Well, today was scheduled ultrasound #2 (but technically my third so far this pregnancy because of my little freak out last week).
Baby is freakishly on time, measuring 7 weeks 5 days. That’s precisely where he/she should be based on my LMP of September 11th, and the fact that last Monday he/she was measuring 6w5d, and Thursday was 7w1d. Like I said… freakishly on time. Heart rate is 172 (That’s high. Is that high? Doesn’t that mean it’s a girl?)
The “most” I’ve ever been pregnant is 8w1d. Or really, I guess 8w0d because 8w1d was the day we found out we lost the twins (and they said we had JUST lost them). But that was my second ultrasound. So I’ve never made it past the second ultrasound. This means that next Monday is my graduation ultrasound from New Hope. As in, if all goes well next week, I get to be a regular patient at my regular OB/GYN. My head is seriously spinning.
I feel amazing. I feel so emotionally invested it’s not even funny, even though I promised myself I wouldn’t get all crazy excited until at least 9, preferably 12 weeks. But you guys. I’m making it to graduation day. My throat doesn’t hurt. I’m intermittently stuffy nosed and clear, but it’s not as bad as it was. I feel like I have a handle on this. And that heart rate? So strong. So beautiful to see in there.
At that wedding this weekend I got a LEETLE resentful when all I could eat (literally, the only thing) was dry salad with the croutons picked off. (To Eric’s credit, he did hunt down a catering person to see if they could make me something special, but everything was pre-cooked and they weren’t very accomodating. Oh well). So I sat there sipping my water, watching everyone else stroll merrily down the path of drunkenness and gobble up the yummy food, and I thought: this sucks. Then today, seeing my perfect little blobby, who Amy has so cleverly dubbed “Baby Crumb,” I thought, damn, this is worth it. Turnips and motor oil. Dry salad. Whatever. If I get a baby out of this, I don’t really care how many sacrifices I need to make.
I’m so confident
cocky? that I talked to work about it today. Here’s the reason why. My company is doing a build-out expansion and most of us are moving our seats to the new area in about 2 weeks. Because of this upcoming move and space constraints, I do not currently sit with my department. I’ve been excited to move because I definitely feel like I’m missing out by not sitting with them – on information, on bonding, you know, normal office stuff. It’s nice to be able to talk with the people on your team by twisting around in your chair and giving a holler. As it stands, I’ve bonded more with the department I sit with than the one I’m actually part of. BUT. There’s a huge BUT here. I work for a cigar retailer, remember? And parts of the building are ventilated and allow for cigar smoking. My department is one of those places, and also will be when we move. So essentially I’d be sitting in a smoke-filled room 9 hours a day if I sat with them, because they have to sample cigars and pipes at their desks. It’s part of their job.
I talked to my boss about it because…well…it didn’t seem like such a great idea. As much as I want to sit with them, I don’t know just how smoky it will be and I don’t want to risk it. He agreed, and now (assuming I continue to stay pregnant), I will be sitting with the same people I sit with now, in a non-smoking section. It’s good and bad. I hate that I can’t sit with my team, but I’m glad I don’t have to worry about smoke, or worse, to make the guys feel guilty/weird about lighting up just because I’m around. And when I get back from leave, I can move into the new area with them.
I know; such problems to have, right? I definitely get the feeling that this pregnancy is really happening. Which is super duper scary. Because at this point if things went south, I would be absolutely devastated. I’ve allowed myself the audacity of hope.
It’s freaking frightening. Also exciting. But mostly…yeah, I’m pretty scared.