Halfway there

This was not the picture I meant, but since I've had to put away my old pants, we decided it was time to start thinking about bump pictures again. So here's me at twenty weeks:


There's a bit of a change if you compare it to the baseline, but so far I just look like I need to do some sit-ups. At least when I'm wearing my regular clothes--Mom sent some maternity clothes that pretty much scream "look at me, I'm pregnant!" so if I start feeling insecure about my disappearing waist I could always walk around in those.

That's Ms. Overlord to you

The ultrasound went very well, despite the two of us still sneezing and coughing. The goop wasn't that cold, though it did get all over my clothes, and I didn't get nauseated as a friend had warned me I might. We saw one heart, one head, two arms, two legs. The technician was most devoted to the pursuit of getting a shot of a foot. If we'd realized we'd be getting a bunch we would have asked for one of the brain.

Sexing was difficult because L.E.O. apparently decided to cross both legs under her butt like a miniature contortionist, but the technician finally said, "Here we go. This is right between the legs...and there's nothing there." She warned us there was a 3% chance she was wrong, but failing that, we're having a little girl. She's showing exactly the growth she should, and the doctor afterward told us that the quad screen and the CF test had both come back negative. So it was a very happy visit. Pictures are forthcoming. We also feel compelled to warn you: L.E.O. will not accept sacrifices in pink.

Immunosuppression strikes again

I have another cold. I am displeased. I went clothes shopping today because my waist has finally expanded a couple of inches, but I didn't stay out too long because too long without hot tea makes my sinuses shrivel and complain. I'm intensely tempted to stay home sick tomorrow (after having successfully resisted "calling in pregnant" during the first trimester), but work remains very busy, plus I'm going to be out at least half of Tuesday for the ultrasound. Just two days more of ignorance until we find out (assuming L.E.O. cooperates) if our next evil overlord will be a Master or a Madame. You may place your bets now.

Quickening

It feels mostly like little muscle spasms, but every once in a while there's an actual tap or bump. I do believe there's something in there. It makes me so happy, especially since I've been starting to feel like I've somehow gotten a small bowling ball lodged down there that sloshes around whenever I get up from a chair.

("You see?" says Eric. "Everything's fine. You were worried for nothing." Ha! I have not yet begun to worry.)

We took the Toledo Hospital maternity tour last night, with five or six other couples and an assortment of friends/sisters/grandparents (I assume). Normally the tour is recommended in your seventh or eighth month, I believe, but we went early because we're still researching hospitals. I was slightly embarrassed to be in the company of all these obviously pregnant women, one of whom had already been to the hospital for a false alarm and another of whom is due next week, with no discernible bulge under my sweater.

I was more embarrassed when we gathered in one of the labor and delivery rooms and I started getting dizzy and had to sit on the floor before I fell over. All these women in their third trimesters and I'm the one who can't handle standing in a room for ten minutes. I don't know what caused it--too much dinner, not enough air in the room, thinking about "the equipment" in the room's closet, instinctive reaction to hospitals? If I have the same reaction when we look at the other hospitals on our list, maybe we'll consider a home birth. We can refinish the bathtub by July, I'm sure.

I don't even use caffeine anymore.

I've had three nosebleeds in three days. All very minor, but rather annoying. "You're bleeding! What did you do?!" Eric exclaimed last night. I'd taken a shower, was all. The other two times I was washing my face to get ready for work. Presumably it's the humidity that does it, softening the membranes that are overly engorged with blood already (L.E.O. demands blood sacrifices!). The book says to expect it. However, I hope it stops soon. Eric will believe me when I say it's a pregnancy symptom, but if I keep coming to work late because of nosebleeds, I'm pretty sure my boss is eventually going to have to ask me to take a drug test.

Not safe for (co)work(ers)

I'm not going to be a very patient pregnant lady. I mean, I'm not a very patient anything lady, but I'm pretty sure word is going to go around at work that Jenny's always very crabby and shouldn't be asked about her pregnancy. This will suit me fine. "How are you doing?" people ask me (a lot of people at work know, since I mentioned it to my boss's boss and she told a bunch of other people--I also told my department, but it's a small department and I don't think they found it a topic of much fascination). I say I'm fine, or I'm fine except for a cold, or I'm busy, or whatever. "But how are you feeling?" they say, with extra meaning, and I suppose they want me to talk about my morning sickness, or my cravings, or my ill-fitting pants, or maybe my headaches and constipation and backaches (for the record, I don’t have any of those things other than the pants, though it depends on the pair).

If it's early in the day and I'm in a good mood I'll indulge them by saying "Better now that I'm out of the first trimester." If it's later in the day or I've just dealt with a customer who's upset because I failed to thoroughly read his mind, I say I'm fine. If they press, saying, "Baby growing all right?" I say, "As far as I know, though it could be dead for all I can tell." (Okay, I only said that the once, and she was so shocked I was immediately sorry I'd said it.)

I don't want to talk about my pregnancy at work. I feel basically fine, so there's not a lot to talk about, and there are always pregnant women in the company and I've heard some of them talk incessantly about how they feel and what they think and it bores me, and I don't want to bore people. And if I say I'm fine, you don't get to second-guess me unless you're my parent or my husband.

Not a patient pregnant lady. Don't even think about the belly-rubbing bit.

These dreams

I dreamed last night that L.E.O. was a girl. Eric says this is an official intuition from me on the baby's sex. I'm skeptical, unless this is also an official intuition that the baby will be 12 inches long with a flat head and will have such an extreme fear of cameras she'll push herself out of the bassinet as a newborn to avoid having her picture taken, but for what it's worth, there it is.

(They say that "vivid dreams" are a pregnancy symptom. I haven't noticed my dreams being any different from usual, but then I usually have memorable dreams. And since I've got a cold, I'm just glad I don't have really boring dreams, which is what usually happens when I'm sick.)