On Being Six and a Half Months Pregnant and Going to a Strip Club For the First Time

First off, yes, yes, I know, I have not written a blog post in forever. I'd apologize, but instead I'll just post a picture of me and my baby bump to distract you all, then move on to the topic on hand.

Also, too lazy to crop this photo, so enjoy my adorable owl toothbrush holder too.

So, life has been pretty insane these past few weeks, what with getting ready to move to another state and also continuing to bake fetus into screaming human baby. As we've gotten a good chunk of the essential moving things done, like finalizing on a rental house in Michigan, getting off of our lease here, and finding a good moving company to work with, we've been spending a lot of our time cramming in as much friend time as possible.

This allows me to awkwardly merge onto the actual subject you came here for; one of Grey's friends took him to a place called the Silver Bullet, and I, along with another wife, were invited to come, too. Fifteen minutes later, cue me waddling into my first ever real-life strip club.

New experiences, illustrated in neon.

I'll admit, I had major apprehensions about actually walking into the bar; not only have I actually never been to a place where the breasts swing sans covering, but I am (shocking) pregnant.

Like super obviously, having trouble moving between tables, pregnant.

I am currently the living, breathing physical embodiment of consequences from sexual desire. So, like the opposite of what I imagine people want to see at a nudie bar. (Or in the case of the Silver Bullet, a topless bar. Panties stay on in this establishment.)

Pictured: Motivation to keep those dollar bills and put them into a high- interest, long-term college savings account.

You know what, though? It was a ton of fun. I am really, really glad I went. In fact, I think it's one of the better things I've done for myself since I've gotten pregnant.

Weird? Maybe.

But, allow me to explain myself.

Also, if you couldn't tell, this is going to be quite the graphic, personal blog post. If you find naked people, sex, or the idea of naked people having sex disturbing, well, you probably shouldn't be reading my blog in general, because I had to get pregnant somehow, and it had at least a little something to do with naked people sex.

Spoiler alert, not how babies are made.

1. Going to a Strip Club Made Me Feel Pretty

Ever since I have gotten out of terrible, awkward puberty, I have been blessed with a healthy self-image. I, in general, have always thought of myself as a fairly attractive lady. Even when I was technically overweight or had terrible haircuts, I never really felt fat or ugly.

Then, I got pregnant.

Here is a list of things that have happened during pregnancy that has led me to feel less attractive:

• Throwing up. Like, a mountain of vomit.
• Nausea. Similar to vomiting, only without physical proof.
• Weird zits in weird places.
• My OB saying, after looking at my chart, "You look puffy, but you're actually a little underweight."
• Sweating. Never ending streams of sweat coming out of everywhere.
• The realization that nothing fits and anything that does will be stretched to oblivion after it has served its purpose.
• Going swimsuit shopping and discovering the tops that are normally sold in stores only have enough fabric to cover one boob. Barely.
• Hair growing everywhere. Leg hair thick and bountiful, hair all over my stomach, mustache, and two very long nose hairs.
• Ligaments stretching.
• Having the following adjectives used to describe you on a daily basis: huge, gigantic, humongous, big, really pregnant, Buddha.
• That one time a coworker, upon seeing me back up, went, "Beep, beep, beep, wide load coming!"
• Knocking over stuff with my wide load.
• Gas. Both the burpy and the farty kind.
• Being reminded constantly what a "cute" waddle I have.

Now, I do realize that there are more important things in life than feeling pretty. My baby is healthy, Grey got this new job, I have awesome and adorable kitties; life is more than satisfactory. I don't need to feel beautiful to feel happy. I'm confident in more aspects of myself than just my looks.

Writing blog posts in a timely manner is not one of those aspects.

But still, it sucks. I didn't feel pretty; I just felt pregnant, and, at that point, those two things could not be combined.

Strippers showed me that I was quite wrong.

