It's 3:40 a.m. So the first thing I should mention is the insomnia. And heartburn. Preggos are allowed to take Zantac, but it says on the box that you should take it each day, one hour before eating anything. If I wait an hour to eat, I'll be barfing all over my toothbrush. So I eat something and then I take it and I suppose it works for a while...but the combination of pre-natals, Zantac, an iron supplement (I'm anemic), Zyrtec (I'm allergic to the great outdoors), and the DHA supplement (something about developing eyeballs and brains...I dunno) sometimes turns my stomach. Oh yeah, and I pop Tums Smoothies all day, like they're candy. The worst thing you can do for heartburn is lie down, which is fine (even though it's 3:40 a.m.) because Sophie has cried out for me three times tonight (1:20, 2:30, and 3:10) to come and rub her back. And in between those sessions, my eyes just won't close.
So today's doctor appointment was the typical weigh-in, blood-pressure check, heartbeat timing, belly-measuring variety. Everything looks great -- we're 8 1/2 weeks from "Oh, Baby" Day! Sounds like that spicy Mickey Rourke flick...but, you know, without any sexiness whatsoever. And missing a week.
Here's part of the conversation I had at the doctor's office today:
Doc: "And you're eating right?"
Me: "I'm eating. Right."
Doc: "Okie doke. Any other questions? Any strange feelings or sensations?"
Me: "Actually, yes. Every now and then I feel a tiny scraping feeling...like a fingernail or something. Is that a muscle or tendon stretching?"
Doc: "Oh, no. That's probably his fingernails. Sometimes they can get right up beside the uterine wall and scratch away with their hands or toes."
Me: "That's completely creepy. I mean miraculous."
So, folks. He's trying to claw his way out into the world. Or, like my friend Brian suggested, he's ticking off a countdown tally. On my INSIDES. It won't be long now, son.