11 weeks, 5 days
Obsessed with: Things I can’t have. Revello’s pizza, for one.
Can’t face: Most sweet things, namely baked goods and chai lattes.
My ultrasound tech impressed me. As soon as we were in the door she had me hop up on the table, slapped the ultrasound wand on my belly and boom, there was the baby in grainy black and white. She snapped a few stills, tracked the heartbeat and measured the baby and I was off the table and happily peeing; all in less than 10 minutes. You’ve got to appreciate that kind of efficiency, and this lady even had good jokes. Color me impressed, savvy/sassy ultrasound tech-lady!
She did push back my due date to March 7 based on the size of the baby. TJ, a full-blooded Irishman, is hoping I can cross my legs for 10 additional days and give him a St. Paddy’s baby.
So now I’ve heard the heartbeat and seen the baby dancing away in my uterus and STILL I’ve not fully accepted the reality of the situation. I might be the world’s coldest/most-clueless-and-late-to-the-maternal-affection-party mother.
I can’t be entirely heartless though; not if my proclivity for tears these days is any indication. I watched Olympic dressage and cried my eyeballs out when Charlotte Dujardin, Adelinde Cornelissen and Laura Bechtolsheimer rode and ultimately won medals. Two kids in the marching band we teach totally killed their parts at band camp last week, causing me to well up. The Dog Whisperer = hysterics. This is my life, you guys.
Other than that, I feel like a porky sausage most of the time (gentlemen, eat your hearts out.) My belly is starting to pop a little and it’s almost time to start thinking about larger clothes. The nausea is starting to let up, thanks be to the flying spaghetti monster.
I continue to have the hardest time accepting that I still need to pace myself. Fingers crossed that I can be more like my “active” self when I get to the second trimester.