I had my 32 week check up today and it was a bit of a roller coaster. Don’t worry, there is a happy ending.

Up until last week, Optimus Prime had a steady movement rate. She’d move a lot for a couple days and then settle down to rest. It is hard work in there after all. At night, however, she’d be pretty active. As I mentioned before, she had taken up the battle against the mattress most nights, and while that can be frustrating when you want to sleep, knowing that your kid is alive and kicking (so to speak) is very reassuring.

Last week she was on fire. It was like mandatory gym class daily, nightly, and everything in between. Massive pokings occurred between her and the Husband. It was AWESOME, bruised-worthy, but a good thing.

Then she stopped. Completely. I felt her here and there, but not much. I assumed she had changed position and I wasn’t feeling much. I mean, pelvic pressure had increased (oy) so that was probably it. Except, I barely felt her at night. This started on Saturday. Today was my 32 week appointment and I figured I’d mention it since it had been almost a week.

The doctor ordered a non-stress test to see how she was doing. So for 20 minutes my belly was hooked up to probe-like things, and I lay there, listening to a rhythmic heartbeat that sounded oddly like the samba. The test looked fine, but to be on the safe side, I was sent to the hospital for a…Biophysical or whatever. Basically it’s an ultrasound due to decreased fetal movement.

DECREASED FETAL MOVEMENT!!! Think about that for a second. What person wants to hear that they need a test due to decreased fetal movement. It sounds like the child has one foot in my ribs and the other in the grave! My poor Optimus Prime is lethargic and non-responsive! And I had to drive 30 minutes to the hospital (where I’m delivering) to make sure everything was fine.

I mean, it was fine. The doctor just wanted to be safe. I knew it was fine. And yet…there is always a nagging feeling.

I met the Husband at the hospital (not having an accident multiple times on the way I’m happy to report) and had the ultrasound.  Everything is fine. She is fine. Here’s what we learned:

• She is not head down like the doctor thought. Instead, she is sitting on my left hip region, which explains a lot of the pain I’m having, and her head is up at my ribs.
• We couldn’t double check gender unfortunately, because not only was she turned to the side, but her feet were tucked into legs in a baby yoga pose.
• The test rate the baby on a scale from 1 to 8 (1 being bad and 8 being good). Optimus Prime is an 8, thank you very much.
• We saw her heart beating and heard both that and the placenta beat.

• Her stomach was full so she had just eaten apparently.
• This child is Giganta or something like it. Maybe more like moose or linebacker? She’s weighing in at an estimated 5 pounds 4 oz, putting her in the 91st percentile for weight. Basically, she went from measuring 3 days behind at 20 weeks to measuring 1 1/2 weeks ahead at 32. I really, really don’t want to pop out a big baby. Eep.
• She has a femur and brains! My child is talented!

We’ve started the nursery. You can check out the progress at our flickr site. It’s been a long process.

We decided to convert our guest room, with the hideos original wallpaper and paint, to the baby’s room. We started with the idea that we would do mostly butter-colored walls with a purple accent wall. Then we changed our minds and went all purple. The idea was to go with a room that could grow with her instead of one that would be outdated in 2 years.

Now, I’m not one for frilly, girly things, but something about this kid being a girl has turned on the girl. That and the fact that we found the girliest pulls and nobs for the dresser. Once we found those, we started going with “Pretty Purple Princess” as the theme to the room.

Unfortunately we had to shut down progress for 2 weeks because we had workers in the room and painting space. See, our windows are old and, well, suck. They are drafty and hard to open. We decided to just take the plunge and replace the windows. Oh, and while we were at it, let’s improve our insulation. Unfortunately, if we added insulation, we ran the risk of starting a fire because of our original lights, so we had to replace the lights.

Two weeks later and we were able to start back in on the room. We’re far from done, but you can check out the progress. I think we can get it done in time. If not, hey, she has a bed and storage. That’s all you can ask for. Well, maybe curtains. Curtains would be nice.

A few weeks back I was trying to fall asleep. Laying in bed at some ungodly hour of the night I started to feel movement, not just random movement, but a furious attack. Over and over OP kicked or punched or headbutted the evil fiend. Over and over I felt her rage against her enemy. I turned over hoping to dislodge her from her attack, and it worked for about five minutes when she readjusts herself and launches the attack anew.

What enemy, you ask? The mattress. Apparently the mattress has made a grievous offense towards Optimus Prime and now almost every night, she must show that mattress a lesson. I imagine that little OP talks to the mattress every night and says, “So mattress. We meet again.” or something to that effect. Something dramatic and Stewie-like. But then something has to keep me amused as I lay there night after night, caught in the middle of this epic battle.

And before you comment to tell me why she’s attacking the mattress, I suspect it’s because I’m sleeping on my side and it’s pressing in on her space. Which is actually a good segue way into the next topic up for discussion.

The Husband has a new game around these parts. Occasionally, was we watch TV, Optimus Prime starts moving around. Being the good wife trying to make the Husband feel a part of this pregnancy I notify the Husband so he can feel if he wants. Over the last week or two, he has started to play a game with his daughter wherein he pokes her back. It is absolutely hilarious. I get a kick from her and an answering poke from him in the same place. She pauses a moment and then usually kicks (or punches) back. Lather, rinse, repeat. She doesn’t always get it, but more and more she pokes back. They are bonding. Through my stomach. No bruises yet, but give it time.