To be clear, I do not mean this in a mean, comparative way; it wasn't like I walked in and the strippers were unattractive, and I, therefore, felt better looking being surrounded by ugly people. To the contrary, I'll be honest; those women were super hot. Oh, and they were only wearing tiny, tiny underpants, so there's that too.

Like this tiny. Only exaggerating a little.

Here's the thing though. All those hot, pretty much naked women kept coming up to me and telling me how hot I was. One of them even asked if I ever worked as a dancer myself. Never before have I been so flattered to be asked if I had ever been a stripper. Oh, and I got a hug, which was actually really sweet.

Also, strippers smell like cocoa butter and glitter. Just so you know.

Also, my huge, unruly boobs that I had become very self-conscious of were like stripper catnip; they just zeroed right in on 'em. Seriously, everyone of them went straight for me and the girls. It was pretty great. (On a side note, strippers are very courteous. They all ask for permission before touching and say thank you afterwards. Just good manners.)

By the end of the night, no one mentioned that I was huge or stopped to tell me that I was looking "super pregnant today." Instead, I was told several times that I was radiant, my skin was "so smooth", and that my hair was amazing.

So to sum up, if you haven't had the experience of attractive, topless people telling you that you are also attractive and wanting to touch you, let me tell you something; it is absolutely great for your ego. Seriously.

And yes, I did give out dollars, and yes, it is a possibility that these compliments stemmed completely from said dollars. To that I say this; I have spent money on stupider things that have not made me feel half as good.

A feeling that is worth a fat stack of one dollar bills.

2. Going to a Strip Club is Actually a Really Fun Couple's Activity

Now, I know what you are all thinking: it's one thing to have thong-clad women hanging all over you, telling you how awesome you are and how great your face is...

Yes, yes, shower me in your compliments.

...but a completely different thing if they do it to your husband, who is sitting right next to you, with a ring on his finger, thank you very much, ma'am.

Admittedly, even though I am quite secure in our relationship, and in how I know Grey feels about me, I was a little wary about the thought of watching another lady touching him. Or, in the case of what actually happened, a lady climbing on the table, throwing both her legs across his shoulders, then crab walking towards him, all of which was done with an amount of fluidity that I did not think possible by the human body.

Seriously, how does one possibly make this look anything other than stupid?

Surprisingly, I was not at all bothered by watching women put their boobs on my husband's head. In fact, it was actually, and I am being completely sincere, really fun. We held hands, tipped generously, and were both super impressed by how some of those ladies worked the pole. In the end, it was just something the two of us were doing together, and it was new, slightly taboo, and very exciting.

Like bungee jumping, only with more high heels and naked people.

I do not know what this says about me or about our relationship, other than the fact that we are probably weird perverts, but I don't really care to psychoanalyze it myself, especially when it works as well as it does. It's fun to hang out with my husband, no matter where it is.

Plus, he was always quick to agree with the glittery ladies about how cool I am, which, again, makes me feel good, and is worth a dollar.

(Grey, this does not mean I am going to start giving you dollars.)

3. Going to a Strip Club Reignites Certain Things That I Thought Had Left The Building For the Remainder of This Pregnancy

~POSSIBLE TMI ALERT~

You have been warned.

Seriously, I have no way to put this gently.

After the strip club, my sex drive came back. I thought it was gone for the rest of the pregnancy, but it came back with a vengeance. Like a killer whale seeing a baby seal after a long period of famine.

Graphic.

I don't know if it was because my self-confidence had been restocked, or if it was just being reminded that I was in fact a woman, and not just a walking incubator, but either way, it has found it's way back home.

Welcome back, little buddy.

Yep.

So there's that.

Moving on.

To conclude, here are some tips and tricks to navigating a strip club, regardless of whether or not you are pregnant:

• If you are unsure about etiquette, just ask. Strippers do not mind being asked, or at least, they are very good at masking any annoyances of being asked.
• Tip the girls. Seriously, it's just common courtesy when someone is doing their job well, and tips are their main source of income. 
• Don't be afraid to ask the stripper with the amazingly soft skin what kind of lotion she uses. (Cocoa butter. My skin is now also amazingly soft.)
• Keep an open mind.
• Write a blog post about it, so I won't feel so weird about having had such a good time and then telling the Internet all about said good time.
• Have fun!

