This is so crazy... I have no idea what to write about.

This week has been calm, drama free, doctor free, organ failure free, and nausea free. I've eaten foods that I haven't been able to touch since early October. I've finished my plate at dinner for the first time in months. I've pondered seconds, but try to keep my portions under control. I've gone to sleep and stayed asleep without writhing stomach pains. I've pondered the thought of a second child (not quite there yet.) I've even said that I'm enjoying pregnancy for the first time... ever.

I am so glad that I pursued the surgery. I can only IMAGINE how much better I would've felt LONG ago had I known the true culprit of my misery. My skin is clearing up, I haven't suffered a single headache (they were a daily occurrence for about three months), and it's been wonderful to just be happy again. I thank the Lord for a doctor who pushed me in the right direction without making me feel forced.

I started my registry because I wanted to remember the carseat I liked. I made it about 9 items in before I was too overwhelmed to function. So the registry is on standstill. I may cancel my baby shower to avoid dealing with that again. 

That's seriously my only update... but what a short and boring blog it would be. Surely I can find something to write about... surely. Oh! I know! I can share a few fun facts about Ella. Everybody loves facts.

Let's begin with her name. Ella is a name we love for a million different reasons, but I'll name a few of the major ones. Cody and I have a major difference in opinions when it comes to names. I prefer simple elegance, while he's more into unique and foreign. I was relieved when we immediately agreed on a boy's name (which really should have been my first sign that she was a girl.) But I knew that she needed a name as soon as possible, because while we loved Duck, it wasn't going to work for much longer. So the reason we chose Ella is that it means Duck in Swahili. Ha! Just kidding. That was a joke. Back to the foreign names. Cody loved a few names that made me die inside, and one of those names was Zanella. He would really want me to make sure you understand that it isn't pronounced like Vanilla with a 'Z', but let's be real, it's how you read it. It's really pronounced "Zah-Nell-ah," but I still don't think it flows with Gaines, regardless of the way you spell it. If it were up to me, we would have named her Emma, so Ella was kind of a halfway point for us. As we threw Ella into the mix, I began to love it even more when I realized that it was a great tribute to my great-grandmother, Stella. My brother beat me to Stella a few years ago, but it's still nice that Ella can have a bit of that name to carry with her. I'm a little tired of hearing "Oh, a Stella and an Ella? That will get confusing." I disagree. If you know my family, nobody goes by their name. My brother is Bing (his name is Lee,) I go by Kay-dee (My name obviously isn't Katie), my little brother is George (his name is Jared), my nephew is Jack (His name is also Lee), and we call my niece Sister. I doubt that Ella will really be known only as Ella. So I really must brush the haters off. Another sentimental reason is that I began to hum "So This is Love" during my "bonding" time with my stomach. I write down my prayers, dreams, and plans for my relationship with my daughter in a journal, and it's just become a habit to hum along while I write. "So This is Love" is from the Disney film Cinderella. And no, my daughter isn't named after a Disney Princess, but I still think it's sweet, and because of it, her daddy and I call her Cinderellie a lot. I love it because my mom and dad always called me Cruella when I was little, so I love that history kind of repeats itself. So, there's her name. I've found all kinds of meanings for Ella in baby books. Everything from "bright light" to "Magical fairy" to "foreign" to "Goddess." So regardless of what the books say, now you know what Ella means to us. I don't know her middle name yet, because my Dad is choosing it. I've had a couple of "huh?" looks when we tell people that, but they're obviously the people that don't know me very well. My dad and I are closer than I am to most of my friends, so it's excessively important to me that Ella is close to him as well. I know it'll really mean something to her when she knows the history behind her name, and whatever he chooses will be carefully thought through, I'm sure of it.

Speaking of family names, Ella's Uncle George turned 19 this week! NINETEEN! When I was 19, I was ENGAGED. Plotting my marriage. Preparing to marry. To fathom Jared getting married is truly enough to make me wilt and convince him that he's too young, but I guess that's how my family felt. However, Nobody was changing Kaylea's mind. I knew what I knew, and I knew I was in love with the one the Lord prepared for me. So I'm basically just really glad Jared is single. Ella wished George a Happy Birthday, and it obviously melted him to his very core. Ella has that effect on people. 

