Three Months Old

I mean, look at that face.

Mad Baby

Tomorrow is Baby Bug's third post-op appointment with his pediatric cardiologist (PC) and I have been fighting with a feeling of impending doom for two weeks now. Oh lovely internets, you have been there for me countless times and I turn to you yet again. It's going to be ok, right?

Since I skipped most of the oogy parts, let me fill you in on the necessary background. Baby Bug had a severely narrowed portion of his aorta (a coarctation of the aorta), which is the main artery supplying blood to the body, and also a hypoplastic (narrowed) transverse aortic arch. These problems meant that he was getting precious little precious blood circulating to about 2/3 of his body, which showed up clinically as really high blood pressure in the arm (before the obstruction) and significantly lower pressure in the leg (after the obstruction). This discrepancy in the blood pressure is caused by the fact that the heart is having to work so much harder to try to push the blood through the obstruction (high in arm) but it doesn't really get through much (low in leg); it is referred to as the gradient. Does that make sense (in an amateur cardiologist kind of way)? Incidentally, you should have no gradient a'tal.

So then, pre-op, Baby Bug's gradient was 40-50. Post-op, it was zero, and all was as it should be. Two weeks ago, it was 25. I don't know the whole range of explanations for the new gradient, but from what I understand, this is not a good development. As in, it appears that there may be some sort of (new? returned?) obstructive-ness going on in there.

On top of that crap sundae, my boy has hypertension that just won't quit. As in double the BP a lad of his size should be presenting. Even while medicated. (And I know what you're thinking, but no, it has absolutely nothing to do with my own personal BP issues. I wish it did--it would be less scary, medically speaking.) This is, in the words of his PC, "surprising."

So.

Got any chicken bones left to shake out there, internet aunties?

I swear to all that is holy we will one day be healthy again over here in the Bug Household and talk about something else.

Where Do I Start?

So many many things have happened since we last spoke, I don't think I can effectively catch up. I have been delaying coming back here for a little while now, hoping that things would start becoming more clear to me emotionally. So far, no luck. Still shellshocked. Shall I get on with it then?

I think at least some of you know that after struggling with infertility, four months of bedrest, severe pre-eclampsia at the end, an emergency c-section, a week in the NICU and breastfeeding drama galore, my dear little Baby Bug was very unexpectedly diagnosed with a congenital heart defect that required open heart surgery within hours. Talk about a blow to the solar plexus. I still cannot begin to find the words to talk about what it was like to see my sweet boy cracked open from stem to stern with tubes and ports and lines inserted in, literally, every square inch of his tiny body.

I can't relive it any more than that today. I will leave you with the news that he is doing well now and should lead a normal life.

I'm sorry to cut and run, but I think that's all we can do right now.

Baby Bug Is Here!!!!!!!

Thanks to Baby Bug's fantastic internet aunties, I think most of you know that my dear sweet adorable child was wrenched screaming into the world at 7:19 p.m. on January 2nd. For the gory details behind that story, read on:

Saturday the 31st I went to the hospital for another non stress test, which was just fine, but my head had started to hurt pretty badly. It felt like I had a very tight headband on and the pressure just got worse and worse. Once I got home, Tylenol III with codeine didn't help it at all, so my OB told me to go back to the hospital and be admitted. They started giving me demerol shots, which didn't help too much either but made me care about it less. Ah, narcotics. My BP was nuts (180/110 at one point), but all the bloodwork, etc was fine at this point. My OB came up to the hospital (on New Years' Eve!) to check me out and she decided that things were bad enough to induce Tuesday morning, at 36 weeks and 1 day.

I really don't remember Sunday. Seriously. I do know that Sunday evening they started me on a heavy dose of magnesium sulfate to prevent seizures from the BP (!!!!), which was pretty much as horrible as advertised (it burns badly going into the vein, makes you feel very hot and flu-like and completely out of it) and put in cervadil to ripen my cervix (which was only dilated a fingertip). Baby Bug was still ok on the monitors but the headache was getting worse so they decided to move the induction up to Monday.

Monday morning they started the pitocin drip and I got an epidural pretty early on, mostly because it lowers the BP. I had lots of strong contractions that I couldn't even feel (hurray!) but the headache continued to get worse. It felt like my head was being squeezed in a vice by this point. I didn't find this out until later but my kidneys suddenly started shutting down, BP went through the roof, and I had bleeding that made them think I was developing a placental abruption. All I remember is that my nurse told me that I needed a c-section right away and that it would all be fine.