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Life Happenings

Good news!

Grey got a new job! He's going to be the Emerging Technologies librarian for Ferris State University in Big Rapids, Michigan. 

I, for one, am greatly looking forward to his new uniform.

Bad news.

This means we'll be moving while I'm seven months pregnant.

Good news for you guys!

You will be getting a blog letting you all know how much I will have enjoyed moving while seven months pregnant.

There was going to be a longer blog today about something, but my fetus would like me to play video games instead, so, being a good mother, that's what's going to happen.

Milking the pregnancy card, hells yeah.

Actually, let's make this next blog post a wee bit more interactive. What would you guys rather read me complaining actively about: pregnancy books or existential crisises caused by tiny human in the womb? 

Comment below! Or don't, and I'll just play video games instead again.

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Making a Registry

Having reached the over half way mark of being pregnant, Grey and I decided to take the next step, as modern parents, to prepare for bringing a new life in this world: buying stuff.

Well, making a list online of stuff we need to buy, or, even better, have other people buy for us.

It's like Trick R' Treating, expect instead of knocking on doors for candy, we hope someone buys a crib because they're very expensive.

This is actually a lot harder then it seems like it should be, because I actually have no idea what babies need. Newborns, contrary to what I believed before I really started looking into it, require more things than just diapers and boobs to live, comfortably at least.

After typing in "What do Babies Need" into the Google and becoming instantly overwhelmed with the lists of all the stuff that I would need to buy in order to prove to my child that I do not want her to hate me, I decided to just go off of the still rather extensive "Registry Checklist" on the Baby R' Us's website.

At this point in the blog, I just going to make a list of all of the things that I learned, since this entire process was a learning experience, in that I learned that there are several different types of bottle nipples and I also learned I am still bad at being organized at doing things. Welcome to my world, people.

These all do different things, and I have no idea what that is and how it works, oh god, what is happening?!

1. Cribs Do Not Come With Crib Mattresses

This makes really no sense to me. I mean, I know mattresses don't automatically come with frames in grown up land, but that doesn't make sense either.

...

You know what, now that I've written it down, it makes more sense, because you might need a new mattress before you need a new frame. Maybe I should erase this first post and come up with a different number one.

Nah, I've gone too far. Moving on.

Inserting appropriate movie reference right about here. 

2. The Answer to Is "____" Blank Safe For My Baby Will Almost Always Be No

I'm not exaggerating here. Like two thirds of the things on the registry list came back with some pediatric group saying that it was not safe: crib bumpers, swaddlers, pretty much everything is horrifying, which is greatly appreciated from this first time parent who is still seeing all these things for sale and wondering why they are essentially selling me tiny baby murder tools.

Admittedly, that mini crossbow is really adorable.

Of course, this is another thing I'm learning rather quickly when entering the increasingly frightening world of parenting: everything is a controversy. Seriously, there is nothing the Internet will not argue about, especially about kids. Let's take swaddling, for example.

Or, as I like to call it, rolling a baby burrito.

Pro-swaddlers believe that this is the good way to prevent SIDs, which seems great, because I'm all in favor of not having anyone in my house suddenly dying. But, then, the anti-swaddlers say that swaddling can lead to hip dysplasia, or, when wound too tightly, hypothermia. So, looking at this, it appears my two choices are wrapping my baby burrito and then having her hips not work while she overheats to death, or not going the tortilla route at all, and put her at risk for SIDs.

Luckily, I do not believe everything I read on the Internet, so I'm going to go ahead and say these are probably exaggerations, but still, that's a lot of pressure to put when on someone when they're trying to figure out what their baby will need.

