I have always had bizarre dreams. I am known for them; my sign name is a derivative of DREAM. Most of the time they drift away as I become more alert in the morning. One time I almost broke a two and did get two large hematomas on my knees from trying to save my son from a blue shadow man. (Note to self: If you're going to leap from the bed, go with the leg that's closest to the side you're on... and hope that your toe isn't wrapped up in the sheets.)
You know the suggestion to write down a dream immediately upon waking so that you can recall it later? I tried that recently. I don't keep pen and paper near the bed, but I do usually have my cell phone handy. I texted myself all about the craziest dream I'd ever had (until that day anyway). There's no point in trying to go into details; whatever I thought I was jotting down came out gibberish. Two days later, however, the dream was crystal clear and stuck with me, probably forever.
A couple of points for context. First, no matter how much I've declared that I'm not worried about this pregnancy and baby working out, I'm kind of an internal mess about the whole thing. A week or so after seeing the doctor I'm great, but then the worrying begins and progressively grows stronger until I get to see Doc and hear the heartbeat again.
Second, I don't eat or drink chocolate, coffee or most teas (only peppermint... and at this point, sparingly) while pregnant. I know, people have those things with NO problems. They just aren't me. Even without the caffeine, I've had more heart palpitations in the past four months than I've probably had in the last 10 years. No coffee or chocolate sometimes wears on me. Oddly, chocolate deprivation sometimes bothers me more even though it's not something I have often, whereas coffee is my life.
My latest dream was set on the same day of my real life; the day before my next appointment. In it, I delivered the baby that day. It didn't survive and it looked more like a malformed space alien wax figure. Tom and I were absorbing the shock when he suddenly said, "But someone brought you a small box of chocolates."
It turned out to be a giant box of rather large chocolates, covered in chocolate shavings.
I remember reaching for the box with a smile and saying something like, "Well, no baby, but there's chocolate." (I would just like to add that I haven't even gotten to that level of chocolate interest, let alone desire, yet.) Somewhere in there I must have known that everything was okay, because I wouldn't eat anything until I could confirm what I didn't really believe had happened. I woke up right after that.
So no surprise that I almost burst into tears on the exam table on Wednesday, right? Baby's heartbeat is strong and fast. It's more like Madelyn's than Corey's. We didn't get to hear it for long because this baby is a mover and a shaker. Even at the first ultrasound (around eight weeks) the little bean was moving like I've never seen happen before.
We go for the ultrasound in less than three weeks, and my biggest real concern is that he/she won't be still long enough to learn what I'm dying to know. After that we only have one last insurance-covered opportunity to see the baby before birth (one of the true the joys of being of "advanced maternal age"). In any case, my goal right now is to match my internal chaos to the external calm.
When I was pregnant with Corey, I followed every piece of advice and guidance as if it were etched in stone. Not so much with Madelyn.
Did I go crazy with rule breaking? Nope. In fact, some of the guidance I didn't follow includes
- A little alchohol is okay (yeah, I don't think the wine industry had made that "finding" yet when I was pregnant with Corey)
- Two cups of coffee a day is a-okay (hmm... it used to be one, but now that there's Starbucks on every corner, two is a good number?... plus, I've always been sensitive to caffeine, so it has to be out while I'm pregnant)
- Chocolate is what every pregnant woman needs (not with the caffeine in it, thanks anyway... dammit!)
- "You can eat whatever you want to now" or "You're eating for two, right?" (yeah, but one of us is the size of a pinhead!... wish I could recall the comedian who said that not long before I got pregnant with Corey)
Generally speaking, unnecessary medical tests (oh, okay... except for the ultrasounds) were not allowed. The one thing I did agree to do was the gestational diabetes test. Why? Well, for one I weighed more when I got pregnant with Mad than I did at 21 when Corey was the resident sprout. For another thing, my dad is diabetic. No, we have not one drop of blood between us, but I knew it would comfort him to know I was following up on that possibility. And lastly, I have no idea what the hell I was thinking. I mean, sure I failed the test on the first try with Corey, but I'd also just eaten a Jolly Rancher right before going. I have no clue if that impacted it or not, but in my mind it did. All the same, it was probably better to know before my body was reacting to it if I had it. So I swore off anything remotely sweet for three weeks prior to the test (no, really) and off to the lab I went.
I arrived right after they opened, because this time I was told it was a fasting test. As the first person in, I got to get the blood test and drink the nasty stuff right away. Last time I'd gotten a choice of "soda" flavors and opted for orange because I was afraid the "7Up" flavor would be similar to the "lemon lime" flavored Alka-Seltzer I'd had to have once when I was sick and which induced vomiting. This time, no choice.
"Lemon lime for you!"
My initial plan was to just pound the stuff. There's a limited time to drink it, but it's way longer than it would normally take me to drink a glass of water.
I made it about 2/3 of the way through before I realized Plan A wasn't working. The lab tech eyed me warily, waiting to see if I would urp all over her. Not sure how I managed to keep it down... and finish the rest... but I did. (Thank god, too, because one of my friends didn't and she had to redo it... twice!)
When the drinking and initial bloodletting was done, I was made to go into the lobby and wait for an hour. I had to return at exactly five minutes to the hour or be forced to start over. No, I could not leave the office.
I brought a book, but I'm a people watcher by nature. Kind of awkward when you're watching people go into a bathroom and come out with a cup filled with their own pee, but whatever.
About 10 minutes before I had to go back for the second set of blood draws, a woman walked in with her grandchild. In an otherwise empty, spacious lobby, they chose seats right next to the pregnant woman. And they stood there, not two feet away, coughing and hacking all over one another and me.
I covered my mouth and nose, but it was too late.
Hours later the verdict was in: I had the flu.
I will admit to holding a grudge against these people... well, the adult anyway... even today. Why do people do that? Forget that I was pregnant for a sec. If you're sick, stay the hell away from other people! I don't care if you're in a medical lab because you're ill. I'm not! Bastards!
Because I am opposed to taking medications while pregnant (it's just one of many potential causes on my list of "what do you suppose happened to make Corey have so many problems?"), my goal was to deal with this naturally. So no matter how much I didn't want to, I made myself drink extra water. I used a humidifier to keep the cough away. I slept a lot. And I slathered myself in Vick's. Oh, and I probably went through two boxes of tissue (with lotion!) in three days. I flushed out my body every way I could. I did not spike a fever over 101, so I never went to the doctor.
Yes, I did tell him.
No, to his credit, he did not say, "I told you so."
Oh, and I didn't have gestational diabetes.
