I don't even use caffeine anymore.

I've had three nosebleeds in three days. All very minor, but rather annoying. "You're bleeding! What did you do?!" Eric exclaimed last night. I'd taken a shower, was all. The other two times I was washing my face to get ready for work. Presumably it's the humidity that does it, softening the membranes that are overly engorged with blood already (L.E.O. demands blood sacrifices!). The book says to expect it. However, I hope it stops soon. Eric will believe me when I say it's a pregnancy symptom, but if I keep coming to work late because of nosebleeds, I'm pretty sure my boss is eventually going to have to ask me to take a drug test.

Not safe for (co)work(ers)

I'm not going to be a very patient pregnant lady. I mean, I'm not a very patient anything lady, but I'm pretty sure word is going to go around at work that Jenny's always very crabby and shouldn't be asked about her pregnancy. This will suit me fine. "How are you doing?" people ask me (a lot of people at work know, since I mentioned it to my boss's boss and she told a bunch of other people--I also told my department, but it's a small department and I don't think they found it a topic of much fascination). I say I'm fine, or I'm fine except for a cold, or I'm busy, or whatever. "But how are you feeling?" they say, with extra meaning, and I suppose they want me to talk about my morning sickness, or my cravings, or my ill-fitting pants, or maybe my headaches and constipation and backaches (for the record, I don’t have any of those things other than the pants, though it depends on the pair).

If it's early in the day and I'm in a good mood I'll indulge them by saying "Better now that I'm out of the first trimester." If it's later in the day or I've just dealt with a customer who's upset because I failed to thoroughly read his mind, I say I'm fine. If they press, saying, "Baby growing all right?" I say, "As far as I know, though it could be dead for all I can tell." (Okay, I only said that the once, and she was so shocked I was immediately sorry I'd said it.)

I don't want to talk about my pregnancy at work. I feel basically fine, so there's not a lot to talk about, and there are always pregnant women in the company and I've heard some of them talk incessantly about how they feel and what they think and it bores me, and I don't want to bore people. And if I say I'm fine, you don't get to second-guess me unless you're my parent or my husband.

Not a patient pregnant lady. Don't even think about the belly-rubbing bit.

These dreams

I dreamed last night that L.E.O. was a girl. Eric says this is an official intuition from me on the baby's sex. I'm skeptical, unless this is also an official intuition that the baby will be 12 inches long with a flat head and will have such an extreme fear of cameras she'll push herself out of the bassinet as a newborn to avoid having her picture taken, but for what it's worth, there it is.

(They say that "vivid dreams" are a pregnancy symptom. I haven't noticed my dreams being any different from usual, but then I usually have memorable dreams. And since I've got a cold, I'm just glad I don't have really boring dreams, which is what usually happens when I'm sick.)

Bloodletting

Eric and I both had the day off today (he because he lost his job a week and a half ago, me because work is forcing us to take four days a month off), so we decided to go to a lab and get bloodwork done.

I'd had an order for Eric to get cystic fibrosis screening since before my last appointment, but since the nurse got all the information wrong (including his name) we threw it away and I asked for another one. She still got things wrong on this one, but I just fixed them and the lab didn't say anything. My bloodwork was for a quad screen (the standard Down's Syndrome/spina bifida/etc. screen), and they'd also gotten information wrong on mine, but again I fixed it and the lab didn't care. Maybe they've had experience with this before.

Anyway, it was uneventful, except that my reliable blood-giving vein flopped and after three tries the lab tech decided to switch to my other arm, so I walked out with a matched set of bandages on my arms. I presume I'll hear the results at the next appointment. Here's hoping absolutely nothing is wrong. I talked to my friend Carol on Sunday about pregnancy and birth--she's due in about three weeks--and she said she'd lend me some books she has on the delivery process, but not for a few months, since (a) she'll need them and (b) I don't want to know about that kind of thing just yet. I wonder how much of this having-a-kid process involves things I won't want to know about until I have to.

Quantum Superposition of States

So, we'll be getting an ultrasound at some point in the near future. In the meantime, there is one very commonly-asked question, which is:

"Do you know whether it's a boy or a girl yet?"

The standard, non-geeky answer is, of course, "No." But really, that's boring. And of course, despite the fact that ultrasounds don't happen until at least week 18, L.E.O.'s genitalia have already developed. They are simply unobserved.

In terms of gender, therefore, we are dealing with a quantum superposition of states. From the standpoint of an outside observer, the baby is both a boy and a girl. Or perhaps 50% male and 50% female. Technically, from this standpoint, that means it has 1.5 X chromosomes in each cell (and 0.5 Y chromosomes). Of course, from the point of view of an inside observer, i.e. L.E.O., the wave function has already collapsed.

Yeah, yeah, quantum physics doesn't really work like that on a macroscale, I know. Still, more fun than just "No."