Now let's talk about her nursery. As previously discussed, I am anti-jungle animals, but I'm also anti-Grownupbedspreadconvertedtocrib. I want her to feel like a little girl. I wanted color, I wanted patterns, and I wanted something that didn't confine us to one particular theme. I finally logged onto Etsy. I had banned myself right after I found out I was pregnant because I was spending ENTIRELY too much money. I'm so glad I lifted the ban. I found a set that is all the shades in the world of green and pink. It's adorable, and I love it so. Now I'm left to ponder whether to paint the room pink or green... or if I have the desire to paint at all. Part of me sees the argument of a 6 year old being uninterested in a pretty pink room. I wanted a purple room when I was of opinionated age. The other part of me sees that she's only a baby once, and maybe the only baby I'll ever be responsible for decorating for. And I clearly know what's best for her in terms of a color palate that will correspond with her skin coloring... it's crucial that she looks like an angel in her bed while she sleeps. Yellow would never work for baby Gaines, because we're too pale. It would look like she had jaundice. Unacceptable. So I'll post a picture of the bedding so that everyone else can carry my burden on their shoulders.

Now let's talk about food aversions. I was curious to see what life after gallbladder would be like. Was Ella the reason I never had an appetite, or was it the failing organ? I'm not kidding, we would go to a restaurant and I would CRY because I knew I had to eat. Everything had the power to make me green in the face. I can't tell you the last time I finished a plate. I absolutely LOATHED lunch and dinner time. So I was curious to see what would happen after the gallbladder was out. For the most part, my appetite has returned. I never really have a need to eat, but when I sit down to eat, I find something that sounds good. I still don't do well with big portions, and I still turn my nose up at most Mexican food, but I feel much better knowing that Ella is getting a consistent food regimen now. I will say that this child HATES chicken. I've tried the tiniest bites, hiding it in my food, baking it, grilling it, frying it, steaming it (ha, Chicken is kind of like shrimp, I guess) and pretty much every marinade or seasoning there is. She will not tolerate it. As soon as it hits my taste buds I feel nauseated. And it's interesting, because pre-Ella, I avoided red meat and preferred chicken. How the cards have changed. So now, I see the giant slab of cow and while I (as my own, private, independent entity with an empty uterus) think to myself "Oh, Gross...," my taste buds and stomach absorb whatever they can get. So it's sad, because I miss chicken... but I guess Ella doesn't care. I also avoid onions... because even though I LOVE them, if there's any hint of crunch to the onion, even if it isn't raw, I can't take it. So when I cook (because I have the gusto to do that again... one thing I miss so much about my bum gallbladder,) I burn them EVERY TIME because I'm so determined to make sure they're translucent. I've pretty much just stopped adding them to my recipes. I also avoid most sweets, anything with a strong garlic smell, and mayonnaise. I also loved mayonnaise. Sacrifices, sacrifices.

What it all comes to is that I can laugh at pregnancy for the first time, and I love being able to say so. I can wake up in the morning and spend a little bit of time cuddling with my stomach without pain shocking through my system. I can look forward to the days to come, instead of crying that I'm only half way done. I look forward to falling madly in love with this baby as she continues to kick me in the bladder, stretches ligaments I didn't know existed, and wakes up when I prepare to sleep. It's so amazing that I can finally focus on her exclusively in this short, precious time together... and to say that I'm prepared for the rest of my pregnancy to fly by is an understatement. That's it! Here's the bump as we end our 19th week!

Week 18

All is Well.

Just as the doctor promised it would be, just as the surgeon guaranteed, just as my family prayed.

We are on day 4 of recovery (as I'm writing this, anyway) and it feels like it's been an eternity since they rolled me through the doors of the Operating room. A brief recap:

On Wednesday (The day before the surgery,) I received four phone calls from the surgeon's office. My surgery was moved from 7 A.M. to 9 A.M., 9 A.M. to 11 A.M., then to 1 P.M. As an already anxious patient, I snapped at the nurse when she called the fourth time, and said "If you're calling to move me again, you can cancel it." She assured me that she wasn't, she was just calling to confirm, that I needed to be there at 11 A.M. for my 1 o'clock surgery, and hung up as soon as possible. I felt a little bad, but not totally bad, because I was excited to roll out of bed and go, rather than sitting around and waiting for the surgery to happen. I tried to remain optimistic, but I think that anybody that knows me knows that I'm not a reserved personality, and the silence was uncomfortable for friends and family. My sweet mommy took me on a date the night before, and I stuffed my stomach full of my favorite Chinese restaurant, China-Mex. Seriously, give it a whirl. It's in a questionable looking building, and it's a cracker box, but that chef doesn't mess around with good eating. If you go in, tell them I sent you. They won't have a clue who I am, but the food will still be great. 

