First, I woke up at the crack of stupid (in this case, around 3:00 a.m.) with a full bladder and the inability to fetch sleep back to my bed.
Then, I went to my doc appt. Dr. M reviewed the results of my nuchal fold test with me. He told me my risk profile for genetic problems looks like someone in their 20s. Stunned, I made some offhand comment that I always knew prematurity would work in my favor someday. He said “or immaturity.” And I said, “whichever it is, I’ll take it!”
But on the inside, I was all “that means we could probably go for 3 if we want”. And I was all “what the wha----?” and in my brain, I was kicking that other, more optimistic self in the tenders because when I was playing Alice down in that dark, deep hole, I swore I never wanted to do this again!
{And this, my friends, is why I call this trimester the “honeymoon” trimester. . . because we’re all swoony and in love with the being pregnant and it’s all great and fine and wonderful and birds and angels sing when our bellies pop and we feel baby movement. . . . until the crap hits the proverbial fan and we run out of abdominal real estate and have a body tenderize and mash up our nethers and our face (and then some) looks like an inhabitant of zombieland. Honeymoon over.}
His voice hailing me back to reality, Dr. M moved my due date up four days to May 31. Then I got to hear the hearbeat and Dr. M said something about the heart rate being girly, but I told him I remained on the fence. And then he asked about baby movement and I told him I was skeptical – because what I think might be baby might just as easily be intestinal passage of some sort.
But then, when I was sitting in a drive thru about a half hour later, I felt a little *bump! and I went “Oh.My.Gosh! That was a baby!” I texted M with crazyfingers and he called me and we laughed and hung up only after he said he’s So Excited for the anatomy scan in a few weeks.
~Nichole