Baby Bug was born a few minutes later at exactly 36 weeks of gestation. He was the most beautiful boy I have ever seen and hearing him cry for the first time absolutely knocked me out. I never knew that I could love someone so much. That fat little baby weighed 7 lbs, 8 oz and measured 20 inches long and he was perfectly fine at birth with 9 and 9 on his Apgars.

Then, he turned blue. Then purple. He stopped breathing about 30 minutes after birth and went into severe respiratory distress. He was immediately put on a ventilator, had umbilical ivs put in, and a thousand other tubes and gizmos attached to him. I wasn't allowed to see him until I was off the magnesium sulfate, which was 24 hours after his birth. When they wheeled me into NICU for the first time, seeing him splayed out under a warmer with every square inch of his little body attached to some kind of medical device was absolutely horrible. He looked so tiny and alone and hurting and there was absolutely nothing I could do for him. We weren't even allowed to touch him. I just cried. I will spare you the photographic evidence.

We are very fortunate that Baby Bug started to get better pretty quickly. He was taken off the ventilator after three days and then gradually weaned off all the other apparatus little by little. Once he was off the ventilator, we were allowed to touch him and finally finally I was allowed to hold my little baby on Friday, four days after his birth. It seemed like a million years. They also finally started to feed him on Friday, through a tube put down his mouth into his stomach. I was discharged from the hospital Friday night and having to leave without Baby Bug was incredibly hard. I felt like I had abandoned him there.

He finally came home Tuesday night after 8 days in the NICU and he is doing well with just a few little ongoing medical issues. For the most part, he is happy and healthy and we're working on getting his breastfeeding skills over the hump. He's been having some trouble latching on right but I think we're getting there (two cracked nipples later. Eek).

I have attached my favorite picture of our dynamic duo, taken minutes after his birth and mere seconds before his dramatic lack of respiration. I'm just so thrilled that he's here in the world and able to scare me. And if you're wondering--yes, he is worth every last bit of it.

Baby Pics

As promised, here is my favorite ultrasound picture. Imagine that you are standing near his feet and, well, looking up his nose from below. The part I find so endearing is the little chubby cheek.




*I am not sure what that is in the background. Hands maybe?*

Home Again. (Again.)

So that nausea thing got worse. And became vomiting. And then my BP was up. And I started getting some tenderness in the infamous right upper quadrant, a.k.a. Liver Land. So I stalled a bit thinking I had an appointment with my OB Thursday, but apparently I didn't. I saw the Nurse Practitioner and had a couple of increasingly panicky conversations with the on-call OB, via the NP. Then they stalled for a while with another Non Stress Test while they tried to decide what to do with me. And then another three way conversation with OB Number 3 (if anyone's counting), before they finally decided to admit me to rule out the horrid HELLP syndrome.

Whew. That was exhausting.

I am pleased to report that liver tests were all normal, platelets normal, all HELLP-related testing normal except that I am persistently anemic. Big deal, right? Protein is up a bit from last week and BP is "funky" and will "probably get funkier." The new guesstimate is maybe a couple more weeks of baking before it all goes to shit?

And now for the obligatory closing whine; I apologize in advance:

I thought I was over this a month ago. And then I thought I was REALLY over it. And I was sure I couldn't take another minute. And yet I'm still here. I have become totally antisocial because I either don't feel well or, increasingly, I just don't have anything good to say. People who haven't talked to me in several weeks or months will call and I just don't have the energy to pretend like everything is ok and chat about this and that. But, if no one calls, then I feel like everyone has forgotten about me in this arctic wasteland of bedrest. Ack! Ack! Ack! I am horrified at the thought of this dragging into 2006. I can't even tell you. It has been 13 weeks now. And three hospitalizations so far. There has got to be an end!!!!!!

I did finally get a cute ultrasound picture of BNN from the perinatologist, who has a bizarre propensity to take pictures of knees and elbows and other non-cuddly parts. If you're all very very good, I will try to remember to scan it for you. He has my nose.

92 Days Down

Lips swelling.

BP edging up again.

COBRA elected (thanks to all for the help).

Nausea?? At 31 weeks??

Marital relationship a tad, ummm, strained.

The Baby Incubator is fed the fuck up.

I just don't know how much longer I can do this.

Worn Down and Out

I think this has become a medical update blog. Not very interesting, but I don't seem to have the energy for much else. I am not, despite my OB's dire predictions at my last appointment, on hospital bedrest yet. Hopefully, we can put that off at least another week. BP is still ridiculous but not as much as it was. (What an odd thing to type.) I dunno yet about this week's protein, but I am not expecting major changes either way.