Also, there was a lot of articles telling me to not get a crib, and just a co-sleeper, which is not happening. (And I am NOT judging people who do this, it's just not for me.) Not that I don't enjoy the prospect of seeing my baby first thing every morning, (or smelling exactly when she poops, right at head level) but there is only one thing that I can think of when I look at co-sleepers at stores...

Behold: The Cock-Blocker, Co-Sleeper Edition

3. There Are Approximately 2 Million Different Types of Strollers, and Apparently You Need Them All

I am exaggerating for comedic effect, of course, but there are seriously a bunch of different types of strollers, and it is hard to figure out which one's you actually need, as opposed to just being a giant extra thing with wheels that costs $300.00 and will just get covered in cat hair and baby vomit.

I typed in cat stroller as a joke, and discovered it is real. Thank you, Internet.

So, to break it down, you've got normal strollers, travel strollers, umbrella strollers, jogging strollers, lightweight strollers, stroller frames, and double/triple strollers. There are also strollers I found online that cost over $2,000, which I call, HAHHAHAHAHAHAH no strollers.

From what I've read (famous last words, right) it seems like one, nice stroller, is all that is necessary, so that's nice, but also now we have to make decisions, and decisions are hard.

We can automatically drop out on the double/triple strollers, as there is only one human in me, and I will not actually be taking one of the cats for a ride along with baby. Umbrella stroller is out too, since those are the ultra-collapsible ones that are pretty cheap, and seem a bit flimsy to trust a newborn in. Originally, after actually going to the store and checking it out, we decided on a jogging stroller, since it folded up nice and easy, looked comfy, and seemed pretty easy to push around. However, after doing some more research, they aren't meant for babies under six months of age, either, since they don't recline.

I tried looking online at pictures on the website to figure out what a better fit would be, but ended up getting distracted by someone posting a video of Korean people twerking to classical music, so we're gonna put a pause on actually deciding for realsies till we can get back to the store and actually check out some strollers, hands on style.

I can't come up with a snarky comment. I just want to watch this forever.

4. Why Do So Many Baby Sheets Come in White?

Seriously, the entire wall of sheets at the baby store is mostly white with adorable characters on them.I understand how cute they look, but I also understand how hard poop stains are to get out of white sheets.

Don't look at me like that, Clint Eastwood. I have long-harired cats, and they get dingleberries.

Seriously though, we're registered at Babies "R" Us now, so if you ever feel like getting our baby something...

:)

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Oh Good, A New Thing to Stress About

Alright, let's start with baby updates before I plow into my new, and admittedly dumb, set of anxieties.

I've finally got to the point where I no longer look questionably chubby, but actually, no kidding, pregnant. So, now, a baby bump photo!

To be fair, my bump here is about 70% baby and 30% pasta. 

This has resulted in people coming up and, without warning, touching me and my belly.

For those of you who think that this is a good thing to do, I'm gonna let you in on what Grey and I's plan is for future baby gropers. We're going to look them dead in the eye and touch their belly, smiling like Stepford wives, completely silent.

I am almost looking forward to a stranger coming up to me and getting to experience this moment with me and my beloved husband.

I may also bite you. Also, do NOT type "bite" into Google images.

We also had our second ultrasound, which, unlike the first one, went super duper awesome. We found out she is going to inherit our short legs (sorry, baby, we're not made to be dancers), but is otherwise perfectly on track size wise. Really, the only thing of note is she went from looking like a mushroom to looking like the creepiest thing I have ever seen.

I'm not kidding, people. That's her eyeball.

Alright, so onto the topic of the blog!

I'll just cut to the chase. To add onto all the normal terrors surrounding having a baby, like growing the baby, and having the baby and then taking care of the baby, I have a new fear that a random blog and a podcast has instilled in me.

*deep breath*

I am worried that I won't love my cats after my baby gets here.

Please realize that I do not love my cats more than I do my people. I'm not a crazy person, I promise. I know the difference between pet love and child love. Even if I do have a picture of my cat's feet as my wallpaper, I do know that I love Grey more than them.

Look at how cute those feet are, though.

