Week 30

Goooooooalllll!!!

21 weeks or less: 0% survival rate
22 weeks: 0–10% survival rate
23 weeks: 17% survival rate
24 weeks: 39% survival rate
25 weeks: 50% survival rate
26 weeks: 80% survival rate
27 weeks: 90% survival rate

30 weeks: 95% survival rate

Stretch Marks and Other Badges of Motherhood

Have you ever heard the saying, "Wear your stretch marks proudly?" Well, honestly, that's a load of crap. They're hideously ugly and, in my case, stretch all over my lower abdomen like red waves of Freddy Kruger scratches. Not a pretty sight.

The husband has been frantically rubbing lotion on my stomach in a vain attempt to rid his wife of these "badges of motherhood." I saw his eyes bulge a little the first time my tummy popped out of my too-tight t-shirt. He raced to the shelves and grabbed the first bottle of belly butter he could find. "Shea butter is best, right?!" he asked, trying not to sound too desperate.

But I have already faced the truth: Mom has them, and I'll have them, too. How do I know mom has them? She shows me EVERY CHANCE SHE GETS. Along with the skin show, she also comments, "See what you did to me?! You were SOOOO BIG."

I'm having trouble with the idea of my belly getting any bigger, since it's been difficult fitting into anything...and I don't mean just clothes. I mean car doors, house doors. Doors in general. And sliding into a booth at a restaurant can be humiliating at times. It's not unlike pushing an inflated aero bed into a crawl space.

But bigger it will get. After a visit to my doc last week, I was reassured that my stomach was perfectly normal and that I had gained 20 pounds, well within what I should have gained by month 7. But I still feel like I may topple over at any moment, like a weeble wobble.

Month 8 and 9 should be interesting.

Week 29

Weight and Worry

The doctor measured my stomach and didn't make a comment, so I'm taking that as a good sign that everything is ok. No news is good news, as far as I'm concerned.

I started off overweight at 144, which I'd LIKE to blame on the two miscarriages and my hormones raging out of control for nearly 8 months and not the fact that I was just getting older and my metabolism was slowing to a snail's crawl...but I digress.

My weigh in at 18 weeks was 153, about 9 pounds gained. Not too shabby.

Next weigh in was 164 at 24 weeks, which is 11 pounds gained in a month and a half. Yikes.

My weigh in this time was 169, five more pounds gained in a month, which means I've gained a total of about 25 pounds in my 28 weeks. The doc said, "Completely normal and right on track." I do realize this does not give me the go ahead to eat boxes of cupcakes and donuts every day, although the baby says otherwise.

If I can get away with gaining 25 pounds, I think I'll be on target. However, it has been said that you usually gain about 1 to 1 1/2 pounds a week in your third trimester, which would put me over the top.

Ok, ok, I'll put the Twinkies back. Sheesh.

Week 28

Week 27

Kicking

The baby is kicking frequently enough that I've put away the worries I've been having for the meanwhile and started concentrating on a game called, "gas or baby?"

Usually, I can feel the baby in the morning and evening, when I'm quiet and not moving, lying down, or random moments of stillness.  Apparently, he sleeps, so there are times I forget he's in there, although that's difficult considering I can no longer see my toes.  

He definitely has his moments, and seems to like to use my bladder as a stepping stool.  Occasionally, I'll have the most insistent urge to go to the bathroom for no reason whatsoever, which is both annoying and inconvenient when I'm working.  But I forgive him.  He knows not what he does.

A little 7 year old girl I adore came up to me the other day and put her hand right up on my belly.  While intently feeling for movement she smiled and quietly asked, "Is he kicking yet?"  My heart almost burst.  It was one of the sweetest moments I have known since becoming pregnant.

In other news, my stomach can now be used as a shelf.  I can balance my lunch on it.  It's both awesome and horrifying.

Week 26

Ungrateful

The other day I was accused of being ungrateful, which couldn't be further from the truth. I've had a truly blessed pregnancy. Not one drop of vomit. Not one instance of emotional insanity...well, maybe a small few.

And in my defense, I have not complained much at all. In fact, I've been downright cheerful to a disgusting degree. I'm surprised I don't break into song while cartoon animals flock around me, batting their big brown Bambi eyes.

That's not to say that I haven't felt discomfort from time to time. I've had to pee every five minutes since I was 7 weeks along. My stretch marks are visible and screaming red. I have such bad carpal tunnel I can barely make a fist, no less type with any accuracy or speed (this post will probably be finished by the time the sun sets tonight.) I get leg cramps in the middle of the night that are so painful I wake from a dead sleep to moan about it.

But here's the thing that makes all these pings and pangs go away. I see women all around me struggling with different issues related to fertility and pregnancy. They fight with their bodies, they inject fertility drugs, they try donor eggs, they go through IVF.

Lately, I've heard about two instances of stillbirths which chilled me to my very core. One was recent, unexpected, and completely surprising. The other was a woman who was pregnant with triplets. She became seriously ill with a mysterious infection. They had to perform an emergency c-section at 18 weeks. All three babies died outside of the womb.

A few years back, my friend had gorgeous twins. They were a healthy, happy boy and girl. Everything seemed fine, until the little girl came down with a severe fever. She passed away quickly and without much suffering, thank God. She was only 3 years old.

Remembering these stories puts everything into perspective, if not for a moment. Petty complaints seem redundant and pointless for that moment you have to sit and reflect on how fragile life is, and how precious children are.

But then it's back to the daily grind. Everything snaps back into focus. The little irritations that plague us on a regular basis return. That's just life. We are all human, and we err. We err like crazy.

I believe in being grateful. I know I truly am. I can't believe my luck sometimes, with friends, family, my husband, my pregnancy.

But I also believe that we all have the right to complain once in a while. It's normal, healthy, and if I didn't, my head would literally explode. Pregnant women are like pressure valves. We all need a release every now and then.