My baby's not a real consistent mover. Some days we are extremely predictable, and get the wiggles at the same time, and other days we barely move at all. It makes it difficult to determine what is an "off day" and what is a legitimate decrease in activity (and thus what requires a call to the doctor).
Saturday during class she was practicing her yoga, much to my satisfaction. Then on Sunday we could have probably cared less about moving. I figured it was because my activity pattern was different, and sort of went along with it.
Bug continued her super quietness Monday and Tuesday. It took the full two hours Sunday and Monday night to count 10 moves. When we're "on," the longest I usually have to wait is 20-30 minutes. So I called Tuesday to try and get in for an appointment and it took me calling back FOUR TIMES before I actually was able to make an appointment to come in.
I talked with the RN, and she wanted me to come in for not just a "heartbeat check" like I asked for, but for a non-stress test (where you get the buzzer). OK, fine.
I get there, and I have to pee and be weighed. Five pounds. Ugh. I've never had the non-stress test before (just been hooked up to the monitor) so they take me into a previously unseen room that has this semi-creepy looking loveseat with one of those paper-covered pillows. The tech wraps the belts around me while I'm standing, and then I'm told to lay down, and she'll be back in ten minutes. Bug does not move a muscle in those ten minutes. The tech comes back in and kind of says, "hmm," and then and goes and gets me a Sprite. I have said Sprite, and Bug starts to move enough to satisfy (although I'm not convinced it was actually the Sprite that did anything). The RN comes and checks the paper and says things look OK, and sends me home.
Wednesday I go in for my regularly scheduled appointment. I had no intention of being upset about anything, but inevitably those are the appointments where you blubber like an idiot. Somehow, also, I have lost one pound between Tuesday and Wednesday.
We talk about The Stabs, and about any other thing I'm concerned about. I tell her that the baby just really hasn't been moving at all, but I had the NST the day before and they told me it was OK. She says I'm a tough cookie (I interpret this as, I don't know what to do with you, or how to explain everything that has happened in the last 32 weeks). I don't know how it comes up, but I tell her that I'm super stressed about my work situation (enter tears) and that I'm worried that my stress is causing the pain and non-movement. Or basically that I'm hurting the baby because I'm stressed. TEARS.
I try and explain the situation in as layman's terms as possible, and I can tell she's genuinely concerned. Given my history of anxiety/depression she asks again if I want to go on the meds, and I tell her no, I really don't want to. That this feels truly more stress-related than anything else. She asks if there's anything we can do to change the situation at work so that I can cope with things better ("we need to make you feel like you're in control" or something like that, and then something about making sure I can be a good mom, but in the sense that I am giving myself the chance to), and I say no, not really. I mean the problem is that I've been working 10+ hours a day, then coming home and working more and/or just passing out and getting up to go to work again and do it all over. It would suck not pregnant, and sucks even more being pregnant.
She asks me if working from home would help, and I say probably, because I could focus on getting caught up with things. She wants to keep me home two days a week and I negotiate her down to one. There were probably more things that I don't remember.
She measures me and I'm measuring on track. And then she asks if the baby had been quiet again that day and I said yes, and so she said, why don't we hook you back up to the monitor again. So we go back in the room and I get my belts and my buzzer again . And no one's moving. I get the Sprite. No one's moving. The heartrate is eerily constant, which I know by now is not ideal (they look for lots of peaks and valleys). I end up being on the monitor for the good part of an hour. The doctor checks on me twice. I am almost bawling because I get the sense that something is not right, AND it's my birthday and so far it has sucked.
Finally the doctor comes back in and counts things on the paper three different times. Apparently they need 10 heartrate increases in 20 minutes, and Bug has done her 10 in 21. So not technically that off the charts, but, and I quote, "knowing me" the doctor decides to send me to the MAC for a biophysical test, which includes an ultrasound to ensure that baby is OK. Oy vey.
We leave and head to the hospital. On the way I admit something horrible to Matthew -- that while I do not want anything to be wrong with the baby, the fact that they appear to be mildly concerned makes me glad because it means somehow that I haven't made this all up, or am being chicken little thinking things are wrong when they're not. The MAC is very busy. We wait ten minutes to get a room. Then we wait ten more for a nurse to come in. The nurse we get is, as usual, extremely nice and pleasant. She explains what she's going to be looking for -- tone, practice breathing, and movements.
They apparently got new ultrasound machines and the nurse is somewhat unfamiliar with it, so it takes us a while to get started, and then again when she has to measure anything (they were also checking my fluid levels). There are points assigned to each thing they are looking for, so you end up with a "score" at the end, and from what I can glean, if the score is low, then you probably just have to come back for another test in the next few days. We're told the ultrasound will last 30 minutes (so Bug has 30 minutes to meet all criteria).
