, and doing another ultrasound of E, baby boy. (Yes, it was again confirmed he is, in fact, very male anatomically speaking).  This resulted in Dr. B doing charting his growth, which shows that he is in the 20^th percentile in most every category except for the length of his femur, which somehow measures in the 80^th percentile.


A looked quite panicked at this, even though Dr. B seemed just fine with it. A launched into a series of questions about why the baby is so small, which I knew were “does ContraWhit’s eating disorder have anything to do with this?”  I’m 34 weeks pregnant, and he still doesn’t understand that eating three large meals a day is Out. Of. The. Question. Or that crackers, cheese, and fruit is a small meal.


Given that I have gained a nice 54 lbs thus far, I wasn’t really worried about that. Dr. B explained to A that this was genetics—neither of us were huge at birth, and neither of us are huge now (save for me, but that’s supposedly a baby or something.)  

Lessons learned and a note about C, pregnancy hormones, and guilt: 

I learned at that appointment and at C’s doctor’s appointment this morning that VBAC is probably a horrible option with A. He might have been okay with it, but he has absolutely no patience with doctors, with waiting, etc. And I get annoyed by his lack of acceptance that he cannot control everything, and that it isn’t unprofessional for a doctor to be late seeing you (because he’s an ob-gyn and, oh, might have to deliver a baby unexpectedly), and that it isn’t unprofessional for C’s paed to be talkative because that, in part, helps C relax on the day she’s getting three vaccinations and a diagnosis of asthma. :(

NB: Diagnosis of Asthma in your 4 year old + Pregnancy Hormones = Horrible Maternal Guilt About Asthma and a lot of reminding oneself humbly of things that are and are not in my control, specifically that her lungs are not in my control, but I can help manage this.

New Year’s Resolutions (which I have never really done. If you want change, do it when you realize it needs to be done, don’t wait for some arbitrary date.)

1.       Have baby.

2.       Lose 50 + lbs, which I’m assuming will happen the same way it happened after I had C. On its own. Without my interference.

As for what happens after that, I don’t know. But I’m open to whatever the Fates throw my way. I realize there is no way of controlling the future.