Nesting? (Updated)

July 31, 2007

Any time I do anything the least bit domestic these days, M jokes that I must be nesting.  Today, though, I’m starting to wonder.  It’s not even PJ’s naptime yet, and I’m already on my second load of laundry.  Normally laundry is a week-long process.  I’ll keep forgetting I have laundry in the washer or dryer, so we end up searching for clean socks and underwear in the dryer for a few days until I can get around to folding them.  By then, it’s usually time to start over with laundry.

Today I’m washing mostly sheets.  I noticed last night that our sheets reek.  My money-conscious husband insists on keeping the temperature in the house at a balmy 80 degrees, even now that we’re at the hottest part of the year–and the pregnancy–and the heat is making me sweat like crazy, especially towards morning.  Hence the stink of our sheets.  So that was my first priority today.  I remembered while I was stripping our bed that the bed in our guest room hadn’t been stripped since my MIL was here.  My mom is coming next week and will need to use that bed, so I might as well get them done while I was doing laundry.

But those sheets don’t really fill up a load.  Okay, in reality, I used the sheets to fill up a load that I was planning to do even before I remembered the sheets needed washing.  I decided it was time to wash up a bunch of clothes for BabyN.  I’m anxious to organize the boys’ dresser and closet to accommodate both of their clothes.  (By the way, that was interesting, deciding what to wash.  I have all of PJ’s old clothes still, but they start from preemie sizes.  Even though I suspect BabyN will end up wearing preemie clothes, I don’t want to seal the deal by having them ready for him.  So I’m only doing the newborn size right now.  In another couple of weeks, I’ll probably be doing a bunch more laundry last minute.)

I’ve also made a list of everything I’ll want to take to the hospital with us when it’s time.  I kind of wish I could go ahead and pack it so I can just grab and go when it’s time, but I have too many things I’ll still need between now and then to pack yet.  That frustrates me, but I don’t really have a choice right now.  I’m also planning this afternoon to type up some basic care instructions for PJ for whoever ends up watching him when we’re at the hospital.  I don’t think we can count on grandparents to be around.  This is stressing me out the most, that we don’t have a plan for PJ yet.  Well, we kind of do, but we need to talk to some neighbors to see if they can help during the day.  It would be much easier if we could count on relatives to be around and help out.

By the way, I suspect part of the sudden urgency to get everything ready has to do with the minor worries last night about going into labor.  I started getting lots of lower back pain about the time I started trying to sleep.  That’s how everything started with PJ, so of course I paid close attention to what I was feeling.  When I had two Braxton-Hicks within fifteen minutes, I was starting to go over the plans for rushing to the hospital in my mind, even though I knew I needed to time contractions for at least an hour before panicking.  I fell asleep before the hour was up.  I woke up still pregnant, so I guess it was a false alarm.

My SIL is 38 weeks pregnant right now and having some issues that may expedite the delivery of their baby (evil SIL, by the way).  My mom says they’re talking of inducing on Thursday, at 39 weeks, if she’s still pregnant then.  It’s sad to think about, but we could very well be in a race for popping out the second grandchild first.  In a way I want to win, just to be able to say I gave my parents their first two grandchildren (and to steal her thunder since my kid would be in the NICU, thus taking more attention), but I really actually hope she wins, and by several weeks.  I’m not looking forward to another NICU experience, even if it should be a week or two shorter already.

Update: I finally heard back from my doctor about the tests she did on Thursday.  Both are negative.  I’m honestly a little surprised about both.  I don’t know why, but I figured I was one of the many carriers of group b step.  It’s good that I’m not, though.  And it’s also kind of good that I’m not likely at high risk of going into pre-term labor anytime soon.  I can get off the terb (yay!!!!!), but now I’m starting to feel foolish for telling everyone that I suspect BabyN has dropped and that the birth is imminent and getting everything ready just in case.  For the record, hearing the result of the test doesn’t change my gut feeling one eensy-weensy bit.  It’s just “scientific proof” (as inaccurate at this test is known to be) that I’m wrong.  And I so hate to be wrong, even if it’s for the best for everyone involved.

Let the Countdown Begin

July 30, 2007

According to the doctor, I’m 32 weeks today.  Tomorrow I unofficially hit 33 weeks.  And sometime either last night or this morning BabyN dropped.  I never had this feeling with PJ, so I didn’t recognize it right away.  But even M can tell I’m suddenly carrying much lower from just looking at me.  It’s an unmistakable difference.