Anyway, I ate until I felt sick, and then I went home to chat it up with my man. We went to bed at midnight, my official cut off for eating and drinking (seriously, a pregnant woman was expected to make it 13 hours without any food or drink... ridiculous.) And about 1 in the morning, I woke up to all of the fury my gallbladder had to offer. I was so, so sick. I stayed sick until about 2:40. Then I collapsed in bed and swore that I was going to cut it out myself if I got sick again. I didn't, so we avoided a potential disaster. It was a pretty bad night, but if nothing else, it was the final push I needed to be okay with surgery.

The next morning, I woke up to cottonmouth, a headache, and hungry baby. It made for a pretty cranky pregnant woman, especially since Facebook was drowning in Valentine's Day posts. We left for the hospital about 10:45, and got a phone call that said "Hey, good news, we're moving your surgery up! Instead of coming in at 1, go ahead and come in as soon as possible so that we can prep you!" That's right, the nurse LIED and wasn't going to tell me about it until the hospital sent me away for showing up 4 hours early. I really wish I knew her name, because I would send her flowers... because it's always better to respond in love. Regardless, the Lord had his hand on the situation and we were right on time. As soon as we got to the hospital, I was put in a room, and the first thing the nurse did was listen to baby's heartbeat. Ella wasn't really comfortable with that, so she ran away from the doppler. It seriously took them about 5 minutes to find her. It made me laugh, but the nurse was less than impressed with my feisty daughter. Twenty Minutes later, they were strapping me up to IVs, antibiotics, blood pressure cuffs, and paperwork. I was stressed, anxiety ridden, and on the verge of tears, but I knew that I had a choice to make. I could trust the Lord and breathe, or I could spend the remainder of my time rolling my eyes at answering the same questions, losing my patience with the nurse asking if I was cold (she REALLY wanted to give me another blanket), or watching the clock move closer to 1 o'clock. About 12:15, the anesthesiologist came in and said, "The O.R. is ready, so we're going to get you ready." He talked a lot about the drugs he was giving me versus what he gives regular patients, promised he would watch the baby closely, and that I would likely feel just fine after the groggy wore off. He gave me a dose of the worst tasting medicine I've ever had, then said "Give that about 10 minutes." They wheeled me into the O.R., laughed at my musing that it didn't look anything like Grey's Anatomy, and started talking to me about absolutely nothing. My main "juice" guy was named Bren, and he was the sweetest, calmest, most reassuring anesthesiologist I've ever met. He's really only one of two that I've met, but I was super sad that Bren was on a rotation and only with ORMC for a brief time. He would've been great to have around delivery. Bren was talking about Tennessee and I was listening intently when he randomly said "Hey, I'll see you in recovery, okay?" then continued on. I don't even remember going to sleep. I do remember waking up in a room that looked just like my previous room, and that it was 2 o'clock. I asked repeatedly for Cody, sometimes because I couldn't remember what the answer was, sometimes because I was trying to make myself stay awake. The nurses laughed because the first question out of my mouth was "Is that gallbladder out? No, is she okay? Answer that first." It was a weird place, because I was aware of my surroundings but my brain wasn't present. After about thirty minutes, I finally focused enough to ask for Cody again, and after another search for ornery Ella, they took me to my original room.

After that, time kind of flew. Ella is not a fan of Dopplers, and the nurses weren't really a fan of Ella's stubborn attitude. I thought it was hysterical. She actually kicked the Doppler dead on once. I choose to believe it was on purpose. It was still a little unnerving, because I never actually heard her, I only had to trust that the nurses did. When I was able to walk to the restroom and empty my bladder, the nurses prepped my discharge paperwork, and home we went.

The first night was the worst, as I was in more pain that I could have possibly prepared for. The nurse advised that leftover carbon dioxide in my abdomen would cause pain, she didn't mention that it would be enough to bring me to tears if I wasn't flat on my back and perfectly still. She didn't mention that it would be up in my neck and shoulders. You know the feeling of a crick in your neck? It kind of felt like that, only worse. My incisions were on fire, I couldn't move without grimacing, and my poor husband was subjected to freezing at any moment when I shrieked loud enough trying to get off of the couch. That night, trying to find a comfortable place to sleep was impossible, and I don't think I slept a wink. I moved to the couch early the next morning, and slept on and off throughout the day. I felt significantly better by the next evening, though still full of CO2 and still unwilling to move by choice.

As the days pass on, I'm only aware of the pain/incisions when I move too suddenly, stand or sit up for too long, or roll over in bed. My stomach is growing at a rapid pace (imagine that, when I eat without fearing the aftermath, my belly grows,) and after three days of worry, I went to the doctor today. I was cramping in all of the wrong places, and since I never heard Ella's heartbeat at the hospital, I warped my mind into a chaotic realm of panic, and ended up a ball of tears in my bed. My mom called and got me into my doctor, and after a very detailed lesson about my ligaments, he assured me that I was just having a pretty intense case of round ligament pain. I had to stop myself from informing him that he was incorrect, but he fed my ego when he told me that he isn't surprised by how badly they're hurting post-surgery. Then he said "You can choose to be annoyed or comforted by the fact that whether or not you had surgery, you would still feel this pain." He did, however, find Ella's heart rate immediately, and smiled and said "I told you she would be blissfully unaware." He talked to me for a long time afterward, and though I felt pretty dumb for panicking, I've been significantly calmer as the pain rattles through my back and uterus. Someday, when I'm a doctor, I will allow post-op patients to see their babies on an ultrasound. Also, there will be no hour long wait times. Also, I will be sure that I adjust payment plans to the patient's needs. Like, when they have to drop the rest of their deductible at the hospital and show me the receipt, my staff will say "Hey, we'll adjust that right now!" instead of "We have to wait for insurance to contact us."

But that's another story for another time. I mostly just praise the Lord and I bless the Lord and my heart is overwhelmed by His grace. I see so many women with heartbreaking stories, and to know that he's carried me this entire journey is to know a love like I've never known before.

The only other major news is that we have started Ella's nursery. I finally found bedding I love (Pink and Lime Green)... but I don't want to post a picture until I like it in person. Her crib furniture has been sitting in my dining room since December, and it was driving me CRAZY. So we put a few pieces together. It's adorable. As she will certainly be.

I'm still not a crazy eater like some other pregnant people I know. I do have a new obsession with a popcorn that I found at Target. It's called "Boom Chicka Pop," and I can eat it by the bag. By the very large bag. I guess a positive look is that it's gluten free, vegan, cholesterol free, 100% whole grain, and various other hippie terms. If you're going to binge, binge healthily. Anyway, it tastes like the perfect cross of kettle corn and a popcorn ball (minus the havoc wrecking syrup,) and I love it. I love it too much for description. Plus, the marketing is GENIUS. I'm a sucker for creative marketing. How could I NOT be attracted to that bag? It's mint green and hot pink. And it has fun words. And fun facts. Basically, everything I look for in my snack items. Please try it. There may be other flavors, but I don't necessarily care about them. You are welcome.

That's week 18! It was a long week, but I am super rested. And in love with maternity shirts. I may wear them until the end of time. Maybe not... but probably. Thanks for walking through this journey with us! Here's the bump!

By the way, I wish my pregnant hair was ALWAYS my hair. I am obsessed with this mane. Sorry for being so shallow. But it is my blog, afterall...

Week 17

Week 17 is SO fun. I've been looking forward to this moment for so very long. You're about to drown in my enthusiasm, so I hope you're prepared for that.

Sweet, Tiny, Perfect, Gorgeous, big-footed, and adorable Baby Gaines is...

A Sweet, Tiny, Perfect, Gorgeous, big-footed, and adorable GIRL!!!!!!

Y'all, she is the light of our lives. We've had her name picked since I was about thirteen weeks along, and as strange as it seems, as soon as we saw her on the monitor, I didn't even have to wait for confirmation that she was a girl. I thought to myself "There's our sweet Ella..." Her name already fits her so well, and though she might be a little bit terrifying to look at right now, we are in awe of how beautiful our lives have become. She is active, hilarious, and LOVES to sit with her legs crossed Indian style. Her profile is HYSTERICALLY identical to her daddy's, and it makes me smile every time I see it. If we're being honest, I was so relieved that she was a girl. I absolutely cannot picture myself the mother of a boy, not because I don't adore them (hello, have you SEEN my nephew?), but because my heart just felt unprepared. However, because of excessive warnings over the last 12 weeks, I had to accept that there was a 50/50 chance that Ella was actually and Ello, and did everything I could to prepare myself for it. I had all of my nursery decor picked, all of the names I liked lined up, referred to the baby as "maybe baby boy" and I sincerely tricked myself into believing that it was a boy for a few weeks. It was only the week before my sonogram that I thought to myself "There is absolutely no way that this baby is a boy." And plunged into all things girl. To hear the tech tell us "Oh wow, she's a girl, isn't she?" was absolutely music to my ears.

And then I started thinking through some things. And thought about how often I absolutely hated being a girl in junior high and high school. And how fragile my heart was. And how I cried myself to sleep at night over a boy who didn't know the weight of his words. And how I knew that my dad was crazy about me, but to fathom somebody ever rivaling that love seemed so daunting and impossible. I thought about how often I felt morbidly obese and unattractive compared to the girls I grew up around. And it made me so sad. I prayed that the Lord would prepare me now, even when she's still forming inside of me, for the road ahead. That the Lord would make her so blatantly aware of her worth, that her Daddy would show her what it means to be adored the same way mine did. That even if she's tall, lanky, and awkward like her Daddy, she recognizes that she's created in the perfect image of her sweet Jesus, and that who she is is enough. I know she'll have bad days, and that she'll face heartache, but I pray that she comes to me. I pray that she knows that her answers sit at the feet of her Jesus and the arms of her mom and daddy. It's not the most exciting moment of parenthood so far, but it's enough to make me hold her that much closer when she's tiny enough to know the world as one of innocence. It's enough to make me tell her everyday that she's beautiful. And smart. And Kind. And im-por-tant. She will be loved, and she will know it.

That's really all I have to say about the week. Most of my free time is spent searching the web for the perfect baby bedding. There are so many adorable bedding sets, but I feel like they all look like an adult's bed set made into baby. It's important to me that Ella feels like a little girl in her room, but it's also super important to me that she knows that she can BE a little girl in her room. I would rather line the walls with books than some of the "art" I've seen. I would rather she feel like building a block city in her bedroom than sitting prim and pretty in it. I haven't found a bed set that explores the best of both of those worlds yet, but I search ever forward.

As it stands, I'm having surgery tomorrow (which is why the blog is a day early.) I'm told that the surgery is simple, easy, and ideal to have at this time. My doctor went through the details, showed me where Ella is in my stomach (which confirmed that I have been feeling her move!) and showed me where the incisions will be. Fortunately, none of the incisions are close to her, so it makes it a little easier to go. He promised that the same people doing the anesthesia are the same people that will be there at my delivery. I know that he could tell that that I felt like the surgery was pointless (I've been feeling pretty good this week.) and made it a point to tell me what could happen if for some reason I tried to wait it out. Since I've already been attacked by the gallbladder, it is BOUND to happen again, and the attacks will become more recurrent. If that happens, my pancreas will become infected, and if THAT happens, food will stop digesting. I'll essentially be put on an IV drip to keep baby healthy, but I'll be in constant pain, starving, and depressed. I still believed he was trying to convince me to do the surgery by telling me the worst case scenario. And then he said "I know it's tough to go and I know it's hard to put any risk to her... but that should tell you that you're already a mama, because you don't even care what happens to you at this point." And then the tears fell. And he smiled, let me hear her heartbeat, and said "I am confident in your surgeon, and I'll see you here in 4 weeks for your ultrasound." and walked out of the room. Sometimes the hour long waits to see him are frustrating, but I've never questioned our decision to allow him to be responsible for Ella. He's a good man, and he sincerely cares about us... so it makes everything else a little more tolerable.

That's about it! Here's the bump, keep us all in your prayers through the surgery, recovery, and new diet plan... I feel like I'm going to need it! 

Week 16

Today is Thursday, and I am in a bad mood.

I wish I had a specific reason. I wish that there was a valid explanation for my irritability. I wish I could explain why I snap back at innocent questions. I'm not totally proud that I've rolled my eyes at least 30 times today. I'm just having an off day. I'm irritated that I still haven't heard from my doctor. I'm irritated that I still can't manage to find my appetite. I'm irritated that it's only January and Duck won't come around until July. I'm irritated that my husband has suffered for almost a week with a fever that just won't quit. I'm irritated that the pharmacy wouldn't give me a flu shot without Doctor's consent. I'm really just irritated to be awake today. And honestly, I'm kind of glad to have one of these days. I've tried so hard to be a happy pregnant person in public, but today, I love that I can just be the woman nobody else wants to be around. I'm glad that I still love this tiny sweet baby, but I see that some days, it's going to annoy me. I'm annoyed that I can't eat, because I feel that my appetite was fairly healthy up until baby came around. I don't think that baby's intentions are of hateful nature, but it's easier to blame the baby. I'm having a bad day, and I think it's a good thing to have bad days, because it makes the good days so much sweeter. In about two hours, I get to see my baby again for the second time this week, and it makes me so excited every time I think about it. Pretty cool thing to happen on a no good, dirty rotten, very bad day.

Today is Friday, and This Pregnancy has become a very real part of my mindset.

Be still, my heart. I wasn't going to talk too much about my second ultrasound, because I didn't think the feelings would be too different 24 hours later. My heart is captivated. We had a 4d ultrasound of our sweet, annoyed baby. We started the sonogram just in time for our baby's nap, and it was less than impressed with the noise the machine made. Though silent to us, the tech told us we could only look for about 15 minutes because to baby, the noise is equivalent to standing next to a helicopter with no ear protection. Poor baby. At the beginning our session, the kid wouldn't turn over. We got a great view of the back of it's lumpy head, back, and buttocks. After a surprisingly painful shaking of my stomach with the ultrasound... wand? The baby finally rolled over and showed us its terrifying partially formed face. The tech prepared us for our Alien vs. Predator baby, so it wasn't a matter of thinking something was wrong... but it was surprising none the less. It was fun to laugh at the baby's face already changing expression, and while I know the baby wasn't actually smiling, it looks like it is grinning in every picture we have. It would give the gender away if I posted one, but I will in a couple of weeks. I was in awe of the baby, and that it formed inside of me, and the only thing I really did was feed it. It is an incredible, humbling thought that the Lord is so sovereign in our lives. We saw the heart beating inside of the chest, fingers covering the face, a sweet mouth opening and closing, and even a tiny brain. We saw every detail of our little one's being, and our hearts are in awe of everything God is capable of. The tech was blown away by how big the baby's feet were (and they really are HUGE), and laughed whenever we saw the baby's profile. Believe what you will about all babies looking the same, but this baby has its daddy's nose. IDENTICAL noses. Even Cody acknowledged the eerie similarity. And that just makes my heart take flight. To see all organs, to get a bill of perfect progress, and to see a little bit of my husband in the face of my baby was enough to bring this pregnancy to life... and I give glory to God for it.

Today is Monday, and I survived a painfully long weekend. 

On Friday afternoon, I noticed one of my teeth was aching a little bit. Nothing severe, but enough make me take a Tylenol before bed. Saturday morning, I woke up with a super intense pain in my tooth, causing a sharp ache in my ear. I looked in the mirror at my tooth, and almost passed out when I noticed half of it missing. It was an ugly, grody mess of nasty, and I sincerely have no idea how I didn't notice the tooth decaying. There was no pain until Friday night, even when I ate or drank something cold or sugary. Saturday, I kept a heating pad on my cheek, and didn't move from the couch. Sunday, I still had a pretty bad ache, but fortunately, it was out of my ear. This morning I woke up to little to zero pain, but I called the dentist anyway. He scheduled me for an emergency appointment (sometimes the preggers card has it's advantages) and performed a root canal this afternoon. I am confident that the baby is fine, and any doubts I had were diminished by the reassuring dentist. I'm pretty easy breezy this afternoon, but I was very stressed this weekend. My spirit was pretty worn down between the pending gallbladder extraction, the root canal, the pain from my gallbladder, and a long line of pregnancy complaints. Most days, I feel like I can't catch a break, and it's hard not to stay in a place of sadness. It's a really difficult position to be so relieved that my body is taking care of the baby before me, but at the same time, feel like my body is failing me. I know that the Lord has His hand on the situation, and that there are far worse battles we could be fighting... but in the day to day war, sometimes it's hard not to feel defeated.

Today is Wednesday, and Things are looking up.

Yes, I missed Tuesday. I worked until it was time to have a consult with the surgeon yesterday, and then I was so overwhelmed that I didn't feel like talking to anyone...or anything...or typing to anyone...or anything. Basically, the surgeon said it's kind of a 50/50 risk I'm taking. If my gallbladder doesn't bother me now, that doesn't mean that when I'm 30 weeks pregnant it'll still be easy breezy. If my gallbladder finally gives up at 30 weeks, that means that it's too late for surgery laparoscopically, and that I'll basically be gutted from my rib to my hip, and the baby is at an increased risk. Of course, being a surgeon, when explaining why it was better to do the surgery now, he also had to tell me the risks of doing the surgery now. This basically involved a few short (but dramatic) things, such as knicking the uterus with the scope, the anesthesia putting me into labor, or the baby being in distress. WELL SIGN ME UP FOR SURGERY, DOC! I was in tears. I knew that it needed to come out, and I've known that... but hearing all of the risks it was to baby was just about enough to make me run and never come back. Plus, we've been fighting insurance all week, PLUS I found out he's doing the surgery in about a week. That's right, surgery on Valentines Day, folks. I love Valentine's day. I don't care what all the single and bitters say about it being a commercialized, pointless holiday. Get off of your high horse. I found a man that loves me, pursues me, and makes me feel cherished every day of our marriage...but to spend a date with the man once a year DEDICATED to celebrating that? You won't hear me complain. Perhaps if we all dedicated our lives to celebrating the victories of our (and other people's) marriages, the day-to-day grind would be a little less tedious. *steps off of soapbox* Anyway, Valentines Day isn't Valentines Day without dinner and a movie (sometimes we even set up a picnic in the living room if we don't feel like fighting the crowds.) And it just makes the preggers sad. It's true. I'm not sorry. Fortunately, the procedure is fairly simple, and we go home the same day. I'll be a on a liquids diet, then a soft foods diet...and hopefully after that we can have a belated day of love celebration. Let me tell ya, I'm pretty excited to just be pregnant again. 

Today is Thursday, and Round Ligament Pain is wretched (said like Nicki Minaj.)

SO, I missed the memo that I'm supposed to be aware of my body while I'm asleep.  Did you know that during pregnancy, you can't just roll over in your sleep? Did you know that if you're in a comatose state and you roll over like you have every night for the last 22 1/2 years, you'll awaken in a confusing state of agony? It's true. Last night, I started to roll over and felt a bit of a twinge, so I was in the confused state of asleep and awake when I rolled the the rest of the way... Oh. My. Word. The pain. It was terrible. I guess it's normal, and your ligaments apparently don't like to be caught off guard when you sleep.Every pregnant woman I've talked to has laughed and said "You'll never roll over the same way again. Even when the baby is here." Thanks for the encouragement!  APPARENTLY I'm supposed to A. Sit up and Turn over, or B. Turn with my legs, then my body. Yeah, I don't know how that is going to work either, but it's part of the journey, I guess. So, I survived my first ligament attack only to combat leg pain shortly after. Not the charley horses everyone warns me about... it felt like growing pains, except a little more intense. There's a lot of debate about what causes the leg cramps... some say it's because of the extra weight. Others say the blood vessels have a difficult time circulating as quickly because of how cramped everything is. Whatever it is, it only goes away when I sleep with a pillow between my knees. So now I have a knee pillow, a back pillow, two pillows for my head, and a pillow by my feet. To say that it's a little cramped is an understatement. It's funny how a woman's mind transitions as she's pregnant. This side of two months ago, I would have been on the phone trying to find what would be causing these problems... the past week, I've rolled my eyes and thought "I JUST WANT TO SLEEP, BABY!!!" The transition was slow, but I've stopped worrying about every little thing, and things have relaxed a lot around my house.

Okay, there's week 16! Four months of the party are completed. Here's the bump! I know, it came out of NOWHERE!