However, every since I heard John Hodgman of the Judge John Hodgman Podcast tell someone that as soon as his child was born, he, quote, "stopped loving his stupid cats," I have started looking at my three tiny, overweight, fuzzy kitty babies and wondering if my affection for them is on a countdown timer.

So, like I handle most of life's problems, I turned to the Internet. When I asked the almightly Google the question, "Will I still love my cats after I have a baby?," the answer I was given was, nah, probably not, they're just going to annoy you until you eventually regret even having them.

This has filled me with anxiety, which I then feel stupid for feeling because they are just animals, which make me feel even worse because they are not just any animals, they are my pets, which shoots me right back to the anxiety. It's a viscous swirl of emotions.

Much like this is a swirl of delicious, chilly flavors.

Here's the thing: I feel I owe it to my cats to keep loving them, because it was my decision to bring them into my home and make them a part of my life. Yes, they poop a lot and throw up on everything and ignore me when I tell them to get off the table, but they are my poopy, vomitty kitties and they make me really happy.

Momma, please don't stop loving me. I just want belly rubs and then to eat all the food in the house.

So, that's where I'm at now. Just worrying about how I will feel about my kitties after Ripley gets here. I suppose it's just something I'll have to tackle when we get there, and try not to stress about it too much until then.

I suppose I'll just have to fill the time till then with cat cuddles and unicorn costumes.

A face I could never stop loving, I hope.

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Three Things to REALLY NEVER Say to A Pregnant Person

I know, I know, there are literally hundreds of websites and blogs that have fun lists of things to never say to a pregnant lady, and they all say pretty much the exact same things: do not tell her she is fat, do not tell her she is too young/old for a baby, and do not ask if she is sure who the daddy is.

This is basically your best option.

To be honest though, besides those obvious social faux-paus, I found a bunch of things on those lists that are completely harmless and not bad at all. Asking about my baby's sex or if we have her name picked out yet aren't rude questions, really, they're just conversation points. Even telling me things I already know, like that we will miss sleeping in or that my house will forever be covered in feces and tears, or giving random parenting advice aren't that annoying to me either. Usually, if that conversation starts to crop up, I just nod and start thinking about whatever I happen to be craving at the moment.

Why did I Google Image search donuts, now I really want a donut, mnggggggghhh.

But, friends, I would not be here, typing on this blog when I could be eating donuts, if I didn't have for you some real winners of what really not to say to a pregnant lady. I don't even know how to properly prepare a reader for how amazingly terrible these were, so let's just plow right through and get to the juicy bits.

All I typed in was juice. Donuts, why must you torment me so?

1. The Coworker

This gem came from about a month ago, so after we had the scary ultrasound, but before we had the good news that Ripley was a-OK. 

I was telling one of my coworkers about the MaterniT21 test. One thing I did not mention in the previous post regarding the test, and that I was explaining to her, was the chance of a false positive versus a false negative. The way the company handles the test, any weird results or things that might be one way or the other, would automatically get marked as a positive. It drastically reduces levels of false negatives, even if it is at the expense of having a few more false positives. (This isn't a diagnostic test, so if you were to get back a positive, most OB's recommend getting an amnio, which is diagnostic, not screening.)

So this was our conversation:

Me: So, yeah, learning that actually makes me feel a lot better.

Coworker: How so?

Me: Well, they don't have a single case of a false negative, so if we were to get a negative result, it's pretty much a for sure thing, which would be great.

Coworker: Oh, honey, there's a first time for everything.

Me: ....

Coworker: ....

My reaction, minus the mustache.

In a small way, I was almost impressed with how perfectly bad a response that was. Almost. 

She did have the good grace to go beet red and run away. So at least, in her defense, she did realize that that was the wrong thing to say, I assume.

What My Response Should Have Been: "Why, thank you, I hadn't realized that there was that to stress over too. Wow, now I can be filled with anxiety even if I do get good news back! How cool!"