I was already getting that feeling that at my appointment on Thursday I’d be dilated at least a smidge and would likely be put on bedrest finally.  (Honestly, it’s the best time for it to happen.  M is going out of town for business on Monday and my mom is coming to stay with us for the week.  I’ll have at least a full week of total bedrest to kick it off.)  I’m still waiting to hear from the doctor about the results of the swab she took last Thursday, but regardless of whether I was positive for the protein then, I’m almost certain it’s positive now.

It’s still early, but at least I’ve made it farther than last time already.  BabyN should be fine if he’s born now, with only a minimal NICU stay.  I think it’s time to get everything in order so that we can take off for the hospital at any time.  Hopefully these plans can just sit around for a while before we need them, but I’d rather have them ready just in case.

In My Dreams

July 30, 2007

I remember the basic idea of a lot of the dreams I had when I was pregnant with PJ.  They were all about babies and giving birth, mostly.  I didn’t have the dreams as often as I’d thought I would, but at least the themes were pretty much the same when I could remember them.

Not so much this time.  I’ve had a few dreams about having BabyN or what life is like when he’s here (and one where he was older and I’d just had his twin baby sisters…yikes!).  The pervasive theme of the dreams this pregnancy, though, is teaching.  I had yet another teaching dream last night.  In this one, I’d gone back to teaching basically as I am right now–hugely pregnant and everything.  I was taking over what would be my classes after they’d had a series of subs since the beginning of school.  Naturally they were unruly and their progress was limited.  I dreamed of discipline issues, parent phone calls, and students wanting special treatment.  I dreamed about my fellow teachers, bringing in some of the more friendly ones I’ve worked with in the past.  Despite the issues with the students, the teaching experience itself was pretty good.

But then I dreamed I had a conference period, or lunch, or something where I had free time.  All I could think about was PJ.  I was so worried about how he was doing without me that I had to wake myself up from the dream and remind myself that we were both fine and he was in the next room.  It’s obvious that in my dreams all I wanted was to be at home with my son again, even though I was enjoying teaching.

I don’t know.  It may be in my future to teach once again, but my subconscious is telling me definitely not anytime soon.  Right now, I need to be at home taking care of my sons.  In the meantime, I just need to put up with the onslaught of teaching dreams.  Maybe they’re just keeping me open to that option so I won’t rebel against it in the future if I do need to go back to work.

Hormonal and Whiny

July 27, 2007

I don’t very often ask or beg for comments, but today I actually need them.  I’m in need of encouragement from all of you.  I know between the pregnancy hormones and the yucky medicine, this is bound to happen from time to time.  I’m just so discouraged and miserable today, and I can’t manage to get myself balanced back out, even though I know I’m overreacting to everything and why.

The medicine is affecting me much worse than it has the last few days, and I can’t keep myself from shaking.  It feels like I’ve been suddenly placed in Antarctica in the dead of winter because of how much I’m shivering.  But I’m not the least bit cold.  It’s very uncomfortable.  I’ve also been nauseous agaiin, something that hasn’t happened much for a long time.  It took all my willpower to make lunch for PJ and me, between the shaking and the nausea.  All of this is making my normal, everyday mothering tasks seem overwhelming.

And add to all this that I have no clue what is really going on with my body.  I question with each Braxton-Hicks whether this is the one to really worry about, if this is the one that indicates the start of labor.  And I don’t know how much I should really worry.  It bugs me that I don’t know what comes next in my doctor’s plan of treatment and what will make her decide to go ahead with that next step.  I feel lost and out of touch with what is going on with the pregnancy.  It’s all very discouraging today, not even knowing whether to worry, what to worry about, or what I should be doing to prevent anything from happening.

So while I’m feeling altogether antisocial today, as often happens when I’m feeling under the weather and moody, I could really use some encouragement.  Or sympathy.  Maybe that’s what I’m really shooting for.  Pity me already!  (By the way, has that ever happened to you?  You start whining, and all you hear is that everything is going to be okay, and you get annoyed because you already know that and really wanted to hear words of understanding and sympathy at your plight instead?)  Anyway, maybe tomorrow I’ll be better again with my sense of humor back and I’ll be able to blog something more upbeat, and possibly unrelated to the pregnancy, again.

Confusing Appointment

July 26, 2007

I got back from the doctor a few minutes ago.  I’m not exactly sure how it went.  I’m not sure it’s a good sign when I come home confused.  Of course, I wasn’t the only one confused.  My doctor seems a bit at a loss what to do now too.