BNN was not as stellar on yesterday's tests as he has been so far. The amniotic fluid level has dropped from 13 to 9 (it needs to be above 8) and the non-stress test was not as reassuring as they would have liked. We shall repeat Friday and see the peri for the full work up on Monday.

The financial fronts have also taken a steep downturn since we last spoke. I am now out of paid leave (which was my maternity leave) and likewise out of company-provided health insurance. We can continue the insurance, for a pretty hefty monthly price. I shouldn't say "can continue;"of course, we must continue it, no matter what the price.

I am just fucking exhausted. So tired I can't think straight anymore. K. has decided that we need to aim to make it to 34 weeks and I just can't even begin to contemplate another 4 weeks of this. Honestly. Even the thought makes me want to sob hysterically. I can barely deal with the idea of 2 more weeks (which is what the OB is going for). 32 weeks will be 12 weeks of bedrest. 84 days of it. (See--I can't even write a complete sentence without my train of thought breaking down!)

I am trying to come up with a snappy closer here but I've got nothing. Sorry.

Crappity Crap Crap

I don't know anymore what to tell you about what's going on. Some days it seems like things are a little better, others it seems like we're on a fast train to Crapville. Today I feel more like the Mayor of Crapville, so please take all this with a grain of salt.

Since we last spoke, the BP drama has continued, spiking up into crazy levels on Monday that ended up earning me a hospital stay due to a "severe hypertensive event." When I was hitting pressures over 170/110 for several hours, I thought it was all over. But, thank God, they got it to come down again and we're trying to maintain on just shy the max dose of BP med #2. BNN remains his sassy self in there, apparently none the worse for wear. Protein is still holding pretty steady at "mild" levels and scary bloodwork is still all ok. I have managed to pick up bronchitis somewhere--isn't that a big cosmic joke?

On the non-medical front, my friends threw me a wonderful shower this past weekend.* I got to see many people that I haven't seen in months and everyone was incredibly generous with their gifts and friendship. Lurvely and such a nice highlight for me.

Meanwhile, I am really starting to feel a sense of foreboding, like the Crap Train is gathering steam. I don't know quite what to attribute this to, since by all objective levels (except the BP), things are holding fairly steady. Bronchitis? Fatigue? Depression? I'm sure it must be true psychic abilities, right? Ha. In any case, I am hoping that once I feel a little better and can breathe again, the feeling of doom will also subside. At least for a few more weeks.

For those of you keeping score, BNN still does not have a name, despite all my efforts. I found it very upsetting to have hospital nurses refer to him as "Baby X" while they checked his heartbeat. But he does have two rounds of steroid shots coursing through his little lungs and he's kicking around like crazy. 29 weeks Monday.

*Yes, I know the timing of the shower vs. the hospitalization is a bit too close to be entirely coincidence. I am still glad I went.

Dragging A*% Into the Third Trimester

Seriously. Today I am 27 weeks, 2 days and (at least in some books) I have now begun the third trimester. I am relieved and a little surprised and getting so very very tired. I am beginning to realize that all of these doctor visits and shots and blood draws and Jug O' Pee tests and worry and drama really take a lot out of you. Ten more weeks--if we can physically make it that far--seems mentally impossible right now. But I will certainly take it if I can get it.

As far as the protein goes, it's just been a rollercoaster. Every week is up and down a little--there hasn't been a sustained trend either way so far. It's still in mild pre-eclampsia range (at least for right now). It's frustrating because when it goes down a little, all the medical professionals get all excited and act like I'm magically fine. Then it goes back up a little and it's a STAT emergency!! Get back in the office right now!!

If you were wondering, I am most certainly not complaining about being closely monitored. After nearly 8 weeks, I am just getting tired. Did I mention that I'm tired?

What else? Oh, still on bedrest. Always and forever. Blood pressure is mind numbingly uncooperative, so I'm still on vast quantities of medication. They have lately been phasing out the Aldomet in favor of more "modern" medications with theoretically fewer side effects; this has been of mixed success in my humble opinion. Bloodwork is still ok, which is a very very good thing. I got a steroid injection today to mature Baby No Name's lungs faster, "just in case." If that should ever come up for you, be forewarned: it hurts.

On the good side, K. and I are edging ever closer to an actual name choice. I can't tell you for fear of jinxing, but I'm hopeful that BNN will have a name sometime in 2005.