The Lesson Here: DO NOT SAY THAT TO A PERSON WHEN THEY ARE WAITING FOR RESULTS ABOUT THEIR BABY, WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT'S A GOOD IDEA.

2. The Lady Watching Me Drinking a Fanta

I was in the break room at work, enjoying a delicious orange-flavored and colored fizzy drink, minding my own business, when a lady from another department, who I've met like twice, comes up to me and opens her mouth to say this to me:

"I have a friend whose daughter's baby just got diagnosed with autism. They believe it's because she drank too much caffeine. I just thought I would tell you, since I saw you drinking that."

Pictured: An evil, baby-hating carbonated beverage.

All I could think to say was that Fanta doesn't have any caffeine, to which she responded, well you can't be too safe. Then she just walked away, like the jerk she was.

Number one, there haven't been any cases of caffeine causing autism in pregnancy. There have been a few linking high levels of caffeine having some connection to miscarriages, but several recent studies have shown that there are absolutely no risks to having a moderate level of caffeine a few times a week. It's really rude to assume that I didn't think to ask my OB about what foods and drinks are safe for me to have. 

Which doesn't matter because it's Fanta and Fanta is only filled with high fructose corn syrup, sugar, food coloring, and deliciousness, not caffeine. 

What My Response Should Have Been: Look her dead in the eyes, chug the rest of the drink, then burp defiantly.

The Lesson Here: Educate yourself on beverages before you try to educate me about my pregnancy.

3. Old Woman in the Parking Lot

As you all know, I have found that my pregnancy has not entirely been a springtime of beauty and enlightenment. In fact, I hadn't really thought of one perk of being pregnant, except that I can blame forgetting things that I would normally forget on "pregnant brain."

But then, driving to the grocery store to pick up some microwavable ravioli, I saw a glorious sign. A sign that showed me that, yes, there can be one perk to being pregnant, and it can only exist for you while you are pregnant. 

It's so beautiful.

I'll admit, I don't even know why I was so excited to park here, but some reason, it just felt super special and nice. It was like finding a dollar in your pocket; it's not really worth much, but you weren't expecting it, and it made your day just a little nicer. 

So I pulled into the lot, happy. As I lock the door and walk towards the store, I hear a little "ahem."

I turn around and there is a tiny, old woman behind me. She looks at me, smiles, then says the following sentence.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think you're pregnant enough for that spot."

While I just gape, open mouth and confused, she nods at me, then walks around me, into the store.

"I also noticed you were happy. You should stop that too, it's unseemly."

Now, I suppose I should mention that I have actually lost weight during this pregnancy. Despite having a decent sized belly bump and having breasts that have grown four cup sizes, I have gone from a size 10 to a size 6. Given that, all of my clothes are huge on me, so I don't particularly look that pregnant.

I wouldn't have normally even parked in that parking spot, but I was having a particularly bad nausea day, even with my medicine, had to pee (pregnant people have to pee all the time, have I told you guys this?), and was just exhausted in general. There are also about eight of these spaces in this particular lot, and all of them were open that day...and you know what, screw all of that. I don't need any excuses.

None of that matters. Even me not looking pregnant matters. You should never, EVER say that to someone. It's not like I was taking up a handicapped spot, I was taking an expectant mother parking spot. The only requirement for that is to be a human being making another human being inside of your body.

I only get to park there for 40 weeks, I sure as hell am going to take advantage of it while I can, and that old lady can go ahead and kiss my baby-making ass while I do it.

She'll have to do it while I mop the remains of this bad boy up with a glazed donut.

What My Response Should Have Been: I am actually not sure what would have been appropriate. Maybe I could've shown her my new super power of being able to puke spontaneously or crying while reading sad comic book character origin stories? (Seriously, try to not cry after reading Dex-Starr's backstory. That shit is heartbreaking.)

The Lesson Here: Don't judge people, or if you do, do it silently so they don't rant about you on the Internet to all of their friends, who will then hate you.

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We Picked Out a Name!