Okay, from the start.  I’m gaining weight at last, but not too much.  My blood pressure is perfect as usual, but my pulse was racing, the nurse said.  Definitely from the medicine.  BabyN’s heartbeat is the same as usual, and I’m measuring 32 weeks.  They decided to do my group beta strep test today, so I got to strip from the waist down.  I thought they’d said they usually do that test later, but maybe they just did mine early to make sure it got done before BabyN decided to show up.  After that, I was declared to be basically done and to get dressed again while they got the doctor.

The doctor came in and asked mostly about the medicine and if it was helping the contractions.  It’s not.  Yesterday was as bad as usual, with several contractions being immensely more intense (not painful, but definitely more uncomfortable).  The doctor did not like hearing that.  She decided it was a good idea to get that swab again to tell whether I was at high risk for pre-term labor in the next few weeks.  The nurse-practioner came back in after I’d stripped again to do that.  I was done with that and about to get dressed again when she decided to ask the doctor if that was it.  Of course it wasn’t.  She wanted a cervical check as well.  The good news is that I’m still closed, even though she mentioned that it didn’t feel exactly like it should.  She didn’t seem worried, so I won’t worry either.  After that, it really was over.

PJ wasn’t particularly happy the whole time, but he was a trooper.  It was only bad when he started screaming when my legs were up in the stirrups, and I most definitely couldn’t comfort him at the time.  Anyway, I guess the verdict is that I’m supposed to stay on the meds and take it easy until they get the results from the swab.  If it’s negative, as both the doctor and I suspect it will be, then there’s no point in staying on the medicine.  At least I haven’t been put on bedrest yet, and as long as the test comes back negative, I doubt I will be just yet.  The doctor seems reluctant to go to those lengths if the only symptom of pre-term labor I’ve shown is frequent Braxton-Hicks that aren’t changing anything.

Like a Leaf

July 25, 2007

Today I am very, very glad I don’t have a job that requires any fine motor skills.  I would be scared to be in surgery with someone’s life in my hands.  I would hate to ruin a piece of artwork I’d been working on for ages.  I’m even relieved I don’t have to try to write on a chalkboard in front of a class of judgmental teenagers right now.  It’s bad enough trying to pour a glass of milk without spilling or typing or even jotting something down on the grocery list.  I have little to no control of my hands right now.

At least the shakiness from the medicine is the worst of it.  It’s not fun, but why do I really need fine motor skills right now anyway?  The only sad part is that I’m afraid to pick up PJ and hold him.  The trembling is making me feel weak everywhere, and I’m afraid I will end up dropping him.  In a pinch, I think we’d be fine, though.

M claims the medicine is having more effects than just the shaking.  He keeps telling me how funny I am when I’m hyper.  I don’t feel at all hyper–sleepy instead.  But he has more of an objective view.  Maybe I am a bit hyper and don’t realize it.  I also feel just a bit nervous all the time.  It’s weird feeling like all I want to do is sleep, but when I lie down, I can’t keep my body or legs still.

So far I haven’t noticed a huge decrease in the Braxton-Hicks.  I guess I expected once I had the medicine in my system, the contractions would just disappear altogether.  They’re usually pretty moderate in the mornings, and that hasn’t changed.  I guess the real test will be this evening; evenings are usually when they are the worst.  I don’t know whether to hope the medicine helps or not.  Of course I want relief from the worry the frequent Braxton-Hicks cause, but a part of me wants to be off this medicine already.  Still, I doubt the side effects of any stronger anti-contractiion medicine will be at all preferable to the relatively minor shakiness.

Hope in a Bottle

July 24, 2007

My doctor’s office called this afternoon.  My cervix is pretty darn close to a normal length, so I don’t qualify for the home health care, and in addition, the patch version of the medicine.  That’s good because my cervix is still long but bad because they didn’t want to have to put me on the oral medicine.

Anyway, M picked up the meds on his way home from work.  I only have about a week’s supply.  I guess they don’t want to prescribe me a whole bunch when we’re living from week to week now already.  Either way, it’s $10 co-pay per bottle, so it would be nice if I could have more than one week’s worth in a bottle.

So I took my first pill about an hour ago, and I haven’t felt the awful side effects predicted yet. I’m a little shaky and just feeling antsy, but that’s all.  It turns out that it’s a medicine usually prescribed for asthma and similar breathing problems.  When I realized that, I was able to connect the possible side effects with those I get from my inhaler for asthma.  I should be pretty used to the same kinds of things I could feel from this medicine.  Maybe that’s just making this easier to cope with.  We’ll have to see how I feel after a few doses, in case the side effects get worse when the medicine has been in my system for longer.  Or perhaps I was expecting the side effects to be worse from what everyone else has said, so this isn’t so bad considering.  Anyway, so far, so good.

