All I want for Christmas is to be HEALTHY.
Week 28. Officially in the third trimester. We are in the final stretch, folks, and no one is more happy about that than I. (Funny thing is, I find myself still amazed and befuddled when I look down at my protruding stomach, thinking, "How did we get here again?") But I feel generally pretty good, other than a lingering cough from last week's QUARANTINE situation.
Last Wednesday, my 6 year old started complaining of stomach pains and before long was curved over the toilet, throwing up. Needless to say, she stayed home with me. I sent a text to my mother's helper and found out (through an inadvertent text she had intended to send to her sister that ended "WTF?") that she is deathly afraid of stomach bugs, so I was essentially on my own with it. Not too bad, since for the most part my daughter was pretty perky and I didn't have much on my calendar other than a holiday party, and the hostess was gracious about letting her tag along with me.
Sad for me, I had forgotten about the sneakiness of stomach bugs. How they can look benign and short-lived in one person and linger for days in another. Friday, as I went to bed, I start feeling like I was going into early labor, my stomach was hurting so bad. I could barely sleep. Just past midnight, I heard a scream from my 4-year old's room. She had just wretched in her bed. After finally getting her bed sheets changed and getting her settled down, I felt it coming on for me. I had endured 7 months of pregnancy without puking and this stomach bug was taking me down. An hour later, my 8-year old was calling out for help and back in our room, my husband was complaining of feeling queasy. It was going to be a long day.
As luck would have it, I also had some sort of head cold on top of everything else, along with a fever. So, while everyone else has mostly recovered (my husband still complains of queasiness), I am coughing like a 70-year old barmaid with a 2-packs a day habit. I'm still grateful that the bug ran through our house quickly, rather than taking us out one at a time. Christmas is the day after tomorrow and my girls are healthy. That's the most important thing. My husband and I are getting better day by day. This time next week, we'll be in Arizona with my sister and her family and that can only improve our situation.
So, all I want for Christmas is to be HEALTHY. If I get nice jewelry, or a trip to the spa, even better. But honestly, after surviving this last week of nonstop illness, I'm pretty focused on the basic things for which I have to be grateful: my wonderful family, a job I love that pays well, great friends who make me laugh out loud long and often, and of course, if nothing else, at least I have my health.
Stay warm and dry everyone, and be grateful for the little things. The things that you get for Christmas every year without even having to ask.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Testing, Shmesting...Mom's Coming.
I started to write a whole blog about amniocentesis and advanced maternal age and genetic testing and blah blah blah and it was just kind of depressing. What I really want to talk about is the fact that my mother is coming to visit today. I’m really looking forward to seeing her, but I have to admit that I’m a little nervous about how she’ll react to my big old pregnant belly. Is she gonna think that I’m holding it together this time, or is it gonna be obvious that I’ve already gained the recommended amount despite the fact that I’m only halfway through my pregnancy? Overall, I feel really healthy and extremely blessed to be pregnant again, not only with our fourth child but with our very first son. I’m very much looking forward to sharing that joy with my mother, who had five children of her own. I do have to admit, however, that my mother’s reaction to my ever-blossoming pregnant body is not exactly at the bottom of my list of worries.
I come from a long line of women, you’re probably not at all surprised to hear, who were obsessed with their weight. I can still remember visiting my grandmother in the nursing home when she was 93 years old, and her telling me that she weighed herself every day and replaced two of her daily meals with Slimfast shakes. Why they would let a 93 year old woman have Slimfast instead of a meal, I have no idea. I guess I say all that to say that I come by all this neurosis honestly. Anyway, my children are totally excited for Grandma’s meet. She may even get to see my eldest daughter’s first winter swim meet, and we all plan to go out to dinner on Thursday night to a fabulous restaurant in Abington, PA called Timber. It should be a fun evening. By then I should have the results of my fetal echocardiogram and hopefully have been told that the baby is growing fine and is completely healthy. By all accounts, it should be a fabulous weekend…if I can just let go of my age-old neuroses and relax, it might actually end up that way!
