Little Stinker

I don't even know if "Little Stinker" is accurate . . . it may be more accurate to call you "pretty big stinker" or "Where the heck did you get those long legs from?!?! stinker."

Our appointment this morning was a tumult of emotions. When we got there, we found out they were having technical problems and couldn't log onto their computer system. We waited. They fixed it. Then when they brought us back to our u/s room, the tech told us regretfully that their recording machine was broken. Our 45-minute long, partly 3D ultrasound would not, in fact, be recorded for us to watch forever. I reminded myself to keep perspective--we were there to make sure you were healthy, not to get a movie. Then the tech said they would give us another 30-minute scan + 3D for free to make up for it! Then you were there, on screen, wiggling around like you do, and my spirits soared, my thoughts quieted. There you were, perfect in every measurement, healthy, thriving. Big. Head down. Face buried somewhere in my uterine wall. Absolutely uncooperative for any kind of shot of your adorable profile. You didn't like the tech pushing in on my tummy a little, trying to get the right angle for her measurement. You made it harder and harder for her, until the end, when she flipped on her 3D view. You put your hands up in front of your face in utter protest, as if exasperated with the entire experience, as if saying "I DEFY you! You will NOT get a picture of me!" We have 3D pictures of you hiding from us. Stinker.

We found out you are still measuring well ahead of your due date. I know you are an overachiever, just like your momma, but you have to learn to temper that ambition with sensibility and compassion. As in, please be sensible and have some compassion on me. Your legs are measuring almost TWO WEEKS ahead! Where did you get those long legs, girl??

Later, at the nurse's visit, she mentioned I should keep my mind open to the possibility of a c-section. This really shook my view of how my labor and delivery would go. I have always believed I am built to have babies. And quite frankly, I was looking forward to the challenge of giving birth. I never thought something might happen to make that less likely. So I spent today reminding myself why, ultimately, the method of delivery isn't as important as the result of delivery--you, happy, healthy, here with your dad and me. And you spent the day wiggling and kicking up a storm, partly chastising me for your morning poking and prodding, but partly reminding me that you're in there, happy, healthy, and the rest of my worries just don't matter as much as I think they do.

So, the result is that we're sticking with our birthing class as planned, keeping our positive attitude about what it's going to be like, and remembering to keep an open mind to all possibilities.

And scheduling another u/s.

And hoping you're not so shy next time around.

And loving you endlessly.