Well, I'm back home now after a wonderful (yet somewhat chilly) visit with my parents. Chad was happy to have me back, especially since I've made sure that he actually has a lunch and does not eat handfuls of dry roasted peanuts all day at work.

 The bus ride back home was actually not that bad at all. I slept for the first hour or so, and plugged my iPod earphones firmly into my ears as soon as I realized that the man sitting behind me actually had tourettes, and continued to scream "YES!" to the point where my pregnant and hormonal body was very close to spinning around in my seat and screaming "NO!" back at him.

 By the end of the trip however, I noticed that my fingers looked like sausages. Big, fat, rolly-polly apendages that did not look like they belonged on my hands. I couldn't even budge my wedding ring, which is normally sliding and turning all over the place as we have yet to get it sized properly. And it seems as though this new swollen feature of my pregnancy is something that is going to be sticking around, at least for the time-being. Last night when Chad and I hunkered down for bed, my right arm was killing me. It felt like the bones were waging war against the muscles and ligaments and no amount of massage was helping. Eventually, I just fell asleep - and this morning while getting breakfast ready for the two of us - I realized that my fingers were burning. And wouldn't you know it, they were all about the size of Costco Hotdogs, only without the big fluffy bun. 

 But other than that, everything is going very smoothly. Baby is moving so much that it's now become a ritual to lie on the couch with my shirt pulled up, just watching all the contortions and movements. We can't yet make out hands or feet, but you can certainly watch as Baby slides an appendage across the inside of my belly. 
 Last night Chad and I were mesmerized, watching in amazement how much my belly was shaking. Normally Chad pesters me when I laugh after a big kick, saying something along the lines of, "Here we go. Shake the baby up. Okay." I was trying desperatley to hold in my laughter, (both a result of the kicks and of my husbands reactions to them) and after a particularly wild bout of movement, Chad stared at me wide-eyed and said,
 "Don't worry honey. Don't try to hold in your laugh. This is totally worth laughing for."

 And so I totally shook that baby up.

 It snowed here in my parents town two days ago. A lot of snow. The wet kind, that makes the air feel damp and causes my hair to flatten against my head. And every time I called Chad to find out if this gross weather was going to welcome me when I arrived back home on Tuesday, my husband would braggingly assure me that, "No. We're having sunny skies and warm weather."

  Until today that is, when I called home and found out that we now have at least two inches of snow on the ground.

 At first I was appalled. Disgusted, even. This is March and we're supposed to be getting the warmth and the sun and everything that comes along with Spring. 

 I was resenting all the sudden heavy-jacket weather, until this morning when my parents and I were out and about.  I suddenly became increasingly hot, and I had to run outside into the wintery air for some relief. It happens sometimes, my core temperature shoots through the roof and I feel like someone's just poisoned me. The heat will start in my belly and rise to my face within a matter of seconds, and I'm pretty sure that when these little "flashes" occur, I could burn a hole through a wall. 
 This is not unusual though. Ever since I got pregnant, I've been so hot. My hands are like little ovens, and I love grabbing everyone else and feeling how cool they are in hopes that I will achieve some sort of comfortable temperature myself. My Mother in fact, seems to have an icicle for a body. She's always so cold, and this weekend she's made me jump more than a few times when she puts a few fingers on my belly to feel the baby.

 I've suddenly realized that right now, while pregnant, I should appreciate the snow and the fact that I'm going to have the baby before the summer heat strikes. Dr Goldie told me that she's had women come into the clinic with "tree-trunk legs" due the swelling from retaining water in the heat. I could not imagine.
 I've decided that when I curse the snow and hope it dissapears as suddenly as it arrived, I need to be careful of what I wish for. Without it, right now, I don't think I'd survive as comfortably as I've been able to.

 And I am really grateful I don't have tree-trunk legs. (Yet.)

 It was early when Chad and I woke up this morning to start our day. Lately, lots of things have been popping up unexpectedly and I hadn't had a chance to get my required bloodwork done, which is supposed to happen before March 11th - so it meant crawling out of bed much too early, feeding/watering both dogs and forcing our tired bodies into the car while it was still dark out.

 The test itself was to check iron levels as well as my glucose to ensure I don't have 'pregnancy diabetes'. Doctor Goldie warned me ahead of time that they would make me drink a concotion of sugary water (which, she explained, some women explain as tasting like warm 7-Up) and I'd have to sit and wait for an hour before they could take my blood.
 