Her head is so shoved underneath my ribs we can't really see it. The nurse jokes to us that she does indeed have a head, even though we can't see it. Right. I just hope the kid turns around before 40 weeks. She pokes around for a while and measures my amniotic fluid levels. Then we look for the breathing. Although she's not really "breathing," we're told it's something they look for, since it's a good sign that the baby is practicing above and beyond the necessary movements. After a while, we see her breathe (her belly expands and contracts like actual breathing -- it's weird and cool). Her tone is acceptable, since she is not laying around like a dead frog. Then we look for movement... and wait. I am about to lose it again since the damn thing refuses to move. We poke her. I'm asked to turn to my side. Then back again. She twitches once, but apparently there need to be bigger movements than that to count. I am trying to keep it together. I am just so frustrated at this whole situation, and why it can't just be easy. Finally we get one movement big enough to count. She has like four minutes to make two more, or else we lose points and probably have to come back the next day. Somehow she makes two more, and then it is clear that she is done for the evening. With like 60 seconds to spare.
They hook me up to the monitor again afterward, and I watch again as her heartrate stays stable. AAAH. After a half hour they come back in and tell me I can leave, but that my amniotic fluid is low, so I need to drink more liquids. I'm not sure a human being can handle more liquids than I already drink. I say, "OK."
We leave. We were supposed to go out to dinner last night for my birthday. We get to the car and I start bawling. We do not go out to dinner. We stop at Lunds and I get a hot cocoa from Caribou and Lucky Charms. We get home and I have Lucky Charms and Matt orders a pizza.
I slept on the couch last night because I was comfortable and didn't want to move. I was dreading giving my boss the note today, because she has had two relatively uneventful pregnancies and I'm not convinced totally understands what it's like. I show her the note, and tell myself DON'T CRY. I don't, somehow, which is impressive.
Bug and I go back for another ultrasound this afternoon to investigate The Stabs. The ultrasound tech is someone new (the regular one is pregnant and actually due today, so is not in) and she's sort of gruff and lesbian looking. Not that there's anything wrong with that; I just mention it for illustrative purposes. She thinks she is giving me a gyno exam, and says to me, well it's obvious you're pregnant, so we're not doing that. No dildo camera for me this time, thanks.
I ask if she can double-check the gender before I get on the table, and she sort of agrees. Woo hoo. The gel goes on, and somehow Bug is flipped and is now head down (and as I type this I would not be surprised if we just flipped BACK over, since there was just some serious maneuvering, and now no movement again). She measures fluid, blah blah, we see her breathe again (so crazy), get a picture, see her mouth move open and closed, and then investigate the left side. It's kind of like when you get an MRI and they can't tell you anything and just say "the doctor will look at this and be in contact" so I have no idea what she saw, if anything.
I ask if we can check how big she is and she tells me that the doctor did not order a growth check so no, she can't tell me. It's not like they have the room bugged, woman. It's not like I'm going to tattle on you. Boo.
We finish up and she puts the wand back. I ask, rather sheepishly, if we can check for girl parts. She reaches back for the wand as if I have just asked her to, I don't know, hand copy the entire phone book onto notebook paper. She (in my opinion) sort of half assedly looks at Bug, shows me her femurs and how her legs are shoved together, and says that if she didn't already know it was a girl, she would say she couldn't tell. I tell myself, well at least she didn't see a gigantic penis. But there was no extra attempt at getting her to open her legs or trying from a different angle. And then we were done, lights on, all business.
So in summary, it has been an eventful few days. Bug appears to be healthy, but I hate that I can't tell that myself by feeling her. I have an extremely quiet baby, especially when she gets wedged. I always ask how I can tell when she's not moving because something's wrong, and because she's wedged, and they never give me an answer. "Just call," they always say. "And then come in and get checked." As if it's no big deal! But I always feel so stupid. Is it April yet? I would like her to be fully grown and out so I could at least tell she was OK myself.
How far along? 32 weeks
Total weight gain/loss: Continual gain
Maternity clothes? I sweat more, so I can only wear them once now before they need to be washed. This severly limits the wardrobe, since I never remember to do laundry during the week.
Stretch marks? Nope
Sleep: Depends on how the day went
Best moment this week: Matt sent me flowers at work for my birthday
Movement: Meh
Food cravings: Haven't been super hungry lately, even though I keep gaining weight
Gender: Girl. I think.
Belly button in or out? In
Labor Signs: A few practice ones here and there.
What I miss: Emotional stability
What I am looking forward to: April
Weekly Wisdom: It is possible for someone to tell you that you're carrying low without mentioning "boy" in the same sentence.
Milestones: I'm 26!
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