Grey and I are weirdos and have actually had a list of names ready for all of our potential babies for years now.

Like I said, weirdos.

So, since we know the gender of the our tiny human, we have the name all ready to go!

DUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUN!

And her name is....

Ripley Ellen Maixner!

Allow me to both anticipate and then answer your possible questions.

Yes, we are naming her after the main character from the movie Alien.

Behold, the most badass crazy cat lady of all time.

Why, yes, that does make us super awesome, thank you for pointing that out.

No, we did not pick that name because it would be a coincidence if I happen to have a C-Section, what with Alien being about a baby alien that pops out screaming out of the torso of a human. (Man, what happened with that sentence.) That's not really part of my birthing plan or anything.

Don't know if my insurance covers this situation.

Yeah, that's pretty much all I got.

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Spoiler Alert: This Has a Happy Ending

As a prelude to this post, I have been waiting to bring up this subject until we actually had answers, so I wouldn't end up worrying people needlessly. We got our happy news on Monday, so the rest of the time not writing this post has just been me procrastinating.

So, early February, (almost typed earlier this month, which, if I had written this when intended, I could've just went ahead and did) we had our first ultrasound to take a look at tiny human. This was also the first visit that Grey came with, seeing as the first doctor's visit was to fix my fun vomiting problem, and the second one was mostly my OB taking samples from various places and telling me my uterus felt "spongy."

I still don't know if I want to know what that really means.

As this was going to be the first time we actually got to put a grainy, black-and-white kinda face to our baby, we were both pretty excited when the ultrasound tech brought out her magic wand and luke-warm gel. I roll up my shirt, she turns on her fancy machine, and BAM!

Behold, the cause of my nausea and Indian food cravings!

To be perfectly honest with you guys, although this was a great moment, it wasn't emotionally overwhelming or anything. I was prepared from various sources that I would instantly be brought to tears upon first sight of our baby, but it didn't happen. Part of this was that I wasn't feeling that great, and the other part was that an ultrasound kinda makes everything look like a morel mushroom.

Behold, the cause of my nau...wait a minute...

While Grey and I were making inappropriate mushroom jokes, we did notice the ultrasound tech was taking an awfully long time. Grey even asked her after a while if everything was alright, to which she responded, "We don't actually do any analyzing here, but your doctor will let you know how things are progressing." 

Remarkably, that did not lower any sort of anxiety.

Cue fifteen minutes later, and my OB comes into the room, holding a clipboard and a brochure. She takes a deep breath, then tells us that our ultrasound was not good. It revealed that our baby had a high nuchal translucency score. If you're so inclined, you can find more information about NT scores here, but basically it is a measurement of the fluid underneath the skin behind the baby's neck. An increased measurement level can be a sign of a serious chromosomal disorder. So, insanely scary news.

My doctor then hands me the brochure, which is for a test called MaternitT21. It's a blood test that can determine with a much higher level of accuracy if our baby does in fact have one of three major chromosomal disorders. The most common, which the test gets the name from, is Trisomy 21, Downs Syndrome. The other two, which are less common, are Trisomy 18 and Trisomy 13. These two, unlike most Downs babies, are pretty much guaranteed fatal within a few months of birth.

Anxiety levels, which were high, zoomed up to numbing levels, fueled by a few extra millimeters of fluid and a brochure.

We were left to call our insurance to ensure that the test would be covered (which it wasn't, initially), and then the nurse came in to talk with us some more. Before I launch into my rant about this fun talk, let me get a bit clinical about soft factors, chromosomal anomalies, and genetic testing.

We could all use a cute kitty picture right meow.

This is the thing about NT scores; it is a soft factor. This means that it shows an increased chance of a chromosomal disorder. It, by no means, is a guarantee. Upon further research, this translates to the following - my baby, before we had the ultrasound, had a .09% chance of being born with Downs (sticking with statistics with Downs, since it is much more common than the other two). After the ultrasound, we discovered our chances went up to 2-10%, depending on the study we looked at. A significant jump, yes, but if there's a 90% chance of getting ice cream, versus a 10% chance of not, I'm going to buy some ice cream cones.

