Category Archives: Pregnant… AGAIN?!

no. 669 – Is It Wrong?

Is it wrong…

…that every time I drop something on the floor I simultaneously get vertigo and want to burst into tears?


Is it wrong…

…that every time I walk down an aisle or hallway, I feel as if I’ve been transported into an old-fashioned western movie (in which case I would say this all damn day)?


Is it wrong…

…that every time I look down at the keyboard, I recall the Seinfeld episode about Man Hands?


Yes, I’m bitching. I’m a hormonal, emotional mess. Venting keeps me from focusing on my fears. And I swear to you, I am more frightened now of something happening than I was during the first 14 weeks of this pregnancy. Countdown is (almost) official: exactly seven weeks from today is the latest we will have to go.

I’ll Huff and I’ll Puff and Then Pass Out

The combination of pregnancy and being simply unfit physically hit me hard this weekend. When I say unfit, I refer to the stamina to do the basics necessary in running a household. I thought that it was laziness up till now, but one shouldn’t find themselves light-headed and panting from a single trip down and then up a set of stairs and associate the problem with being lazy – of course one needs to kick in some BH contractions to complete that feeling of helplessness. OK, maybe I should’ve been less vegetative prior to getting pregnant, but at this point there’s not much I can do about that.

I am seeing only the tippy-top of the iceberg on how  rough this last trimester is going to be. My most favorite thing to do has now become a dreaded event: sleeping. It doesn’t matter what time I go to bed, I wake up without feeling rested. I’ve even started snoring! But the reason I don’t feel rejuvenated is the constant aching of my back and hips that keep me awake. Tylenol PM whispers to me almost every night.

Mr. DD and I worked on trying to clear the den/game room this weekend and moved XBoy’s gaming entertainment to the basement. While Mr. DD did all of the heavy moving, we both realized rather abruptly that I’m going to be nothing more than the foreman when he had to force me to sit down to literally catch my breath. Even worse, I went outside with XBoy to play catch and after walking up the stairs from the patio to the deck, I had to call down to him to let him know I wouldn’t be back down as I was on the verge of collapse. To see the disappointment on his face…well, that hurt emotionally more than any physical discomfort I’ve had.

That whole nesting thing that supposedly occurs in the final weeks of pregnancy? It looks like it’s going to prove to be more than problematic.

Guess Who’s Still Pregnant?

You all ready for an update on Murdock? I know, I know. Another pregnancy-related post from an infertile blogger…how dull!

22 weeks and 6 days. Good enough for me to say “23 weeks”.

I have actually gone up to three days without using my doppler thanks to enough Easter candy consumed to keep Murdock buzzing for hours. It takes a lot of sugar to get him/her to kick hard enough to feel it through that annoyingly placed placenta…and stomach fat.

Women often describe the feeling of having the baby kick with such sweet sentiments like, “it feels like butterfly wings” or “softly popping bubbles”. To me it feels like gas except I know that my intestines have moved too far out and up to be that. Or here’s another description I gave to my husband the other night:

You know how you get a muscle twitch in your back or your eyelid and no matter how many times you rub or squeeze or poke at it, it continues to twitch involuntarily? Yeah. Now that’s what it feels like.

My boobs have morphed into those of a 40 year old wet-nurse. Oh, wait. Never mind.

I wish I could brag about my “bump”, but it’s in a rather sad state. Because of the weight I gained during the years of treatment, all in the middle section, it’s like I have a double decker bump: above the belly button is the top deck carrying my stomach and then below the belly button is the bottom deck with Murdock. Another way to imagine it (if you dare) is take a regular inflated balloon and squeeze it in the middle for a while then let go. See how it goes bump, indent, then bump again?

My thighs have become things of beauty, if the Rubenesque figure was still in vogue.

So there you go. An honest disclosure of pregnancy at six months. All told, it’s not been too bad. Hell, I’m still pregnant, right?

Three more months to go, give a week or two. All I have left to do is buy the necessities for the baby since here is the list I have:

  • Crib

And here’s what I need:

  • Everyfuckingthing else

I’ve got plenty of time, right?


