One Obligatory Picture

Over the years, I have become somewhat critical of all of the cliché things that pregnant ladies do, like taking excessive numbers of photographs of themselves holding their bellies. I am not one to memorialize my progress a week at a time, but here I am with an obligatory belly-holding photo at eighteen weeks.
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Hopefully one photo will suffice. When I look at this picture, I still don’t see cute pregnant lady, I see lady who is going to need to pay for a breast reduction and lift in 2-3 years time. So yes, the posting of pregnancy pictures will not be abundant.

Nonetheless, we received good news from my amniocentesis last week. Not only did the FSH results come back clear, meaning no trisonomy 13, 18, or 21, but the microarray came back Friday completely normal too.  Today’s 18 week ultrasound came back the best of any that I have had so far, but we still are waiting for a few more test results as well as our fetal echocardiogram at 22 weeks to rule in or out other problems. Today, though, the boys were generally good and behaved themselves to get some good anatomy views, although twin A was doing some pretty terrible kicking of twin B in the head. Hopefully, that isn’t any indication of what things will be like when they are on the outside.

It feels good to make it this far and have some good news for a change, but I am still so wary of getting overly excited.  I think this is the lingering effect of so many failures and so much bad news, I am so nervous that I don’t know when it is actually proper to be excited. I just want everything to be well and the boys to be healthy.

This whole experience up to this point in time has taught me even more how important compassion is, though. Seriously, the range of things going through my head after the bad ultrasound when so many terrible things were possible – I just decided then and there, I will never judge a woman for the reproductive choices she makes. I just get so angry when people presume to know better than a woman who is actually experiencing all of these things, and whose body is the one who has to deal with the repercussions of those decisions.

The only other big decision (outside of work) that I am really allowing myself to deal with right now is where to go on our last trip that David and I will take together before the babies come. Unfortunately, since I am teaching on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the fall, the trip is only going to be four days.  Also, my doctor told me I cannot travel out of the country, which totally disrupted the trip we were going to take to the new Westin resort in the Dominican Republic.  I really wanted somewhere hot and beachside, where I could be in a swimsuit most of the time. Of course, the Caribbean during hurricane season is not the best idea.  We were looking at some other Stanwood resorts in South Florida, but I have an inherent bias against South Florida’s beaches compared to the Gulf Coast. Also, I am just not the kind of person that really fits in South Florida, not with the elderly northeasterners that makeup the clientele of the St. Regis Bal Harbor in late September… (we have to complete our travel before 27 weeks, says my doctor who insisted on domestic travel only).

Yes, this is an obnoxious “problem” to write about, but in my defense, the amount of stress that I have shouldered with regard to this pregnancy this summer is deserving of some kind of release.

 

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