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Week 20 - The Big Reveal
I know I should have been happy enough to have a healthy baby that I didn't even need to know the gender. I am painfully aware of the fact that many women my age want children but can't have them without the help of fertility treatments, if they're lucky enough to have them at all. And so yes, I felt guilty admitting that I had an opinion on the gender of my unborn child. But dammit, after 8 years raising three strong-willed, melodramatic, girly-girls,8 years of arguing about whether they could wear the same dress five days in a row, 8 years of trying to brush through three thick heads of hair, 8 years of princesses and pink and Hannah Montana, I wanted a boy.
Interestingly enough, my husband claimed he would be happy either way. He said he knew how to do girls, was content to just go on ahead and do another one. Was, in fact, tired of getting his hopes up only to have them dashed (as we both had the past couple of times) and expected a girl. I, on the other hand, was not giving up without a fight. First, there was the dream. For those of you who don't remember, check out my blog titled, "The Psychic Sister." Then, there was the fact that this pregnancy felt so different from the others - no tell-tale metallic taste in my mouth, no sweets cravings, no crappy skin breakouts. On the contrary, this was the first pregnancy where people (including my husband) were telling me I was "glowing." I had never experienced that before and assumed it was a cockamamie myth some guy had concocted to get women to get pregnant despite the weight gain, stretchmarks and painful labor. But sure enough, here was my frightfully honest husband telling me I looked like I was constantly bathed in soft lighting. I even tried the old strand of hair tied to a wedding band, and it went back and forth, just like it should for a boy. I was convinced.
All that being said, I was still not patient enough to wait nine months. I hadn't been with any of my other pregnancies, why start now? I did want it to be special, though, this being our last time. I convinced my husband that it would be a good idea for us to have the ultrasound technician seal our baby's gender in an envelope, and we would then open it over a lovely, romantic dinner. Flash forward to this past Thursday. Our ultrasound technician did exactly that, and then handed the envelope over to my husband, who promptly hid it so I wouldn't be able to ruin the surprise (I'm not THAT impatient...but still, better safe than sorry, I suppose).
That night, on our way to dinner, I was already getting phone calls and texts from people wondering if we had done our Big Reveal. (I mentioned we have had three daughters in the past 8 years, didn't I?) So, we sit down to a lovely dinner at Ristorante San Marco in Ambler, PA. (I highly recommend it if you're a fan of Italian and happen to be in the area.) I'm ready to bust out the envelope and here is my husband, reading the menu like it's date night. Needless to say, I told him that he needed to fork it over. "I'm a trained actress," I explained. "I can keep a poker face."
It was hard, though, I must admit. After months of praying for a boy, months of talking myself down from the ledge in case it wasn't a boy, even apologizing to my unborn baby for having such a strong opinion on what his/her gender should be, I wasn't prepared for how happy I would be to see the little ultrasound picture the technician had put in the envelope, annotated with the words, "I have a peepee, Mom! I'm a boy!" (Yes, that's really what it said.)
As for my husband, who was fine either way and entirely prepared for another girl, well I think I saw tears well up in his eyes. I know there are folks who will think this blog is slightly sexist. Maybe not. I hope not. We have three beautiful daughters and we love them all to pieces. But we are very much looking forward to seeing what it's like to raise a son, and our whole family is completely overwhelmed with joy and gratitude that we're going to get to do exactly that.
And as I brushed my daughters' hair the next day, I have to admit I was relieved to know that there wouldn't be another head added to the mix, waiting for me to tackle its tangles. If there had been, I would have been up to the challenge, but I am going to relish every new facet of life this little baby boy is going to bring. Until next time!
Interestingly enough, my husband claimed he would be happy either way. He said he knew how to do girls, was content to just go on ahead and do another one. Was, in fact, tired of getting his hopes up only to have them dashed (as we both had the past couple of times) and expected a girl. I, on the other hand, was not giving up without a fight. First, there was the dream. For those of you who don't remember, check out my blog titled, "The Psychic Sister." Then, there was the fact that this pregnancy felt so different from the others - no tell-tale metallic taste in my mouth, no sweets cravings, no crappy skin breakouts. On the contrary, this was the first pregnancy where people (including my husband) were telling me I was "glowing." I had never experienced that before and assumed it was a cockamamie myth some guy had concocted to get women to get pregnant despite the weight gain, stretchmarks and painful labor. But sure enough, here was my frightfully honest husband telling me I looked like I was constantly bathed in soft lighting. I even tried the old strand of hair tied to a wedding band, and it went back and forth, just like it should for a boy. I was convinced.