Any Day Now

July 24, 2007

I am 32 weeks today, according to the first ultrasound due date, even farther along if you go by my LMP.  According to everything other than the inaccurate doctor’s due date, I have entered uncharted territory.

In fact, last night at about 6:30, M and I were discussing this very fact.  Since PJ was born at 4:17 in the afternoon, I’d already gone farther than last time, even if only by a few hours.  It’s an exciting feeling knowing that odds are good that things with BabyN go better than they did with PJ, regardless of when he’s born now.  He’s already gestated longer.

I’ve entered “any day now” mode.  Even with the progesterone shots and the other meds I’ll be on soon (probably by the end of the week), I feel like BabyN could come any day now.  I hope he decides to wait three or four more weeks so we can avoid another NICU experience, but I’m already starting to hope that day comes sooner rather than later.  It will be a relief to have all this third trimester ickiness gone.  And I’m ready to finally meet this little guy who is so careful to make sure I’m aware of his presence.  I might miss some of the pregnancy dreams, though; last night I dreamed BabyN was here and had been for a while, and I was actually giving birth to his baby twin sisters.  He was still young enough to be nursing, though, so I was nursing all three at once.  (Well, not at the exact same time, but you know what I mean.)

Anyway, we have everything ready to bring a baby home here, even though there are a few more things I’d like to get before BabyN makes it.  M and I are reluctant to spend the money right now, though, so we’re waiting, hoping someone else will decide to buy it for us.  It’s too bad I won’t get a shower for this one.  I think I’m ready in every way, physically, emotionally, and mentally.  It’s just playing the waiting game now until BabyN is ready.

By the way, PJ has been acting like a spoiled brat the last few days.  Oddly enough, this frustrating behavior started with the departure of his grandma on Saturday.  He’s throwing huge fits any time he doesn’t instantly get what he wants.  Last night he actually went to bed early because he was just making himself more and more hysterical in one of those fits.  I still don’t know what he wanted, but it had something to do with his water sippy cup.  I’m tempted to blog about my kid suddenly turning into a spoiled brat on the other blog, without mentioning my suspicions about why it’s happened so suddenly, but I’m afraid my MIL will either figure out what I’m not saying or feel guilty about it and get all bent out of shape.  It’s been too long since I’ve blogged there, and this is all I can think to write about right now.  Is it better to not write anything there, just in case, or go ahead and whine about it, ignoring what my MIL thinks about it?

Where I’ve Been, Part II

July 23, 2007

Ready for the MIL stories?  Since I didn’t vent about them every day as they happened, instead you’ll just be getting the bigger ones that I can remember now.  That’s probably all you really need anyway to get a good picture of how the week went.

