Seven Montharoos

Well, I'm officially seven months along. Two months seems like suuuuuuch a long time away. I might as well announce that I'm two months along; that's how it feels. Like I will be pregnant forever.

Sorry I look so gross in these pictures. I was having a tough, tough day that day. Lots of barfing. It's hard to give a convincing smile after all that barfing. :) And I don't know why Ben always poses me in front of the tree. He's always like, "Let's take it out by the tree..."

Gage's anemia is holding low and steady, and my antibodies are also behaving themselves. Thank goodness, eh??

I got a UTI a couple of weeks ago, which added to the fun. When I told Pooh about my UTI, she joked that I like to go all out when I'm pregnant. That I set out to experience the full gamit of fun complications. :) The night before I went to the doctor, when I was still praying that it was my imagination that I had one, Gage decided that my bladder makes an awesome punching bag. Bad timing, sweetie. Bad timing. That was a rough night. But most nights are rough nights for me. I went in the next morning, peed in a cup, and was told that yep, I had one. And that I also was dehydrated. I told the doc that I wasn't surprised about that - he would be dehydrated if he had barfed four times that morning, too. :) He gave me some good pills to make the UTI go bye-bye:

There's some college that I see commercials for on TV called the UTI. Something Technical Institute. I laugh every time I see that commercial. I like to say that the UTI is my alma mater. I have attended that university for so many years.... :)


Here is my most recent craptastic ultrasound picture of Gage:

Seriously, could these images be any worse? Can you even tell that it's his head??? Maybe it gets harder to get good images as the baby gets bigger? Who knows. Maybe it's because they don't make me come in with a full bladder every time. Thank heavens for that. I think I would have to jump off a bridge if that was the case.

Funny story about this last ultrasound. My perinatologist commented that the baby's anemia was holding low, and he put his hand up. It looked like maybe he wanted to give me a high five. So I hurried and put my hand up, but it was kind of too late, because his hand went down. I started to retract my hand, but then by then he had put his hand back up and tried to high five me. And he hit me right in my boob. We both blushed. It was so awkward. And my boob hurt for a long time after that.

The poofiness has started:

But I seriously don't give a rat's arse about it. If it doesn't hurt me or cause me nausea, so be it. My bumb hurts so badly lately - I think there's something going on with the nerves there. I have this big electric massaging wand thingey and I'm always lying on my side and rubbing my bumb. And sometimes, when I'm walking, I'll get this shooting pain from deep within my pelvic bones. It hurts so badly that I gasp really loudly when it happens and almost fall over. It's also hard to get walking when I get up from a sitting position. My legs won't lift themselves. I think all of this may be sciatica. I had sciatica with Micah, but this is twenty times worse. Who knows.

I also just realized that I have now had a constant headache for seven months in a row.

I'm embarrassed to say anything to my doctor about any of these things. What will he say? "Yeah, so????" I feel like it happens to everyone, so why should I complain? And what will he be able to do about it? Same with my nausea or my restless legs syndrome. What will he be able to do about it? And he seems so busy. He's in and out of our visits in like 30 seconds. I get all mad that he doesn't stop and pause and ask me questions, but I really should just be mad at myself. Speak up, Kar!!

Gage seems very happy in there. He's a tap dancer. A wiggle-meister. He's like Sadie was - right after I eat, he has a little celebration. Waving his hands, stomping his feet, the whole thing. So funny. Except when I have a UTI. Then it's not so funny.

People are to the point where they're asking when I'm due. "So, you are just about ready to pop, huh? You sure look like it!"

"Um, no... I still have two more months."

"Oh my gosh, you still have to go through the WHOLE SUMMER."

"Yeah, well, we have air-conditioning units in the windows, so that helps..."

"What were you THINKING???"

And then I feel obligated to go into the whole, "Um, we felt prompted by the Spirit to get pregnant last winter... We wanted to wait, but you know, when you get promptings, you have to follow them..."

I shouldn't have to explain these things to people. But it's in my nature. And it does make them shut up.

Here is my little Sadie-meister:

She wanted to see if she could get her arms around me. Nope. Not anymore. This morning, she does what she does every morning - she woke me up from my couch/bed - "Mommy, can I play on the computer?" So I set her up on Nick Junior and then went downstairs to snooze for a little while longer. After about five minutes, she came down and said, "Mommy, you need to get OUT OF BED. NOW." She forgot that Ben had the day off and was surprised when he told her to get her butt back upstairs, that Mommy feels sick. It felt nice to have someone defend me. She usually yells at me while I'm barfing, too: "Mommy, I need a drink. Right now. Why aren't you getting me a drink??"

Does she have no soul? What planet is she from, that she doesn't have the sense to wait until I'm done barfing? Or doesn't seem to care that I'm barfing? I'm kind to her when SHE barfs...

Oh. And the hormones. My face wash does nothing for me anymore. It helped for a couple of weeks. But now, well, I might as well pour canola oil on my face for all the good it's doing. Soooo gross. I imagine the hormones get more intense as the baby grows more and more? I know that babies gain a lot of weight in the last trimester - I imagine that there is a jumping up of the human growth hormone, but I don't know. All I know is that my face is very pizzalike. I told Ben my theory about my hormones getting more intense, and he said (with a laconic smile) that he could tell. Yeah, I think I'm a little edgier lately. Sigh. He is nice to put up with me. I feel bad.