Where's my spittoon when I need it?

1. Mind you the angle isn't flattering. Also, my body is not flattering.

2. Miss Dub has been rocking this 3-6 months-sized Anthropologie sweater for more than a year now. She needs to get a crew of jet-setting babies together and pen a book called, "Sisterhood of the Traveling Sweater."

3. Both of my pregnancies I've had a bizarre problem: A few months into it, I start to wake up choking on my own saliva. It's as if I have an overload of spittle in my mouth and no ability to swallow it and dream at the same time. (Dreams which are also bizarre and, in the case of last night, involved me eating large amounts of candy in a closet while playing a spooky game with random people from high school and a few B-list celebrities.)

Anyone else had this problem?

If not, what is your weirdest pregnancy problem and/or story told to you by a weird pregnant woman?

So you know ...

Our baby isn't going to make it.

Sorry to shock you all, but I don't know how else to say it. After meeting with a doctor and undergoing amniocentesis, we've confirmed that I'm experiencing a partial molar pregnancy and that our baby girl has triploidy, a chromosomal defect that is lethal. As a result, she will be stillborn some time in the coming months or will live only a few hours after birth.

We're actually OK. There is nothing we did to make this happen, and we know there is nothing we can do to change the outcome. We firmly believe in God and that His will is always the best for us, even if it doesn't seem like it at the time. It's a hard prospect to face, but we know this baby is a part of our family forever no matter how long we get to experience her presence here on earth.

We appreciate all the prayers, support and kindness that you all have extended to our family and hope we'll continue to be recipients. We still want to hear about you, your lives and your children, whom I hope you'll give an extra hug. Healthy babies are a huge blessing, and we are so grateful to have one in our home already. And we have complete faith that we'll be having more in the near future.

I hope you don't mind if I chronicle our experience a bit on this blog in case we might help someone else in a similar situation. But also don't be offended if I resume my normal frivolous blog banter.

I'm just letting myself do and feel whatever comes naturally. And I think that's normal.

Short on the laughs, long on the gratitude

Yesterday, I came home from a terrible appointment - hair not doctor, but more on that when my pity party is over - to a surprise package. Thinking it was from the usual suspects, I opened it up, only to find that it had been sent by a blogger friend, the famous Kelly, whose "thoughts and ramblings on life" are some of the best in the blogosphere. (Though I must come clean and admit that I'm terrible at leaving comments on her and others' blogs these days, despite my faithful following of them.)

She had sent me an Earth Mama pampering package, complete with herbal foot soak, belly oil and lip balm. And I just can't get over my sheer gratitude and shock that someone who barely knows me was so thoughtful to send me something at a time when, let's be honest, I might actually deserve a little pampering.

Moreover, I've been amazed as I've struggled with this pregnancy at how thoughtful others have been. The offers to bring meals and clean my house are not only amazing, but totally unnecessary. I'm still making it to Target at least twice a week, people, so I'm not quite worthy of total assistance. And I must warn you that I'm a very self-reliant person, to the point of stubbornness. I just never feel sick enough or in need enough to merit outside help.

But there is something so comforting and reassuring to know that upstairs/in heaven/yonder someone is sending little promptings to people that I need a little boost. It feels good to know that He cares; that you all care; that I matter. And that this suffering isn't going totally unnoticed.

I just hope that when I'm feeling better I can remember reach out to people the way people have reached out to me. But I'll probably totally botch it and send some lame present or a prepackaged meal involving canned mushrooms. Of course, it's the thought that counts, right?

HTT - Baby Edition

So there aren't many perks to my pregnancy issues, other than the chance to wear maternity clothes even sooner than usual. (And we all know how thrilling it is to strap on that ill-fitting elastic waistband for the first time, although it does make frequent bathroom breaks easier.)

One potential perk, however, is that I'll probably find out the gender of my unborn child sooner considering I'll be getting weekly glimpses at Baby Dub and his/her solar system of cysts. First, I think that just validates my earlier HTT decision to not pay $250 snaps to find out my baby's gender via blood test at six weeks. And it proves my other HTT decision to find out the gender pre-labor since it would be nearly impossible to avoid a glimpse at my unborn's privates over the course of 20+ weeks. And if something takes a lot of effort or extra work - "Don't tell me, nurse!" - I consider it unnatural.

So, yea for me, I guess.

Anyway, as if the baby gender issue hasn't been exhausted already, I do want to find out if any of you have ever wanted a specific gender. Like, really, really wanted a baby to be a boy or girl. 'Cause I really don't care myself, though I've already discussed how another girl would be an economical choice considering Miss Dub's extensive wardrobe. But I'd be thrilled to have a boy. And I'd be thrilled to have all girls - just not 10 of them. That's just stupid. Shoot, I'd even be thrilled to have all boys if that didn't mean I'd have to somehow figure out a way to travel back in time and swap out chromosomes.

