Yesterday's blood pressure was 114/78.
No protein in urine.
Up just one pound since start of pregnancy.
Glucose screening showed no signs of gestational diabetes.
I feel bad for not showing more gratitude
when I heard the news.
At the time, I was running on less than two hours of sleep.
Pregnancy-induced insomnia plagues me often.
And I suck at being nice when I'm sleep-deprived.
I'm trying to be better.
And to ween off the Ambien.
I met with the head of anesthesiology at the hospital.
I talked about my panic attack with Greta's birth,
something that I don't talk to often or with many people.
Talking to him made me feel better.
Like I can do this.
Baby boy kicks A LOT. It's neat.
We've narrowed down names but have yet to decide on one.
We don't like trendy or popular.
We tend to lean towards traditional
but back away from the over-used.
I've been resting a lot.
And trying to watch TV. (I hate TV).
Except for Glee, Dancing with the Stars.
And maybe, sometimes, 16 & Pregnant.
And I rented Big Love, Season 3.
Hubby has been working INSANE hours.
Greta hates me. Or at least that's how I feel.
I'm emotional and pregnant, so I know it's not personal,
but lately, she is a daddy's girl,
and she thoroughly enjoys testing her boundaries with me.
She won't give me kisses, and she doesn't listen much.
I love her. So much.
But this stage/age?
Not so much.