Houston, we have heartbeat! Hubs and I went to our sonogram and got our first view of our little nugget. That was easily the coolest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Seeing the little one hanging out was pretty wild (Note: if this post doesn’t come with a picture, it’s because I can’t figure out to load and crop it… or because I was too busy napping to get it done. One of those.), and I’m officially obsessed with seeing and hearing the little nugget. That appointment was just before Mother’s Day, so we had copies to include in Mother’s Day cards for the anxious grandmas-to-be.
The subsequent doctor’s appointment was less fun. It was 90 minutes of fear with a pap smear topper. Apparently you can test for every possible genetic abnormality, which means that you can also worry yourself to death about such anomalies. I’m being tested to find out if I’m a sickle cell carrier. There’s absolutely no way my kid’s going to have sickle cell (hubs is white), but at some point I just needed the doctor to stop talking.
As a bonus, they sent me home with a jug and told me to store (ALL) my pee for 24 hours, and then drive it around the suburbs so I could drop it off at a lab. I have to do this because the words ‘diabetes’ and ‘hypertension’ give all ob/gyns the vapors, even the patient is perfectly healthy considering said conditions. I’m really glad I had today off. I’m doubly glad that tomorrow’s the weekend. I can’t imagine how mad I’d be if I had to take the subway with my pee in my bag. (Or, better yet, collect my pee at the office.) There’s no dignity in urine storage (and refrigeration. Did I fail to mention that I have to refrigerate it?).
The other great news was that I get to meet with a super-dire-emergency doctor to concoct a super-dire-emergency plan. Also, if my (so tightly controlled that I don’t even have to think about it beyond watching my diet and taking my pills) diabetes condition worsens and I need to go on an insulin pump, my doctor’s office will break up with me. I walked out of this appointment, called the hubs, and demanded that he meet me for some (carb-heavy, because I’m a scary and naughty diabetic) pizza.
I was understandably upset, as I hadn’t realized when I walked in to my appointment that the sky was falling. I knew that there were tests to help you find out if your fetus has Down’s or Trisomy 18 or something else, but I figured that I was about 10 years away from having to worry about such things. Oh no, apparently I should find out, because if I want to terminate, I need to know before it’s too late. All of a sudden, it’s a matter that I have to discuss with my husband (can’t assume to know his mind on everything), and now I’m thinking what else is there to worry about, which is good, because then we started to talk about cystic fibrosis (I think I’m getting tested for that too).
Somewhere along the way, I got a lecture on how I have to test my blood sugar 4 times a day, so we have a baseline for when it all goes kablooey. (Not if, but when, because at this point the doctor has taken to his settee with the vapors and is screeching for cool libations. It’s Gyno on a Hot Tin Roof or something.)
I’m sure that there are those that would call me naïve, but I feel better now than I have in years, and I’m just not worried. This baby is gonna be fine. We’re all gonna be just fine. (My mom told me I was Zen, which is true, but hilarious if you know me well, because I’m a total control freak.) If hubs gets the attic done on time, he won’t even get his feelings hurt by his cranky wife. There’s really nothing to worry about. My doctors don’t trust my gut, which is fine, but they’re needlessly terrified, which makes me anxious. I feel like I should be taking care of them. Am I practicing my maternal instinct? Because I'd like to save that for someone I actually like.
Somewhere in between these two appointments, the hubs and I made a speech at church. We were asked to talk about why we pledged to the capital campaign, and we had the opportunity to talk about how much we loved the church, all of the support we got from our community when John had cancer, and then we told hundreds of people that we were having a baby. Now it’s real. Really awesome.
Things I need to learn/do before the baby comes:
1. How to say no to unnecessary shenanigans, even if my doctor is on his fainting couch.
2. I need a book that tells me what babies do at what size. Like, when do they roll over and stuff?
3. I need another book that walks me through prepping my spoiled and ridiculous dogs for the baby’s arrival.
4. Figure out how to use Pinterest to stockpile baby stuff
5. Explain to John how rainforest is the coolest possible theme for the baby area.
6. Figure out the shape/dimensions of the baby area.
7. Plot the Facebook official announcement (How tacky should we go? I’m thinking a timeline picture of me doing my best food baby impression. With my belly painted up like a pumpkin.)
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