This week was another week full of pleasant, symptom-less days. Of course, that's if you don't count the sore boobs, the charlie horses and the sensitive gums, which I don't. I am willing to overlook all of these for the happiness of the no morning sickness.
These days have been going so well, I was starting to become paranoid that something was dreadfully wrong. It didn't make any sense. This week you are supposed to be the size of a peach, so why haven't you been making me miserable?
Turns out? It's because you're awesome and we're just in our second trimester.
We went on Wednesday for our genetic testing and counseling session. This involved our third ultrasound and some more blood draws. I was nervous going into this-- all of the things that could possibly have gone wrong had been swimming in my head for days.
The first thing we saw on the ultrasound were your legs. Waving and moving around. The relief was immediate. You were still there and now you were moving. And, oh baby, were you ever. You were being unruly... spinning around, punching and kicking my insides, and generally making the ultrasound tech's job unreasonably difficult. We were so proud of our hell-raising baby.
I think I can speak for your father when I say we were both fascinated by how much you moved. You didn't stop until your thumb made it to your mouth, You were soothed then and you managed to stay still long enough for the tech to get the pictures and measurements she needed.
Afterwards, we met with a genetic counselor who said the words I'd been waiting to hear. "Your baby doesn't have ." Of everything that could be bad, that would have been the only thing to really scare me. The rest was great, too. We are at a very low risk for any other genetic issues or neural tube defects.
We also learned that while I am a carrier for cystic fibrosis, the gene I carry is a mutation that more than likely would result in being asymptomatic or a very mild case. This, of course, will only happen if your father happens to be a carrier, as well, and even that's only about a 1 in 100 chance. We are much more relieved about that, also. Though, if you do get it and you're a boy, well... I'm sorry in advance to your future wife (if that's how you go) and the troubles you could have in making a baby. Sorry about that. Funky genes and all.
All in all, it's been a pretty fantastic week. Only seven more weeks until we get to find out if you are a boy or a girl at the time of your birth. As was said by one of your grandmothers (I won't name names), "God help our pocketbooks."
You're going to be one hell of a dancer, sprout.