I had better drag myself back to the couch. As always, thank you thank you thank you for the comments and emails--both are forwarded to my Blackberry and are welcome little nuggets to spice up my days. I especially appreciate the techy advice about posting from the B-berry, but haven't worked up the energy to figure that out quite yet.

A Study in Bedrest Dementia

26 weeks, 1 day: I am still here. Not in the hospital, not any other terrible place. I am sorry that I have not updated before now--I need to figure out how to do posts from a Blackberry or something?

The lowdown on the medical situation: still on bedrest (REALLY REALLY BAD), total protein numbers have bounced around without any significant increase or decrease so far (REALLY REALLY GOOD), BP still too high and still increasing medication every week (REALLY REALLY ANNOYING--KIND OF LIKE THE ALL CAPS, EH?).

Baby No Name is hanging in there like a trooper. We have our second Level II ultrasound this Thursday to check on his growth and the placenta situation. I am hoping that he will be well over 2 pounds by then.

My OB (did I call her Dr. Thorough before?) is somewhat perplexed by my collection of problems, as it is apparently worse than chronic hypertension usually is but it's not (yet) progressing like pre-eclampsia usually does. So, it looks like we won't have a firm diagnosis until we look back at it from the other side. If you're wondering, the reason we care about the diagnosis is that it gives some indication of what might happen in the next weeks/months. But I don't think we're going to get that luxury.

The basic plan at this point is to try to keep me out of the hospital for as long as possible. Dr. Thorough guesstimates that hospitalized bedrest will likely be needed by 30 weeks. We are hoping to keep BNN cooking in there until at least 32 weeks, which will be around Thanksgiving. A 32 weeker will be in NICU for a while, but hopefully not more than a month and without major prematurity problems. I can still barely think about what all this may mean for the baby.

Ack.

I'm not going to lie to you--spirits are on the low side. I have been throwing myself pity parties with distressing frequency. I have started doing therapy sessions again by phone and that has helped some, although my therapist pointed out that I must have been a dictator in a former life to have all these hard lessons to learn about control.

No kidding. I get it already. I am really trying to stave off wallowing as it does no one any good, least of all me. I have not yet had much success finding peace with all of this, but I am still trying. I've got to figure out how to move past the anger and sadness and fear that my longed for, idealized, probably one and only pregnancy is turning out like this. That is really old news at this point but it is still so hard to let go of the bitterness about all the experiences we have been cheated out of. I can hardly bear the thought that my baby's precious first weeks will be spent in a plastic tub with tubes and needles and monitors sticking out all over. And I know that he will most likely be ok. But still........so hard to come to terms with that.

Anyway, I am still here, making like a bump on a log and trying to keep this baby cooking. And gladly accepting all calming thoughts that you can spare.

No One Said It Would Be Easy, Right?

If anyone is taking bets out there, we have officially crossed the magic protein line into pre-eclampsia. It is mild pre-e* but pre-e. So..........more testing and more waiting. There is not much to be done except try to keep it from getting worse for as long as possible. Which means strict, only-get-up-to-pee, bedrest.

This is much harder than it sounds. Much MUCH harder. Especially when your DH is essentially somewhat mistrustful of the medical profession and is not all convinced of the need for bedrest of this magnitude. And frankly, I wonder myself if Dr. Earnest is not going a bit overboard? It's hard to say. My Google M.D. says that bedrest is somewhat controversial in treating hyptertensive disorders in pregnancy, as the clinical studies only support a better outcome for the baby, not the mother. On the other hand, there is anecdotal evidence that it has helped some women prolong the progression of the disease. I think there really isn't a choice when it comes down to it--I have to know that I did everything I could, however futile it ends up to be. We don't have the luxury of a do-over if it turns out to be the wrong thing.

So.......the big challenge now, as seems to be so often the case, is to try to shoulder the load with some kind of dignity. I am finding this much easier said than done. Ha! Understatement of the year! It is so very hard for me--maybe not for everyone, but for me--to keep up with the emotional fallout of all this. I feel angry that this hell has to follow the hell of infertility, I feel abandoned by some of my friends and family, misunderstood by my husband, lonely, pitiful, eager to just DO something. For added drama, most of these emotions come in 10 minute revolving cycles throughout the day. And I thought Clomid was bad.

In any case, we will get through it. And--God willing and the creek don't rise--we'll have a healthy baby boy to show for it. That's a good goal, I think.


