State of the uterus
Here’s a surefire way to feel fantastic about the amount of weight you’ve gained since your last prenatal check up:Forget you’ve moved from monthly to every-two-week appointments!I was flying high on Monday, mentally fist-pumping about it. High-five self!You cut your usual poundage increase by half! I may have also done the finger to the backside move complete with sizzle sound, but I won’t admit to it. Man that was a great five minutes of blissful ignorance.
Still, the doc seemed to think Iwas on par with weight gain, which I’m going to go with. I’m of the idea that I will be mindful-ish of the numbers on the scale but not obsessive about them. This is due solely to the fact that during my pregnancy with Noah Igained 60 pounds (yes, SIX. TY. Twelve times five. Six times ten. Fifteen times four. And other mathematical equations.) and six months after he was born I weighed less than I did before I got pregnant. Then I gained 45 pounds with Rosie and was feeling very back-patty about it (Even though, uh, 45 pounds?Is still a lot of pounds.) and then had a heck of a time getting back to the number on the scale I had started with. Slash … never got there. So the moral of that story is, numbers don’t mean much. The end.I will take that “on par with weight gain” assessment and roll with it. Thanks, doc.
Anyway!In addition to getting a gold star at my 28 week checkup, I also had my monthly high-res ultrasound peek-a-roo at Ol’ Two-Vessel Cord (a.k.a. the baby who still has no name) who was declared “perfect” and right on target for size, kidney function, heart function and also good looks.
Ugh, MOM. Stop it with the good looks stuff already. Total embarrassment to the max.
The ultrasound also revealed that baby boy Ellis is folded right in half like an Olympic diver in midair. Straightlegged, nose to knee, pike-positioned. It looks highly uncomfortable to me, although any position that involves angling my torso at all is currently unfavorable, if I’m gonna be honest, so that may be coloring my view of it a little. The ultrasonographer and doctor both reassured me that he was peachy keen like that and that it wouldn’t make him come out feet first or wonky in any way. Ithink I’m more worried that he’ll decide he doesn’t like that position and decide to bend his knees one day, making me keel over to the floor in a moaning heap of shredded ab muscles.
Nose, knee. Knee, nose.
Potential stomach calisthenics aside, I’m feeling really good about the start of the third trimester. Iam more than ready to be able to call this baby something other than “the baby” (which is a post for another time) but other than that, it seems like things are going swimmingly (divingly?) in utero, and that’s pretty great news to me. Go Team Gestation! Rah rah ree!Kick ’em in the knee!Rah rah rass!Kick ’em in the … actually, no more kicking. I’m good with the kicking. Oh my goodness with the kicking.
In closing, the baby would now like the (pelvic?) floor. Take it away, Mr. Fetus:
