I am now in the third trimester by pretty much any pregnancy calendar you use. I am 27.5 weeks.
After the awesome ultrasound (which featured lenses of the eyes), I had to wait three days before getting a look at the official report from the radiologist. It is official. I still have partial placenta previa. However, the good news is my cervix is 5 cm long and showing no signs of changing, so the chances of having a bleed soon are low. And pre-term labor is not yet on the map. Whee. I was chastised lightly by my ob for my 7-pound in one month weight gain (which didn't seem too bad to me considering my previous pregnancy weight gain experience). I was given a slip for another ultrasound, a slip for a gestational diabetes screening, and told to come back sometime in the next 2-4 weeks. I chose 4. I am the queen of compliance, and my ob knows it. If I have problems, he knows he'll hear from me and he knows that I know what a problem looks like. It's nice to be treated like an intelligent adult.
Name games continue. My mother, in her wisdom, has decided that baby names need to be icky. I think she's chosen Mortimor for a boy and Grisella for a girl. I kid, but still, her choices have been...odd. We have a left-over boy name from when Chuckles was born (which should have been his name but for a moment of miscommunication) and we have a ton of girl names so we just need to nail down a first and middle name for a girl and we're set. And yes, I know what is between the baby's legs, and I still insist on having boy and girl names at the ready because I know what I saw, and it looked like a whole lot of nothing, that's what. I am not convinced.
Here are my girl names (I've given the names combos that I like, but feel free to suggest your own following my Six Simple Rules for Naming Your Baby After British Aristocracy):
Caroline Elizabeth (not to be confused with Carolyn, which I do not like)
Abigail was our cat and I love the name, but Mr. Long-Suffering says, "No."
I like Margaret but have no idea what to do with it.
So, that's where I am with that.
I am having some "back-door" issues. This is all TMI, but whatever. In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that I made it through my entire pregnancy with Chuckles without any constipation and no hemmorhoids. I developed a pair or three while pushing for a few hours trying to get Chuckles to go through the door and avoid cutting a window. But, alas, I got the window and the hemmorhoids. They have not been much of a bother for the last 3 years, so I didn't think much of them until Oh.My.God.The.Blood one day. And when you have placenta previa and are searching the TP for signs of imminent trouble, having a toilet full of blood is not so great. At least I quickly figured out the source so I did not fall into a giant pit of despair. Anyway, I am not really constipated but I did start taking one of those dissolves-in-any-beverage-and-you-can't-even-taste-it fiber things. And it's true, you don't taste it but it doesn't dissolve in cold milk. I haven't noticed any change in that area since I started it on Thursday. I have a pretty fiber-rich diet as it is. So, I guess we just hope it doesn't get any worse. It doesn't hurt or burn or itch or anything, so it's just gross and disgusting. That is all.
At my appointment, I was given the go-ahead to have rhymes with smorgasms. Pelvic rest continues but smorgasms (which I assume are chocolate and marshamallow covered) are allowed.
My born child has a cold and has coughed and puked on me in the last few days. Which is always good times. I also cut his hair since his gradmother basically said he looked like a ragamuffin. Now, he looks like a ragamuffin whose mother is too cheap to take him to get his hair cut. Actually, it doesn't looke that bad. But do you think he could stop moving while I do it? I am sure that a very funny/cute photo is in the offing since he asked me, oh I don't know, about a hundred times if he could cut his own hair. It's just a matter of time before he does.
Mr. Long-Suffering is not thrilled about this little cold situation and bounces wildly from blaming me to blaming Chuckles. Basically, Chuckles has post-nasal drip which is irritating his throat and stomach and making him cough and spit up. And Mr. Long-Suffering thinks Chuckles, who let me remind you is 3 year 3.5 months old, should just know this and blow his nose even when he's tired or asleep or something. Or that he should at least blow his nose when asked. I say he's 3.
It is late August, the tomatoes are in. We have bounty.
I found out about my maternity leave benefits. 2 weeks paid before due date, 8 weeks afterward followed by up to 12 more unpaid weeks. If I can do the math, that's carry-the-one, 22 weeks off of work which sounds a lot like 5 months. So, that'd rock. We'll see what I end up taking. But I am so thrilled about this development I can barely contain myself. Must check with Chuckles's school to see what kinds of part-time pre-school options they have.
The Olympics are over and the Democratic National Convention has started. From one spectacle to another. Both spectator sports. Make sure your voter registration is up-to-date. I don't care who you vote for, reasonable people can disagree, but read up on the elections in your area (local officials have more say over your day-to-day life than the national politicians) and cast a vote.