Me at 20 weeks (while still in Rome)
So, here we are at the halfway point. It still seems as though I have been pregnant forever, and I will continue to be so for the rest of my natural life. The good news is, its not because I'm miserable. Its more like when you are a kid and its summertime. Christmas seems like it will never come. Only, I have to look at my present everyday and wonder what's in there.
I must admit that this is the best I have felt in a long time. Those awful few weeks in the beginning are in the distant. And mush like you forget the pain after the tattoo is done, I don't remember what it was like to be so nauseous and tired. I could totally do this again.....
I'm still not having any crazy bizarre cravings. I have become very susceptible to the power of suggestion. If I see an image of something delicious (i.e. everything on Pinterest) I want said item. I did pursue the need for an oatmeal cookie in the pouring rain, for 10 minutes, only to be bitterly disappointed by my go to bakery. I did drag Robbie along on this adventure, and he was not a fan. He kept asking me how important it was, really. Really??!! You are going to ask a pregnant woman how important her undying need for a single, specific cookie is?!?! Well, you better get ready, cause this is just the beginning, I'm sure. I have been pretty easy on him, foodwise, thus far. (I can't say the same in any other way) THEN, he had the audacity to ask me for a BITE!!!! Have you not met me?! I don't like to share dessert on a good day, unless its with a child bc they don't take big bites. I had even asked him what he wanted to avoid such an instance. Only because of the rain did I break off a small piece for him, but next time, I'll be taking a small piece out of him!
After returning from Italy, it was back to the real word, such as endless doctor appointments. Not just for me, Robbie has a few of his own. In the mix, I ended up at an appointment by meyself. Of course its the one time that its with a sage femme who doesn't speak any English. Its ok, I can, relatively, carry on a simple conversation, especially when its one where I know the answers to all the questions! So, we get to the part where I have to get on the scale. So, I started to take off my boots, yes I need to clarify that I was wearing boots, jeans and other such clothing. I'm still a girl, and we like to make the scale say the smallest number possible. So, I get on and it says 70 kg. Now, I started off my pregnancy at 62kg. A kg is roughly 2.2 lbs. Yes, I was not skinny to begin with, but I was far from obese. So, she starts talking about the weight thing. She asked me "tu monges beacoup?" which means, do you eat a lot, but I took it to mean do you eat well. So I said yes. Which is no the right, or accurate, answer. I eat 3 meals a day, normal sized. I keep sweets to a minimum and I am hardly ever in McDonalds, unless its for the occasional egg mcmuffin. So then she starts in on me about how much I've gained and that I'm not eating for 2, and all that. Now, this is a time when I lose my French, when I get flustered and nervous. I knew what she was saying, but I couldn't find the words to defend myself. So I just let it go, but I still felt the pain of having just been told I'm fat. (If you are a woman, you understand the leap there from words said to what I heard. Robbie doesn't) As we are having this discussion, I'm getting up on the table to have a listen to the heartbeat. So by this time, I don't want to lift my shirt, as she is judging me, the skinny French twat. She takes the measurements. quietly. Then asks if I can feel the baby yet. Since I have no idea what exactly I'm waiting for, I don't think I have. I also sometimes think I can, but without any definitive definition of what the quickening feels like, I have no idea. Then she essentially asked me what was wrong with me. She took my hands and put them on my belly, as if I don't do that same freaking movement a thousand times a day, and started pressing my hands down. Then she was like, nothing? No, but you staring at me with those judging eyes aren't really helping, now, are they. So, in the span of 10 minutes, she has informed that I'm an overweight, bad mother who can't connect with her baby. At this point I wanted to cry and run away, but I need to hear the heartbeat, as I have those irrational fears that something has actually gone wrong and the worst case scenario has happened. So when she finally put the wand on my belly, I did let out a few tears. But as she was not the warm, fuzzy source of comfort I would want for this moment, I held back. At this point, I needed Robbie to be there as he IS my warm, fuzzy sense of comfort. But, instead, he was sitting at home waiting for me to call to tell him to meet me. Needless to say, I nearly lost my mind at this point. So that makes for a bad situation. It did all work out, but it was a bad 30 minutes or so for me.
