Halfway there ...

20 weeks this week. 20/40 weeks gone and (hopefully) 20 more to go.

We had our appointment today at the Uni-Klinik in Muenster. Can I just tell you how completely impressed I am with the doctors there?

Today was a high-level ultrasound. It was pretty intense and I was very nervous. It has the ability to show if something is off - increasing my risks of getting sick again.

Guess what?

It's a girl.

Seriously, it is a girl. Our regular OB said so a few weeks ago but we wanted at least one more ultrasound before announcing it to the world.

But I don't think that's what you thought I'd say - so, guess what? She's perfect! I'm perfect! So far, so good.

Now, that doesn't mean that things can't go wrong. This is life we're talking about.

But it does mean that we've made it this far and thus far, things are well, healthy. And that's all I can ask for.

I'm still seeing a doc every 2 weeks. I'm still being closely monitored.

But today, just for now, I'm relaxing into the possibility that I might just be able to have the (dare I say it?) pregnancy I've dreamt of.

The ugly truth

I am a mean jealous person.



I am.



Maybe you never knew it (maybe you did).



Oh, and I'm bitter. Baby, I am one bitter person.



Where is all this coming from?



My sister in law is pregnant. She didn't know. She wasn't trying. In fact, she was not trying. Her son is well, a difficult child. He's just way different than Bubba Joe - who enjoys reading books and drawing and being creative and playing the piano and running around.



Oh, and she's almost done with her first trimester before she even suspects that she's pregnant.



And I hate her.



There.



I said it.



I hate her.



We busted our asses. We've been through hell and back with Bubba Joe's pregnancy. I can't even begin to tell you the number of times we went back and forth as to whether to try again. I mean, the risks may be low, but they're there. They're higher, than say, my sister in law's.



I mean, at some point, isn't there a risk that I may lose it all? My life? My child's life? My Bubba Joe?



And there she is, not even trying and finding herself pregnant. No prenatals taken before getting pregnant. No high-risk pregnancy for her.



But for me.



It's all there for me.



I don't want to be reminded of how inadequate my body is during pregnancy.



I'm reminded of that daily when I have to take my BP 3x. Or when I poke my finger to draw blood and check my sugar levels. Or of all the many appointments with doctors to keep an overview on my health.



And there she is - barely 9 weeks behind me.



And I feel mean and hurtful and spiteful and bitter.



I hate preeclampsia.

Fill 'er up!

So there.

I've done it.

Begun my first 24-hour urine collection of this pregnancy.

I know, eww, gross. Believe me, I know. I mean, *I* am the one peeing in an old tupperware container (actually, it may be gladware) and filling up the jug the hospital gave me. And *I* am the one that has to make sure every last drop gets measured and that nothing goes to waste.

Oh, the joys of pregnancy!

Well, at least the joys of a high-risk pregnancy.

Why am I doing this? (peeing in a container?) To make sure my kidneys are functioning properly. To get a baseline for what my kidneys are doing at the very end of my first trimester. To monitor my organs so we can proactively plan if things go downhill like last time.

Just remember, that orange container in the fridge ... it's not juice!