Post Mother's Day Post
Happy belated Mother's Day to the Blogosphere at large.
Today we have our monthly doc appointment to check the developments of the little creature in my womb. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that we will be able to hear the heartbeat. My belly is morphing into some sort of canopy tent. It feels weird to lie on my stomach, or to have the cat walk up my stomach to nuzzle my chin (he's such a cute cat). I have a feeling that my days of sleeping in any other position but on my side are sorely numbered.
Not that I care. I would sleep upside down in my closet like a bat if I knew we'd get a healthy baby out of it.
Which brings us to the subject of testing. Scholar and I have yet to look over all the lovely handouts our nurse gave us. And there are so many fun tests we could do: CVS, amnio, CF, Triple Screen, BIG MAC (oh...my mistake). All of them carry a certain amount of risk. Risk one: the invasive procedure results in a miscarriage. Risk two: the invasive procedure results in some profoundly scary finding, necessitating the type of decision that makes me want to vomit.
Is it any wonder I am reluctant to even take the tests? I mean, ignorance is bliss, right? But Scholar and I will talk this over and make our decision together. He's of the mind that the tests will tell us if there are any problems, and then we deal with them from there.
I take comfort in the fact that I have ALWAYS tested well. SATs, LAST, ATS-W, CSTs...I aced them all. Past performance is a likely indicator of future performance, right? Right?
And I also know that this is not the last time I will worry for the health and well-being of my child. After all, what greeted me this morning on the YAHOO news banner? Oh, a little story about an 18-month old girl getting her HAND CUT OFF in a chocolate factory.
Today we have our monthly doc appointment to check the developments of the little creature in my womb. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that we will be able to hear the heartbeat. My belly is morphing into some sort of canopy tent. It feels weird to lie on my stomach, or to have the cat walk up my stomach to nuzzle my chin (he's such a cute cat). I have a feeling that my days of sleeping in any other position but on my side are sorely numbered.
Not that I care. I would sleep upside down in my closet like a bat if I knew we'd get a healthy baby out of it.
Which brings us to the subject of testing. Scholar and I have yet to look over all the lovely handouts our nurse gave us. And there are so many fun tests we could do: CVS, amnio, CF, Triple Screen, BIG MAC (oh...my mistake). All of them carry a certain amount of risk. Risk one: the invasive procedure results in a miscarriage. Risk two: the invasive procedure results in some profoundly scary finding, necessitating the type of decision that makes me want to vomit.
Is it any wonder I am reluctant to even take the tests? I mean, ignorance is bliss, right? But Scholar and I will talk this over and make our decision together. He's of the mind that the tests will tell us if there are any problems, and then we deal with them from there.
I take comfort in the fact that I have ALWAYS tested well. SATs, LAST, ATS-W, CSTs...I aced them all. Past performance is a likely indicator of future performance, right? Right?
And I also know that this is not the last time I will worry for the health and well-being of my child. After all, what greeted me this morning on the YAHOO news banner? Oh, a little story about an 18-month old girl getting her HAND CUT OFF in a chocolate factory.
posted by Tierant at Monday, May 15, 2006
5 Comments:
Get the tests. They start with the non-or-low threatening ones first, and only move onto the other stuff if they have to. And I know you. If you don't have them, you'll obsess and obsess...or if you don't, Eng. will and that's not fair to him.
And stop reading the news. No good ever came out of an informed electorate.
Seriously, stop. Remember Cindy and the russian trauma? You don't need weeks of that right now.
I'll let you know if anything newsworthy happens...or I'll make up something suitable, so you can go talking about the surprise discovery of hot cheney/rove gay buttsex and puzzle the bejesus out of all you know.
Oh, as if I wasn't stressed enough! Cheney and Rove?? I'd rather have my hand cut off in a chocolate factory!
I AM listening to you, Mom.
I am glad to see you all
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