We had our 3D/4D ultrasound today and it was so neat! It was well worth the money, even just to relax on a state of the art bed in a posh room while having the ultrasound. Definitely better than the doctor's office! We got to watch Gertie for 30 minutes on a big, flat screen TV. (Yes, she is definitely a girl.) She was not being very cooperative, though. (Yes, she is definitely a girl.) She was facing my back almost the entire time and had both hands up at her face. The tech managed to get some shots of the face, though. Since Gertie is so small and has no baby fat, she looks totally skeletal and creepy, which we got a kick out of. She had her legs curled up most of the time, and for a few minutes she had her one leg pulled straight up to her head. The tech managed to jostle her enough to get her to move around a bit, but she always went right back to her position facing my back, her hands up at her face as if to say, "These fucking paparazzi just will not go away."

I haven't had any pain since yesterday morning, and trust me: I am constantly knocking on wood and crossing my fingers. I have been a water drinking machine, and after doing some online research and talking to my neighbor, I went out and bought a huge jug of lemonade because apparently it can help break stones down. I don't know if I still have the stone, but if I had to guess I would say yes. My pain was bad, but not as bad as I remember it the last time I had a stone. I had one nine years ago, and I remember it being much more painful when it started making its way down. For all I know, my current stone is still hanging out in my right kidney. Ugh. But even if I did pass it, I figure that getting all this extra water has to be good for Gertie and I, so I might as well make a habit of it.

Speaking of Gertie, she is still moving up a storm. When I was in the hospital, a doctor checked her heart rate and she was moving alllll over the place. The doctor was laughing and said, "Ohhh, she doesn't care at all that mommy is in pain! She's in there having a good old time!" I was monitored during both trips to the hospital, and Gertie was just fine. I neglected to mention that in my other posts, and I feel kind of guilty about that. I was just hurting and upset and venting. We're going to check out a baby furniture store in Wixom this weekend, provided that I don't have more attacks. I don't want to be too far away from home if I have to rush to the hospital again. I don't know if my Ontario health insurance plan would cover me for any medical expenses incurred in the States. But the furniture at this store is apparently all made in Canada, which means that we wouldn't have to pay duty or taxes on it if we bring it across the border! Score! And, call me vain, but I made an appointment on Saturday for one of those creepy 3D/4D ultrasounds. I'm paranoid that the last ultrasound tech was wrong in determining the sex. I also was disappointed with how my anatomy ultrasound went because the lady was really bitchy. The 3D/4D ultrasound is for our enjoyment and not for medical purposes, so we'll get to spend the entire 30 minutes watching Gertie bounce around in there. We should also be able to have Gertie's sex confirmed once and for all. I'm just praying to the kidney gods that I don't have to miss the appointment. :(

I had yet another visit to the hospital yesterday because my pain returned at around 3:00 PM. It got worse by 7:00 so we headed to the OB triage. I couldn't bear the thought of possibly having to wait in an ER waiting room for hours, and figured the OB triage could get me in right away. They did, but I basically writhed in pain for three hours because they did absolutely nothing for me. They called the OB on duty and he told them to give me a shot of Demerol in my ass, which was an absolute joke. They made me wait an hour to "find out the next step" and the most I could do was close my eyes and pretend I was somewhere else. Then the doctor came to see me and he was a total ASSHOLE. He better not be the OB that has to deliver my baby, because if he is I don't know what I'll do. He told me I had two choices: 1. They could send me home with Tylenol 3's and Gravol or 2. They could admit me and try to manage my pain. He was extremely impatient and I didn't know what to do, so he TURNED HIS BACK AND WALKED AWAY and mumbled something about letting him know when I've made up my mind.

The nurses gave us some time to think it over, and I explained to her that if Demerol did nothing for the pain, neither would fucking Tylenol 3's. But then she told me that all they'd give me was Demerol anyway, so would I rather be in pain at home or at the hospital? I told her fine, I would go home with the Tylenol 3's. When she left I started sobbing because I knew I was being sent home to basically writhe in pain until the stone passes, which can sometimes take days or even weeks. I also knew that I would wind up right back there again, which I wanted to avoid because checking in and doing all the pre-care question and answer bullshit is excruciating. But I was also afraid that if they admitted me, and I was there for say 2 days without passing the stone, they'd send me home anyway and I could still wind up back at the hospital. So we left and came home. I took two Tylenol 3's and one Gravol and slept for two hours, until I was awoken by stronger pain than I've felt so far with this little episode. I ran to the bathroom and threw up twice, then came back to bed and cried some more and managed to fall asleep again. The pain went away again sometime in the early morning, but I called in to work anyway because I was so exhausted. Now I've just been sitting here, waiting for the pain to come again.