And the familiar sense of panic settles back in…

I’ll be 17 weeks tomorrow. At what point should I “pop” (like I’m a goddamn turkey button or something)? I’m no bigger right now then I was at 10w. OK, I’m a little bigger but certainly not by much. My OB said at my last appt that my uterine growth appears to be on track, but I swear there’s no growth.

Heart-rate seems to be OK. I was finally able to get a count of about 143. I hear movement through the doppler, but don’t feel anything.

I can’t believe I’m bitching about this, but I am. I honestly thought that I would have something to show by now besides looking like I’m partaking in too many ho-hos and raspberry white-chocolate mochas (curse those stupid studies on caffeine for making me feel even more guilty!).

I thought it was because I’m now only wearing maternity pants, which can be too comfortable. Maybe I should try stuffing my butt into my regular pants to get a better handle on what’s going on?

You want to hear the crazy reason why I’m stressing about this? In a week or so we plan on telling XBoy. I was hoping that by then we could have visual proof.

This sucks: I bitch because I don’t want anyone to notice; and I bitch because there’s nothing to notice. Gawd, I’ve got issues on top of my issues, don’t I?

And apropos to nothing, my left hand smells like a cigarette; and I ordered the wrong type of blinds for the spare bedroom so now Mr. DD has to rig up some shims in order to hang them since they were custom cut.

I need a drink. Or some ice cream. Or both.


The snowy special affects? Wow. It just proves to me that you all are easily amused. Apparently so am I.

I’ve been meaning to explain to the newbies (new since Spring 2006, so just about everyone) that the email address you may see in my responses to your comments,, was not taken on as a direct result of Murdock’s appearance. Instead, it was my original email from 2005 to match my blog, Unfortunately, wordpress registers you based on an email and instead of creating ANOTHER email address (I currently have 5 yahoo and 1 gmail), I just went with this one. Judge me not.

Congratulations to me. I puked Saturday morning about an hour after breakfast. Strangely, Captain Crunch tastes the same coming up as it does going down. Take my word for it.

I also bought a bellaband. The jury is still out however I admit I like how it bridges the unsightly gap between my just-a-little-too-short sweater and the zippered region of my pants. It’s the first purchase as a direct relationship to this pregnancy that I did not have to pick up from a pharmacist.

Happy New Year, everyone. At least I hope it is.


I have accepted a doppler from Catherine, who is graciously loaning me hers. I will try my damnednest not to become spastic if I do not have any luck at first.

I’m glad I didn’t try to sneak in an ultrasound before Christmas. I figured if Murdock was dead that I wouldn’t want that hanging over my head over the next few days. I still expect to see blood when I go into the bathroom and really? I hate feeling relatively well.

Next time you see me, I’ll have a new haircut. I’m getting it cut and re-colored tonight. Now while I hold no stock in the perception that hair-coloring is bad when pregnant, I will feel inclined to shave my head if next Thursday, they calculate that Murdock ceased growing around 9w2d.

More than likely, I will not get a chance to post again until after Christmas. If so, I’ll let you know now that I wish you all peace and comforting love from those who mean the most to you.

Happy Christmas – Merry Holidays


. . . As far as Murdock goes and you could have knocked me over with a feather when the PA (not R*bbie) told me so. I didn’t get to see the heart beat, but she said it was. She had the screen pulled in close to her. All I could see was the gestational sac and something still in it. I was also given a new glossy black and white picture to take home.

I return for another scan as scheduled on Thursday, the 13th.

I feel rather sheepish and I honestly don’t believe I have any more right to be obsessed and paranoid over any one else, but I keep being reminded that I “have been through so much”.

I admit that I feel a bit defensive when I’m told that, just because I believe I shouldn’t have to go through all these cycles and miscarriages. No one should to get what they want. It sucks.

When I asked the PA if there are other women who get a little stir-crazy during this time, she said the same thing to me (about going through so much). I asked her when do they start to level out and get their wits about them. She replied that they don’t until they go home with the baby.

In some ways that made me feel better as for not feeling like a freak; on the other hand, I potentially have seven more months to feel like this. That sucks, too.

For now though, Murdock is on track and that certainly does NOT suck.