Pregnancy Journal: Week 9

This entry sort of encompasses week 8 and week 9 because I'm not 100% sure how far along I am at this point. On Friday of last week (the day I think I turned 9 weeks), I went to the doctor to meet with the nurse practitioner. She asked all of those crazy questions that they ask - does your husband beat you? Do you use drugs? Are you planning to terminate? - And all the while I'm sitting there wondering what kind of ghetto area I'm in where these types of questions are really being asked.

Then the lady grew horns out of her fricken head and told me we were aiming for a 25 pound weight gain.

WHAT?

I'm not a big individual. I normally weigh about 110 pounds, which is 5 pounds more than I weighed before my first baby. Currently, at about 9 weeks in, I'm 114 pounds. Yes, I have officially gained more than the 2-3 pound allowance for the first trimester.

I'm not eating a ton, in fact, I eat less now than I used to because I'm nauseous ALL THE TIME. So for me, it seems that as soon as I get pregnant, my metabolism takes a vacation and the weight piles on. Just walking through the kitchen to do the dishes adds a couple pounds.

So then, to add insult to injury, she tells me I should aim to eat every 1 - 1 1/2 hours to help with the nausea. She suggested bread, pretzels and crackers as between meal snacks. I just looked at her and said, "Yeah right! I thought I was only supposed to gain 25 pounds!" Then she assured me that I could add a few hundred calories to my daily routine without adding excessive weight.

No you demented twit, I cannot. I'm consuming less calories than normal, the same on a good day and I am gaining weight. That would lead one to believe that if I add in 300 more calories, the weight will really pile one. Ugh. I seriously wanted to slam her head in the mini-fridge in her office.

For the next fun game, she took my blood pressure, which was shockingly low as always.  I told her not to worry about it, my BP is always low whether or not I'm pregnant. She seemed concerned and confused at the same time - after all, how could a fatty like me possibly have low blood pressure?!?!

Needless to say, I called my mom as soon as I left there. I told her all of the ridiculous BS that was spewed at me and she laughed. Then she told me something I hadn't known before - my mother averaged a 60 pound weight gain with each of her 3 pregnancies. I gained 45 with my first and closer to 40 with my second, so I guess I'm doing ok.

The downside to all of this nonsense is that now I'm obsessed about my eating. Every time I eat or drink something, I ask myself if I'm really hungry or if I could wait. I've started looking at labels on things like orange juice and worrying about calories. Every time I put something in my mouth I'm thinking about what that judgmental nurse is going to say to me and how high the scale is going to go. It has made every meal absolute torture and despite her advice to snack frequently, I'm suffering through the nausea in hopes of keeping off 1 or 2 unnecessary pounds.

Thanks nurse killjoy. I hope you get horrendously fat due to something beyond your control in the near future.