I had hoped to have a belly picture to post last week after my doctor appointment, but as so often occurs, life gets in the way and it didn't happen. I am on the every-two-week plan now--THE HOME STRETCH!!!--and go in again this Thursday (or today, by the time most of you read this), so I will once again attempt to post a picture at that time. My last appointment went very well, and God used it to encourage me in a rather shallow area of my life.
Before I tell you how good God was to me last week, I need to give you a tidbit of information about my pregnancies. I have been pregnant only two times in my life. Both times happened shortly after I had slimmed down somewhat. Prior to Little Bit, I had lost 15 pounds; before Tiny Bit, I had gone down two sizes. I figured God could've used better timing and let me enjoy my slightly more svelte self a while longer, but ultimately who am I to tell Him what to do? So with both pregnancies I have tried to not focus on that, but rather be grateful for the privilege of getting to be a mommy. I haven't been so good at it this time around.
Last week I had been feeling somewhat akin to the Goodyear blimp, and not the scaled-down toy version, either. I kept expecting them to call and ask me to fill in for the blimp at the next major sporting event. Every time I went into my closet I got discouraged as I looked longingly at my non-pregnant clothes, aching to be able to wear them again. Some of my most favorite warm-weather pieces were ones I really didn't get to wear much, since I bought them last fall right before I found out I was pregnant. Add a tub-full of guilt on top of that desire to not be rotund--I wasn't being grateful for this precious gift--and I felt awful. In case I haven't mentioned it before, I went through 5-1/2 years of infertility before I was blessed with Little Bit. If I was still going through that battle with infertility today and someone had said to me what I was currently thinking, that she was more worried about not getting back into her non-pregnant clothes rather than rejoicing in the fact that she was getting to be a mommy, I would have clocked her upside the head with a baseball bat for being so ungrateful. It was a no-win situation, and I was absolutely pathetic. A couple of times hormones took over and I just started bawling. Poor HOFFER didn't really know what to do, and frankly, there wasn't much to do but let me vent.
When I go see my doctor, the first thing that happens when I get called in for my appointment is the dreaded weigh-in. I mentioned to the nurse on one occasion that I didn't want to know my weight, so she told me to close my eyes. On subsequent appointments I have just stood on THE BEAST with my back to it. (HA! Tell me how much I weigh, will ya???? I'll show you!!!) Last week's appointment was no exception. I outsmarted THE BEAST yet again and stood with my back to it, ignoring its evil declaration.
While I outsmarted THE BEAST, apparently no one told Dr. P that I didn't want to know my weight. And technically, he didn't tell me how much I weigh. What he did was listen to Tiny Bit's heartbeat, measured my belly, and looked over the information on my chart. Our brief conversation went something like this:
Dr. P: "Looks like you're doing great. You measured the right size, baby's heartbeat is strong, and you've only gained 10 pounds, so you're doing great."
Me: "I'm sorry...what did you say? Did you really say 10 POUNDS?"
Dr. P: "Yes, only 10 pounds. I think we talked about..."
I stopped listening at that point, because it was really all I wanted and needed to hear. ONLY TEN POUNDS!!! Then I tuned in again as he said "You should be back to your regular size in no time."
I could hear the angelic chorus singing "Aaaahhhh!!!!"
Call me shallow, but this was SO INCREDIBLY ENCOURAGING to me!!! With Little Bit I gained about 40-50 pounds...blew right past the 200 mark. I ballooned to the size of a hot air balloon, which for someone who has been relatively petite for most of my life, is very bad! But I didn't care because I was so VERY excited just to actually be pregnant. I have been a bit more careful this time around. I eat at Sonic only 2-3 times a week instead of every day. (I wish I were joking!) I honestly believe it is the vitamins I'm taking...it's the main difference between this pregnancy and my first one (other that not having a daily dose of foot-long Coney, large tater tots and a Route 44 Coca-Cola with extra ice). The cool thing is they are not prenatal vitamins...they are the same vitamins I've been taking on a daily basis for about five years. So I continue to take these vitamins (in addition to my prenatals) and am continuing to do well. The only concern was that, in spite of taking an iron supplement every day, I was still anemic. So I have been given a stronger supplement, and that seems to be working well.
I wish I weren't so shallow. But I think I will look at it in a more positive way: I'm grateful that I have a healthier pregnancy than my first one, and that I'll be back to my old self much sooner than the first time around.
