Knock Me Up

Yesterday I had my monthly visit with the OB. Everything appears to proceeding as it should, but the whole pregnancy still feels like a mystery. First, the nurse comes in and tells R. and I that she is going to check for the heartbeat. She places what looks like the microphone end of a mini-recorder on my abdomen and pokes around. We hear a loud static, as if she is trying to tune into an out of range radio station. Then we hear a loud, quick pulse, a swooshing of airwaves. “There it is,” she says. It’s the heartbeat of a marathon runner. “It sounds really fast,” R. says, concerned. “Yes, it’s supposed to be that fast.” It occurs to me that R. hasn’t been reading any pregnancy books, or even listening to half the things I tell him. Or maybe he doesn’t make the connection until he experiences it himself.

This is the first time he meets Dr. L. We like that she is matter of fact and direct and not reactionary. Especially about my bleeding, which has turned into continuous spotting. I haven’t had any fresh blood for two weeks, but the old, dark stuff keeps coming. I’m still not convinced the clot (or subchorionic hematoma) is going away — not until I see it with my own eyes which will be on Tuesday before the amnio.

I’m a bit distressed because I gained five pounds this month — I know, I’m pregnant. But Dr. L. gave me the weight gain rules at the beginning. First trimester = 2 pounds. Second trimester = 1 pound every other week. Third trimester = 1 pound a week. I think it comes out to 25 pounds. But really, how are you not supposed to gain twice that much? I think I’m up to what I should gain by the end of the second trimester. I tell her I don’t think I am eating that much, and she says, that’s what everyone tells me.I can’t even look at sweets. I no longer snack at night. I actually eat regular meals. Then I think about the variety of potato chips and Fritos I’ve consumed in the past two weeks, and the ham and cheese paninis that are the only thing I can stomach at night. And there’s the Gatorade I drink by the quart because water is so unappealing. But more important is my lack of exercise. I’ve not been this sedentary since high school, when I went through a depressed phase and slept all the time and ate bags of Doritos. Oh, I’ve been eating those, too. Two weeks after the last sign of spotting, I can resume exercise. It feels a long way off.

Last week I had my first reprieve from feeling sick. It lasted about two days. Then this past weekend I was back to my old, couch-ridden, TV watching self. Eating potato chips which for some reasons I can always eat. This week I had another slight reprieve, but it’s back again. I know it will eventually go away, but will the sensitivity to smell? Last night, from our apartment, I smelled someone eating french fries on the street. Later, I could have sworn someone opened a bag of cat food in the room. Where are these smells coming from? And walking down Broadway on a hot summer day…it requires holding one’s nose and heading west to Riverside as soon as possible.

Enough complaining. I didn’t write much this week because I didn’t want it to sound all bad. I’m patiently waiting for the happy phase of pregnancy.