Pregnancy brain sets in

1. There's no reason it should take four tries to put a lab coat on.

2. Why on Earth did I decide to wear these shoes to work today?

R.I.N.D.S.

We don't have much baby gear at this stage (I can count what we have on one hand, in fact: sample formula from the doctor, sample pacifier from same, a poster, and a baby blanket Courtney made me about a year ago) but we are--or rather, I am--already equipped with what will probably be L.E.O.'s most beloved gadget. This is the R.I.N.D.S.: The Redundant Infant Nutrition Delivery System.

I'm sure you know what I'm talking about.

The R.I.N.D.S. was concerning me up until recently, since it's supposed to have started internal reconfigurations which should have resulted in some outward changes, and it didn't seem to have done so. (Except for the promised color changes. It's really very interesting, since it doesn't look like a color change so much as like someone just kind of splashed some excess pigment over the top of the existing paint job.) However, Eric pointed out a few days ago that the R.I.N.D.S. was indeed increasing its capacity, if slowly. Which was reassuring, except that now I have to think about buying new, er, support rigs. And I hate buying support rigs. And I suppose I'll have to keep doing it as the R.I.N.D.S. continues to grow. I guess it'll get me in training for those endless rounds of ever-bigger Evil Overlord armor that L.E.O. will inevitably need us to buy.

Week 15 visit

...Was very short, actually. Check for UTIs, check the weight (I've gained back the four pounds I lost), check the heartbeat again, discuss testing, schedule the ultrasound (March 10), out the door. I was particularly glad to hear the heartbeat again--it was much easier to find this time, even if L.E.O. did swim away in the middle of the doctor trying to count it--because I'd woken up the day before having slept through the night and not having a bursting urge to run to the toilet. I immediately concluded something was wrong. I almost as immediately concluded that was stupid, but I couldn't shake the worry all day so it was nice to get confirmation that I was being stupid. (Eric said, "Everything's fine. You're neurotically obsessed with something that makes no sense. That sounds like pregnant to me.") It appears just to be a blessing of the second trimester, along with an increased appetite and energy level (sadly for Eric, as this means we're going to start working on household projects with vigor).

I also checked with Dr. Mason on why she only uses Toledo Hospital, and she says essentially because it's a large practice: they used to have privileges at several local hospitals and would have to send people out to four different hospitals six times a night, and it got to be too much, so they decided to reduce to one. She says she can give me a referral to another doctor if I decide to use a different hospital, which helps. We're going to visit the three hospitals of interest (they all offer free tours) and make our decision based on that.

Dinner these days

"We should have dinner soon."

"Yeah. Anything in particular you want?"

"No. You?"

"No."

"But we should eat."

"Yeah."

...

"Mashed potatoes?"

"That's not a meal. We could order pizza."

"Not for me. No cheese."

"Oh yeah."

"What did we used to eat, before I stopped being able to plan dinner?"

"Let's see...pasta, pizza, potato-cheese casserole--"

"Hmm. I might be okay with potato-cheese casserole. Maybe."

"That's like mashed potatoes."

"It would take too long tonight, though."

...

"Mashed potatoes. I could have a ham steak. Those go together. What do you think?"

"I could try to find something vegetable-y to go with it. Is corn a vegetable?"

"It is to me. Okay then. Mashed potatoes."

Forecast dizzy with a 99% chance of extra work

Ugh. I've been dizzy and light-headed most of the day. It probably didn't help that I had a nice long shower this morning; according to my book, that's likely to make me dizzy because it dilates the vessels near my skin, and my blood pressure is theoretically already decreased because my circulatory system is expanding (though it was fine the last time the doctor checked it...but then, I guess that was almost a month ago). Plus expanded lung capacity means decreased carbon dioxide to the brain which means breathing changes that might make me feel short of breath. In summary, I'm spending most of today sitting down.

Bev sent me a mommy-to-be care package: an oil spray for dry skin, cream and lotion for stretch marks (useful in later months, I'm sure), and a baby name book. It was very cute and cheered me up quite a bit, especially since we've been discussing the doctor/midwife/hospital question and as a result of some things Eric's mom told him about Toledo Hospital, he wants to look into other hospitals instead, which means I'd have to switch doctors. The midwife group he wants me to switch to (Angie's) is as far away from work as I can get without leaving the metropolitan area, which displeases me. However, I guess he can pick the farthest-away hospital if he wants, since he's going to be the one doing all the driving back and forth.

Incidentally, we were talking about "natural" vs. epidural/C-section births a few days ago, and James called. One of the first things he asked was "So, are you going to have a natural birth?" and my first thought was My God, why does he care? followed by What business is it of his anyway? and by that time he was finishing, "...or are you going to schedule it?" Because, of course, if I were going to schedule an induction or C-section, he and Mom and Dad could buy plane tickets early. Unfortunately I want them to be here for the birth but not that badly. Plus I'd almost certainly go into labor early. Maybe I should have them buy tickets, just for that insurance.