This morning I had my 16-week doctor's appointment. Everything looked good, so it went very quickly. Just a little specimen and blood pressure check, then a fast and tiny heartbeat, and we were out of there. Oh yeah, and I've put on about 5 pounds in 4 weeks. I'm sure some of it is water, and although my pants are getting tight, my rings aren't fitting any more snugly, so I don't know how much to trust the scale. But it's still disheartening, and a little embarrassing, because based on what I reported as my pre-pregnancy weight, my chart shows a 9 pound gain so far, and sources say that at 16 weeks the average fetus weighs about 2.5 ounces. OUNCES. I can't even bring myself to do the conversion to know how many of those I've gained. And there's only one fetus in there, so I have no choice but to assign the other 4.9 pounds to french fries, chicken fingers, and cheese.
Basically, unless I want to give birth to a salt-encrusted deep-fried baby, I've got to take it down a few nothches in terms of sodium and instead have an apple or a salad or some air. That should be a cinch, particularly since we're having a cookout this weekend for Mike's birthday with steaks and twice baked potatoes and onion rings. I guess I ought to install some counter space across the arms of my treadmill so I can make dinner while I preemptively burn off all of those calories. Although maintaining a brisk clip and wielding a sharp knife sounds like a recipe for birthday disaster. But if I do end up in the hospital, at least I can request the no-sodium meals they give to heart patients.
I don't really think my diet is that bad overall. I've noticed my appetite has increased over the past few weeks and I'm eating more at every meal, so I know that's not helping. I could certainly stand to add in some daily exercise, and I need to lessen the frequency with which I go places that have fried food. As it turns out, I'm too weak to resist when it's there, so the best solution is to do more of my own cooking, which will be easier now that Mike isn't gone half the week. I hate buying groceries when we're rarely there to eat them, but now there's no excuse. Plus the longer I can make it in my regular wardrobe, the better, because I can think of a million ways I'd rather spend my money than on maternity clothes. Lucky for me, my mom and Mike's mom have given me several maternity shirts and a fantastic pair of maternity dress pants, and a lot of my shirts and dresses will work for most of my pregnancy. Erin asked if I was going to post belly pictures, and I'd be happy to, except there really hasn't been any change yet, but I guess what's the point of the pictures if there's not a starting point, so I'll try to remember to have Mike take one when I get home and put that up later. For you, Erin.
So in 4 weeks I'll go back for another regular checkup, and 2 weeks after that will be the ultrasound that tells us whether we'll be getting my little ponies or hot wheels at the drive thru! Except at Chick-Fil-A when I plan to always ask for the ice cream instead of the toy. Did you know you can do that with their kids' meals? Just thank 3 of my pounds for that tip.