How far along? Seventeen weeks, 2 days.
Vital stats? +5.8 lbs, by my scale. +11.2 lbs by my OB’s scale (thanks, but no). Blood pressure: 100/59.
Sleep: I am sleeping many hours, and it is not making a dent. I am exhausted, but it is from the realities of life rather than an actual physical need for rest.
How am I feeling physically? Ok. Strong. No food aversions, my pants are fitting better with my slightly more distinct bump, and other than being tired, I’m feeling fine physically. My bras will not fit for much longer if the ladies continue their exuberant expansion.
How am I feeling emotionally? There are really no words. Well, I found an hour of words this morning with my counsellor, but they can be summed up as: stressed, grieving, worried, helpless, tired, sad, and numb. One parent is dying. One parent is caring for that parent through this terrible series of stages, at home and at great personal sacrifice. One parent is making impressive strides learning to breathe again, so that he can then learn to talk and eat, again. Having learned all of this anew once already this year. One parent is now finding mobility and daily life a challenge, in need of a major operation to replace a hip. This parent was ostensibly the one taking care of the one learning to breathe, and ushering forward the new options for their life (housing, care, etc.), but will instead be flat on her back for three months in recovery sometime hopefully soon*. Who will help care for her is currently an open question to which the answer must not be “one of the girls”, as we are maxed out. A conversation for a day soon. Beyond that, I’ve been away from my research, have missed one grant deadline and look set to hand in something half-baked for another. I’m meant to give a talk on research I haven’t done yet, in three weeks. I can’t concentrate, I can’t write, and I’m buried in all the meetings I rescheduled from last week so even if I could do substantive work, I have no time.
Best moment? From two weeks ago, the first flutters of Spud careening around in my uterus. From this week: Hearing Spud’s heartbeat at the OB appointment last night, strong and steady at 152 bpm. Pea developing the habit of laying a hand across my stomach “just in case” Spud hauls off a good one, despite me assuring him these nudges are not something that will translate yet.
Medications: Lovenox, 40 mg sub-cutaneous injection nightly. Baby aspirin, 1 pill (81 g) nightly. Prenatal vitamin in the am, vitamin D and calcium in the evening.
Medical news: I saw my OB, and learned a number of things. Lovenox til six weeks post-partum, not two (Ok). Induction planned for 39 weeks to allow timing of coming off Lovenox for ~48 hours prior to delivery (Booooooooooo. But better than (a) throwing a clot if off it too long, (b) eclampsia if off it too long, (c) hemorrhaging during delivery if still on it. I am disgruntled, but, frankly, have bigger things to deal with right now. Reassuring stories of inductions welcome, horror stories discouraged). My risk of Spud carrying an extra chromosome has been assessed at 1:11,300, or “the risk of a 15 year old girl”. So that’s good.
What I miss? A sense of balance. My normal dysfunctional family.
What I’m looking forward to? I can’t, at the moment, see a clear path forward. Too many balls in the air, too many timelines in play. Maybe the conference in three weeks time, though while I must believe some of these things will have resolved by then, I’m not sure that will be true.
What have I done this week for the pregnancy? I have gotten enough sleep. I occasionally demanded that my younger sister take us back to the hotel before she was quite ready to leave, because I was tired and needed to be away from allergens. I’d normally suck it up, but on Spud’s behalf chose not to.
Milestones? Spud quickened in the past two weeks, from a “maybe that’s what that was?” to a definitive “oh, hello you!”. It was early for a first time mom, and I’m so grateful, because it let me not worry about Spud while worrying about everything else.
* Hopefully, because this is not a sustainable situation, and if her recovery could avoid overlapping with my father being discharged from the hospital, that would be substantially better.