*If you're following along at home, the protein number went from 218 mg last week to 337 mg this week. Translation: 300 and up is mild, home bedrest pre-e; 1000 and up is hospitalized bedrest pre-e; 4000 and up is severe, delivery of baby now pre-e. The complicated part is that you can go from "mild" to "delivery" levels over months, or within days or even hours.

Tales from the Couch

First, thanks to all of you who have commented and emailed in recent weeks. I don't have to tell you how much it means to have that support from some of my favorite people.

To recap events since we last spoke, we had the perinatologist/maternal-fetal medicine specialist appointment last week. The good news is that the fancy ultrasound revealed Baby No Name to be wriggling away and in apparently fine health. We had the u/s at 22w3d and he measured an average of 23w2d--so the high BP hasn't caused any intrauterine growth restriction (IUGR) so far. IUGR is one of the main risks to the baby from my BP so they will be keeping a close eye on him by repeating the u/s every few weeks. It was such a tremendous relief to hear him described as "vigorous." Even more than hearing the heartbeat for the very first time. Little stinker seems to be a fighter. And, as of last week's Jug O' Pee protein test, I am still dodging pre-eclampsia. Hallelujah!

The bad news is--surprise!--my BP. We have tweaked the meds twice since I updated last and nothing seems to hold it down for more than a few days. This situation is driving me mad, as I just can't fathom why modern medicine can't get a handle on it. I have just finished my fourth week of bedrest with medication six times a day and I'm still spiking into the 170s/90s, with consistent pressures greater than 150/85. It makes me shudder to think what would happen if I was working?

Oh, and as of Friday's hospital visit, I have been diagnosed with something called "irritable uterus." Apparently, hypertension increases the risk of pre-term labor and, if I understood the nurse correctly, IU is some variety of pre-term labor. In any case, I have been having 5-8 contractions an hour, but they are not changing my cervix. They are tolerable as long as I don't move around much. So I'm on strict bedrest until told otherwise by the OB. I really have no idea what this new development means to the overall picture.

This is probably all way too much information, but I am not sure what pieces to leave out? Things have gotten a bit complicated and interconnected here in Mudland. I would like to put together a post about the emotional/homefront aspect of all of this, but that will have to wait. Headed back to the couch, with gratitude again for the lovely internets.

24 weeks on Monday.

No News Is....No News

Since we last spoke, things looked worse again with a bad protein result then better again with a new meds dosage and now we are once again back to worse. Look out for the whiplash! I am upset because my BP is heading back up again. We had 3 glorious days on 1500 mg aldomet, and it was really staying stable at around 140-145/80-85. Now it's been around 155/85 all day today and it won't go down. This is exactly what happened the last forty times we upped the dosage--it would be better for a few days and then start going up again to new highs.

The rollercoaster is really starting to get to me emotionally. I've really been trying to stay upbeat and positive but every time we get another "bad" result on a test or something it throws me for a loop and various terrible outcomes start feeling inevitable. And then I start berating myself for being a worrywart and for taking each individual clinical result as the end all, be all. It's just so hard to get perspective from the couch.

Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop

OB visit yesterday went well--BP was slightly down from previous visits and no protein in the dip test. We are redoing the 24 hour urine test--at home this time, thankfully. I was hoping that she would have a more visceral reaction to my incarcaration story, but thems the breaks, right? She upped my meds again and I'm still on bedrest. Lather, rinse, repeat.

It appears that things are quiet on the pre-eclampsia front and that is very very good. The upshot of all this, as best as I can understand, is that I am some level of high risk because of the hypertension and also more likely than your average bear to develop pre-eclampsia. So, we are going to keep on with the weekly visits and tests and such until the baby is born or something worse happens. Whichever comes first.

I have my first consult with the Maternal Fetal Medicine specialist on my 32nd birthday--next Thursday, the 29th. I hear that I'll get a stellar ultrasound from him, so I'm kind of looking forward to it, baby pic junkie that I am.

Home Again

I'm finally sprung from the hospital after a 48 hour stay, but without the protein test results that I was originally incarcarated to produce. I won't bore you with all the details, but hospital lab staff incompetence + on call OB = a big fat waste of time. I am headed to my regular OB tomorrow morning to see what to do now--I suspect we will be repeating the joy because we need those protein numbers.

Thanks for the emails and well wishes. I'll update tomorrow.

We Are Headed In the Wrong Direction

My BP started taking a turn for the worse yesterday, and despite all our best efforts, is now getting close to pre-medication, pre-bedrest levels again. In case you're wondering, that means it's basically always higher than 140/85, is often around 150/90, with spikes into the 165/95 range just to pep things up. Can you believe this shit?

