I think the biggie about this week was we FINALLY got to see our doctor... and by see, I mean meet. Yes, it was about as awkward as you would expect it to be. We had to switch doctors, for a lot of reasons, really... but mainly because it was important to me that we were with a doctor who believed the way we believe. It's incredibly difficult to be with a doctor that believes in science and logic. I was being pressured into a lot of tests that I really wasn't interested in, and met with more risks than things that could go right in the pregnancy. I'm not that girl. I'm not the one to say "Yes! Run Every Test! Tell me everything that could possibly go wrong!" So, I had to leave the doctor that I've been with since I was 17 years old and move to a stranger... a highly, HIGHLY recommended stranger. It was a little weird, but I suspect that things will get a little easier as he learns to deal with my quick wit and humor to escape uncomfortable situations. I am so, so excited to say that even in the thirty minutes we spent with our doctor, his faith in everything that God says he is was made so evident to us. He gave us a pamphlet full of scripture, announced his stance against the NT and genetic testing, then gave us all of the statistics about the likelihood of our baby being completely perfect. He said "Will any of these tests change whether or not this baby is yours?" (No.) "Will any of these tests change the way you see your baby?" (No.) "Then we aren't wasting our time on them." (Hallelujer.) He proceeded to tell us that he believes that pregnancy is a natural process for a young, healthy woman to go through, and said that he was really just there to guide me through it. I'm so thankful that he isn't a doctor that goes looking for a problem. I need that kind of doctor in my walk through this pregnancy. I may sound like a looney tune to some of you, but what it really comes down to is that we're all knit together so uniquely (is that even a word?) and so creatively. I could be growing a human that needs ALL of the information, ALL of the time, and that's something that I'll have to work through as a mom. With lots and lots of patience.
The visit was fairly short and fairly sweet. I was surprised by the lack of questioning about family history on his part, but I think it traces back to not looking for a problem. He assured me that if anything looked, felt, or sounded funky at any of my appointments, he would get to the root of the problem immediately... I trust his confidence. He answered my questions and concerns, like this funky tingling sensation I get in my hands at night. It was good to know I wasn't suffering from a neurological disorder, as WebMD diagnosed. Between my diverticulitis, appendicitis, and thirteen pulled muscles, WebMD is obviously the most trusted source of online diagnostics. It's nailed my diagnosis every single time. Okay, that's a lie.
My favorite part of the visit was obviously when he pulled that doppler out of the drawer. My nerves began to get a little more noticeable, mainly because of the internet horror stories I've heard and read about. But after the quickest prayer for peace in the world, the doctor put the doppler on my stomach... and the whooshing and pounding of a heartbeat was music to my ears. 172 beats per minute, a significantly faster beat than the 123 bpm we heard at 6 weeks. All looked and sounded perfect. We were able to book our gender appointment that day, and I have to say, there's something enticing about not sharing it with anybody else until the baby shower. Or maybe even until the birth. Or maybe I'll be so pumped that I won't be able to contain my enthusiasm. Who knows.
I did have a meltdown this week over the breakout of teenage angst on my face. The Lord has blessed me in a lot of ways over the course of my lifetime, but I've always been especially thankful for my skin. When I had a zit, it was one zit. Singular. It was usually a monster of a zit, and it was always noticeable, but I had a zit MAYBE once every 3 months. And it was always gone the next day. The second trimester bid farewell to the need for naps and comas, but it also welcomed a zit epidemic. It's like the plague on my face. And maybe it's because I'm pregnant, but when I noticed the zits, I noticed the other weird quirks to my face, so I spent most of the day in a black hole of self-loathing. And the next day, I avoided mirrors. Today, I'm okay. It's a roller coaster of a ride.
I do want to address a few "myths," if you will. I've always heard that cravings don't really exist. It's a "mind over matter" situation. I'm here to tell you that that is a lie from the pit of hell. I haven't had very many cravings, and they're never for anything weird, but once that thought enters my mind, anything I eat in it's place may as well be toxic sludge. For example, there's something about my mom's potato soup that makes my heart take flight. This was right in the middle of "Fetus hates all Food" phase, and I knew that if I ate the soup, I would get sick, and I might not be able to eat the soup again because of the memories. So I ignored the craving for 3 weeks... and I finally asked her to make me some because I thought I was going to EXPLODE if I didn't eat the soup. I'm only mildly ashamed to admit that I ate four bowls. four. bowls. Oh, and I ate it for dinner that night, and lunch the next day. And then it was gone. And I still crave it all of the time. The kid will likely turn into a potato. The next myth that I wish to address is the one about hair responding differently to color during pregnancy. That's true. So, So true. I put a color on my hair that I've used since the seventh grade, y'all. We're talking ten years of the same "safe color." It's always turned my hair a really dark brown, and it always fades to a nice natural looking reddish-brown. Well, yesterday it turned my hair black. Black as the night. Black as this font. Black like Katy Perry's Hair. It is insane. And there's not much I can do about it, because it's not like you can dye over black. I just have to play the waiting game and hope that it fades out a little bit. In the meantime: No, I'm not trying a new look, I just wanted the blonde out of my hair. Yes, my doctor said it was safe to dye my hair... don't be the annoying friend that points out the dangers. I also drink a cup of coffee a day. No, I don't intend to keep dying my hair. Yes, I am aware that Katy Perry has black hair, don't sing her songs at me.
This is a part of the ride. Lessons learned. In the meantime, I live with my husband calling me Cleopatra. In the meantime, I go through a bit of a shock whenever I see myself in the mirror. In the meantime, I sigh to myself whenever somebody cracks a goth joke. We'll see who's laughing when you're bald and I'm not, gramps.
Here's the bump (pre-dye), and farewell to week 13!
No comments:
Post a Comment