  • Remember how she recently lost her job and found another one?  We were hoping she would be so focused on the new job that we wouldn’t have to hear her whine about the other one incessantly.  We were totally wrong.  I had to hear the whole annoying story numerous times in her short stay.  Each time she turned more and more into the victim.  I got extremely frustrated having to console her and tell her everything would be okay and the mean doctor would be punished for what he did to her.  Yet each time she insisted on telling the story, it felt more like she was lying about it, like she was hoping to convince herself her story was true and that it would be more realistic the more she practiced it.  I think the truth is that she wrote herself a prescription and the doctor found out and wouldn’t stand for it like the previous doctor would.  Now she’s trying to find excuses for why she did what she did and is making it sound like he misinterpreted something she did–which was most certainly not actually writing herself a prescription.  M agrees with me that she’s lying.
  • The worst time when I had to hear the whole story yet again was Friday late morning.  Unemployment called her to hear her side of the story after hearing the doctor’s, and when she got off the phone with them she had to call my FIL and M’s aunt (her SIL) to tearfully tell them what she had told unemployment, which included the whole sordid story again.  It wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, despite the fact that I had to sit through it all trying not to sigh and roll my eyes at the drama, except that moments before the first phone call I was about to go get my shower.  I needed her to watch PJ while I did so.  This was the only chance I would get to shower since I had to go to the ultrasound that afternoon and had just gotten up a few minutes earlier, and we’d be leaving right after lunch.  By the time she got off the phone and composed herself enough to watch PJ as she’d promised, I could barely squeeze in the quickest rinse-off ever before we had to rush to the hospital (to wait and wait and wait).  I acted nice but was super aggravated.
  • Friday night’s dinner was annoying, too.  PJ woke up from his late nap fussy since he hadn’t slept long enough yet, but we had to wake him up for dinner.  MIL put him in his high chair long before she had food in front of him, though (obviously a bad move), and he screamed until there was food there.  I listened as M told her not to give PJ any biscuit yet because once he saw there was a biscuit, that’s all he would eat.  He would cry any time there wasn’t biscuit on his tray, even if it was gone, and would refuse the rest of his meal altogether.  What did I see as she put food in front of him?  She started to give him a bite of biscuit.  I again told her not to–acting like I hadn’t heard M just tell her the same thing–and then watched as she did anyway.  For about two seconds, while PJ ate that piece of biscuit, we had wonderful peace.  Then he realized the bread was gone and screamed for more.  It was a full-blown hissy fit.  When we wouldn’t give him more until he’d tried at least some of the rest of his meal, he screamed louder.  My MIL apologized to him–for not giving him what he wanted because Mom and Dad wouldn’t let him have more biscuit yet.  She deliberately made us out to be the bad guys in the whole situation.  (By the way, I finally distracted him enough to get him to eat a few bites of chicken, thus winning the battle.  He ate a decent meal afterwards perfectly happily.)
  • The whole idea of beinig spoiled by Grandma was a common theme of the week.  All he had to do was appeal to her, and she gave him anything he wanted, even if we had just told her not to.  Or if she refused him something, she made it clear that she would have given it to him, but Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t let him, making us the bad guys always.  She overreacted to every hissy fit, getting anxious and rushing to get him what he wanted.  She refused to take our advice about him, instead making lots of mistakes with him that she could have avoided.  I guess she’d rather not do anything the easy way.  We’re just lucky that none of this permanently harmed him.  We’re re-training our spoiled little brat not to be one this week, but at least he can be re-trained.  When he was seven months old, she had him overnight for one night and in that time managed to turn him against bottles.  That was the last time he ever took a bottle, and I suspect made his transition into sippy cups that much more difficult.  I’m glad there was no repeat of that this time around.
  • Apparently she gave no thought into what to pack for her stay here or how to pack for airline travel.  She came totally unprepared for even basic hygeine needs.  As a result, we made numerous trips to pick up that one more thing she realized she forgot (or had confiscated at the airport), and she still borrowed excessively from us.  I don’t mind being a good host and lending out anything I can, but it bothered me that once something ended up in her room or bedroom, there it stayed.  Even if we asked her to return something ASAP since we needed it too, we didn’t see it again until she left.
  • As I suspected, she didn’t do a lot of helping out around here.  She kept PJ entertained well, so I really can’t complain, but it bothered me how she handled the few things she did.  She mopped the kitchen floor and expected immediate and repeated praise for it.  When she helped make the pasta Friday night (by stirring it every so often), she made a big deal about it to my FIL who was on the phone at the time, acting like she was cooking us dinner while taking care of PJ (she was holding him for those few moments).  M was doing the majority of dinner, and I was watching PJ most of that time.  I think it’s safe to say she was stretching the truth just a bit.
  • She kept harping on M to do certain things, like sit with her in the evenings and chat with her instead of playing his game.  If the nagging didn’t work, she moved to manipulation.  M finally gave in just to get her to leave him alone, but I know it bugged him to think he gave in to such obvious manipulation.  She also griped at him for having a cookie and milk before bed one night.  She tried blaming his weight problems on him and trying to convince him that if he has cholesterol problems, that’s why.  But she eats healthy (meaning she drank lots of water while she was here because we didn’t have anything better for her to drink), so she can criticize him.  What a hypocrite.
  • I had Braxton-Hicks bad while she was here, and my MIL was concerned, making sure I spent as much time lying down as possible.  Yet I’m positive now that she is complaining to everyone who will listen that I was so lazy and made her do everything while she was here.  In reality, she only created more work for me and let me sleep less.  And don’t mention the stress.  It’s no wonder I was having problems with contractions.