Congratulations, Sylvia, here's your terrible analogy trophy for the day.

The nurse who came in did not tell us these statistics. She just told us that our baby was much more likely to have a chromosomal disorder. When we asked for more information, what we got was one anecdotal story about a woman whose baby had a high NT score who ended up having Downs, and a "reassurance" that the ultrasound techs are "very good and do not give false positives."

Here's the situation; I realize that statistics and numbers tend to be bad in the hands of humans. We tend to bend them in the direction of our favor, and they are not as reliable as we'd like them to be. However, when it comes to medical issues like this one with our baby, I don't see how one story about a woman who could be any age, and come from any background, ending up having a baby with Trisomy 21 is supposed to be any better.

If my nurse's choice of bed-side manor was not simple mishandling, and instead, a push to get us to take the blood test, then that's unnecessary. I wanted to do all the screenings I possibly could for our baby, because I am a control freak and knowledge makes me feel better. I don't need any pushing one way or the other. 

The main reason why I decided to go so in depth with this post is for anyone else out there who may run into this problem too. I had to dig for the info that I found, and finding clinical data versus emotional debates about the testing itself was not fun to slog through while crying over a red pepper bisque soup at a local cafe. (Grey and I like to eat when we are sad, and the soup at that one place is freaking amazing.)

And yes, I am an ugly crier. Thanks for noticing, all other patrons of Pekara.

At the end of the day, with more information and statistics under our belt, Grey and I were able to sit down and actually discuss what we were really dealing with; an increased chance, but ultimately, still a small one. So, we talked about what we would do in each situation, and really, after fully thinking about it and actually having a plan in place for what we would do, good or bad, I felt much, much better.

From this point on, I am going to be fairly straight forward with my OB regarding wanting medical statistics and more information. I consider myself a pragmatist at heart, and in terms of my baby, being armed with knowledge is going to be much better for me and tiny mushroom-look-a-like. I need to have something to lean on besides my own emotions and a few anecdotal stories.

So, after a 72 hour waiting period, which is what my insurance considers to be "urgent rush pre-approval scheduling," I went and gave blood for the MaterniT21 test. Then it was a matter of just sitting and waiting a week for the testing to be completed by a lab in California.

Which totally sucked by the way. A week is a long time, especially in terms of your baby.

Maybe if I eat my laptop, time will go by faster.

Then, a week passed, and I got a phone call from my nurse.

Due to the snow, my blood took an extra four days to get to the lab. So, it was going to be another week before we got results.

Alright, we're doing this.

Then, another week passed.

My phone rings.

And, drum roll please?

Dundundundundundundun.

Negative, across the board.

No caption necessary. 

Overall, though, I am still really happy that we live in an age where this type of non-invasive testing is even possible. The thing is, at this point, we still had options and choices open. Giving parents this kind of information so early in a pregnancy, though stressful in the short term, really does help. Because of the blood test, the next step after the bad ultrasound didn't have to be an amniocentesis, which, for those who don't know, if a procedure where amniotic fluid is gathered from the fetus though, collective cringe, an obscenely long needle straight through the abdomen. Not only is this procedure painful, but it does up the chance of miscarriage slightly. I still would have done it, to be honest, but it was nice not having it be the only option.

Here's some links to a few articles I found that also talk about this newer genetic screening that I had. I take offense with a few people who were quoted - one of which who said, "I think regulators, legislators, doctors, will have to make some hard decisions about what kind of information they want give parents.." - because people who are mature enough raise a child are not mature enough to handle information regarding said child's health, right? Besides a few quotable jerkwads, though, it's mostly still great information.

I will stop my ranting. Here's some links: One, Two, and Three

One last thing about the test results.

It lets us know the gender of our itty-bitty human.

We're having a girl!

And now to find the schematics of this costume...

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