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.

It starts

These pants weren't this tight across the hips the last time I put them on. I was actually hungry today--hungry without nausea, at least for a while. Maybe I really am in the second trimester.

ConFusion

It should be noted that Jenny's post is missing the critical aspect of consuite on Saturday nights, which is very boisterous, very silly, and often (but not always) very drunk people. Night-time silliness and weirdness are the best aspects of con. On Friday night, I had my vitals taken by an EMT-in-training for her class project; on Saturday night I spent a chunk of time talking with an 18-year-old first-time con-goer who seemed a bit shy. It reminded me of my first time at 'Fusion almost ten years ago.

Dad makes the geeky announcement

Project Little Evil Overlord is coming soon. You will be conquered... by cuteness.

Project L.E.O. is currently approximately fourteen weeks along. Circulatory and basic neurological functions are established and have been detected. As of yet, doctors have proscribed bionic and nanotechnology systems; the project goes forward nonetheless, and is on track for an expected completion date of 30 July.

The expectant mother is doing well except for occasional bouts of discomfort, and alternating joy and paranoia about her future son or daughter taking over the world. The expectant father is currently working on fortress plans and procuring over-powered but occasionally faulty weaponry with obvious self-destruct mechanisms. Just in case.

Applications for minions are already being accepted! No experience is required, though basic diaper changing and bottle-feeding techniques, ability to make cooing noises, and willingness to be cannon fodder when the "good guys" assault the fortress are a plus.