 Alright, I thought. Sounds easy enough. 

 Although it was hard to wake up, I was glad that we had come to the clinic while it was still so early. There were only a few other people waiting, so I checked in, and Chad and I took a seat. A few minutes later, one of the girls at reception called me over and handed me what looked like some water in a plastic cup.

 "You have to drink this, and I'm going to start the timer as soon as you take your first sip." she explained, handing it too me.

 I smelled the liquid. Nothing. It seemed innocent enough.

 "Is this gross?" I asked cautiously, staring into the contents. "Will I be able to drink it all in one sitting, or will I have to sip this?"

 "You don't really have a choice," she replied with a smile, "You have to drink it all at once as soon as the timer starts."

 She held up the timer, I held the cup to my lips, and it began.

The drink itself was absolutley disgusting and I gagged more than a few times. It did not taste like water, or warm 7-Up, or anything I'd ever had to drink before. I don't really know how to describe it except that after I drank half the cup, my stomach was churning and I had to keep thinking in my mind, "It's for the baby, it's for the baby, it's for the baby." 

 An hour later, and extremley queasy, the doctor called me into the back room to have my blood work taken. I followed her carefully down the long hallway and took a seat in the high-backed chair and gave her my right arm.
 As she began talking to me and tying an elastic band around my upper arm, I focused on a point on the wall and tried to drift away.

 "Not a fan of needles, huh?" she asked with a smile.

 "No, not quite." I replied, refusing to look at her when I spoke. I've never been bad with having my blood taken, though I prefer to look away rather than watch it.

 "I know the feeling," she replied. "When I was pregnant with my first child, we found out she had a birth defect and so I had to have continuous blood taken every two weeks."

 I listened to her story as I felt the tiny needle peirce my skin, but I couldn't reply. Talking was not an option, because talking required focusing part of my brain on something other than my little point on the wall and that was not going to be okay.

 "But I have to warn you," she replied, slipping another vile onto the needle and continuing to drain my arm, "this is nothing compared to what you're going to go through at the end."
 
"Pardon me?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

 "It's hell." she was giggling to herself, and then added, "Okay, you're all done. Good job."

 I took a deep breath and the doctor pressed a small cotton ball to my arm. Part of me still couldn't believe she had just said what she had said, but I was starting to feel a little bit dizzy and didn't really have any reply to it. I glanced beside me on the small table and saw my three viles of dark red blood laying there ontop of some paper work.

 I stared.

My vision started to spot, tiny little bright lights floating in front of my eyes, and I glanced quickly back at my special little spot on the wall. The only problem was that it didn't seem to help. At all. My head was spinning, or maybe the room was spinning, and I felt a tingling sensation beginning to shoot through my body. 
 
 "I don't feel good." I managed weakly. I didn't see the Doctor's face, but I heard her exclaim loudly,
 "Woah! Woah, woah," and she put a cold hand to my forehead and lowered my head carefully to my arms. 

  She gave me simple instructions. Do not move. I didn't.

Eventually she returned with water and a wheelchair and my husband, and wheeled me to a private room with a bed where she laid me down and ordered me to rest for a while before I left. This was not a problem, as by this time my body was starting to shake and my teeth were chattering uncontrollably. 

 "Is this normal?" I asked her.
 
 "Yes," she replied. "Especially because you're pregnant, your body will react differently to these kinds of tests than you did before. However you should probably make sure that you get all your blood work done lying down from now on."

 When we finally left the clinic, I was starting to feel a bit better. I called my Mom and told her all about the little morning adventures, and then went downstairs to check my email. 

 But before I had the chance, the room started to suddenly get very hot and spinny. I called for Chad a few times and he came running downstairs when he heard me.
 
"I don't feel good." I told him, "I need to lie down."
 
"You're very pale," he informed me and helped me walk over to the double-bed in our basement.
 I sat on the edge of the mattress and clutched my stomach.

"I think I'm going to be sick." I warned him.

"You're okay, just lie down and....."

 ....And then I was sick. And not just a little sick, but a lot sick. It was the kind of sick that reminds you of a fire-hose, or something like that, and makes you almost embarrassed that it happened to you, even if it was only in front of your husband in the privacy of your basement.

 "There was no stopping that, was there?" Chad laughed when it was all over.

Sighing, I weakly gave him a smile and shrugged.

 I guess Baby didn't think it tasted like warm 7-Up either.