My Baby, My Gigantasaurus

This is how you look when you find out that your 34-week baby is already nearly 8 pounds (and yes, this is how I dress now that I work from home, I apologize).

The little dude is now renamed the Gigantasaurus, given yesterday's NST and dr's appointment, where Dr. Maier did the ultrasound guesstimate on dude's height and weight. Right now he's measuring in at 37 weeks typical growth, even though he is only 34 weeks along. The estimated weight is 7 lb 13 oz, and the length is 21 inches. Yikes. There is a 15% error rate on these tests, so he could be 6 lbs 6 oz, or he could be bigger than the estimate. Yikes. Either way, this explains why I'm feeling so damn awkward. Since he went head down, my pelvic floor feels . . . strained, to put it politely. I can't imagine going on an 8 mile hike now. I am just slow, and sometimes it hurts.

So, we always knew that he was going to be a big guy, right? I mean, I'm a Type 1 diabetic, and even though I've had great control, diabetics still tend to have bigger babies. Add that to the fact that I was 10 pounds, my mom was around 10 pounds, and my sister was 10 1/2, and you can see why I'm concerned. I just don't want to have an 11 pound or up baby. I really don't. I want to have a natural birth, and I'd really like to avoid a c-section if at all possible, and my dr told me that when diabetics start to get to 10 pounds or so, they are pressured to have a c-section. Excuse my french, but fuck that. As Peter said, "They can pressure you all they want, but they can't make you do anything." Of course, I will absolutely have a c-section if it's a medical emergency, but not before that. Nickie already told me I have an amazingly roomy pelvis, and my mom told me that she hasn't noticed a difference giving birth to a 10 1/2 pounder vs. a 5 1/2 pounder (Grace and Forrest, the twins, were 5 1/2 and 6 1/2 pounds). So, those are two encouraging points.

And I know that all of the work I've been doing — hiking, pilates, acupuncture, yoga, swimming, good diet — will absolutely pay off after his birth even if I do have to have a c-section. It'll all work out. The good news is that everything with Gigantasaurus looks fabulous. He is firmly head down, he is kicking up a storm, and the first NST test showed him to be in awesome health, heartwise. Interestingly, I have gained zero weight in the past month, which means that while my limbs are looking a little thinner, my belly is looking hella big. Overall I've gained less than 30 pounds thus far, which I think is pretty good, weight wise, for the pregnancy.

I just need him to come out sooner than later. I've been telling Gigantasaurus that 37 to 38 weeks is a good time for him to come, since right now he could be averaging 1/2 a pound a week. That means he could be potentially close to or over 11 pounds if he goes to full term.

So, I'm going to probably start acupuncture inductions now at 36 weeks, if Meg, my acupuncturist, will allow it. And I'm feeling a little freaked out about getting everything done a few weeks sooner. We still need a carseat. We need to set up the nursery. I need to sew a diaper changing station for the top of the dresser, potentially refinish a dresser, sew a sheet for the cradle, see about getting a new bed frame made (that the dogs can fit beneath, space, space, space!) . . . still work 40 hours a week, and go to the clinic 2 to 3 times a week for NSTs and Dr. appointments, besides the acupuncture, swimming, pilates, dog duties, house duties, diabetes management, etc. Oy. And I know it's just going to get more hectic once Gigantasaurus arrives.

We're going to try to do a few fun things before babe arrives, including going to Commis for dinner, perhaps seeing Phedre at ACT, going to Davies to the orchestra . . . just a few things that will be hard to do with the baby, once he gets here.

Usually I eat eggs in the morning, but sometimes I have a hankering for something a little sweeter. So, since I'm on a low-carb diet, I thought I'd share this delicious low-carb smoothie recipe with any of you who need a quick yummy breakfast drink.

1/2 cup (5.5 g) plain organic yogurt
1/2 cup (6.5 g) frozen strawberries
1 scoop (2 g) low-carb vanilla protein powder
1 pkg stevia
a dash of vanilla

whir it all up and then transport it in an old cream jar on your way to walk the dogs in the rain!

Babymooning It in Gualala

Not to fall into a marketing trap or anything, but Peter and I took a babymoon the other weekend to beautiful Gualala. We stayed at Mar Vista Cottages, a wonderful homey spot on the coastline north of Gualala owned by Renata and Tom. Highlights included sitting in the pitch black in the outdoor soaking tub, listening to the rain come down and the frogs chirp as Peter drank wine and I drank copious amounts of water. And hiking 8 miles. And making delicious scrambles with the eggs from Mar Vista. And beachcombing. And visiting an odd general store manned by a parrot-impersonating bulldog named General. And many more lovely moments. This is mostly a picture entry, with some images from our stay.

The chickens produced like crazy, and we ate many, many deeply golden-yolked eggs.

A visit to the Sea Ranch Chapel.

I hate it when I take pictures with one squinty eye.

