I don't really have anything to blog about. It's Thursday, my weigh in day. I didn't lose this week, but I didn't gain either. I'm roughly two pounds lighter than my last appointment. I know I should be proud, and I guess deep down I am, but still, I wanted some big dramatic loss. I mean, she said 5-10 pounds (which I now know ain't happenin') and I just wanted to show her I wasn't some desperate slob. And with going into the holidays...and by January I'll probably be too big to get on my efx anymore (even though it's a smooth elliptical motion, it still gives a pretty good jostle to The Belly) so I'll probably gain that last month or so. I just hope I can keep it in check. I'd like to be 190 when I deliver, that'll put me right where I was with Warren (gag me- do you remember how hard it was to lose what little weight I DID lose after him???) but realistically I think I need to try to be satisfied with 200. It's just hard, I mean, I'm hungry, you know? And with only going to the grocery store on Mondays, we're pretty much out of fresh fruit and stuff by Thursdays, so I eat crap all weekend. Yes, I know. GO TO THE STORE ON THURSDAYS TOO. Shut up, no one asked you.
BUT, I did my labs on Monday and I haven't heard anything, so I think it's safe to assume I don't have gestational diabetes. HOORAY! After all, the goal of all this is to have a healthy baby. And she is. Speaking of Baby Girl Engelbrecht, do you remember a long time ago when I talked about how I was OBSESSED with Warren dying while I was out of the house? Like, I'd be convinced that he'd died during his nap, and Nick had tried to call but my cell phone was on the fritz or something? Well, one sweet friend pointed out that this might have been a sign of post partum depression (which, in hindsight-DUH!!! Why didn't I think of that?!?!) and now I'm doing it again, but with the Baby. Some days, it's all I think about. But short of going to the ER every day, there's nothing I can do to reassure myself that she's okay! It's so frustrating! With Warren, at least I could call Nick and demand that he go check on him. Or I could just rush home and scoop him up (hence the problem-it was interfering with my functioning! Isn't that one of the signs of mental illness?) but with Baby Girl, I just have to hope for the best and try to convince myself that she's fine. It's hard to explain. It's even harder to experience.
And to make matters worse, she's a pretty active baby. You can already SEE my stomach move when she kicks. But something happened Monday and she sort of slowed down. At first, I assumed that I was just too busy to notice the kicks, but then the Evil crept in and it was all I could think about, so I laid on the couch (for HOURS, ignoring absolutely EVERYTHING else in my life) to monitor her. And she was moving, so I didn't go to the hospital, but she wasn't as strong. Or frequent. It was horrible! I'm not against depression or anxiety medication AT ALL, but I just don't want to have to go down that road NOW, you know, while I'm pregnant and Nick is gone and my life is in turmoil. I will OF COURSE mention this obsession to my doctor Wednesday and do what she says, I just hope I can get a handle of it without meds. At least for now. Does that make sense?
Anyway, she's kicking up a storm now. Although I think the sensations I'm finally feeling have more to do with the fact that I finally opened up and talked with two sweet friends about this obsession yesterday (thanks Brandi and Jen!!!) so now my head's a little clearer. And lemme tell you, that year I spent working labor and delivery did NOT help the situation at all!
All right, now that I've flown my crazy flag, here's some pics. These are my beloved children. Are they playing with the seven thousand dollars worth of toys we have? Nope. The swingset we all love and adore so much? Nada. How about even the four dollar sprinkler we just HAD TO HAVE? Nah. They're watching a BUG crawl across the backyard. All together now: kids are so dumb.