Eleven weeks

We went for our second visit to the midwives this morning. Just being in the clinic still made me a bit weepy, but not in a bad way. I'm far enough along now that they're actually starting to do medical things, such as taking blood, testing my urine, checking my blood pressure (100/66), and feeling my abdomen (the uterus is just starting to peek up over the pubic bone).

The midwives are nice people.

Yesterday the geneticist called and left a message. My blood is normal except for one thing: I did test positive for the prothrombin gene mutation. Dammit. (Fortunately, Mr K is negative.) However, I found this on the March of Dimes site, confirming what the hematologist told us:

Generally, treatment is not recommended for most pregnant women with one of the less severe thrombophilias (such as factor V Leiden or prothrombin mutation) and no history of blood clots or pregnancy complications. The risk of blood clots or pregnancy complications due to thrombophilia appears to be less than 1 percent in these women. However, some doctors may recommend about six weeks of treatment after birth (when risk of blood clots may be highest) if the woman has a strong family history of blood clots or if she has a cesarean delivery.

Other than that first miscarriage, which seems to have been of the garden variety, I have neither a history of blood clots nor of pregnancy complications. So basically, the message seems to be: don't worry about it until after the baby's here.

Looks like I'm going to have to find other stuff to fret about. Knowing me, I'm sure that won't be a problem.

Word seems to be getting out to my old students that I'm pregnant. In a week or two when I'm feeling better, I think I'll collect all the e-mail addresses that I have for them, and send something out. I miss them a lot. The new job is good, but there's nowhere near as much of an emotional connection with the students as there was at my old one (the director's open contempt for such connections notwithstanding). The focus now is on getting them good marks on their tests, not on giving them the language they need to get on with their lives in Canada. Also, the new students are mostly a whole lot younger than I am; so far only one is a mother (her baby is two months old), and she's leaving the school next week.

For the past several months I've more or less pulled my head into my shell and been out of touch with friends. Time to change that, I think.