I've just always figured that you get what you get. (And you don't throw a fit.)

But, then again, I only have one so far. So what do I know?

So let's be honest and hear what reasons some of you have for wanting one gender over another. And the perks to having all of the same or a variety.

And then let's guess what I'm having. 'Cause that's fun. And, let's face it, pregnancy is not.

Partum me for asking

I’ve decided there must be a lot of psycho pregnant women out there. I don’t think I’m one – at least not yet – so it’s a bit surprising to me to be treated as if I am one by most of the medical personnel I interact with these days.

As you know, I’m suffering from a bevy of issues with this pregnancy. Basically, I gots me two ovaries chock full of cysts, which are continuing to grow and cause me much pain, though I’m proud to say I’ve yet to drop an F-bomb. (Unless “fartknocker!” counts.) The doc has wisely decided not to do surgery because it could compromise my health and the baby’s, as well as send both my ovaries (and babymakin’ ways) to an early grave. Unfortunately, I’m also suffering from high hormone levels, which is going to keep the cysts growing until the baby is born, at which point we hope they’ll spontaneously disappear. The biggest bummer of all is that I’m going to look like I’m carrying triplets. I know, I know, it’s my punishment for being so vocal in my fear of having multiples. That or for calling a girl “Stallion!” growing up because she had unkempt curly hair and looked like she would fancy unicorns.

Oh, and I have placenta previa, too, which is also a bummer. So basically it’s going to be a long, painful and really ugly five and half months until Baby Dub makes his/her debut.

But the point of all of this is that I’ve had to speak with my doctor a lot more than the average patient. I don’t call her much because I’m not the freak-out type, but she often leaves me messages to give her a ring. But every time I call the office and ask for her they say, “Um, are you even a patient?” Duh. Then they say, “Well, she works during the day, ma’am, but you are welcome to leave a message with a nurse.” When I tell them she personally asked me to call her back, they promptly respond, “Oh, she’s right here, hold on.” Whhaa?

Still, I sort of understand. I’m sure there are a lot of obsessive pregnant women harassing the doctor on a daily basis with updates on their Braxton Hicks and urine color. SoI could see why she would need the screening. But then yesterday I called to schedule my weekly ultrasounds (ugggh!) that I have to get every week at a specific location - just to make sure my uterus doesn't explode. Here’s my convo:

Me: “Hello ... (something nice) ... I need to schedule a weekly fetal monitoring ultrasound at X Hospital.”

Stupidhead: “Uh, do you even have a doctor’s order?”

Me: “Yes ... (pleasantry).”

Stupidhead: “Well, how about we try starting at the beginning, OK? Tell me your name so I can see if that’s true.”

Me: “Your Enemy.”

Stupidhead: “OK, well, I see you in our system, but ... what’s even wrong with you?”

Me: “I have 14 cysts and placenta previa and a knuckle sandwich waiting in a sack lunch for you.”

Stupidhead: “Well, I can send you to Y Hospital for that.”

Me: “The doctor specifically asked me to go to X Hospital so I could consult with a doctor every week instead of just an ultrasound tech.”

Stupidhead: “Well, how can I know that for sure?”

Me: “Prayer and fasting.”

... I could go on, but my memory faileth me, and I’m already bored with this post.

The point is – is someone out there really trying to sneak in weekly ultrasounds? I mean, what’s even the big thrill of an ultrasound? I like me an occasional peek at the baby, but most ultrasounds are like watching a Rorschach test on an old TV. For all I know, we could be studying a piece of cheese. And like I really want to spend the time and money to go every blasted week to a hospital 30 minutes from my house just because I want to see my baby!

Whew! I need a cold shower. This whole thing has me heated. I just feel like the whole medical world is conspiring against me. And reading my mail.

Aw man, I am one of those psycho pregnant women, aren’t I?

Crap.

Since you didn't ask

Miss Dub and Mister T contemplate a little nookie!

Despite my grand hopes otherwise, this pregnancy hasn't been much different than my first, aside from my cyst/hormone/placenta drama. I'm still vomiting all the time. Only this time when I puke, I also wet my pants a little.

So there's that.

When a man loves a woman ...

Someone seriously needs to tell the Spears girls how babies are made.

*In other romantic news, I'm reviewing the HP Photosmart 626 Printer over here and it gets a little racy.

Morning announcements

I have a few announcements to make:

* Miss Dub slept until 7:30 this morning. Maybe this is standard in your house, but we've been working hard the last month or so to make this dream a reality, which now makes me think all things are possible, including cold fusion and a resolution to the writer's strike.