All that being said, I was still not patient enough to wait nine months. I hadn't been with any of my other pregnancies, why start now? I did want it to be special, though, this being our last time. I convinced my husband that it would be a good idea for us to have the ultrasound technician seal our baby's gender in an envelope, and we would then open it over a lovely, romantic dinner. Flash forward to this past Thursday. Our ultrasound technician did exactly that, and then handed the envelope over to my husband, who promptly hid it so I wouldn't be able to ruin the surprise (I'm not THAT impatient...but still, better safe than sorry, I suppose).
That night, on our way to dinner, I was already getting phone calls and texts from people wondering if we had done our Big Reveal. (I mentioned we have had three daughters in the past 8 years, didn't I?) So, we sit down to a lovely dinner at Ristorante San Marco in Ambler, PA. (I highly recommend it if you're a fan of Italian and happen to be in the area.) I'm ready to bust out the envelope and here is my husband, reading the menu like it's date night. Needless to say, I told him that he needed to fork it over. "I'm a trained actress," I explained. "I can keep a poker face."
It was hard, though, I must admit. After months of praying for a boy, months of talking myself down from the ledge in case it wasn't a boy, even apologizing to my unborn baby for having such a strong opinion on what his/her gender should be, I wasn't prepared for how happy I would be to see the little ultrasound picture the technician had put in the envelope, annotated with the words, "I have a peepee, Mom! I'm a boy!" (Yes, that's really what it said.)
As for my husband, who was fine either way and entirely prepared for another girl, well I think I saw tears well up in his eyes. I know there are folks who will think this blog is slightly sexist. Maybe not. I hope not. We have three beautiful daughters and we love them all to pieces. But we are very much looking forward to seeing what it's like to raise a son, and our whole family is completely overwhelmed with joy and gratitude that we're going to get to do exactly that.
And as I brushed my daughters' hair the next day, I have to admit I was relieved to know that there wouldn't be another head added to the mix, waiting for me to tackle its tangles. If there had been, I would have been up to the challenge, but I am going to relish every new facet of life this little baby boy is going to bring. Until next time!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Week 17...The Brawn
So, last week I promised we would talk about The Brawn. It probably won't surprise anyone to hear that my focus couldn't be any farther from that. I'm not the slightest bit interested in gracing the cover of any magazines bearing my pregnant belly, a la Demi Moore and Vanity Fair. My relationship with exercise has changed, much in the way my relationship with my weight has changed, with this pregnancy.I am exercising regularly again. I made a commitment to myself that I would slog through a two-mile run at least 4 days out of the week, however clumsily, and then tack some weight training onto the end. Yesterday, the whole thing took me a half hour. Today, I was at the gym for over an hour and actually felt some soreness in my muscles. It felt good. And I realize that feeling good is what exercise is all about right now. I could use whatever endorphins I can get, basically. And after I exercise, I feel all glowy and beautiful. Why wouldn't I do something that makes me feel like that?
I guess I want to share this stuff with you guys because it applies whether you are pregnant or not. You're beautiful if you say you are, if you feel like you are, if you strut like you are. Similarly, whether you are pregnant or not, you will benefit from making the time to exercise. Hell, I'm working 60-70 hours a week right now, holding down the fort with three kids and have one on the way, and I'm finding time to work out - even if it's just for a half hour - not because I'm trying to lose weight (clearly) but because I know it will make me feel good. And I'm not leaving that to anyone else but me. So, if I know there's a guaranteed way to get my day started off right (or finished off right), I'm damned sure going to do it. And if I don't, and I feel all yucky and bloated and blah, I have no one to blame but myself.
Give it a try. You make time to shower, to brush your teeth, to help your kids with their homework, to make dinner, whatever it is you've decided is a priority. Get yourself back on that list and see how much more you get out of every single day when you add a half hour of exercise. You'll be surprised how much more you can do when you've got an extra spring in your step.
OK, nuff said. Don't mean to preach. Now I have to keep working out so I don't look like a hypocrite. Or a hippo. Tee hee. Is anyone reading this, anyway?
Good night, all...
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Week 16...Beauty and Brains
This week, I have a couple different topics forefront in my mind: Beauty and Brains. The first, beauty, is an interesting switch from last week’s discussion of pregnancy weight gain. Although I can’t deny that my weight gain is on the high end of the spectrum, I also can’t deny that this pregnancy is the first time I actually feel like I know what people are talking about when they talk about the pregnancy “glow.”
On Sunday, my sister in law was in town and she wanted to take photos of my children – she’s a photographer in NYC. She got me in a couple shots, make up free and all, and she just kept remarking on how beautiful I looked. I had to admit when I saw the pictures, they weren’t half bad. And often when I accidentally catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror as I pass by or as I’m washing my hands in the bathroom, I have to do a double take, because I really like what I see. Pregnancy agrees with me this time around. So, that’s an interesting shift in my perception – that regardless of the number on the scale, I can still look and feel beautiful during pregnancy and hopefully this is something I will carry on into my life well beyond my delivery date.
The second thing I have to talk about is Pregnancy Brain. I have had a lot of experience with the way in which pregnancy causes me to be completely scatter-brained. I can remember putting milk cartons into the kitchen cabinets instead of the refrigerator, and …. well, I’m sure there are other examples but I can’t think of them because I have Pregnancy Brain! Maybe it’s because I have three other children, maybe it’s because I’m working 70 hours a week, maybe it’s just because I’m getting old and there’s a little senility mixed in there with the rest of what’s going on, but this Pregnancy Brain is out of control. As an example, let’s talk about my 4-year old daughter’s birthday party. Granted, there are EIGHT birthdays in September in my family. No, I’m not exaggerating, there are eight: my sister, my two brothers-in-law, my sister-in-law, my two nephews and my two daughters. So, there are a lot of moving parts in September, but I’ve never really had a hard time managing it all before. Well, for my four-year old’s birthday, I decided to do a Little Gym party, which generally is pretty straightforward. You call them up, you make the reservation, they take the deposit, you send them the addresses, they mail the invitations, done.
Well, first of all, somehow they didn’t take the deposit, so I almost lost the reservation. Then, because most of the children I wanted to invite on my daughter’s behalf were in her class at day care, I decided I would take care of the invitations myself. So, I had a little help from my sitter – we put the invitations together, and then after forgetting day after day after day, I finally remembered to put the invitations into their little lockers at school. Then, I realized at 3 am one morning, that I had forgotten to include RSVP information on the invitations. So, I then very cleverly (I thought) made up notes with just the RSVP information. Of course, I didn’t have a guest list so I had to try to conjure up the names from memory. Then, I get a call from the Little Gym reminding me about my party, including the date and the TIME, which turned out to be an HOUR AND A HALF later than what I had included on the invitation. So, I created another “Oops” flier for all the locker (feeling not nearly as clever as I had before), and now could not even slightly pretend that I could remember who had been invited, and who had received the first Oops message. The best I could do was field the e-mails and phone calls that came in, including those from the Little Gym asking if I had my final guest count yet. It has been a mess. Fortunately, Sunday will come and the party will have gone off, one way or another. And people are very tolerant of the way in which the brain functions, or perhaps malfunctions, during pregnancy, due to all the extra attention it’s giving to the little project going on down below.
So, that’s what I have going on this week: Beauty and Brains. Maybe next week will be Brawn, if I can ever get my larger-but-cuter butt back to the gym. You’ll have to stay tuned to find out!
On Sunday, my sister in law was in town and she wanted to take photos of my children – she’s a photographer in NYC. She got me in a couple shots, make up free and all, and she just kept remarking on how beautiful I looked. I had to admit when I saw the pictures, they weren’t half bad. And often when I accidentally catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror as I pass by or as I’m washing my hands in the bathroom, I have to do a double take, because I really like what I see. Pregnancy agrees with me this time around. So, that’s an interesting shift in my perception – that regardless of the number on the scale, I can still look and feel beautiful during pregnancy and hopefully this is something I will carry on into my life well beyond my delivery date.
The second thing I have to talk about is Pregnancy Brain. I have had a lot of experience with the way in which pregnancy causes me to be completely scatter-brained. I can remember putting milk cartons into the kitchen cabinets instead of the refrigerator, and …. well, I’m sure there are other examples but I can’t think of them because I have Pregnancy Brain! Maybe it’s because I have three other children, maybe it’s because I’m working 70 hours a week, maybe it’s just because I’m getting old and there’s a little senility mixed in there with the rest of what’s going on, but this Pregnancy Brain is out of control. As an example, let’s talk about my 4-year old daughter’s birthday party. Granted, there are EIGHT birthdays in September in my family. No, I’m not exaggerating, there are eight: my sister, my two brothers-in-law, my sister-in-law, my two nephews and my two daughters. So, there are a lot of moving parts in September, but I’ve never really had a hard time managing it all before. Well, for my four-year old’s birthday, I decided to do a Little Gym party, which generally is pretty straightforward. You call them up, you make the reservation, they take the deposit, you send them the addresses, they mail the invitations, done.
Well, first of all, somehow they didn’t take the deposit, so I almost lost the reservation. Then, because most of the children I wanted to invite on my daughter’s behalf were in her class at day care, I decided I would take care of the invitations myself. So, I had a little help from my sitter – we put the invitations together, and then after forgetting day after day after day, I finally remembered to put the invitations into their little lockers at school. Then, I realized at 3 am one morning, that I had forgotten to include RSVP information on the invitations. So, I then very cleverly (I thought) made up notes with just the RSVP information. Of course, I didn’t have a guest list so I had to try to conjure up the names from memory. Then, I get a call from the Little Gym reminding me about my party, including the date and the TIME, which turned out to be an HOUR AND A HALF later than what I had included on the invitation. So, I created another “Oops” flier for all the locker (feeling not nearly as clever as I had before), and now could not even slightly pretend that I could remember who had been invited, and who had received the first Oops message. The best I could do was field the e-mails and phone calls that came in, including those from the Little Gym asking if I had my final guest count yet. It has been a mess. Fortunately, Sunday will come and the party will have gone off, one way or another. And people are very tolerant of the way in which the brain functions, or perhaps malfunctions, during pregnancy, due to all the extra attention it’s giving to the little project going on down below.
So, that’s what I have going on this week: Beauty and Brains. Maybe next week will be Brawn, if I can ever get my larger-but-cuter butt back to the gym. You’ll have to stay tuned to find out!
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
On Pregnancy Weight Gain
I know, I know, we all get sick and tired of thinking about our weight, complaining about our weight, obsessing about our weight, and during pregnancy is the one time we won’t, don't, shouldn’t have to worry about it, right? WRONG. My sister Skyped me a couple nights ago to say that someone had told her that the average pregnant woman only needs an extra 200-300 calories a day, and did I know that? Well, when I didn’t Skype her back (I was asleep – it was well past my normal pregnancy bedtime of 8:30), she worried that I got so pissed at her raising the issue of how much I should eat during pregnancy that I’d decided not to ever speak to her again. Seriously. It is that big an issue for many of us.
I’m not going to lie – my pregnancy weight gain stories have been pretty melodramatic, from the pregnancy where I gained 25 pounds by my first 8-week appointment (pregnancy #1 – I gained 90 pounds in all), to the one where I gained a mere 40 pounds (I weighed myself daily and worked out 5 days a week). I have run the full spectrum between not giving a single rat’s patootie to being borderline obsessive compulsive.
Last time I checked, we moms begin worrying the moment we pee on the stick. Is it really two lines? Is the second line too faint to really count? Will I miscarry? Should I have the amnio? Should I tell my boss? Will my husband still find me attractive? Will he mind if I don’t want sex? Will I be a good mom? Do we have enough money saved? Enough stuff for the nursery? Did I pick the right nanny/day care? Should I stay home with my kids? Will they welcome me back into the workforce if I take time off to be a mom? Will my kids resent me if I don’t? And on and on and on…So, do the doctors really have to add this little nugget into the mix, something over which many of us have so little control, especially when more than half of us are puking our guts up and just happy to eat whatever we can keep down and the rest of us are wishing we would puke already because we just spend the entire day feeling like we’re going to and eating is the only thing that seems to take away the nausea?
What I have come to believe is that as mothers, whether seasoned or first-time newbies, we have enough to worry about without adding some arbitrary guidelines about something we may have little control over into the mix.
Let’s take the 200-300 calories guideline, for example. I don’t know about you guys, but when I’m in my normal every day mode, I’m generally pretty diligent about how I’m eating and exercising. That means, I’m dieting. Pretty much all the time. OK, that’s not for everyone, I know. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I’m just being honest. So, what I want to know is, when they say 200-300 extra calories, one would assume that’s on top of the regular maintenance caloric range of 2000 calories a day, not the Liimu-I’ve-been-dieting-since-I-was-9 caloric range of 1500-1600 calories a day. So, that means that by their standards I should be averaging between 2200-2300 calories a day. That’s significantly more than I’m used to, and about where I’ve been landing (at least since we entered the 2nd trimester and I stopped feeling like Sigourney Weaver in alien, except in my case the alien was going to gnaw it’s way through to the outside of my stomach, rather than popping out in a dramatic, scary burst).
And how about the guidelines around weight gain? I just read something today that said I should have gained about 5 pounds by now. Hopefully, they mean give or take 15 pounds. Seriously, though, I read a post on one of the pregnancy boards by a woman who weighed less than 110 pounds pre-pregnancy and when she went to her doctor for her 12-week checkup she had gained 6 pounds. He completely chastised her, saying for her entire pregnancy she should only gain 23 pounds. Where the hell did he get THAT arbitrary number? Honestly, there’s a part of me that feels like there should be a prerequisite for OB/GYNs to make commentary on the weight gain of their patients, unless they’ve been pregnant themselves or have seen their wives through at least three pregnancies. Otherwise, it should be like in the doctor’s office. You can not say anything derogatory or stress-inducing about the pregnant woman’s weight without a qualified nurse in the room, and by qualified, I mean she’s had a baby.
I’ve had three children, and have gained 90 pounds, 40 pounds and 65 pounds with them, in that order. Ironically, my first child just turned 8 years old and is nearly 5 feet tall and wears women’s size 8 shoes. She gets her incredible height from her dad and she’s not the slightest bit overweight. As for my second daughter, the nearly 7-year old with whom I gained the “ideal” amount of weight? A peanut. She’s in the 25th percentile and is barely an inch taller than her not-quite-4 year old sister. Not sure if there’s a correlation there, but I certainly intend to keep my eye on it. If this baby is tall enough to qualify for the NBA by the time he starts high school, I’ll get my answer.
And by the way, when I got pregnant with this child, I was within 5 pounds of my pre-first pregnancy weight, just like my mommy friends who gained 20-25 pounds with their pregnancies. My body knows what to do. It’s proven that time and time again. I’ve never had gestational diabetes, high blood pressure, preeclampsia or any other weight-related issues with my pregnancies and my children are happy and healthy.
Last time I checked, that was really what matters the most.
I’m not going to lie – my pregnancy weight gain stories have been pretty melodramatic, from the pregnancy where I gained 25 pounds by my first 8-week appointment (pregnancy #1 – I gained 90 pounds in all), to the one where I gained a mere 40 pounds (I weighed myself daily and worked out 5 days a week). I have run the full spectrum between not giving a single rat’s patootie to being borderline obsessive compulsive.
Last time I checked, we moms begin worrying the moment we pee on the stick. Is it really two lines? Is the second line too faint to really count? Will I miscarry? Should I have the amnio? Should I tell my boss? Will my husband still find me attractive? Will he mind if I don’t want sex? Will I be a good mom? Do we have enough money saved? Enough stuff for the nursery? Did I pick the right nanny/day care? Should I stay home with my kids? Will they welcome me back into the workforce if I take time off to be a mom? Will my kids resent me if I don’t? And on and on and on…So, do the doctors really have to add this little nugget into the mix, something over which many of us have so little control, especially when more than half of us are puking our guts up and just happy to eat whatever we can keep down and the rest of us are wishing we would puke already because we just spend the entire day feeling like we’re going to and eating is the only thing that seems to take away the nausea?
