There are no doubts
as to whose baby this is. Not that there would be anyway since Pete and I have been in a committed relationship for at least the past 5 years, but if I were a Jerry Springer guest, he wouldn't even need DNA testing - just the ultrasound tape.
Most of you know my husband's goofy dance moves. It seems to be some sort of family bonding that occurs when he and his sister are in a bar with music and they'll share goofy dance steps all night. There's no stopping them.
So yesterday when the new OB stuck that horrible painful dildo looking internal ultrasound thingy where the sun don't shine - I saw baby. And baby was dancing - Just.Like.Daddy. At 9 weeks, the baby barely has limbs, but yesterday afternoon they were swinging and pumping away, and I swear I even saw baby do a flip and land in a split. There's no question, this baby already has Daddy's dance moves.
Speaking of ultrasounds, seeing baby on the screen made me feel incredibly embarrassed for how I had been complaining about my pregnancy. Some of my friends had misinterpreted my complaining to mean that I didn't want the baby when the truth was - I just didn't want to put up with the 9 months of pain to get baby. Of course I want baby. Ever since I found out, I've been wondering and imagining just how much Mommy love will swell in me, and thinking that I've already reached that point.
I had it completely wrong.
The second I saw my 2.4 centimeter Little Bird dancing away, I felt so overwhelmed with Mommy love. Which I now understand consists of a helluva lot of worry. Just look at all that extra uterus space, what if Little bird bumps his/her head? Am I giving baby enough room for all that disco fever? How on EARTH am I going to keep baby safe when it's out of that protective circle? Oh man, how did we ever manage to make such a beautiful little screen blob?
In between all of those emotions I had to calm myself down and convince myself that I would be okay if we lost baby. The first Dr. couldn't see my ovaries and immediately thought baby was IN the ovary. She made us rush to radiology for an emergency external ultrasound (those are much more comfortable by the way) where the tech also could not find ovaries and left me lying there under a pile of ultrasound goo next to a freeze frame of dancing baby, to get yet another doctor to see.
Two more ultrasounds later (internal and external), they decided that I just had gas hiding the ovaries and baby is okay, and due December 9. And although I bathed, I am still finding ultrasound gel in crevices that I didn't know I had.
It helps the excitement to see DH looking at the ultrasound pictures with the biggest smile I've ever seen him have. I can see he's proud and also full of that worry-love as well.
In the meantime, I still have every pregnancy horrible symptom known to woman. I finally got drugs for the nausea, but they're the kind that knock you out for hours even if you only take half. I guess there's nothing for the working pregnant woman to do but tough it out, go certifiably crazy from being expected to tough it out, and cry every night from frustration like I do.
I did, however, find a temporary cure for nausea when I'm at home - popsicles. It's like chewing flavored ice, and works wonders on my tummy when I can't eat anything else. I'd bring them to work but I don't think it's professional to have a huge orange/red or purple clown lipped face and tongue all day.
Most of you know my husband's goofy dance moves. It seems to be some sort of family bonding that occurs when he and his sister are in a bar with music and they'll share goofy dance steps all night. There's no stopping them.
So yesterday when the new OB stuck that horrible painful dildo looking internal ultrasound thingy where the sun don't shine - I saw baby. And baby was dancing - Just.Like.Daddy. At 9 weeks, the baby barely has limbs, but yesterday afternoon they were swinging and pumping away, and I swear I even saw baby do a flip and land in a split. There's no question, this baby already has Daddy's dance moves.
Speaking of ultrasounds, seeing baby on the screen made me feel incredibly embarrassed for how I had been complaining about my pregnancy. Some of my friends had misinterpreted my complaining to mean that I didn't want the baby when the truth was - I just didn't want to put up with the 9 months of pain to get baby. Of course I want baby. Ever since I found out, I've been wondering and imagining just how much Mommy love will swell in me, and thinking that I've already reached that point.
I had it completely wrong.
The second I saw my 2.4 centimeter Little Bird dancing away, I felt so overwhelmed with Mommy love. Which I now understand consists of a helluva lot of worry. Just look at all that extra uterus space, what if Little bird bumps his/her head? Am I giving baby enough room for all that disco fever? How on EARTH am I going to keep baby safe when it's out of that protective circle? Oh man, how did we ever manage to make such a beautiful little screen blob?
In between all of those emotions I had to calm myself down and convince myself that I would be okay if we lost baby. The first Dr. couldn't see my ovaries and immediately thought baby was IN the ovary. She made us rush to radiology for an emergency external ultrasound (those are much more comfortable by the way) where the tech also could not find ovaries and left me lying there under a pile of ultrasound goo next to a freeze frame of dancing baby, to get yet another doctor to see.
Two more ultrasounds later (internal and external), they decided that I just had gas hiding the ovaries and baby is okay, and due December 9. And although I bathed, I am still finding ultrasound gel in crevices that I didn't know I had.
It helps the excitement to see DH looking at the ultrasound pictures with the biggest smile I've ever seen him have. I can see he's proud and also full of that worry-love as well.
In the meantime, I still have every pregnancy horrible symptom known to woman. I finally got drugs for the nausea, but they're the kind that knock you out for hours even if you only take half. I guess there's nothing for the working pregnant woman to do but tough it out, go certifiably crazy from being expected to tough it out, and cry every night from frustration like I do.
I did, however, find a temporary cure for nausea when I'm at home - popsicles. It's like chewing flavored ice, and works wonders on my tummy when I can't eat anything else. I'd bring them to work but I don't think it's professional to have a huge orange/red or purple clown lipped face and tongue all day.
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