* Speaking of the writer's strike, what the crap is the deal with The Hills? I'm not going lie, I've watched it, but mostly out of total confusion. Nothing happens. The characters hardly even speak, just make weird, awkward faces. Yet it's the most popular show on TV right now. I don't get it. Please say people are just watching to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all. I mean, am I missing something? Is something actually happening on the show?

*Miss Dub has taken to carrying around two sippy cups at a time so that she can choose between milk and water per her mood. I like a girl who knows what she wants. Also, I love her.

* I'm just a fat, pregnant person. That's my shtick. Forget my weight loss and better eating habits, I am already popping out at 11 weeks! It's blasphemous! Part of it is the enormous amount of carbohydrates I shovel in to keep from puking, often unsuccessfully. Part of it seems to just be genetics. I just think I'm predisposed to gain 45 pounds with each pregnancy. Deal with it! (Also, don't mention it to me, as I'm a bit sensitive about the topic.)

* Speaking of puking, I went on Zofran this weekend and ... I'm not really noticing a difference. In fact, I kind of feel weird and dizzy and a different kind of pukey when I first take it. Then, there are a few hours of relief. Then it's back to puking. Any tips on the ideal time to take it to help curb my 2-9 p.m. nausea peak?

* This just in: Cold fusion is not possible.

Any announcements from your neck of the woods?

The good, the bad and the possibly painful

The good news: The baby is doing great and measuring right-on for a 4th o' July delivery. Pass the sparklers!

The bad news: I have a low-lying placenta, which probably caused my bleeding and pain the other night. Oh, and NINE cysts in my left ovary and one in my right.

No word on what any of this means, but my doc left me a message yesterday saying that "things are obviously much better than we had originally thought."

Funny, I was kind of thinking the whole NINE cysts thing was pretty bad.

Does this mean I can whine more? 'Cause as I've said, I have a high tolerance for pain but a low tolerance for discomfort.

Speaking of that, any Zofran users out there? I'm thinking of upgrading my nausea meds.

Our own Christmas miracle

We were supposed to be in Bethlehem Friday night. It's a long story that involves my ward's over-the-top activities that included a detailed recreation of a Bethlehem marketplace and me manning a jewelry booth.

But a few hours before the big event, I went to use the bathroom and ended up doubled over in pain with my pants half-down as I fell to the floor. I didn't know what was causing the pain, but I had the wherewithal to scream for Miss Dub to bring me my cell phone. Luckily, she is a bit like Lassie and brought it to me. I then dialed Mr. Dub and ordered him home ASAP.

Next, I called my OB and told a nurse about the pain, which she told me could be standard uterine growth pains. To which I said, "Yeah, I've had those. But you know that scale of 1-10 for pain? Those are, like, a 2. This is a 10." She said that if the pain continued for more than a half hour to call back and they would probably send me to the hospital to get checked out.

After screaming in agony for a bit more, I realized I was upsetting Miss Dub more than myself. She was screaming, too, and trying to get me off the floor. I decided that my large rear could be causing extra anxiety for her, so I attempted to stand up and pull my pants up.

Then, the blood started to gush.

I knew what that meant. I screamed out, "No!" and said a little prayer for our unborn baby. I called the nurse back, but the office had closed and they had to page a doctor. As I waited, I contemplated what it all meant.

So many random thoughts filled my mind - "How long do we wait to try again?" "Was all this nausea for nothing?" "Could I have done something different?"

Long story somewhat shorter, Mr. Dub came home, the bleeding slowed and after FOUR pages, we got orders to head to the hospital. My dear friend came over to babysit Miss Dub, and we made the trek.

By the time we arrived at the hospital, I had made peace with the situation. Miscarriages are common, I told myself. Lots of people had endured and survived them. I had one healthy baby at home, which probably meant I could have more. I couldn't let this experience embitter me.

But a glimmer of hope came when the doctor did an exam and discovered my cervix was still closed. "It means the baby is still in there," she said, "but we don't know if it's alive or not."

So despite my apparent submission, I made one last prayerful plea as headed for an ultrasound. I thought of how we were missing a reenactment of Jesus' birth, but how the true meaning of his life was being manifested in my own.

"Please give us our own Christmas miracle," I pleaded. "Please have mercy on us. But if not, I'm thankful I know how my pain can be healed."

And in that moment, I knew what Christmas was truly about. I recognized that peace on earth begins in the hearts of men. And I felt it.

As the ultrasound began, the nurse found the profile of the baby. I felt agony knowing that I might be looking at the lifeless embryo of my unborn child. But just then, I saw it. A flicker. Again. Again. Again.

"The heartbeat is great," the nurse said. "The baby is fine."

Apparently, the pain was the result of passing blood clots. We still don't know what caused the bleeding, but it could be something very innocent or something more complicated. But whatever it is, it's an issue with me and not the baby.

We got our miracle.

But we never did make it to Bethlehem.

