16 Weeks

I had another doctor's appointment today.  No ultrasound or anything fancy, just the basic hows-it-going-any-questions conversation and listening to the baby's heartbeat.

Everytime I have an appointment, I get a morbid fear the day or two before that I will go in and there won't be a heartbeat.  This time it was because I don't feel very pregnant (not tired, not nauseated).  But, of course, there is the small (or not-so-small) fact that I am starting to really look pregnant (maybe my belly will catch up with my boobs--at this point the boobs are still giving the belly a real run for its money and it is starting to get ridiculous--I have cleavage in shirts that were never meant to show cleavage but what can you do when the boobage goes up to your chin?).  I totally understand why people rent dopplers so they can hear the baby's heartbeat anytime they want from the comfort of their living room.  I am not going to be one of those people because I think I would drive myself insane, but seriously, I get it.

Anyway, I saw my doctor and I still love him.  I call him Dr. Claus because he reminds me of Santa Claus.  A Jewish Santa Claus.  All round and bearded and jolly.  He is also super laid back, which is great since I am (ever-so-slightly) high strung.  He asked me about the trip and then listened to the baby's heartbeat.

It sounded like this:  "wow-wow-wow-wow-ssssssstaticckckckckckc-wow-wow-wow-wow."  Everytime I hear it I give a big sigh of relief and feel a big goofy grin spread over my face.

Dr. Claus said Baby Duck is measuring right on schedule and moving around a lot, which is good.  I still haven't felt the baby move, but he said that I'd feel it before my next appointment.  I'm trying to look forward to that without obsessing (Was that the baby?  Or am I just digesting tacos?).

In other news, totally unrelated to digesting tacos (you're welcome), I also got my first prenatal massage today.  And it was wonderful.  In addition to my sleep patterns being totally wonky since I got home from Korea, I've had a headache off and on for the last few days.  It started in the San Francisco airport when we missed our connecting flight and has been plaguing me ever since.

Well, after sixty minutes of lying under a sheet listening to new-age classical music in a dim room with a nice girl named Jennifer, it felt like I had found a cure-all.  Whatever she did to my neck worked better than the Tylenol I have been reluctantly taking to get rid of my headaches (I know Tylenol is fine to take when you're pregnant but I'm still not crazy about the idea).  The only weird part was when she actually rubbed my stomach.  She told me she was going to do it, so it wasn't a shock or anything, but I have never had someone massage my stomach before and I instinctively wanted to suck it in and contract my ab muscles and it was hard for me to relax.  I think it will probably feel better when my stomach gets bigger.  As it was, I was happy when she moved on to my neck and shoulders again.  Melting like butter happy.

So when I left, I bought myself a birthday present.  A prenatal massage package--one for every month of the rest of my pregnancy.

This might seem self-indulgent, but you may be as shocked as I was to learn that my wonderful, thoughtful, considerate husband did not buy me a single thing for my thirtieth birthday.  I was seriously stunned.  I mean, I didn't expect him to drag my gift to Korea, but I really thought he would have something lined up for when I got home (I already ordered him a couple of gifts before we left and his birthday is a month after mine).  After all, 30 is kind of a big deal.  He did seem to feel bad about it, especially when I continued to express my disbelief because at first I thought he must be kidding.  He apologized and mumbled that I could get a Kindle if I really wanted one but he wasn't sure if I did or not, or maybe I'd rather have an ipod, or order myself a pair of TOMS shoes (yes I would, but they are out of my size in the style I want--annoying).  All of those are great ideas, but obviously less fun when you have to buy your own gift.

BUT instead of getting whiny and upset, I reminded myself that David has been working very, very hard and I decided that this way I was really in a position to buy whatever the hell I wanted (within reason, I mean, I'm not going to go out and lease a Lexus or anything... but maybe a Prius...)  and David really couldn't say anything about it.  Excellent!  Plus I could wait and decide if I really want the Kindle, if I want to splurge on one pair of awesome maternity jeans, or if I found something else that really struck my fancy.  As it is, I am perfectly happy with my massage package deal.  Something to look forward to each month after my doctor's appointment, and something to help keep me sane as I juggle my teaching load this fall.

And then there's the added factor that knowing that I've spent money on this massage package will keep me from pricing doppler machines for the home, thereby offering me two ways to save my sanity for the price of one.