I loved the cottage (we stayed in cottage #5). It had a decidedly Scando/thrifted vibe. Peter declared it "very Elkan." I agreed, though said it was my style minus the weirdness. There were lots of embroidered, thrifted linens used for curtains, pretty little nature elements, etc.

Me and the babe on recently opened public coastline on a windy afternoon.

The beautiful Northern California coastline.

A view from our cottage.

Lola, the unofficial greeter of Mar Vista.

I'm Part of the Resistance

The insulin resistance, that is. Over the past few weeks, my body's resistance to the stuff that keeps me and the babe healthy has stubbornly dug its heels in, and refused to cooperate. I'd been warned that, due to pregnancy hormones, my insulin needs could double. However, at this point my needs are between tripling and quadrupling. If I don't exercise after I eat, my insulin is even more sluggish, and I often have to stack dosages. It's freaking me out, and making it very hard to manage things. I'm checking my bloodsugar about a dozen times a day, and constantly having to change ratios on my insulin pump. It's kind of the suck.
Because of my insulin resistance, my doctor has recommended that I work from home for the remainder of the pregnancy, so I can exercise after every meal. While this is for the best, I'm also a bit worried about becoming a recluse (so, if any Bay Area peeps want to stop by and exercise/work with me, please let me know). I plan on trying to swim close to every day, hike with the pups, and work on pilates/yoga/strength exercise at home at night. I have a plan, and I'm pushing on, but having my body refuse to cooperate has made things difficult, and more than a little scary. I worry that my bloodsugars will get out of control, that the baby will get too big, that I will have to be induced soon, soon, soon . . . . basically, I worry.

But I'm trying not to, you know? I'm trying to enjoy things, even as they're this hard right now. On Sunday Peter and I went on an 8 mile hike. We did it in a little over 3 hours, which, as far as I'm concerned, is damn good for a Type 1 diabetic mama-to-be who's 32 weeks pregnant. My body may not be cooperating with the insulin, but it is still capable. I have to concentrate on that.

The Badditude

I'm starting to feel pretty uncomfy, and this has contributed to my badditude of the past few days. What originally started it was a double whammy of a day last week: an emergency dental appointment and an emergency doctor's appointment.

See this little guy? He is in need of some major discipline, discipline that I feel incapable of issuing at this point in the pregnancy. He has made steady progress since we got him in June (a mere week before I found out I was pregnant with the little dude). He has been housetrained, learned how to sleep quietly (mostly) through the night, taken basic obedience classes, learned how to walk offleash, been well-socialized, and in general is a delightful pup. But he's still a pup, with lots and lots of energy.

I found this out the hard way last Wednesday when I took him and Ozzie on an offleash walk at the Bulb, and Haiko, distracted by his excitement over playing with another dog, ran straight into the back of my knees and flipped me on my back. Flat on my back. My back still hurts as I type this. I really need to make that massage therapy appointment, actually. Anyway, it hurt like hell. Plus it is really embarrassing to have to rock a little bit on your back and side to get up out of the mud after this happens. The other dog's owner asked me if I was okay, and between crying and hiding my face in shame over my manatee-like rocking return to an upright position, I managed to wave her away. Then I had to go to Walnut Creek to get another damn ultrasound to make sure that the placenta hadn't detached from the uterine wall and that the baby was still okay. It was pretty damn scary. Peter had left that early morning to go to Tahoe, so I felt doubly alone, having to deal with all of this by myself.

Luckily, the baby was okay, the placenta was attached still, and I am fine, save for the horrible backache. And I have started instituting a more disciplined, Cesar-like routine with the pup, including making him sit and wait for the door to be opened, no paws up on legs or furniture to get our attention, etc.

We really need to hire Tanja, but she is so expensive, and our money is rather dwindled at this point, especially with less coming in in rental income at the moment, and me soon going on maternity leave. This is important, though, so we need to find ways to budget for it.

So, the other double whammy of that Wednesday was my visit to the dentist. I have an extreme dental phobia. It has something to do with, perhaps, my very first dentist being a weirdo criminal who went to jail, my lack of flouride as a child, my father's refusal to let us have x-rays until we were, like, 12, and other assorted dental horrors over the past 20-some years. Whilst flossing my teeth on Tuesday evening, an entire filling popped out of a molar and flew across the bathroom. Awesome! So, I ovaried up and made an appointment with Peter's dentist. And guess what? It was okay. She was really nice. The first nice dentist I have had in years! I go back to her today for a cleaning, and then we're going to do many more horrible teethy things once the baby is born, including, possibly, Invisalign for my crooked teefs. I cannot even imagine having straight teefs. It is beyond my considerable imagination.

So, the badditude. It is here, but I don't want to get used to it. I want it to change. Maybe tonight's prenatal water exercise class at the Y will help. Or tomorrow's acupuncture. Or stretching my sore back. Something has to help. Because I don't want to do another 8 weeks with this badditude. Blech.