Total Meltdown--EPP style

Went to the midwife's office for a check up Thursday. I was pretty excited about it, because since I've been feeling the baby move, I have made it the entire month between visits without being insane, so I'm thinking I'm doing pretty f-ing good.

On Thursday, I was 26 weeks and 2 days. They bring out this tape measure thing, and measure my gut. Then she tells me that she's measuring me at 32.5 weeks, which is way too large for how far along I am.

I am like oh. No big deal--in case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty fat. You could have laid me on this table before I ever got knocked up, measured my gut with a tape measure, and you would have had me at 10 weeks or so. That doesn't seem a real accurate way to measure me, since I am overweight, and carry the bulk of that extra weight in my abdomen. Chances are, you are measuring adipose.

She says well, maybe, she guesses, but, she's going to send me for some tests, like an early gestational diabetes test, and an ultra sound, just to check.

I was like well ok, but I am quite sure of my due date, but of course, watching the baby squirm around a while longer in an u/s is going to be fun.

She said well, that way we can see if you have too much amniotic fluid, or if there is some kind of abnormality.

Hmm. OK.

Then she said, as a matter of fact, why don't we do these tests tomorrow? Can you do them tomorrow? If there is a problem like too much amniotic fluid or an abnormality, we would have to transfer your care to a specialist.

Yeah, ok, I can do them tomorrow. Geez. Seems to me like she's overreacting a bit to a little extra flab, but, well, she said the word abnormality, and I wonder what that can mean, you know?

But, my total weight gain is 7 pounds, which is great, and my blood pressure is 116/70, which is also great, and the baby's heartbeat was 144, which also sounds great.

But dude, she said abnormality. And she wants me to have the tests tomorrow, not sometime in the next week or so--tomorrow. She probably wouldn't be concerned if she didn't think there was something wrong, right? And if everything was probably OK, she wouldn't be concerned about be having the tests tomorrow. And specialist? that sounds like something's wrong....

Thus, the meltdown begins.

I call my mom, nonchalantly, and she says well, everyone in our family has big babies, you're probably just going to have a big baby. Plus, we're big people--you can't expect to have average fundal height measurements, can you?

Actually mom, I totally expect to have normal everything. But I can accept a big baby--after all, big babies are cute.

But things are still not OK in my brain.

I remain calm through dinner, and go to class. On my way to class, I call Melissa, and leave her a message, asking what the heck is going on, tell her what the midwife says, and ask her to tell me it's all good.

I get a break during class, and google things like excessive amniotic fluid. I get articles about babies born without jaws and can't swallow, or babies born without kidneys, and can't process the amniotic fluid, so it builds up, no stomachs, no bladders, horrible deformities....

So I call Melissa on another break, because now I'm freaking out. She's not available, but she texted me back saying she's in a meeting, but not to worry, it's all good.

Thanks Melissa, it's awesome knowing someone who works in this field.

I go home, call Kevin on my way to burst into tears and cry about what I looked up on the internet.

Then, I lay awake all night thinking that this is it, the baby doesn't have kidneys or something, because I ate subway and exposed myself to listeria bacteria or something. Or maybe it was that beer I drank at the very beginning of my pregnancy, before I knew I was pregnant. Either way, I obviously f-ed up my perfect little baby.

The meltdown continued the next morning, when I went to the lab for a glucose tolerance test instead of to work. Then I went to work, shipped a few samples to customers, and cried about how I thought my baby would probably not live.

I went to the ultra sound, and things looked up. A lot. The tech was extremely nice, even nicer than the last one, and had been doing u/s on pregnant ladies for about 15 years. Sweet, someone with a lot of experience. She told me that I am carrying a healthy 28 week old male fetus.

I pointed out that I was 26 weeks, not 28.

She pointed out that according to the measurements of the baby, he was 28. She said he could be a 26 week one, but if he was, he was on the extremely high side of normal size. Very big.

But perfect! No problems! Amniotic fluid was perfect, bladder, kidneys, stomach--all perfect. We got a really nice shot of his junk, and he's definitely a BOY. Very cooperative this time. Ha! It was so funny. She said that he weighed 2 pounds and 9 ounces.

!!!

That's a big boy! Especially since I have about 13 weeks to go....he's just going to get bigger!

My relief is intense. I don't know the results of the GTT yet, but, if it's bad, at least it's something wrong with me, not with him. He's perfect!

Oh! And he has gigantic feet. The tech took a picture of his foot, because it was so big, and so perfect. He takes after his mom:)

Now, since I started this post yesterday, there has been updates--I heard from the midwife, and everything is fine!!!

Woohoo!

I just measure big. No big deal.

1. The u/s showed that he's perfect, and they are not changing my due date, because due dates calculated from dates of last menstrual period are more accurate than due dates from u/s.

2. He's probably going to be between 8 and 9 pounds. He's in the 75th percentile for his size at his age.

3. *drumroll please* I DO NOT have gestational diabetes! Woohoo!! My blood sugar was 116, and anything under 140 is considered great. Thank goodness!

for my pal, chunky monkey--I feel the need to tell you, that I feel a little guilty that I don't have it, and you do. Because there is no reason that I should not have it while you do, you eat well, you exercise, you do all the right things--and genetically, with a type 1 brother, and my dad being a type 2, I don't know how I dodged that bullet. Seems weird. But part of me feels sorry that we don't have it together. Of course, another part of me is damn thankful that I don't have it. Somehow, I dodged the bullet. I'm overweight, and have always been, I have polycystic ovarian syndrome, and a family history--but I'm in the clear. Wow. I'm stunned. I asked her if she was sure, and offered to repeat the test, and she told me I was crazy and I was fine and do not have to repeat the test.

4. My hematocrit is 12 (needs to be over 10), and my iron is 35 (needs to be over 30). Sweet.

No problems! Thank God.

Meltdown NOT averted, but, it's over now. Whew!

Three big sighs of relief (me, Kevin, and Mr. Pants, who is finding out that the saying "Momma ain't happy, ain't NOBODY happy", is just a tad bit too true.)