We're up, we're down...

I am trying so hard to enjoy this ride called pregnancy, but I think they might need to let me off a little early. I'm starting to get vaguely nauseous...

So, yesterday morning was tough. Yesterday got a lot better by nighttime. The McDonald's cheeseburger certainly helped, as well as Brian and I were able to pick out the rest of our maternity photos (no, I will not be posting a link to ALL of them...sorry). Emma was in a chipper mood and ate the rest of her food, much to my delight. Overall, I went to bed feeling 100x better than when I had woken up.

And then this morning, I woke up feeling terrific. I mean, awesome. My back didn't hurt, my hips were aching, and I felt well-rested.  Good morning, Las Vegas!

This should have been my first clue that something is wrong.

(I know, how sad is it that anytime a good thing/feeling happens, I am instantly suspicious. Such is my life.)

It didn't occur to me until I was getting dressed for my Thursday fetal monitoring appointment as to WHY I felt good...not only did my body feel good, but my clothes fit. They fit really well. My favorite black shirt actually extended past my belly...when last week, it hadn't. And then it hit me - I felt smaller. A LOT smaller.

Regardless of this insight, I went to my appointment practically whistling. No contractions were recorded in the first ten minutes of my appointment and the baby's heartbeat seemed strong. When the nurse came bustling in, I thought maybe she just forgot some paperwork or something. Nope. Turns out, Baby B decided to sleep in that morning. "We're going to need to wake him up," she told me with a smile. And how does one do that? I wondered. Oh, with a horribly loud buzzer they place directly on your abdomen. She returned to the room with this instrument that looked a little like a phone receiver without the talking part, placed it directly on my abdomen, and SHOCKED my baby. I almost slapped her hand away. The poor little guy was instantly awake (who wouldn't be?) and started jumping around. I mean, legs and arms were flailing. I could see parts of him visibly move through my skin. I felt bad for him, but tried not to let it dampen my mood. Poor kid. Hopefully he won't be mad at me in the future. But, you know, it's medically necessary. Blah, blah.

And then it was time for the ultrasound. As the nurse measured fluid levels, she started muttering under her breath. "That can't be right," she said quietly, and redid the measurements. On the screen, the same numbers continued to pop up.

16.75. Total fluid.

I was at 21 on Monday, and 26 two weeks ago. While 16.75 is technically a great number (anything between 10-24 is normal), she looked at me with concern since I had lost over 5cm of fluid in four days. She said losing 2-3cm over several weeks is normal, but 5cm in four days is fairly unusual. She checked to make sure there was no fluid leaking (nope), and just encouraged me to keep drinking lots of water. She then said, as only a true clinician can, "I'll be really curious to see what your levels are on Monday." I know she didn't mean it in an insensitive manner (since I've also made the mistake of casually commenting to my patients about the progress of their disorder), but it left me feeling like an open book. Let's hope this has a happy ending.

Ugh, I just wish I could have a non-interesting visit. I mean, on Monday, they were seriously considering doing a decompression amnio to remove extra fluid. And perhaps my body heard that and decided to perform it on its own. If I drop below 7-8cm of fluid, they do what is called an 'infusion amnio,' where additional fluid is injected into the uterus. Can this child just please make up his mind? I don't enjoy this wild swings between both extremes.

I also feel like this pregnancy has been a study in obstetrics. I've joked with people that when I read pregnancy books, I feel like I should be memorizing the material, almost as if this was a class. Well, while some friends accuse me of being too 'worst-case-scenario,' I'm really glad I have some of that knowledge. As soon as the nurse started talking about ruptured membranes, I commented, "But PPROM (preterm premature rupture of the membranes) is fairly uncommon; only 3% of pregnancies are affected by it." She looked at me like I was a little crazy (not necessarily inaccurate) and continued with the exam. If only I had studied this hard in college.

So, who knows. I am so tired of worrying about stuff I have very little control over. Just think boring thoughts everyone. I would love a very quiet, very boring next 3-4 weeks. Thanks.