Pumping Iron (18 weeks)

Second midwife appointment today. I wasn’t poked and prodded at all, and they didn’t weigh me – a shame, because I wanted to gloat about the extra pounds I’m finally putting on – but I was told that my iron levels are, like, really good. I love it when you can take credit for stuff your body’s doing all by itself. I went through a phase where, every time my blood pressure was taken, the nurse would tell me it was a lovely blood pressure to have. Go blood! I used to think, basking in reflected and totally unearned glory. No blood pressure praise today, but dang, my iron levels are SMOKING. I told her I ate a lot of meat and potato meals. She said that was a good thing. I believe this is medically sanctioned approval for more pie, my friends, and don’t think it isn’t, because it is.

Another conversation Tracy and I had:

Me: I’ve got a lump underneath my ribs. It’s weird. Want to feel?

Tracy: Right. Yes. That’s your ribs.

Me: Oh, good. *cancels tragic cancer plans*

AND I got to listen to TJ’s heartbeat. My little avocado is pumping away like anything down there. Must be more star jumps.


Talk to me! I'll put the kettle on.

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