(I know that should be Hump Day, Bump Day, but: I don’t have a bump as of yet.)
I’ve been keeping quiet on a certain subject.
Ostensibly, the reason was that I wanted to get to today, ultrasound day. I wanted to know that everything was progressing okay before I babbled on and on about the pregnancy. But here’s another truth: I haven’t really been tempted to share all that much.
Mostly it’s because nothing has been going on except some low-grade nausea, fatigue, and sore boobs. I’ve had cramping here and there, which I attribute to Baby Writer making room and stretching out. I’ve managed to more or less keep to my workout routine, but my appetite has gone out the window — I need to force myself to eat, especially dinner (when I don’t eat enough at dinner, it’s Nausea and Headache City the next day). I have cravings at times, mostly for vanilla ice cream or pimento cheese, but they don’t last long.
We’ve still told no one in our circle. It’s our little secret, one we’re enjoying immensely. My little brother has come and gone in terms of staying with us and finding a new place — he didn’t notice anything amiss. We thought we’d tell my family after today’s ultrasound, but then decided we would wait until the second trimester to tell everyone—we’ll be out of the real danger zone if all goes well, but we’ll also have another month (and a vacation) to enjoy our secret.
Our secret became a little more real today, though. My husband came along for the first ultrasound and checkup — an appointment that took forever and a day (it was like crossing the Sahara, y’all, with an outside temperature to match). But the ultrasound was first, which made the wait a little easier.
We saw a perfect little blob floating around in there, upside down. Kiddo measured eight weeks, two days—by my count, I’m eight weeks today, so I joked to the husband that we had a little overachiever on our hands. My due date remains February 11 per my last menstrual period, though. I apparently have a small subchorionic hematoma, but haven’t had any spotting to date (fingers crossed on that front) — the doc told me not to worry about it.
The heartbeat, which was such an awesome sound that came through immediately, loud and clear, clocked in at 167 bpm. I started laughing and crying at the same time; the husband looked confused for a second, but the biggest smile broke out on his face when he realized it was Baby Writer’s heartbeat.
It was pretty damn cool.
After that, we talked to a nurse and the OB about prenatal testing, my do’s and don’ts, and what to expect. They then drew seven (SEVEN!) vials of blood — my husband nervously asked me if I was okay to drive (I was). I scheduled my next appointment, four weeks from today. In the meantime, I’ll also probably get the Panorama test done, along with a genetic screen for things like cystic fibrosis, Fragile X syndrome, and spinal muscular atrophy.
With another two weeks before any testing, and four weeks to my next appointment, the only thing to do now is wait and keep cheering Baby Writer to kick much ass.
Today was a pretty good day.