This week has been an absolute whirlwind. Moving is really the worst thing ever -- and this coming from someone who constantly feels like someone is stabbing her in the boobs. Your dad- I swear, kid, someday you'll know - your father is a total superhero. He's made sure this move has gone well. I've done a lot of the packing and cleaning and putting away of things, but he's made sure the actual moving of things has been done without me having to lift much stuff at all. Be sure to thank him for that when you are born safely.
We are teetering on the cusp of your 12th week and that is so incredibly exciting. One week closer to the supposed "safety zone." I know that there really is no such thing until you actually show up, but having seen your heartbeat on that screen and after hearing you in there... everything just feels really good. The first weeks of this experience had me so on edge, so worried that at any moment we were going to lose you. This week, I feel much more relaxed and positive - no thanks to the rotating, horrible doctors.
You've been about the size of a lime this week and having held one in my hand at the grocery -- that is SO freakin' creepy. You're substantial. You're getting bigger. Before long you'll be able to be felt in there. Can we wait until the nausea subsides? Please?
The morning sickness sure has stepped up it's game. Bus rides are miserable beyond belief. 4-10 PM is my own personal hell. I hear it's normal in the last part of the first trimester. I like normal. I like the idea that we're doing fine and normal and boring. I will suffer this and be happy. Unless you ask your dad. Don't ask him. He's got hormone issues or something.
This week's doctor appointment was, frankly, another disappointment. It was informative. We made some decisions about genetic testing. AND! We got to hear your heartbeat and some weird noises that the doctor said was you moving around. Again, though, we were tossed aside because of my weight. Your father really is a champion for me and I am so incredibly lucky to have him by my side through all of this. I promise you, baby, we are doing everything and watching everything and we will do this and we will have a safe, healthy delivery. And I promise, I will show those bitches not to count us out because of their own personal bias and ignorance. And when I do, I will go to each of them and give them a big nyah-nyah.
We made our appointment for the 20 week ultrasound for June 6th. Under nine weeks to go before we get to see you and all your little bits and bobs. It's excruciating. All of this waiting. It's enough to drive a person crazy. While we want you to be fully baked before coming out of the oven, I really can't wait to meet you. Your father says I just want to put your feet in my mouth. I won't even dignify that with an answer, though I will say I imagine them to be absolutely d-e-l-e-c-t-a-b-l-e.
I love you already. I honestly do. And while in my head I compare you to a common parasite (feeding off your host, making your host ill, and growing continually), in my heart, you are my awesome kid-to-be. And I have your name picked out. Though I am pretty sure your father disagrees. Imagine that.
Time for a nap, sunshine,