I have now been sternly instructed to head directly for L&D if it gets over 160/mid-90s again. I feel pretty confident that the Traitorous Body (T.B.) that I inhabit will get us up there today, come hell or high water. No one would really explain what exactly would happen if I do to the hospital, although I have a sneaking suspicion that they will make me stay there.

You can probably guess that I am feeling increasingly discouraged as that stupid pressure inches up and up. I have learned in the last few days that a 24-hour pity party is not especially helpful to my overall mood or my marriage. I really want to throw something but that doesn't seem heart-rate-friendly.

Anyone have suggestions on a) a helpful frame of mind; and b) ways to distract myself from T.B.?

P.S. I don't have a laptop so internet surfing/blogging/etc. is fairly limited.

And Wait, One More Thing...

So, now I'm on bedrest. Hopefully just for the short term to get the BP "under control." The primary issue at this point is that we have to get it down because it will only go up from here. And over the long term, hypertension does bad bad things to the wee babe. And maybe to me, but not right now and I don't really care about that.

I am feeling pretty down about my body's spectacularly consistent ability to screw me over. I mean really. In the last 6-7 years (not so coincidentally, since I started law school), I have had three fairly major surgeries, one of which required a month of in-bed recovery, anaphylactic shock to some unknown substance that very nearly killed me in the middle of O'Hare airport on a business trip, tachycardia, chronic sinusitis, fucking infertility drama, assorted lesser evils, and now this. I am a seemingly "healthy" normal woman in her early 30s.

No one has an explanation for what I consider to be a truly ridiculous number of health problems. The best I have come up with: a) I have some bizarre syndrome that will be eventually diagnosed and treated by a genius doctor like those you read about in Good Housekeeping; b) I have the fastest, most reliable stress-to-physical-manifestation-response modern medicine has ever seen; or c) my body just hates me. Maybe all three?

In any case, I never have been able to figure out what to do about this. I have gotten the slow down message and, in comparison to where I once was, I really have toned it down. Maybe not enough? Not in the right way? Facing east at the proper second just as the sun is 32 degrees from its zenith over Madagascar?

This has been an ongoing problem that seriously pisses me off, as you can see. But now my evil fucking body is letting this tiny baby down, the one it tried so hard to keep me from getting in the first place. If my traitorous body successfully destroys the placenta and starves this child. . .

I don't know how to finish that sentence.

A Long Overdue Update

1. I am now 19 weeks and 3 days and noticeably pregnant. Can you freaking believe that?

2. It's a boy! Here's the latest photo opportunity:

3. As of last week, I have suddenly developed high blood pressure and assorted related worries. My BP was 120/70 last month, and was in the high 150s/90s unmedicated, with spikes up into the 170s/100s. I started Aldomet Tuesday, and is now hovering at around 140/80s medicated. I think it needs to be lower still.

Pregnancy Induced Hypertension (PIH) is not a good thing, but it's much much better than pre-eclampsia, which is looming on the horizon. As I understand it, a diagnosis of pre-e is appropriate with consistent BP readings of 150/90, plus 300 uu* of protein in a 24 hour urine sample. My protein is currently 169.

I am freaked about this, despite the lowering of the BP with medication, because it's such a rollercoaster of unknown quantities. It could easily get much much better and never develop into pre-e and just cruise along until full term. It could also easily get much much worse and quickly, anytime between now and January 30. Many PIH and pre-e babies are significantly premature. But, we have no idea at all what will happen. Other than a higher level of medical vigilance from here on out.

No, apparently it never ends. And I was just starting to get kind of comfy in that pregnancy bubble too.

*unknown unit

The Great Gasoline Incident: An Interlude

So I went to visit my mother. Pretty uneventful, although she did try to pawn off a Michelle Duggar, screams-Penecostal maternity dress on me.* On the way home, I stopped to get gas. The gas pump was overtaken by some sort of demon and didn't shut off when the tank was full. That gas had to go somewhere and about two gallons of it ended up on me. Dripping from my shirt, soaking my bra, eating away my elastic waistband. Woe is me. I drove home like a bat out of hell, skin burning all the while, got lost along the way (which I blame on fumes), and finally, blissfully washed that crap off about 45 minutes later. I have never been so happy to take a shower.

The good news is that I cadged another illicit low-tech ultrasound out of Grandma after this little adventure. Baby Peach was wiggling like a maniac and silently berating me for the stinky environment she was forced to endure. It was worth it. Almost.

*Complete with enlarged Peter Pan collar and breast bow.