*Countdown to the expected due date. Of course, I know this is plus/minus several days.
A few weeks ago, I went in for my monthly appointment with my doctor. While waiting to check in, the woman ahead of me told a teenage girl next to her, “I keep seeing pregnant women. It must be a sign.”
“Huh? I’ve only seen two,” replied the teenager.
“I’ve seen five. Three walked by. One was just ahead of us in line. And there’s the other woman in line behind us.”
She wasn’t talking about me. She was clearly talking about another woman who looked much further along in line behind me.
When Sean joined me in the waiting room, I told him the story and offered a fake cry. I was a little bummed about not yet looking pregnant to strangers. I guess there’s benefits to that.
I can still wear a couple pairs of pre-pregnancy jeans if I use a ponytail holder looped through the button hole. Strangers don’t reach out to touch my bump or try and make conversation about my pregnancy. No one has said “Wow, you’re getting big!” or made other rude comments about my size. Nor do I receive unsolicited advice — actually we’ve been asking friends for advice and they’ve been awesome. I’m on pace for the recommended weight gain.
And I got accused by my cousin Nancy of exaggerating my bump in the Instagram photo above (taken at 23 weeks). She was right, but how often do you pose for a picture by sticking out your belly?
Anyway, I know this will change as I approach the third trimester.
When I got in to see the doctor, she started with her usual, “how are you feeling?” We followed up about my near fainting episode. She then went on to the routine ultrasound. She hadn’t been looking around for more than two minutes when she stopped.
“Let me go get my colleague. I want her to see something.”
She left the exam room and returned with a second doctor. The second doctor introduced herself, asked me if I’d been leaking fluid (no) and went on to continue with the ultrasound. They took some measurements and determined that there was a normal amount of amniotic fluid.
“Sorry for scaring you,” she offered.
The whole thing happened so quickly, that I barely had time to get scared and think of all the what-ifs. Sean, on the other hand, had plenty of time to get worried.
I was told to focus on drinking more water throughout the day.
I probably would’ve been more scared if I hadn’t felt Baby Meatball move for the first time just a day before my appointment.
Since then I’ve felt his movements gets stronger and Sean’s been able to feel him too. It’s still weird, but I don’t want it to stop.
I passed on the baby registration process to Sean after our initial visit to Baby’s R Us (his post on that). I was a little overwhelmed by the various products. Sean’s been taking his job seriously and doing a lot of research. He’s awesome. Also on the awesome list: the friends and family who have offered hand-me-downs (e.g., my boss who gave us the crib her daughter has outgrown. w00t!)
We’re close on two important decisions:
1. The name. We have the same first choice and no clear second choice. Sean is ready to choose [NAME]. I feel like I need to see Meatball first to know [NAME] is right, but maybe that will change in the next few months. How did you know the name was right?
2. The paint for Meatball’s room. We just have to decide if we want three neutral walls and one brighter accent wall or four walls of the brighter color. I think both would be good with the crib we just received.
My dad is worried Meatball is gonna stick as a nickname, especially if he is chunky. My cousin Nancy thinks it’s inevitable.