OK, here I am. Thanks for checking in on me. Sorry I am such a horrible blog slug these days.
Today I had my 28 week (and 5 days) appointment. My regular OB is out on maternity leave, so I had to meet with a substitute doctor today. I must admit I was a bit apprehensive about this appointment. Mostly because I am self conscious about my weight, and I was afraid she'd have a few things to say about it. Not that I expected her to skewer me or anything, but you know, I don't necessarily like discussing it at all. At least not with new people.
Anyway. At the start at the appointment I did the typical routine -- peed in a cup, got weighed, had my BP taken. I was up 2 pounds from my last visit for a total of about 14 overall. Just fine, really. And my blood pressure was OK, too. One-twenty-something over sixty-something. It started creeping up a bit a few months ago, but lately it's been quite good. So, no big issues there. But I did all that with a medical assistant. I had yet to meet the new doctor.
So, I sat in the exam room waiting -- like always, looking at the postings on the wall, because there's nothing much else to do. As I was glancing around, I noticed a large postcard featuring a picture of a woman's belly with her sweater buttons popping open. The text read: Big, Beautiful, and Pregnant: Expert Advice and Comforting Wisdom for the Expecting Plus-Size Woman. I thought that was sort of cool. As I read on, I realized it was a promotional postcard for a new book -- written by the doctor that I was about to see! Well, that certainly helped put me at ease. Turns out we had a lovely visit. Everything seems to be progressing well. My weight & BP are under control. I passed my glucose tolerance test. My belly measures right on target. The extra pounds don't seem to be causing any real trouble, thank goodness.
I can't say that I've been doing anything extra-special to stay healthy, either. I do try to eat enough fruits & vegetables and good protein. But I've eaten my share of ice cream, too. And I try to get out for walks, but haven't been great about that, either. I've just been lucky I guess. I really can't believe my luck this time around. Of course, I still wonder from time to time when that's going to run out. I try not to get caught up that kind of thinking, though. At least not too much.
So there you have it -- boring, really, and I pray it stays that way. I can deal with the fact that I'm a walking pumpkin. Huh, as I write that, I think of Sylvia Plath's poem, Metaphors:
I'm a riddle in nine syllables.
An elephant, a ponderous house,
A melon strolling on two tendrils.
O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!
This loaf's big with its yeasty rising.
Money's new-minted in this fat purse.
I'm a means, a stage, a cow in calf.
I've eaten a bag of green apples,
Boarded the train there's no getting off.
Except, you know, I would never refer to my legs as "tendrils," and um, I might replace "green apples" with "Oreos," but you get the idea. And as far as getting off the train, I suppose that is going to happen one way or another. The fact that I might not be doing it alone this time -- well, that is a truly lovely thought.
About 11 weeks to go...
