4.14.2011

27 Weeks & This Is What I've Been Reduced To

Today I'm 27 weeks along. I'd apologize for how frumpy I look but the truth is I've been even frumpier than that today (yes, this is possible and no, I have not brushed my hair today). I simply threw on real clothes for the sake of snapping a photo and then went back to my lack of pants and my husband's old t-shirt.

I know it's a big old debate whether or not the third trimester begins this week or next, but I'm choosing to celebrate the joys of the home stretch next week. This is for a couple of reasons. One being because my husband isn't going to be able to put together Ethan's furniture until this upcoming weekend. The fact that his room is still nothing but a storage center (albeit with appropriately colored walls now) would make me cringe and have seizures if it was the third trimester (as in, HOW IS THIS NOT DONE BY NOW?!). The other reason is because today and tomorrow are generally unpleasant days.

Why? Well, take a look into my 'fridge.


Smack in the center is a jug where I'm to collect my own urine for 24 hours. It's even more demeaning than it sounds because I have to urinate into a red plastic Solo cup (browsing the college Facebook albums of former friends is that much funnier now, I must admit) and then pour it into the jug that is then placed back into my refrigerator. Where it sits nuzzled between my milk and my glucose drink.

(As I snapped this photograph, my husband asked if I was really showing this disgusting photograph to the world. Like, hello, how long has he known me? And he thinks I have shame?)

After a full day of playing Water Works with my pee, I get to wake up and drink that god-forsaken glucose drink and then drive to my doctor's office to have my blood drawn. Talk about absolutely nothing at the end of that rainbow but pain and misery.

I kid you not, this glucose test was the thing I was dreading most about pregnancy since before I was even pregnant. I don't know why. You can tell me "it's not that bad!" until you're blue in the face but in my mind it'll still be like drinking nails chased with Drano-flavored Cyanide. When I found out I'd have to kick off the celebratory sugar rush with a refrigerated urine-in-a-jug fest, my dread only grew. (If you're wondering, it's because I have anxiety disorder and so while I don't have high blood pressure, sometimes my readings are through the roof if I'm mid-anxiety attack. This is a blood pressure safety precaution that probably does nothing but make me feel more anxious and slightly deranged!)

My husband, though, is working from home today and tomorrow so he can be here with me while I bite my nails down and worry to the point of sleeplessness about what happens if the glucose drink sends me into a coma or I pee so much that I fill up the jug that blocks the way to his beloved orange juice. I'm not the only one having a total blast of it, see:

(That's the look I get each time I ponder a new conspiracy that the glucose drink is working on.)

Urination and red, sugary poison aside, let's talk about something cuter. Like little Ethan and what he's up to this week!

Ethan is approximately the size of a head of cauliflower (14 or 15 inches long). I know from my appointment yesterday that he weighs two pounds, seven ounces! He's sleeping and waking regularly now (with the "waking" occurring at midnight, of course) and has his set little routine in there. He's opening and closing his eyes, too, which is pretty awesome. Since so much brain tissue has been developing, Ethan's little brain is quite active in there! His lungs and immune system are busy maturing, but let's hope he stays right where he is for 12 more weeks!

2 comments:

  1. The glucose drink isn't bad at all, seriously. If you can handle getting your blood drawn, you'll be fine.

    And wtf at the pee jug. That's pretty gross lol! Glad I didn't have to do that.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I did my one hour glucose test yesterday and I failed! Ugh! So now I have to go back tomorrow to do the three hour, which sucks because my arm is still all jacked up from that cruel heartless phlebotomist. I hope I don't get her again because the girl who drew my blood for the rhogam shot was an angel! I wish you heaps of better luck with yours, the drink doesn't taste that bad, just like flat orange soda.

    ReplyDelete

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...