Pregnancy Post 29

I am officially the worst prego ever.

Been having headaches off and on for two weeks or so, and finally called the dr, because yesterday it was unrelenting, my heart kept racing periodically and it was making me lightheaded. The nurse practitioners suggestion? I am not eating enough. Especially protein. WHAT. First time in my life I've been told that, that's for GD sure.

Anyhow,I came home after work, and my amazing niece took care of B after we ate dinner so I could rest, since Jamie had  a date, and Richie worked late. Woke up, felt pretty good, and went to work this morning.

I went to Raley's before work, to stock up on protein filled snacks (mainly nuts, and a little thing of PB to dip my fruit in since that's my main snack lately), and by the time I left I felt like I couldn't breathe and was getting panicky. It didn't change any, even though I sat at my desk, drank my water, and after getting fuzzy headed, went to sit on the bathroom floor to do some deep breathing to try and calm myself down.

I finally decided to leave, since the NP wanted me to take the rest of the day off yesterday and I didn't,  because my day was almost done. My sister took me home, because I didn't want to drive  (I was loopy and dizzy still), and as soon as we got into the hallway, I burst into tears. Go me. She had to coach me into breathing the whole way home so I didn't go into full hysterical mania.

I kind of think I am having mini panic attacks or something. I am not dehydrated, and my blood pressure is fine. Baby is ok...yesterday they couldn't find the heartbeat with the doppler, so they did a quick US and we saw the heartbeat that way. I was so tweaked out at that point, that when I looked up and saw a very still baby curled into a ball, I didn't believe that she saw the heartbeat until she picked up the sound and let me listen via the us machine. I was convinced the baby wasn't alive and almost cried right there when I couldn't see the little flutter she pointed at. I am going insane.

I am increasingly anxious about not knowing the sex. I want to get to the point where I can feel movement and be the kick count nazi, like I was with Bellamy. (well, they way they instructed me to be at Dr Cantrell's office, really) but that's comforting to me. I know that if I don't count the movements they tell me to, that they'll send me straight to the hospital to get double checked.

I like having nurses that support me, and don't patronize me like the hospital staff does...they recognize that bad things happen in my pregnancies, and help me cope with out making me feel nuts. Granted, once I get to the hospital to get checked I have to deal with the new grad nurses who are trained to treat every pregnant woman as if she's overreacting, but for the most part they shut the fuck up when I tell them I've had a full term fetal demise and I've been sent by my drs. MOST of them. Some of them still tut tut like they know better, but I don't care. As long as they find the heartbeat/do an US/ etc and I know all is well in the danger zone (that would be my uterus) it's worth it.

There's also the fact that Connor's 5th birthday is fast approaching. Usually at this point I'm plagued by restless sleep, nightmares, and uncontrollable crying jags. I think maybe all those emotions are being transferred to worrying about the newbie. I don't want to project the negativity on the new baby, and I am trying hard not to, at least when I am conscious. My dreams and subconsciousness have a mind of their own.

It basically comes down to the fact that I want a boy, but I don't want to be pregnant with a boy. If it's a girl, the rest of my pregnancy will be marked by a decrease in the crazy. But then...if it's a girl...I will be crushed that we'll never have another boy, to do all the stuff with we never got to do with Connor. Richie needs a little jedi.

In other news, Bellamy is still an entertaining little rock star as usual. She told Richie the other day she has a boyfriend named Jackson Cole (a pretty kick ass name she made up herself.) and has been holding some intense My Little Pony races in the living room. There's even an assigned Dr Pony who puts band aids on the ponies that get hurt when they fall during their laps.

It's hard to remember life before her, and I am ok with it. She's a glorious little widget. She's my little cosmic gift, I've decided. After struggling with my first two disastrous pregnancies and the depression that followed them, I think the universe recognized we needed a break and I gave birth to a ridiculously radiant little ray of sunshine. Who is at this moment shoving connect 4 pieces in between my boobs for safekeeping.