HTT - Screening Edition

Bundled up at one week

Yes, yes, yes, I'm pregnant. Thanks for all your well wishes, although I must say I feel a little weird when people congratulate me this time. First time around it made sense because I was embarking on a new, miraculous path. This time, "So you're crazy?" seems like a more appropriate response. But, of course, we're thrilled, happy, excited, etc. We're also overwhelmed, nervous and crazy because this time we know what we're in for, and we'll already have a 20-month-old in addition. So any advice would be helpful. Luckily, you have seven more months to think of some.

But part of my coming out of the maternity closet had to do with a Hot Topic on which I need your wise thoughts. It's pregnancy screening tests. To have them or not to have them?

When I was pregnant with Miss Dub, I had a series of events that didn't even make screening an option. Like, we moved to Colorado and had to figure out insurance at the exact time of most screening tests and therefore missed the window of opportunity. Not to mention, I had a doctor in Chicago who told me to forgo them since I was healthy, under 35 and having a perfectly normal pregnancy. (I actually hated this doctor - he once told me labor wasn't painful, just "stimulating" - but he was good at reassuring me that nearly all pregnancies proceed healthfully and normally when I would occasionally worry.)

But this time, my new doc made such a big deal about deciding whether or not to be screened that I started to think:"Is it a sign?" "Should I get the tests?" "Does she know something she's not telling me?" Because while no amount of bad news would ever affect my decision about bearing or rearing a baby, it could be nice to have a little warning, right?

HOWEVER - note the use of caps - I've had THREE friends recently who were healthy, under 35 and having perfectly normal pregnancies who opted to be screened and were told something appeared to be wrong with their child. All of them had to agonize and worry for weeks until further test results proved, in each case, that the babies were fine. But, just in case, the doctors continued to treat their pregnancies as high-risk and monitored them constantly, always reminding them that something could still be wrong with their child upon delivery.

And I don't know if my nerves could handle that. So I'm leaning towards saying no. I should also mention that I'm lazy. And anything that requires extra time, effort or appoint-making generally discourages me.

But what do you think?

Have any of you been screened? How did you make your decision? What were the results? How did you deal with the news?

Start advising!

HTT - Y Edition

My mother has an obsession with numbers. For example, when she was visiting, she made me tell her the addresses of homes we were considering buying. When I mentioned them to her, she said, "Well, 29 isn't a great number, but 36 will work."

So imagine my thrill last year when I found out that the half-way mark in my pregnancy happened to be my birthday, which also happened to be the day that I was scheduled to have an ultrasound to determine the gender of Miss Dub, who was only Baby Dub at that point. But in a series of bizarre twists, I arrived at the doctor's office all a'flutter, only to have them give me a quick check-up and send me out the door. Before leaving, I skittishly inquired, "What about my ultrasound?" Turns out in Colorado you have to make a separate appointment to get an ultrasound, which no one informed me about. I blame the altitude.

Anyway, my insane excitement to find out my baby's gender coupled with the numerical significance of it being my birthday proved too much. I was DEVASTATED. Like, I threw myself a pity party that may or may not have involved a McDonald's bacon, egg and cheese biscuit and a little crying. But a few days later, I went to my (Colorado-mandated) appointment and in a few minutes, I knew my "it" was a "she." And my impatience seemed sort of silly. I mean, what difference did a few days make? After all, I already had boy and girl names picked out, and I was still a couple months away from decorating decisions.

So it was with some surprise/shock/interest that I spoke with a woman the other day who found out the gender of her baby at SEVEN weeks pregnant. SEVEN weeks. I mean, I'd still be double-checking pregnancy tests at that point, and she's already settled on a name. And I thought I was impatient!

Because there is a new blood test that claims to determine a baby's gender by identifying the presence (or lack thereof) of a Y-chromosome. I won't go into the accuracy of it all because I honestly don't know. (Also, because the Web site looks a bit like an infomercial, which is kind of sketchy when you're talking science.) Oh, and did I mention that the test costs $250 snaps?

Now, I'm not one to judge (except when I do, which is 99.9 percent of that time, which is more accurate than a pregnancy test) ... but I think the whole concept is a little strange. I mean, it's one thing if the blood test was available in your doctor's office, in which case, "Yes, please!" But to pay that much money to find out the gender of your baby before you even need maternity underoos just seems a little unnecessary.

In this woman's case, she is building a home and hoped to find out the gender to help in the planning and painting phase so, touché. But for the ordinary woman with an ordinary pregnancy, I say - wait! (But only until 20 weeks for me, people; I don't have the patience of Job!)

I know lots of you love to wait until your babies are born to examine their respective parts, but what about those of you who like to find out sooner - Would you ever do this?

I want to say I wouldn't, but I can be very impatient, especially on my birthday.