Everyone I Know Has a Big “But”

Let’s talk about your Big But, #$%^! Baby.

Picture it. Ultrasound. You’ve got legs and feet, arms and hands. You’ve got kidneys. You have your gender parts – and only one set. There’s a brain. You’re growing, you’ve got a spine, you look less like a hamster and more like a creepy alien. ALL GOOD THINGS.

There is always a BUT.

Ultrasound technician doctor woman comes into the room about 15 minutes after all the measurements were done. She is serious. SUPER SERIOUS. Oh god. What? I’m already on edge because things have seemed waaaay too easy so I have been waiting for the other shoe to drop. My first trimester NT scans were “immaculate” (where they look for Downs Syndrome markers and such) so I already thought I had unboarded that boat several weeks ago.

“Let me see your hands.” So we held out our hands.

“Oh, well, you’ve got it.” She was looking at me.

WHAT THE %^&* DO I HAVE?!

She started rambling about a finger curvature and that 5% of the population had it and someone in that office had it and that it’s a genetic trait and blah blah blah. I zoned out. Then I caught “soft marker for Downs”. Umm, what? So she started rambling about that. And my heart started racing and my mind wondered when we got back on this ship. Then she decided to point out, about ten minutes too late since I had already gone all baby hypochondriac, that all of my hard markers for the genetic screenings were perfect and my chances of abnormalities was 1:10,000 which is amazing, especially since I’m old.

SO WHY THE %$&# ARE YOU TELLING ME ABOUT HIS CREEPY FINGER. AND THAT I’VE APPARENTLY HAD IT MY WHOLE LIFE AND NO ONE TOLD ME!?

Anyone get this reference?

Crazy woman said 99% of doctors wouldn’t have even pointed it out, but she feels it’s important to be 100% open and honest with patients and it’s the patients right and blah blah blah. Which I appreciate, but as an aforementioned hypochondriac and overall pessimist, I would have preferred not to hear it. Now I am picturing the little alien hamster with a flipper. Or a claw.

I spent a few minutes that night googling, trying to figure out the finger thing she was talking about, because I can’t tell that I even have a creepy finger and with all her talking I couldn’t remember the name. It’s this thing. How they can even pick that up in an ultrasound, I’ll never know. Or that it must be wicked curved to be noticed. And now THAT’S what I’m focused on. That crazy fetus has a slightly bent creepy pinkie.

It’ll be bullied forever. I should look into home schooling.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely thankful that this is the only thing I apparently have to worry about for the time being. I am awesome at growing a fetus. I’ve never been this good at anything. Ever.

So everything looks fantastic! BUT THAT CRAZY FINGER. What a shame.

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Let’s Have a Serious Moment Here

Dear #$&$! Baby.

If you are baby all grown up, I suggest you stop reading now, lest you taint your vision of your saintly and awesome mother.

Is it gone? GOOD. Let’s continue.

I never said I was into the whole “motherhood” thing. I’ve never been that way. The only non-Barbie doll I ever remember having was a cabbage patch doll named Becky Freckidela* that I am pretty sure molded into the chair I placed her in after I was five. As it states on my About Me page, I haven’t changed a diaper except for on aforementioned Becky Freckidela during a babysitting class when I was nine and had to pry her from the aforementioned chair. So no, being a mom was never really up my alley. I figured it would happen, but I would like their toys more than them. Hot damn, do I love toys.

I am beginning to be afraid that’s actually what’s going to happen.

When I would grimace or dry-heave at the mention of being a mom, I would always hear “but you’ll love it when it’s yours!” And I would laugh. And shrug. And say maybe. Now I am questioning the validity of my first reaction.

It sort of creeps me out when I hear moms-to-be gush and go crazy for their fetus. That they knew it in their hearts when it happened. That they fell in love with it after hearing its heartbeat or seeing it during the ultrasound. Well. I’ve heard the heartbeat. I’ve seen it. Twice. And I’m not gushing about it. It’s just a fetus, right?? It’s a little blob that moves around that sort of looks like it has human features that is apparently enjoying making a waterbed out of me.

I’m still not totally convinced that this isn’t an elaborate prank and the ultrasound tech is in on it and plays someone else’s recorded video while she rubs warm goo on my cheese belly for like, no reason.

Big A asked me a while ago when I was going to stop the charade of not being excited. And I felt bad enough that I’m pretty sure I didn’t tell him the truth – it isn’t really a charade. I suppose a bit of it is, due to my sarcastic attitude. But really, none of it has been an act or for show. A big part of me wants to jump up and down and shove sonograms in people’s faces and go all gaga nutso over MY little alien fetus but that is what truly feels fake.

I have my excited moments. And it wouldn’t be normal if I wasn’t terrified at the future post-June and onwards. But can I say I love it? No, not yet. Most of the time I don’t even know it’s THERE. I keep waiting for that holyshitohmygod moment. Fifteen weeks and still waiting.

Maybe it’ll be finding out the sex or feeling it move for the first time that will send me over the HOLY SHIT I LOVE A BABY edge. Hopefully it will happen at some point, otherwise I will feel pretty bad for this crazy hamster.

*My brothers named her after a German-esque hamburger dish that my mom makes. The name stuck. Awesome.

Shit Just Got Real

Dearest Doughhead,

You really do exist. There you were, on-screen, in black and white and shades of grey, having made yourself a nice little squatter home. You look like a hamster.

There was only one of you, thank Taco Bell.

Now, if I was a normal, excited mommy-to-be, I would post this lovely image of fact:

But I’m not. I am a Bourbon thirsty crazy woman who thinks ultrasounds look like blobs with no discernible features which require no squee-ing over. So, to help those like me who can never find the head, butt or anything in between and find regular ultrasounds to be a yawnfest, I am posting this:

Party over heeee-re!

But I swear to god, tiny little doughhead hamster, if you pull the Full House Aunt-Becky-and-Uncle-Jesse-are-having-twins thing I will f$@^ing RAGE. You know, the episode where Becky had all her tests and everything and then BAM! Seven months into it SURPRISE MOTHERF@$%*S, you have two in there lol one must have been hiding. I love the shit outta Full House, but don’t you dare suddenly morph into two and pretend it’s funny to make that episode my real life. You got it, dude?

But holy hell you’re really in there. #cuescarymusic