AS you may recall, I had a bit of an issue with my sugar level before, so I now had to deal with that. The following week, I went to my appointment at another hospital. I was thinking that I was going to be retested or somehow further examined. But instead, I was there to deal with my diabetes. What?! No second opinion? I get a bad grade on one test and they jsut cast me off as diabetic? I'm not really happy with this. In the interview part, she is asking about the test, and even asked if I had been retested. When I said no, she looked confused, but carried on anyway. I was there to take a little class on gestational diabetes and how to work the new machine that will be a part of my life 7 times a day for the rest of my pregnancy. So as I go through everything, I begin to think about what happening. This can't be true. I don't agree. Then, I start to realize what happened with my first test. I was given a script, written in French doctor, telling me how to do the test. I read, give blood, eat breakfast, come back at 1:30. It said, give blood, eat breakfast and come back 1 hour 30 minutes later. So, I give blood, eat breakfast, go have tea with a friend, eat a pain au chocolat, pain aux raisins and a piece of cake, then go directly back for my test. Well no wonder I have a high sugar level! But by the time I make my realization its really too late. So, I decide to play along with this for a bit. I have to test my sugar before each meal and then 1 hour and 30 minutes after, as well as at bedtime. The good news is, as this is France, all the things I need for this (the testing machine, little needles and testing strips) are all free. So at least I am not paying for their mistake. I then send my results once a week to the nurse. So, I've been doing the testing for a few days, and I will send my results, but I will also include a note explaining what happened the first time and ask for a second kind of test. The testing is annoying, especially yesterday while at the horse races. But, the new "diet" I have to follow is not horrible. The other big restriction is that I can't have things with added sugar, like desserts. Which is fine, I've really been a salty girl through this pregnancy. I get to eat a good amount of food and I even get to eat a dessert once a week. I get 3 meals, and have the option for small snacks up to 3 times a day. I haven't really needed the snacks. It won't hurt me to eat healthy for a while. And like I said, its not like I was eating shit before. So, I'll show them!! :)
Also on the healthy front, I have started doing prenatal yoga. I take a class outside my house once a week, and only because I got a groupon for them. Yoga classes average around 25 Euros per class. You can buy cards, but if a place offers prenatal, its only once a aweek, so the cards aren't really cost effective either. The good news is there are always groupons. Also, I have found a couple of good routines on Youtube and A friend gave me a good video. So I do it 2x at home, in addition to my Saturday classes. One of the classes on Youtube was doing the usual soothing talk and was referring to how great it will be to deliver your child and meet them and I about lost it. Its not very relaxing to start crying about how sentimental it will be to meet your unborn child. That's the only time I cry these days. Anything I read, hear or see about actually delivering and holding my baby sets me off. Normally I hover more on the angry side of the emotional scale (good times for Robbie!) But the thought of meeting Spud, waterworks.
I have also started to attend some events sponsored by the Message group that Robbie found for me here. I went to a great talk by a GP and a nutritionist about allergies and about vaccinations. I met some women and even made a coffee date with a girl named Kelly. She's about a month behind me, but also has a small son. I also have connected with an old friend's friend who lives here. She is due a month before me. We are going to dinner next week. I figure I need to start building my mom network here. I have also had some lunches, and that fateful tea, with other moms here. It feels good to be getting the input and advice. I know I have been there for the births of my nieces and the children of my friends, but I never thought I'd be on this end of it. I know that I have learned a lot watching my sister and helping with the girls. But now everyone is so far away This is the time when I miss family and friends the most. I have such an amazing support system back home, even including 2 of those girls being pregnant, but I'm over here. I know its the decision I made and I don't regret it, but its a frequent night when I wake up to pee and I can't get back to sleep because I'm wishing I was back there, if only for a little while. (Cause its still way cheaper to have a baby here!) Know that you all are in my forethoughts and in my heart. I wish I could do more to make you all a part of this wonderful experience. Thank you all for being there for me and for reading this blog.
Until next time.... :)
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