Surprisingly, the past six weeks of "My Story..."'s all took place before I even had my very first OB appointment. In some ways, those weeks were all a blur. So very many tragic things happened in that short period of time that my brain kind of condenses it into one sad block that I can put away for a span of time. On the other hand, I can easily pull that block out, unfold it, and relive every day in excruciating detail. It's amazing how God gives us these defense mechanisms.
Anyhow, once I started going to my regular (new-to-me) OB, the appointments were pretty typical. She said what one might expect, "So you're going for the girl this time?" And I smiled weakly and replied, "No, just a healthy baby," just like I did every other time someone said that.
My pregnancy progressed pretty normally.
I didn't have an unusual limitations or concerns. I was viciously sick afternoon and night, but I had been sick with my first child too. I didn't have any more bleeding or cramping issues and, to be honest, I was able to kind of "put it behind me".
Probably the only "concern" that came up at my doctor's appointments was the fact that I wasn't gaining weight. If you hung out with me during my third pregnancy this past year, you know that's pretty typical for me. A large part of that's just "how I'm made". With this particular pregnancy, another part of it was the fact that, if I'm brutally honest, I wasn't eating enough. And I wasn't eating enough nutrient-rich foods.
We were struggling. My husband finally found a job in Indiana, but his commute was two hours each way. On top of that, the pay was significantly less than he had made at his previous job and FAR less than we had made when we had two incomes flowing in. This new position didn't offer insurance so we were still paying our gigantic monthly fees to keep our Cobra plan.
In retrospect, this is a point in my life when I should have looked for help. There are programs out there (like Medicaid and WIC) that would have been appropriate for me to utilize for a short period of time. I had never really even heard of these things because, blessedly, we had never had a need.
But, for whatever reason, when I went in for a check-up at 20 weeks pregnant, I had gained 1/2 lb. My blood pressure was wonderful. The baby was measuring fine. But I was pale, tired, and, truthfully, I looked very thin. I carried differently with that pregnancy and any weight I had put on was all in my chest. I kind of looked like I might tip over at any moment. And I most certainly did not look like I was halfway through a pregnancy...
My new OB- I had switched practitioners within the same office when the first doctor told me I was "stupid" for refusing the genetic marker tests- was a very gently middle-aged man. He advised me to really try to gain some weight- to eat more, more of anything I liked. I had no other health concerns so his first goal was just to get some weight on me. I told him I'd try- that I'd eat more extra sharp cheddar cheese. That was my only "craving" throughout that pregnancy...
It was December. I was due in April. I had plenty of time to pack on some pounds.
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