Jake and I wound up at the hospital again this morning, this time at the ER. Guess who had a kidney stone attack? Yeeeaaaaah, fun. I woke up at 2:30 with the telltale pain, but then it subsided a bit so I went back to sleep until 4:30. Then I awoke to even more pain than before, so we threw on some clothes and headed to the ER. Thankfully it was dead and there was only one guy ahead of us. The triage nurse asked me for a urine sample, so when I peed in the cup I got quite a surprise when my urine was the color of cherry Kool-Aid. So they brought me to the back and gave me a bed and an IV, and thankfully the girl got the vein in my right hand on the first try. Then they gave me a small amount of morphine and some Gravol for the pain. Wow, I've never had morphine before, but I can see how people could get addicted! It gave me quite the buzz. I peed several times and used the strainer, but I never saw a stone. The pain went away probably at around 7:00 in the morning, but they still gave me an ultrasound to look at my kidneys. They didn't inform the ultrasound tech that I was pregnant, so she was doing her bidness and after a few minutes of checking my right side, she moved the wand to my abdomen and goes, "Uhhh, you're pregnant?" When I told her yes, she said, "Geez, thanks for telling me, guys. It's nowhere on this sheet! I saw the head and it freaked me out!" I had quite the laugh about that one. When I returned to the ER triage Jake told me that the doctor came by and told him that I had a kidney stone but that I passed it. I was totally confused because I never saw a stone, and the nurses who had to check my pee never mentioned to me that they found a stone. The pain was/is gone, but I'm afraid it's still in there and just moved and that it'll cause more pain when it starts moving again. I figure that they just wanted to send me home because the ER was getting really busy. I'm crossing my fingers that I did indeed pass the stone and that we just missed it. We finally left at around 10:30 AM and I came home and went right to bed. My hand is killing me from the IV, but otherwise I feel okay.

I just got home from the OB triage at the hospital because I've been having pretty severe pains that are definitely in the TMI category. I wasn't going to go but Jake insisted, just to make sure that it was nothing serious. I have to say, everyone that I talked to there was AWESOME. All the nurses were friendly and the OB had a great bedside manner. I've heard great things about him and now I know why! They all made me feel totally at ease and they didn't make me feel like I was wasting their time. They let Jake sit next to me the whole time. I basically had to pee in a cup twice and have my nether regions poked and prodded by two different people. The result: Nothing serious and nothing that can really be helped, aside from getting rest. On the way home I told Jake that I deserved ice cream for having to show my bits to strangers and he agreed. Now labia jokes are all the rage in our household.

Long weekend, woo hoo! We have a wedding to go to tomorrow. I was looking forward to this wedding for months because they’re big partiers and we’re going to know quite a few people and I was looking forward to drinking my face off with them. But now I’ll be sitting at the table with my other pregnant friend, talking about how jealous we are of all the drinkers, trading stories about what’s going on with our bodies. OH JOY.

I never ever thought I would miss drinking this much. I don’t miss smoking – well occasionally I’ll have an urge to smoke out of the blue, but the urge is never strong enough to actually entertain the thought of doing it – but I really really miss being able to get tipsy with friends. That may sound immature, but I don’t care. I cut way down on the drinking in the past few years, but occasionally I like to go to BBQs or parties or weddings and throw them back with everyone else. Nothing wrong with that. Oh well, Robin and I will plot our plans after giving birth. We’ve already told our husbands that they’re taking us out and getting us shitfaced after we’ve had our babies. It’ll probably only take me two drinks, as opposed to 7 or 8, so Jake’s cheap ass should be happy!

I have the best ensemble to wear to the wedding. I found the perfect dress and the perfect jewelry and the perfect shoes. I feel so pretty when I’m wearing everything. I’m even going to get my hair did tomorrow because I don’t want to have bland hair when everything else looks purdy. I don’t have any idea how to put my own hair up. It’s pretty short, but it should be long enough to curl most of it and pin it back. I would last roughly 5 minutes in the bathroom with a curling iron and bobby pins before hurling obscenities and hot irons across the room.

