I promise that this site will not strictly become one long pregnancy update! At some point when I'm up and about and my children's hair is getting brushed again, I'll start taking and posting pictures of my little darlings. Even before that, I hope to get back to discussing my hatred and fear of spiders, the tulips that are thriving along the front of my house (I can't wait for those splashes of color to erupt; I think it's taking longer for them to bloom because they're in a partly-shady location), my addiction to charts and plans and lists, and so forth. For now, though, hang in there.

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Last night found Daniel and I at the ER, which made for my first (and hopefully only) admission to that particular wing of a hospital. I've never technically been to the ER before (I write "technically" because when I entered the hospital to deliver Gabriel I had to go through the ER but I was then quickly moved to L&D), but I think I'm still lacking in a true ER experience even after last night. Apparently nobody gets hurt or sick in the North Country on Sunday evening, because I was the only patient in the entire wing at the time of my arrival.

The reason for going was that I'd begun having mild cramping/contractions at around 1:30 in the afternoon. The tightening was happening a bit too consistently (approximately every 12-15 minutes) and for too long for me to not call my doctor, who's given me strict instructions to call her "if anything weird happens." In most pregnancies, I would have brushed it off, but not this time. When I spoke with the doctor around 4:30pm, she asked me to meet her at the ER. Her thought was that even if everything cleared it wouldn't be a wasted trip for two reasons: 1. she had been disappointed that there weren't any measurements taken of the baby during Friday's ultrasound, and 2. she was planning on sending me to the lab sometime this week to make sure I haven't been sensitized due to 2nd trimester bleeding.

Two hours later, my bloodwork was done and the ultrasound completed. We got four great reports.

1. I haven't been sensitized! The shot can still work and potential future pregnancies are not at risk.

2. The second hemorrhage discovered on Friday seems to have merged with the original hemorrhage. This isn't particularly noteworthy, except that the total mass of the current hemorrhage is smaller than Friday's combined measurements of the two separate hemorrhages. Yay! I am so encouraged by this!

3. The baby is continuing to measure right on target. 8oz sure sounds small to me, but I guess that's in the "normal" range for an 18-week gestation baby! During the ultrasound we also got to see all chambers of the baby's heart, a good-looking brain structure, 4 fingers and 1 thumb on each hand, and feet that almost looked to be using the hemorrhage as a trampoline!

4. The contractions, though real, don't seem to be doing anything. I was sent home with instructions to call again if they got worse (which they haven't), but since they weren't related to any placenta-activity and weren't accomplishing anything, they can be dismissed for now as simply "annoying."

I came home on a major high from getting our first positive ultrasound report. (Finally!-- we got a medical report that agrees with His report!)

For the record, both Friday morning and last night we asked about the gender of the baby. I'm normally into the surprise factor of waiting to see whether we have a boy or girl and Daniel is even more into waiting until delivery than me, but with all the complications of this pregnancy Daniel and I made the decision to find out ahead of time. I guess I kind of feel that fostering a greater attachment to this little life will be yet another faith-builder and way to ward off premature grieving.

Of course, the ultrasound technicians haven't been able to tell with enough certainty to make a guess, even though the baby was definitely giving ample opportunities last night.

Which, I must confess, makes me a little less secure in my prediction of boy. I'm not ready to relinquish my "feeling" yet, but at 18 weeks and with about 15 clear chances to see last night, I'm beginning to think that the lack of clarity might be attributed to this little person being female.

My doctor tells me she's rooting for a girl. This is partly because she always guesses girl (she figures she's right about 50% of the time that way) but also because she feels she ought to get a girl to help even out the male-female ratio of babies from CFC that she's delivered. I've laughed at her during my appointments because I've been so sure that this little tyke is all boy, but I think I won't be laughing quite so confidently from here on in-- unless, of course, we find out that I'm right!

The one minorly-negative report (though not surprising) was that my hemoglobin levels are down from my 11-week draw. In March, they were 10.5, which is low but not horrid ("normal" is somewhere between 12 and 15, I think). Last night they were 9.6, which is much higher than I typically am at the end of a pregnancy but low enough to meet with disapproval from doctors and nurses. I've been eating spinach and green-leaf salads pretty much once a day (sometimes twice), but my pregnancy-induced anemia has proven to be more than nutrition can battle. So I'm on those nasty prescription iron tablets (again) that make me sick to my stomach. Oh well.