Oops

I didn’t intend for this blog to be all fetus all the time, but I guess that’s how it’s turning out at the moment.

We had our NT scan on Tuesday.  And we were so relieved by the results!  Once you’ve seen a lifeless embryo (at 9 weeks, some sources said she was a fetus, others still said embryo) at your first hopeful ultrasound appointment, the image and fear can be hard to shake, even when you know what happened was just a random bad chance.  So this time around, when we saw our little guy hopping and bopping and apparently hiccuping up a storm, we cried a bit in happy relief.  He looks awesome.  And yes, the fetus is apparently a “he.”  You usually can’t tell so early, but it looked pretty darn distinctive in the scan!

Although, based on the info here, it could still be a grand mystery, so we shall see at 18 weeks whatever we shall see.

I have a ton of stills I grabbed from the video, but I won’t post them all here.  Suffice to say, our felicitous fetus has all the requisite parts in good proper order.  This pic might be my favorite, he’s rolling over to moon us.

an example

Here’s an example of the whickity-whacketiness of hormones during pregnancy: a week or so ago when I read this notice on the dairy shelf of the grocery store, I got all teary-eyed and had to go into the detergents aisle to get a grip.

Seriously.

Thankfully, I have otherwise been pretty even-tempered. I really don’t like crying; I find it embarrassing. I am not a pretty crier, I get bright red and hot and get a headache, blech. But in this case, I thought it was funny: to cry over such a thing as a notice on a dairy case.

I was reminded of this because last night I cried while watching the end of Warehouse 13. If ever there was a show not living up to its promise of a premise, this is one. The only character that isn’t irritating is Pete but the whole thing is badly written and poorly executed. Yet like Greg the Bunny we keep watching just in case it does step up to the plate and deliver a hit and so far it’s been just enough entertainment to stay on the DVR list.

So, it was stupid, mawkishly maudlin, predictable schlock and I cried and HB caught me at it and laughed his ass off at me (with me, I guess, as I laughed while crying at the absurdity of it). He apologized, probably in case the switch flipped over from “tears” to “rage” but thankfully that didn’t happen and hasn’t so far (touch wood, heheh).

music to our ears

Heartbeat at 10 weeks

I have a hard time remembering to call our OB an OB or doctor, not “the vet.”  This isn’t helped by the fact our doc’s voice sounds just like Dr. Kevin Fitzgerald from Animal Planet’s Emergency Vets, and I suppose it’s appropriate that Dr. KF is an exotic animal vet. At the moment, our baby resembles a very exotic version of some sort of salamander-super-intelligent human hybrid, or a beakless baby bird.