We had our anatomy scan this morning! Everything looks good and we got to see the baby rolling around in there and we have the cutest pictures of hands and feet, and a few of those creepy pictures where the kid is looking right at the "camera" and all you see are eye sockets and an alien-esque head.

As for the "big" news:

We're playing for team hamburger! AKA we have to change Ernie's nickname! AKA it's a girl! Jake blurted out Gertie at breakfast, and that sounds bizarre enough for us so Gertie it is! Gertie the Gestater!

Jake and I were just driving home from Kingsville and had the following conversation. I have to preface this by saying that I haven't been sleeping well, so I am overtired. And I'm sure my hormones had something to do with my oddball behavior. Heh.

Jake: Don't spill your pop in the automobile!
Me: Automobiiiiiiiiiiiilllle?!?!?! (I said it like Long Duk Dong from Sixteen Candles)
Jake: *laughs*
Me: We should name our kid Long Duk Dong Meloche!
Jake: LDDM!
Me: No, just Dong. Dong Meloche. *laughs*
Jake: "Is your kid's name Don?" "No, it's Dong. With a 'G'"
Me: *laughing so hard that I can't breathe and I'm starting to cry*
Jake: Oh my God! You're weird.
Me: *trying to catch my breath* DONG!!!! HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA
Jake: *laughing*
Me: Especially if it's a girl. DONG! HAHAHAAHAHAHAH
Jake: Oh my god. What's wrong with you?
Me: *wiping tears from my eyes*
Jake: We'll give Dong a bowl haircut and part it down the middle so it looks like the head of a penis.
Me: Ooooooh my God, stop!

By the end of the conversation I was sobbing. That's never happened to me before. I've laughed so hard that I had tears streaming down my face, but this time I was literally laughing and crying at the same time. WTF?

I hit 18 weeks yesterday. I can’t believe I am almost halfway there. That’s so surreal because I don’t really feel much different than I did before I was pregnant, aside from being more tired than usual. I can’t feel any regular movement yet, and I don’t have an obvious baby belly yet. To think that I am pretty much halfway to the point of birthing a human being is just so weird. Oh yeah, about the movement thing. For the past few days I’ve been experiencing what feels like muscle twitches in my uterus area. You know when you look down at your leg or hand and a muscle is involuntarily twitching? That’s what it feels like, but in my abdomen. It doesn’t happen on a regular basis yet. Yesterday I was sitting in the chiropractor’s office and it was going nuts for like 40 seconds straight, when I was leaning forward in my chair. After it stopped I tried poking and prodding my stomach, but Ernie was done with his theatrics.

I have the “big” ultrasound on Monday. That’s where they’ll go over Ernie with a fine tooth comb by checking his anatomy to make sure that everything is kosher. If Ernie cooperates, we should also be able to find out the sex! Ohhh, he better cooperate. I have a feeling Ernie will be a she and we’ll have to come up with a new nickname for her. Speaking of names, we have the list narrowed down to a select few favorites. I don’t think we’re going to pick a name until we meet the little creature, but here’s what we have for now:

Boy: Henry, Eli, James or John. We’ve unanimously decided that Vincent will be the middle name. Vincent is Jake’s grandfather’s name. The name Remy keeps falling on and off my list. I think it’s a kickass French name, but it may be a little too feminine and difficult to pronounce for the ‘Mericans.

Girl: Evelyn (nickname Evie), Charlotte (nickname Charlie), Katherine (nickname Kate), Elisabeth (nickname Libby) and Amelia. We haven’t decided on a middle name. Jake wants Marie because that was his grandmother’s name, but I want Victoria after my dad (Victor).

Last night Jake and I went to a Cinco de Mayo party and I had my first “Can I touch your belly?” question. I was pretty uncomfortable. I tried to brush it off by saying that there’s not much baby belly there and most of it is pre-existing fat, which is mostly true. She then asked me if I would lift up my shirt to show her my belly and I flat out said, “I’m sorry, I’m not comfortable doing that.” If it was just her I probably would have done it, but the house was full of people! Because I was so fluffy to begin with, I don’t have a ‘D’ shaped belly. I have a ‘B’ shaped belly. It’s not a cute, taut, perfectly round bump and I don’t want to go around showing it to random people.