As you know, I've been worried about the presence of kicks and movements of our baby. I know you're not supposed to compare to other people, but it really seemed like everyone I spoke to and everything I read suggested that I should be feeling the baby A LOT more than I have been.
Now, I'm a little annoyed that no ultrasound technician and no doctor had mentioned this (following reason why) to me. It was only last week that our birthing teacher suggested it and then I looked at my ultrasound scan and confirmed it -- my placenta is not behind the baby, but in front of it. This means that everytime the baby kicks, it kicks the placenta, NOT my belly. This causes a muffler affect causing me to feel the movements a lot less and a lot weaker than the average woman with the averagely placed posterior placenta. (There are no risk factors to an anterior placenta.)
PHEW. How come no one told me this before? It would have saved some anxiety.
Tomorrow is 29 weeks. That's almost 30 and 30 is almost 40. I'm so excited! As though working wasn't hard enough before, now I have my mind constantly drifting to the glorious future, of holding and cuddling our new baby, losing weight, and eating raw cookie dough.
Sunday, November 02, 2008
This is a bit disconcerting. I'm not THAT big. I'm at Tal Bagels and I only JUST fit into one of their chairs. There are three types of seating here at Tal's. Regular chairs with no armrests, booths, and these rounded swivel chairs, and it is into that last type that I am just barely fitting in. It's sort of comfortable. Very snug. But strange that all of a sudden I'm so big that I don't have room between my butt and my chair. There are other instances of this, when I realize all of a sudden how large I've gotten. Like I'll see a chair sort of close to a wall and think I can just slide behind the chair...and can't. Or the door to the mirpeset sherut will be blocked partially by the bathroom rug, but I'll think I can squeeze in through the crack to see if the clothes are dry...and I can't. I guess, to sum up, I can no longer squeeze into tight places. There are worse things.