heartbeat and cankles

Monday, June 4, 2007

So, today we saw the doctor again, confirmed that we are skipping the preliminary tests (blood, nuchal translucency, chorionic villi sampling) and going straight to amnio, since CVS seems relatively too risky, and the other two would most likely just make me worry, and even if the results were good, we’d probably have to confirm them with an amnio anyway — even though the thought of amnio completely upsets me. And then the doctor warned me to be absolutely certain to clear my calendar for bed rest for two whole days after the procedure. Two whole days. Nope, I’m not freaked out. Not at all…

So after that, the fun part: She took out something that looked like a white bladeless electric razor, rubbed some gel on my belly, and introduced us to the sound of our developing baby’s heartbeat.

At first, she was rolling the thing around, and no sound was coming out and I thought, Oh No. But then, there it was, fwup fwup fwup fwup. And then I started giggling. Uncontrollably. No idea why. And that messed up the thing’s reception with loud crackling, so I had to calm down, and then she did it again, and we heard the fwup-ing, and I held my breath, and then fell apart giggling again. But at least I guess it was long enough for the doctor to decide that everything sounded normal to her.

After that, I was giddy. I’ve felt a lot of things so far in these first 14 weeks, but not ever so excited as I was after that sound. Amazing.

I guess, now it’s more real. There’s something in there, and it’s alive. I still can’t say the excitement is as rational as that. I’m just hazarding a guess.

In other news, while this whole weight gain thing has been highly disconcerting, I’ve also discovered that the tree-trunk feeling in my limbs is not just a feeling, nor my imagination. I am (duh-duh-duhhhhhh) retainnnningggg waaaaaattterrrrrrrrr. Bloated. Edema. Yuck.

The problem became particularly noticeable last week while Scott and I were traveling in New York, a trip chock full of heat, humidity, and lots of sitting (which apparently all exacerbate said charming condition). It was Saturday night — when I looked down and saw that my ankles had been swallowed up by flesh — that I suspected something was off.

My friend Meg calls them “cankles.”

“Cow-ankles?” I asked her.

“No — It’s when your calf and your ankle merge. Cankles.”

On a side note, I find it odd that I am not supposed to sauna, hot tub, or even take a hot bath, but none of the books say I can’t visit New York during a heat wave in June. Not to mention what it’s like to wait underground in the extra-special heat of a subway station.

Of course I worried that this was bad (even though people gestate babies in hot, humid climates all the time). But my doctor promised me that it was fine, especially since I’m out of my first trimester. “Even if you had a fever of 102 for two hours — before it broke — the baby would be okay.”

Yes, I do require that level of reassurance. Thank you.