Thursday afternoon finally made it’s way here. Hubby and I were about 10 minutes late because he couldn’t decide what to wear. Not because of the doctor’s appointment but because we were going to my company Christmas party a few hours after and he didn’t want to come home.
We were lead into an ultrasound room and waited for a while for my doctor. Left on the screen were not one but two 9 week babies from the woman before. They looked amazing! It’s hard to believe in another 3 weeks I will have something that actually resembles a baby. My doctor finally came in, looking incredibly pregnant, with yet another new face. This one was introduced as Doctor W. Wow, this one is a doctor. “Do you think we’re going to see THAT?” joked Doc M about the 2 babies on the screen. I told her yeah right, especially not 9 week babies. In typical Doc M fashion, she gave the reigns to her protege and let her try to find my uterus. She kept finding my ovaries until my doctor instructed her on where to look. The screen was turned at an angle from me, so that the doctors and my husband could see but I barely could. “We got one…..with a heartbeat!”. Woo hoo I said. “And measuring perfectly!”
I could sort of make out the gestational sac from where I was but couldn’t see the fetus, and certainly not the heartbeat. “See that?” She said to my husband. “That flickering?” he said. Apparently she was showing him the heartbeat. She never ended up showing me. By the time she turned the screen to me she turned on the sound thingy and we got to hear the heartbeat instead. I believe it was 123 bpm. She told me my ovaries were enlarged and definitely no exercise. Makes me feel a little better about the gut I’ve been developing. I get to stay on PIO shots for another 2 weeks, which wouldn’t suck so much if I didn’t develop an allergy to them. I now get itchy red patches over every injection site. Some nurses went rogue and poked me lower in my ass to avoid them which just produced large welts, I’m guess because they were in fat an not muscle. My ass is a war zone. Good thing I have that 2% hydrocortizone cream from Monistat! It works well on my itchy blotches.
We got a picture of our baby sprinkle and told to come back in 2 weeks. The picture wasn’t great either, not zoomed in or anything but you can see the gestational sac and yolk sac with a line that is apparently the baby at the top.
The next day we were having our lunch meeting at work, Subway turkey sandwiches. I absent mindedly put some mayonnaise on my sandwich before taking a long pause to stare at it. I’m not supposed to have lunch meat. When a female coworker prodded me as to what was wrong with my sandwich I just sort of eeked out “something….about….lunch meat….”. Apparently that was all I needed to say to alert the two women I work with to the fact that I’m pregnant. The rest of the lunch was spent telling me all the great things about pregnancy, without prodding me to spill extra details. I guess it’s unspoken now. They know, but they didn’t ask for confirmation, and I basically confirmed without saying “I’m pregnant.”
Now we have the task of telling our families. The next time we’re going to see them in person is Christmas, so that’s probably when it will be done. It would be nice to wait a little longer, but I don’t feel like making a special trip later on. Neither one of us is particularly close to our families, and neither one has any idea this news is coming (except hubby’s aunt). I think I’m just going to bring out an extra present when everyone is done opening and give my mom a small gift bag with a pacifier in it. That will probably be all that’s needed. I hope she doesn’t cry or anything….it’s not like she’s going to be over every day hanging out with her grand child or anything and I don’t want her to get her hopes up, it’s still early. I know these will be her only grandchildren because my brother is socially awkward and can’t get a girlfriend to save his life, and at 27 that’s a little sad.
My mother does nothing to push him out of his comfort zone, apparently to her having a 27 year old awkward shopping buddy who still lives at home is preferable to being a parent and pushing him to succeed. My entire life has been “we don’t trust you because you aren’t like your brother who has no friends and never goes out”. Apparently having a normal child was too much for my parents to handle. Every child should be like my brother to them. Slightly retarded, immature, and friendless. Yay having a child who never gets into trouble because he doesn’t do normal child things! I’m the disappointment because I left home and actually got a real life. Well what goes around comes around. I don’t like the way I was raised so they aren’t getting a chance to ruin my child. My own grandparents were basically the same way, fucking insane. My grandfather tried to run us out of his house when I was 8 because my brother loved fighting with me (because when you get picked on in school it’s fun to pick on your little sister apparently). They would always scream about stupid shit and kids being kids and complaining that we didn’t love them. They’re right, we didn’t. My grandma on my mom’s side was better, but still had issues. She would buy us toys and then never let us play with them! I had tinker toys that I loved to play with at her house and I think I got to play with them maybe 5 times before she stopped letting me play with them for no reason at all. I would see them on her stairs, I would ask to play with them, and she’d straight up say no. She still to this day calls me a brat for no reason, gee how polite. Every time I walk into a family gathering and sit down I get bombarded with passive aggressive “HELLO, DON’T YOU SAY HELLO? I’M SAYING HELLO TO YOU”. They don’t get me and the fact that I don’t usually do the warm greeting thing, especially with people I don’t care about. Instead they like to whisper amongst themselves about what a terrible person I am, with no mention of the fact that how I was raised plays into that. I’ve tried explaining that they just don’t “get” me and I’m not trying to be mean to them when I don’t say hi or leap the send them a thank you card, but they treat me like I’m 10 and mock me instead. No one in my family knows how to just be a PERSON and not a distant disciplinarian. Raising a child = raising an obedient underling who listens to everything you say without question. Yeah, no thanks, I don’t subscribe to that brand of crazy…