And by tomorrow I meant more than a week....

Week 23!

Or as we like to call is in the IF community, 1 week from viability! Did you ever say those words to a non-IFer? I said it to J's sister two weeks ago and I'm pretty sure her eyes welled up with sheer pity for my morbid outlook on pregnancy. She's about to pop anyday now so hormones contributed but still...pathetic stare nonetheless.

I'll give you a quick recap of my pregnancy with little Nom-Nom. His nickname is a result of me eating constantly. I prefer to blame my lack of self control on my unborn child's appetite. Anywho....

The neverending SCH finally ended somewhere around week 12. Although I was never cleared to return to normal activity such as sex or lifting more than a gallon of milk, I was able to finally go to the bathroom without having to analyze the color of my TP.

It certaintly wasn't smooth sailing from there as the Braxton Hicks contractions started at about the same time the SCH left. Contractions at 12 weeks are more than ridiculous. Everything you read says it's perfectly normal to have these bad boys and your body is preparing for labor. AT 25 WEEKS!! Ye olde ute was clearly trying to make up for previous failures by overpreparing. Contractions 6 months beforehand are not necessary. Those little buggers took me out of work and on bedrest a few times much to my bosses delight.

You see, there only 5 other employees in my office. All of which have taken turns being pregnant every summer. All of which have had non-high risk perfectly healthy uneventful pregnancies. So when I bellied up to the desk with my list of I can't do this, eat that, or stand there you can imagine the annoyance it brought my annoying boss. Yes, I realized I used that word twice. I hate him.

So far we've had 6 ultrasounds. Number 6 was 5 weeks ago and showed us our beautifully fat little boy. He's measuring two weeks ahead. You should have seen the look on the ultrasound techs face when I told her he was IVF and changing his EDD was not necessary. Everything, including the cervival length that I forced them to measure, looked great. We drove home on cloud 9.

Monday morning my OB called. I didn't even hesitate to give an enthusiatic HELLO! I'm sure the nurse cringed. She started off my giving me a laundry list of what looked good on the ultrasound. I thought it was strange to visit every organ and processes but whatever she was being throrough. Then she said BUT....
There it was. That was the first time EVER I let my gaurd down with test results. What a douche bag.

BUT... the amniotic fluid is low. The ringing in my ears started and I got light headed. I knew damn well that low fluid at 18 weeks was NOT GOOD. She went on to say how they aren't overly concerned because he's a fatty and typically problematic low fluid would be accompied by small measurements. Also they did not see any kidney issues that would be indicitive of low fluid. So they scheduled my 7th ultrasound for tomorrow.

For 5 weeks I've been petrified that I'm leaking. Its 90 flippin' degrees out daily and swass is at an all time high. Therefore so is my panty sniffing. That's right readers! I now not only check for bleeding I have to SMELL my underwear. Why you ask? Amniotic fluid is ordorless. Sweat and pee...not so much. Hopefully tomorrow will put an end to said creeper status and my fluid will be right where it should be.

The alternative goes one of two ways. If my fluid is relatively lower than they would like to see I will be sent to a maternal fetal doc. If my fluid is dangerously low I will be admitted until I deliver. Deliver/my fluid runs out. The last one is obviously terrifying as dangerously low fluid ususally will put you about two weeks from delivery. Tops.

Keep us in your thoughts and prayers tomorrow.

A Broken Slience

Reason for the crickets?

Fear of jinxing it all.

Where are we at now?

21 weeks with a beautiful boy and low amniotic fluid.

Your regularly scheduled blogging will resume tomorrow.

Thank you to all you who did not stop following my silent blog.

1 <3 you.