1 Mother 2 Another

As I’ve said numerous times before,
my waistline is expanding at a terrifying (to me and the buttons on
my pants) rate in this pregnancy. I spent all of my first pregnancy
wearing those low-slung maternity pants, never really graduating to
those up-to-the-boob panel pants. When I manage to squeeze myself
into my sausage casing-er, pants- this time, though, those low
rises don’t stay risen very long; soon after I start moving
they give up the fight and slide all the way to the bottom of the
belly, leaving me with a gangsta-style hanging crotch and an
unseemly (in wintertime) amount of bare belly showing.


Clearly, I’m bigger than last pregnancy. Even my friends who
are used to me still see me and have their eyes pop out of their
head. But apparently, I’m not big enough for my doctor.
She’s putting me on a “get the girl bigger”
diet.

Last week I went for my check-in and the
doctor did her little measuring thingie – you know, where
they measure the size of your uterus? Apparently, your uterus is
supposed to be as many centimeters tall as you are weeks pregnant:
32 weeks =32 centimeters, 34 weeks=34 centimeters, etc. I’d
been right on track, but only grew one centimeter between my last
visit and this one. Being the uber-cautious doctor she is, she
decided to do a little sonogram and check out the peanut.


See, last time I was small the whole time, Maddie didn’t grow
enough, they sent me for a sono and discovered it was low fluid.
This time the doctor thought she’d see if it was just low
fluid before worrying about peanut. Lucky me, low fluid again,
though not too low – just enough for her to try to make me
drink more. As if that’s possible.


But in the course of the sono she discovered that while
Peanut’s bones are right on track growth-wise, her waist is a
few weeks behind. Which means she’s fine developmentally but
not getting enough nourishment. Personally, I’d be happy to
push out a kid on the smaller side, but Doc wants to see peanut
bulk up a bit. So I was given two choices – do less, or eat
more.


Guess which one I chose.


Yes, these words actually came out of my doctor’s mouth:
“Can you just drink an additional large chocolate milkshake
every day? That should do it.”


Now normally I’d be all over someone telling me to eat more.
But come on! I’m bursting as it is! How can I possibly not be
growing fast enough????? And the eating thing isn’t as easy
as it sounds – it’s not like I can simply add a few
bags of M&Ms throughout the day. Doc specifically wants me to
get the calories from fat, which is easiest with dairy, meat, and
nuts. Nuts I already eat and a girl can only eat so many.
Meat’s difficult, since I cook with lean meats for family
cholesterol reasons. Which leaves dairy, which is a problem –
I’ve got a mild dairy allergy every time I’m pregnant
(don’t ask), and while not impossible, it has to be spaced
out.


Not to mention the added problem of finding space to eat this extra
food. Remember back to your own pregnancy, when you were at the
massive waddling stage? Remember how you couldn’t eat
anything bigger than a child’s portion without being full?
Sure, you’d be hungry again 20 minutes later, but suddenly
your whole day is about eating nonstop, and I already get those
“Geesh, the cliché pregnant lady eating on the
train” looks during my commute to work.


But I’m giving it a try, and already feel like a turkey must
feel two weeks before Thanksgiving. I’ve got one week to get
peanut bulked up before the doctor makes me stop working and slow
down, so I’m feeling this pressure to do it right. Just
Saturday I was at Ikea, saw their ice cream stand, and went over to
get myself a cone. After standing in line a few minutes, I saw the
sign actually said, “Nonfat frozen yogurt.”
“Nonfat!” I said. “What’s the point?”
The girl behind me sniffed significantly. “Some of us try to
watch what we eat.” Yeah, well, bite me.


I know, I know, don’t complain. My doctor’s giving me a
license to eat all my Easter candy in one sitting. I just
don’t know how much more my pants can take.