And I think I’ll stop there.  I could come up with many more gripes about her, but I’ve had long enough to vent now that I probably don’t need to tell all of you every little detail.  For the record, all this is stuff that M and I have talked about.  While he loves her because she’s his mother, he can still see her personality flaws and has trouble handling her for very long either.  In this case, the problem is all her.  I’m glad my husband can see that too and reacts the same way I do to her.  Neither of us will cut ties with her for the petty stuff she does and her annoying personality, but we work together to keep each other sane when we have to be around her.  This is not at all like the in-law problems I read about so many of you having.  There is not a problem between me and the family or the fact that they are in-laws.  It is mostly just my MIL’s personality; everyone has trouble dealing with it–close relatives and strangers alike.  Because of that, our reaction to her is totally different.  It is more a case of learning to tolerate her the way she is instead of trying to work through the situation.  At least I am definitely a part of the family and loved like it.  I guess things could be a lot worse.

Where I’ve Been, Part I

July 22, 2007

I’m still here.  I haven’t gotten online much lately, due to several things.  First, the MIL was here (lots of stories from that visit tomorrow), then fun medical stuff came up, and then Harry Potter got here.  I’d love to spoil the book for everyone, but I’ll be nice.  I just can’t see how anybody who has actually read it could claim it’s paganistic, though; the Christian parallels are obvious.  Those crazy Christian groups need to do their research before going to such extremes to discredit a book.

 Anyway, I’ll let you all know about the medical stuff first, since I know you’re probably somewhat anxious about it.  It started with the doctor’s appointment Thursday.  It didn’t seem like it would be any big deal, except perhaps for the MIL intruding too much.  The doc prescribed a cream for my itchy, rashy belly (which is working, by the way).  When she asked about how the Braxton-Hicks were, though, I couldn’t give a satisfactory answer.  After all, stress makes them worse, and I’d just spent the last two days with my MIL.  She was worried enough that she wanted to do everything possible to make sure matters don’t get worse without interfering with my life.  In other words, no bedrest or anything.  But she wants to see me every week from here until the end.  She also wants to put me on medicine to help control the contractions.  I’m not at all opposed to the idea, especially after seeing how bad it was from Wednesday night until yesterday afternoon (coincidentally enough, when the MIL left).

The problem is that the terbutaline she wants to prescribe has some uncomfortable side effects.  The doctor would rather have me on some patch thing that sits under my skin, giving me a steady stream of the medicine.  But I have to be on some home health care system to get it, and my insurance will only qualify me for it if I meet certain specifications.  One of those is a shorter cervix, so I was sent out to get an ultrasound ASAP (they can’t do that in the office).

All of Friday afternoon was spent at the ultrasound.  The hospital that could get me in on Friday (when I had free childcare for PJ, thanks MIL) was ridiculously inefficient.  I had an appointment at 2:15 that I was supposed to arrive half an hour early for.  I didn’t get into the appointment itself until after three, and it lasted an hour and a half.  The problem was that BabyN was super active and wouldn’t stay still for the tech to get a good shot.  She had to try several times for every shot she needed, which was a lot apparently.  Of course, the doctor’s order wasn’t specific enough to mention that all we needed was the cervical length, so I had the whole detailed thing.  It took forever, while the cervical length part of it took all of five minutes.  The tech was also not going to tell me anything about whether anything was normal, but I convinced her to tell me unofficially what she thought about the cervical length, and she thought it looked normal.  That means I’ll probably go on the oral medicine after all and just put up with the nasty side effects.  Better than another preemie anyway.

Of course, there were a few minutes where I barely held back my panic.  The radiologist decided he needed a few more shots of BabyN before I left.  I didn’t think it would be a big deal since BabyN had been squirming through everything and probably kept a few pictures from being very clear.  But he was sleeping when the radiologist came in, and the doctor kept looking at one place in his abdomen repeatedly.  Naturally, I’m trying not to freak out but wishing they would tell me what’s going on, even unofficially.  I was already trying to decide whether I would want to risk another pregnancy if BabyN ended up so sick he wouldn’t make it.  Then finally I got the courage to ask what was wrong.

It turns out that they couldn’t get great pictures of his kidneys, the same problem as the first ultrasound.  They could see a left kidney, but not a right one.  Apparently it often blends in with the other internal organs around there, like the liver and spleen, and sometimes they can’t get a good enough picture to separate the kidney from everything else.  Most likely, that’s the case here.  Of course we’ll be keeping an eye on things to make sure that’s the only problem, but the radiologist didn’t sound overly concerned when he was telling me.  Still, I’d rather not have that complication if I could.  And I really don’t want to have to go back for another ultrasound to try yet again to find this kidney.  This last one was enough of a pain in the butt–although that could be partly from the presence of the MIL during all of it.