17 weeks with Olivia: Let me share my embarrassing

Finally, finally I made it to my OB appointment again. This seeing the doctor every four weeks? Yeah. Not a fan. It’s crazy going so long between appointments now when I was going every week. It’s so different being treated like a regular pregnant woman. I was monitored so closely at the fertility clinic. I mean, I haven’t shown a medical professional my vagina in…seven weeks now?

Baby’s heart was beating away at a healthy 154 yesterday at the doctor’s. I’m really starting to feel movement now. It can be hard to tell sometimes if it’s intestines or baby because, well, things are starting to feel squished in there. But every so often and becoming more frequent every day, there are these flutters that feel foreign and can only be baby.

I talked to the doctor about my eating habits, as I’ve been feeling they are still a bit sub-par with what I am “supposed” to be doing.

EAT ORGANIC!

EAT ALL OF THE FOODS RICH IN FOLATE!

EAT ALL OF THE ORGANIC FOODS RICH IN FOLATE!

DON’T FORGET YOUR OMEGA-3’S! YOUR BABY NEEDS THEM FOR BRAIN DEVELOPMENT!

MAKE SURE YOU GET THOSE EXTRA CALORIES!

WHAT? YOU DON’T HAVE AN APPETITE? WELL HOW DO YOU EXPECT YOUR BABY TO GROW, WHORE??

I use several pregnancy apps just like any other crazy pregnant woman. All it does is depress me when I read about what I am “suppose” to be eating, and what I am “supposed” to be doing for exercise. I read about the benefits of a regular walking schedule and how important it is to eat vegetables and all I can do is cry into my Cheetos while laying on the couch because no one told me that sometimes all the baby will allow you to do is lay around and eat carbs. And no one tells you it’s ok.

Guess what? That deli meat I am supposed to stay away from or only heat to steaming? Those Bacon Turkey Bravos from Panera and Jimmy Johns subs I ate in my first trimester were like little naughty nitrates from heaven. There were nights when I would literally be in tears when my husband asked what I wanted for dinner and all I could stomach was a deli sandwich “but I can’t!” I’d sob, “They said I’d get listeria!” And it took me a bit to give myself a break and allow myself to eat the damn sandwich because it was calories and nutrition and let’s face it, it was better than the trip to McDonald’s.

I was fully expecting my doctor to give me a lecture, or maybe give me a referral to a nutritionist because clearly I was not eating responsibly for two.  However, he told me what I was doing was fine. “You don’t feel like eating? Don’t eat. You want that particular carb? Eat it.” He told me the research said unless you have a previous nutritional deficiency, your baby will be just fine if you don’t hit your calories. (I love this doctor.)

In other news, I’m still doing the Lovenox shots. Ask me how it’s going. Come on, ask me.

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I get constipated a lot. Pregnancy in general plus my coffee strike early in the first trimester makes pooing fun. Also, even when I haven’t gone in a few days, I always seem to need to when I haven’t ate in awhile. And an empty stomach means more gagging potential. So being in the bathroom after, ahem, dropping the kids off at the pool, I usually need to book it out of there from my increased sense of smell (which is a bitch in itself).

Well, this time I didn’t make it and did this huge heave while I was still sitting there. So I’m on the toilet, feeling like I’m going to throw up and thinking, where am I supposed to throw up? I can’t stand up, I’ll totally lose it. So I carefully wipe, breathing through my nose and singing to distract myself because you do what you gotta do, and I stand up and dry heave again. So I book it out of there and dry heave for the third time in the hallway and now I’m seriously panicking because remember, Risa doesn’t throw up. And my stomach is rolling and my mouth is filling up with spit and I keep telling myself “I fucking wanted this. I wanted to be pregnant,” and I delicately make it to the bedroom to lay on the bed to try to calm things down but that just feels like I’m going to throw up more so I sit up and start crying because I’m a germaphobe and still haven’t washed my hands after pooping but I’m desperately trying to clench my jaw together to keep from hurling and debating if I can make it out to the kitchen to try to stuff some food into my mouth with my unwashed hands.

I’m happy to report there was no throwing up. It was a close one, but my stubbornness mixed with hilarious anxiety about upchucking won out. So far.

Well, the gagging is apparently not going to go away. Case in point and also because it’s been a while since I’ve overshared on the Internet: Let’s see, what else did week seventeen bring?

Oh yeah. The crying? That’s fun too. Last Sunday, after laying around the house on the couch watching my husband clean the kitchen, vacuum, and go for a run, I wailed to him that I hadn’t accomplished anything that day. I asked him to come take a nap with me which pre-pregnancy always was code for sex but now literally means take a nap. Also, I know some family members out there are reading this, so let me just be clear that Chris and I don’t really have sex. Like ever.

So I convince him to come upstairs and lay in bed with me. I don’t know, maybe I just needed that physical contact with him because I was feeling all pregnant and needy. We get in bed and he makes a comment sweetly about my neediness…

…and I lose it. Like, totally lose it. I started laughing which turned to crying at an alarming rate which then turned into this donkey gaffaw/bawling my eyes out which embarrassed me so much that I kept laughing and subsequently crying and he’s all laying there with his eyes closed thinking if he ignored the behavior it would stop. Well it just made me do it more and pretty soon I’m all, “What’s wrong with meeeee? You know like on TV where they talk about people who have those neurological disorders where they laugh or cry at inappropriate times? What if I have that tooooo?” And God bless this man that he could continue to lie there with a straight face and mutter, “I don’t think so, Risa.” So my nose is all plugged up and I’m thinking to myself, stop crying, you’ll make yourself dry heave! I lay down next to him and proceed to cry softly and leak tears into a Kleenex for the next thirty-five minutes. And then I fell asleep and woke up with puffy eyes in a cheerful mood and wanting to eat pizza.

Oh and guess what? The 20-week anatomy scan is scheduled for August 3rd! We’ll finally get to find out who exactly is growing in there. And it better be a girl because I basically have everyone I know calling her a girl because of my refusal to say, “it.” If it turns out there is a boy in there, well, we can all laugh about it, right?