Baby is growing!

And so is momma.

I'm 28(ish?) weeks along now, and I have gained more weight than I ever have during an entire pregnancy. My baby is measuring 2 weeks big and my ultrasound said I was two weeks farther along, but alas, my doctor wants to stick with my original due date of May 18^th. Whatever.

Since my little Butter girl was breach, and since I didn't know enough to press for a breach delivery, I am a “VBAC” which translates as Vaginal Birth after Cesarian. This makes me special. I don't get to deliver at the Navy Base hospital, or anywhere on the island for that matter. Even though I have had 2 successful VBAC's and I have proven I am capable of delivering a baby (ya think?) I am not allowed to deliver out here in the boonies.  I have to drive over to hospital on the main land (that is so awesome to say) for my prenatal care.

This is a bummer for me because I'd much rather have my baby at home, or at least in a hospital with a midwife that doesn't think pregnancy is a medical condition with side effects that need to be treated, but rather a natural process to be enjoyed. Instead, I have to see Dr. Medical that thinks I will die if I drink kombucha, red raspberry, or don't get my flu shot. Also, my baby will be born with 6 arms if I don't get every test for every possible "side effect" under the sun.

I am not complaining or anything, but I am typing this as I am waiting for my 3^rd blood draw from my 3 hour glucose test since I “failed” my one hour test. Whose idea is it to make a pregnant lady fast (as in starve) for 14 hours and then make breakfast for her 6 children and take them to a babysitter at 7am then drink some awful sugar syrup that contains more glucose that she'd consume in a month all and then get stabbed in the arm 4 times over the next three hours while smelling biscuits and gravy from the cafeteria?

Dr. Medical's idea, that's who.  I said I'm not complaining. 

Actually, with my weight gain and my high level of "failure" of my 1 hour test, I do want to make sure all is well. I am not opposed to medical care, I am just opposed to excessive-medical care. I don't need a prescription for my heartburn thank-you-very-much.  Especially not when in 3 years someone will decide that "suddenly!", that very prescription was not so great for pregnant woman to ingest and their babies are now part alien, probably.  I'd rather drink a glass of milk and lay off the jalapenos.

Thankfully my husband should be landing soon, in fact I just heard his jet fly over (that is pretty awesome to say, also) and he is going to take me out to lunch after my last stab in the arm.
He doesn't want me to faint. Or explode. Or punch the newbie-lab-tech.

Boy or girl?  Your guess is as good as mine!