Published by admin on 02 Dec 2011 at 02:55 pm
Yesterday, I had to brave the mall to find some pants that fit over my strangely large thighs and hips. I was looking at a long sleeved shirt and the sales girl (I’m not being pejorative, she was like 12) asked me what size I needed. I said, “Probably a large.” She squinted, and said, “Really, because I was going to say a small.” I almost took her home and made her my child bride. But instead I blurted out, “I’m pregnant, so this [motion to my stomach area] situation is going to get bigger.” And as soon as I said it I thought I had cursed myself. She sent me upstairs to maternity, cleverly located behind miles and miles of adorably sparkly holiday clothes for children. I stood around feeling like a fraud, and hoping I wouldn’t have to return my first maternity shirt the next day.
This morning we got our favorite ultrasound tech. She doesn’t do the monitoring appointments, only the OB appointments, so it was like we had already graduated by getting her. She positioned the wand and said, “There it is! And there’s the heartbeat,” and she turned on the sound and woah. That thing is really speeding along. And like I said in my tweet after the appointment, it made my heart stop.
I pulled on my pants (the last pair of my fattest pants that I think are too tight now to wear) and high fived Seth. I do not high five. This is not a thing I do.
We met with our doctor and he told me this was it. I’m graduating. He said, “Now you’re just like every other pregnant person. Not high risk. Just pregnant.” He walked us out to the nurses station and we shook hands and I swear to god you guys, I think he was tearing up. I know I was, and Seth definitely was, but yeah. We did it. I hugged my favorite nurse (twice! I don’t hug people, you guys!) and we were on our way.
So, this is what it feels like to have a little bit of hope. It’s weird. I hope it lasts.
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