I'm sitting here trying to think of something to report. The dog is staring at me. She has taken to watching every little move I make, as if I'm going to go into labor at any moment. She did this when I was pregnant with the twins...at about the 34 week mark. She's such a momma dog.

The kids are good. We're really having some issues with Figgy and her behavior, but rather than elaborate on the bad, I'll choose the good. She's so smart. Her vocabulary is booming and she lights up the room when she runs (because, let's face it, the child never walks anywhere) in. Her eyes sparkle with a shine unlike anything I've ever seen. She worships the ground her brother walks on and I love to watch them together. She imitates him a lot of the time, too, which is interesting. The Professor has learned his colors. Blue. Green. Red. Pink. Black. Figgy has absolutely no interest in learning anything other than pink. She'll catch on, eventually. They have been wrestling so much lately that we're almost positive they're secretly planning on trying out as the WWE's next tag team. You very rarely hear any complaining from one of them when they're doing this. In fact, there is a laughter unlike anything we've ever heard.

We've been super busy with preparations lately. We're trying to get our bedroom in some sort of shape to manage a pack-n-play in this space. My brother and his family came over yesterday for my birthday and we all went out to dinner. When we came home, he and Jason moved the large entertainment center out of our bedroom and into the basement. The next step is to vaccum the heck out of the space that the ec was in. Do you have any idea how large the dust bunnies are?!?! Oy. The next step is to move the bed and change the fabric on the headboard, then put the rest of the furniture into place. I built our headboard a few years ago and we change the fabric on it to suit our moods. The latest is a sea green color, meant to be soothing. I have to go through the last of the baby clothes and get two more containers to separate them into. Since we know the gender of this baby (still pissed about this), I'll keep the girl clothes close but not get rid of the boy stuff just yet. I'm holding out hope that the tech really does just call all babies "she/her". I'll be overjoyed if this baby is, indeed, a girl. But, the thought that the surprise has been ruined just devastates me.

I'm still having twice weekly ultrasounds (Monday/Thursday) with the specialist. We had a particularly bad visit last Thursday that left me hysterical and nearly unconsolable. My blood sugars spiked, again, in the early morning hours for a period of three days. The scan itself took nearly an hour and then the doctor came in and poked around for a few minutes. He asked me to meet him in the other exam room because we needed to talk. On the way to the exam room, he asked that I leave a urine sample. When I got in the room, he started poking around on my legs and ankles, asking about swelling. I assured him there was no swelling (and he found the same). He was certain my blood pressure must be through the roof. Nope. 118/68. At this point, I'm thinking he's hinting at pre-eclampsia. Then, he gets back to my blood sugars and I tell him that I was thinking it could be the Tums that I'm overdosing on. The Zantac isn't working and I'm waking up at 2:00 and 4:00 throwing up, essentially, a fire ball. So, I wondered if the spike had something to do with the Tums that I'm taking in the middle of the night. "Could be. Get sugar-free." But, then, he jumps to the fact that I shouldn't be having such bad heartburn at this point in the pregnancy and there is concern about the nausea and vomitting. Okay. Let's backtrack for a second to the twin pregnancy. I threw up every single day of that pregnancy, save for a few weeks, until the day I delivered. I even came close to throwing up on the table that morning. So, it's normal for me to be sick like that. I also had fireballs from heartburn until the very end. To me, this is normal pregnancy stuff. To him? No. His answer? "I think your liver is malfunctioning and I want you to get a panel of bloodwork done." That's it. Nothing more. No elaboration? He doesn't have time to talk. He never does. He hands me the labwork with two boxes checked off: one of them is under organ disease and is called hepatic liver.

To top all of this off? The tech was teasing me about how big the baby is and called her a "gordita." I shrugged it off while in the room, until I looked at the picture she gave me and noticed she typed it into the picture! So, I have this sweet headshot of my daughter with a note that says, "Gordita."

*sobs*

My poor husband has never seen me so upset before. The kids were trying so hard to cheer me up in the car. I dropped Jason off at work and the next thing I know, my mom is trying to get a hold of me. You see, my husband and mom work for the same company so he stopped by her desk on the way up to his and told her about the visit. My mom NEVER gets involved in anything, but ended up sending an e-mail to the doctor.

I'm going to see my ob next week and will ask her for a referral to a different specialist. I shouldn't have to go through this at the end of this pregnancy. I've shrugged off everything else, but this really was the breaking point for me. I only have 6 weeks (if that) left. They keep telling me the baby is way too big at this point (6 pounds 11 ounces - ESTIMATED). I keep telling them (the specialist) that they're wrong about the due date and that I don't have any faith in their measurements because they were so off with the twins. They tell me they can't possibly be wrong about the date because it was based on fetal measurements at 6 weeks. I tell them they're absolutely wrong because the date of conception that corresponds to their due date is physically impossible. There's no way I conceived when they say I did. I'll be in the history books if that's true.

So, that's it from our little neck of the woods. The kids are thriving and I feel like I'm doing *something* right in that regard. I seem to suck at being able to carry a singleton pregnancy. What else is new, though? I suck at almost everything I attempt.