The Double-Edged Google

An enlarged uterus can be a symptom of a molar pregnancy, in which (and I'm paraphrasing pretty grossly here) a nonviable embryo implants and grows much like a tumor. How do I know this? At our first doctor's appointment, the midwife informed my wife Kate that, although Kate was sure that she was at 6 weeks, the size of her uterus was more inline with the 8th to the 10th week of pregnancy. The midwife didn't sound particularly concerned about this, but she ordered a first trimester ultrasound to check thing out more definitively.

Scientist that she is, Kate hit the Google to find out all the different reasons why her uterus might be enlarged. Molar pregnancy was the scariest: hence, it became the one she latched on to. Not even my best Ahnold impersonation ("It's not a tumor!") could set her mind at ease. For the four days between the doctor's appointment and the ultrasound, it was a virtual certainty that we were having a molar pregnancy.

Fortunately, the ultrasound turned out to be normal: obviously, a tremendous relief. But it sort of drove home to me the potential double-edged sword that Google represents. I think it's great for patients to be able to access information that will help them be more active, informed participants in their care. On the other hand, Kate's not a doctor and neither am I. The fact that molar pregnancies exist does not mean that it's a useful thing for us to be expending our emotional energy on (that energy is stretched pretty thin as it is right now). The midwife hadn't mentioned it.

My concern is that we're gonna go from worrying about one obscure pregnancy complication to the next. Google "pregnancy complications" and you'll come up with almost 2 million hits, and I can't keep up with 10,000 concerns a day!

Fatigue and honey

I'm becoming more and more convinced that the single factor that defines the sum of human achievement is not intelligence, it's not talent, nor is it vision or determination.  It's not even money, as I think I would have bet just a short while ago.

It is tiredness. 

I get home from work wanting nothing more than to sit on the couch and do whatever is the most passive thing I can engage in with whatever's in reach from my inert pose.  I want something that can only be called an "activity" in the very loosest sense of the word.

I have lofty goals and dreams.  Often, I make concrete plans about how to make those dreams happen.  They often sound like this: "Man, just an hour a day.  If I can get my ass in gear for just an hour a day, I'll have that novel / budget / blog post / cooking class finished before I know it."  Then I get to work in the morning, hook up my soul siphon for ten hours, and get home so ridiculously drained that two hours of "Biggest Loser: Couples" somehow sounds like a good idea.

And here's what worries me ... the baby's not even here yet!