What I have come to believe is that as mothers, whether seasoned or first-time newbies, we have enough to worry about without adding some arbitrary guidelines about something we may have little control over into the mix.
Let’s take the 200-300 calories guideline, for example. I don’t know about you guys, but when I’m in my normal every day mode, I’m generally pretty diligent about how I’m eating and exercising. That means, I’m dieting. Pretty much all the time. OK, that’s not for everyone, I know. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I’m just being honest. So, what I want to know is, when they say 200-300 extra calories, one would assume that’s on top of the regular maintenance caloric range of 2000 calories a day, not the Liimu-I’ve-been-dieting-since-I-was-9 caloric range of 1500-1600 calories a day. So, that means that by their standards I should be averaging between 2200-2300 calories a day. That’s significantly more than I’m used to, and about where I’ve been landing (at least since we entered the 2nd trimester and I stopped feeling like Sigourney Weaver in alien, except in my case the alien was going to gnaw it’s way through to the outside of my stomach, rather than popping out in a dramatic, scary burst).
And how about the guidelines around weight gain? I just read something today that said I should have gained about 5 pounds by now. Hopefully, they mean give or take 15 pounds. Seriously, though, I read a post on one of the pregnancy boards by a woman who weighed less than 110 pounds pre-pregnancy and when she went to her doctor for her 12-week checkup she had gained 6 pounds. He completely chastised her, saying for her entire pregnancy she should only gain 23 pounds. Where the hell did he get THAT arbitrary number? Honestly, there’s a part of me that feels like there should be a prerequisite for OB/GYNs to make commentary on the weight gain of their patients, unless they’ve been pregnant themselves or have seen their wives through at least three pregnancies. Otherwise, it should be like in the doctor’s office. You can not say anything derogatory or stress-inducing about the pregnant woman’s weight without a qualified nurse in the room, and by qualified, I mean she’s had a baby.
I’ve had three children, and have gained 90 pounds, 40 pounds and 65 pounds with them, in that order. Ironically, my first child just turned 8 years old and is nearly 5 feet tall and wears women’s size 8 shoes. She gets her incredible height from her dad and she’s not the slightest bit overweight. As for my second daughter, the nearly 7-year old with whom I gained the “ideal” amount of weight? A peanut. She’s in the 25th percentile and is barely an inch taller than her not-quite-4 year old sister. Not sure if there’s a correlation there, but I certainly intend to keep my eye on it. If this baby is tall enough to qualify for the NBA by the time he starts high school, I’ll get my answer.
And by the way, when I got pregnant with this child, I was within 5 pounds of my pre-first pregnancy weight, just like my mommy friends who gained 20-25 pounds with their pregnancies. My body knows what to do. It’s proven that time and time again. I’ve never had gestational diabetes, high blood pressure, preeclampsia or any other weight-related issues with my pregnancies and my children are happy and healthy.
Last time I checked, that was really what matters the most.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Why I've been so quiet...
I'm PREGNANT! Yep, that's right. Totally out of the blue, but we are thrilled. So, for those of you who don't already know, that's why I haven't been blogging lately. Also, there's the fact that my weight is sky rocketing so that wouldn't be very motivating to those of you trying to slim down. (I always gain a ton with my pregnancies.) Here's the good news:
- You can follow my pregnancy on my other blog, Motherhood Later than Sooner. I will be chronicling my pregnancy every week on Thursday.
- When the baby comes, you will have to come back over here to watch me get back in shape!!! I will share with you all the nitty gritty, including surgery should it prove necessary.
See you in March!!
- You can follow my pregnancy on my other blog, Motherhood Later than Sooner. I will be chronicling my pregnancy every week on Thursday.
- When the baby comes, you will have to come back over here to watch me get back in shape!!! I will share with you all the nitty gritty, including surgery should it prove necessary.
See you in March!!
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