15 weeks pregnant.

Not a lot has happened since I last wrote, aside from desperate sleep scheduling and working, but I'll try to sum up the important points.

Since I last wrote,

I've read every piece of information I can find about pre-term labor, because I'm now convinced that it is my fate to have everything go wrong.

I've begun to wrap my mind around the fact that people SERIOUSLY DELIVER BABIES AS EARLY AS WEEK 24 AND THOSE BABIES MIGHT SURVIVE, which means that I could have a BABY in a matter of like two months if that aforementioned fate is as negative as I always think.

I've realized that I stress way, way too much.

I've learned that STRESS can hugely contribute to pre-term labor, and then stressed out because I've spent so much time stressing the past few days about pre-term labor.

I've purchased a 20 oz. BPA free water bottle, that I now fill up and drink about 4 times a day to hopefully stave off delivering this baby before it's good and ready (I read that dehydration can be a major factor).

In the last five minutes, I've googled caffeine and pre-term labor because, duh, I didn't even think about that, and I've found that most doctors agree that under 200mg a day shouldn't pose a risk but I've also just found accounts of women who swear they delivered at 21, 24, 30 weeks because they drank caffeine, and now I'm contemplating swearing off my daily Diet Coke or coffee along with the neverending list of contraband things I once loved.

I've battled one of the worst cigarette cravings yet, driving back to Nashville from Murfreesboro on Wednesday.

I've stopped at a gas station because of that craving, and bought and subsequently scarfed down a bag of Cracker Jack's, something I know good and well usually leaves me doubled over in stomach pain.

I've spent hours of my day off this week doubled over in stomach pain from said Cracker Jack's.

I've come to the sudden realization that I have this constant underlying need to consume or do something, anything, self-destructive, like replacing cigarettes with a food I know is horrible for my Crohn's.

I've spent five hours sitting on my couch just talking with one of my close friends who was in town for a visit and remembered how important it is to keep in touch with the amazing, smart, inspiring people in my lfie.

I've sworn up and down that I felt the baby move, then listened as the Internet and everyone I know besides Jason told me I was crazy and it was just gas. (Hi. I've had Crohn's and Colitis for 13 years. I know what gas feels like. This wasn't gas. Thanks.)

I've finally, and I hope permenantly, gotten it through the heads of the powers-that-be at my TV station that I CANNOT work 12 hour overnight shifts and continue to be a living, breathing, functioning human being, pregnant or not.

I've gotten extraordinarily pissed off realizing that the employee who just gave birth last week refused to work past seven PM at all during her pregnancy, and they granted her this wish, whereas I have had to request four times to not work midnight to noon and JUST NOW feel semi-confident that they've listened.

I've waited in limbo to find out the verdict on the temporary move to Austin.

And, finally, I've seriously, seriously considered paying $90 for one of those 3D/4D ultrasounds, even though they really freak my fiance out, just because they can usually tell the sex of the baby a lot earlier AND I DON'T WANT TO WAIT ANOTHER MONTH!