Believe in the Flowers.

Carol of the Zombie Jesus!

It's closer to 6 AM than it was when I originally intended to say something - anything - but I suppose I'll go ahead and explain why the hell I'm up so early anyway!

I've been up since 4:45 AM. I made the casual, understandible mistake that all pregnant women do, and got up to go pee only a couple of hours before a rather important and nerve-wracking event. Today is our "big" ultrasound, and it's scheduled for 9 AM on the dot (from what I can remember). I know I should try desperately to remind myself that kid #2 may not even be in a position to flash the goods, and that we may not even get to find out today, but it's hard to think about that when all I want to do is find out whether or not my assumptions for the last five-ish months have been correct. I want to make sure that there's nothing wrong, that the powers-that-be have been kind in their assigment of working-order pieces to this creature (which I've seen is approximately the size of a large heirloom tomato, now - leaving me thinking that I probably have an actual tomato in there, as opposed to a baby). I want continual affirmation that as a larger woman (who am I kidding, I'm huge!), I have the ability to produce healthy children who aren't automatically littered with weight or health problems. This will only be my second ultrasound (the first was necessary because the LMP date and the measuring date, due to this kid being a product of a second ovulation for NO REASON that I couldn't remember exactly when it was, were off by several weeks), so I feel some odd sense of entitlement to check on this kid once more before I go back to life as I know it.

The funny thing is that thus far, I've often had to remind myself I'm pregnant. I've had the off pain here and there, nothing dangerous, but otherwise I have been relatively lucky in that my symptoms have been few and far between. I haven't suffered with this kid like I did with #1, and I try to remind myself that I am of a numbered few who goes those first three or four months without throwing up once due to pregnancy. I haven't gained weight at all that I'm aware of; I started out at about 330 pounds with clothes on and have remained there, hovering between 329.4 and 329.9 consistently in the doctor's office. I'm proud of that accomplishment, as I've done little to change my diet beyond not allowing myself to fall into the age-old trap of eating for two. I still wear the same size pants, and am only finally starting to worry about my shirts. Pants that were too big for me pre-pregnancy are still too big, and I couldn't be more lucky. I guess there are some plus sides to being plus-sized.

That being said, I'm now at a mental fork in the road. I can stay up and likely do unconstructive things, then realize at 7:15 AM (when I only have about 15 minutes to go back to sleep) that I am exhausted, or I can go back to bed now while I'm still not sleepy and put my very cold feet on Husband's nice, warm legs. The problem then, of course, would be that if I don't pass back out, I'm kind of SOL - past a certain point in the morning, if you so much as think about moving, The Kid will automatically realize that there is some vague possibility that YOU ARE AWAKE, and he probably should be too. This has held true as early as 5 AM, so at 5:50 AM I am already taking my chances as it is. Ah, decisions, decisions.


Well don't keep me waiting: BOY o GIRL?????