There isn't much to see at 8 weeks old. Baby is the size of a raspberry with a rapidly beating heart (the white dot in the middle of the body). Mostly it looks like a tadpole.
On Monday, July 13, I'll hear the heartbeat. On Friday, July 17, I'll get a serious ultrasound -- the same screening that predicted Truman was a boy. So I have a new milestone to obsess over look forward to!
Maybe the ultrasound tech thought I was crazy, but I talked to the baby all during the ultrasound. I just couldn't believe what I was seeing. He was turning, kicking, bouncing, dancing, twisting, and ricocheting like a pinball. He looked so much like a grown baby as he showed off his moves and various body parts... hands, feet, legs, arms, and perfect baby head. He also showed off a part that, if the "nub theory" is to be believed, indicates he's a boy.
I'm going to be outnumbered.
Amazement. Sure, pictures are nice, but a movie is so much more. And to know that what you're watching is live action? It awed me. He was so... alive.
And for the first time in a long time, despite sleepless nights and stress to the breaking point, I feel alive too.
Upturned face. You can see the round glow of the heart and a faint hand.
I know he can't "see," but it looks like he's studying his perfect little hand.
He measures big--12 weeks 4 days, almost a week ahead. The results of the screening will come in a week. For now, I'm trying to hold onto the glow of this tiny, active miracle as long as I can.
Andy said our jelly bean looks more like a lima bean. I'm not even sure if lima beans are bigger than jelly beans, but let's just decide that they are.
Once again this time around, I'm confused by the doctor's timing, but I'll just go with it. She says baby is due September 28, and that today I'm 7 weeks and 4 days pregnant. Baby measures 7 weeks and 6 days, though, which is what I thought I was...
So whatever. I'll count Saturdays as the first day of every new week from here on out.
Next appointment will be a month from now, though I may be doing the early screening at the hospital in a few weeks if I feel like it.
Right now I don't feel like doing much of anything. Even eating, my one joy lately, has taken a wrong turn into vomit-land. Too much work, painful nausea, and a night-owl toddler mean I don't nap and barely sleep at night. I feel like a zombie, if zombies were prone to throwing up.
What was a tiny sesame seed last week is a big jelly bean this week. Baby measured two days ahead of where she actually is. The doctor decided on a due date of September 28. And on Tuesday I decided, for no particular reason, that I think it's a girl, though I'm kind of hoping for a boy because I've really loved being a boy's mom so far.
The bright white dot in the center of my jelly bean is the beating heart.
Today I saw your tiny heart beating, and it felt like I was meeting you for the first time. It was like shaking your hand, and learning that all the time I waited for you, you were waiting too—two stars moving toward each other across galaxies and finally getting our chance to collide.
Yes, just one baby in there.
Facts:
This week, arms and legs are budding, the
organs are forming, the umbilical cord has formed, and the facial
features are becoming more defined. The little heart beats more than 100
times per minute.
March 22 is the start of the second trimester (or March 15, depending on who you ask)
May 10 is the middle of the pregnancy, when we would most likely learn blue or pink
June 28 is the start of the third trimester (or June 21)
September 27 baby is due (as of right now)
I had a number of songs while pregnant with Fletcher that felt like they belonged to us—Innocence by Avril Lavigne, These Are The Days by Van Morrison, In My Arms by Plumb, Sea Of Love by Cat Power, The Very Thought of You by Billie Holiday, Stay Awake from Mary Poppins, and I'm With You by Avril Lavigne (which I sang to him on the day he was born).
And now this is my song with you, tiny one.
A Thousand Years by Christina Perri
Heart beats fast
Colors and promises
How to be brave
How can I love when I'm afraid to fall
But watching you stand alone
All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow
One step closer
I have died every day waiting for you
Darling, don't be afraid
I have loved you
For a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more
Time stands still
Beauty in all she is
I will be brave
I will not let anything take away
What's standing in front of me
Every breath, every hour has come to this
One step closer
I have died every day waiting for you
Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you
For a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more
And all along I believed I would find you Time has brought your heart to me I have loved you for a thousand years I'll love you for a thousand more
Baby is doing good. We heard the strong heartbeat again yesterday, and the doctor said that our ultrasound looked perfect. Baby is growing ahead of schedule -- a more accurate due date is May 24! But instead of complicating things, the doctor is leaving it as May 31, officially.
I think we're both eating well.
I've gained 16 pounds since the first doctor appointment. Apparently most of that weight is inside my bra, as earlier this week I managed to destroy a bra simply by putting it on. It felt like that Subway commercial where buttons are flying and chairs are breaking. It's definitely time to upgrade, and a shopping trip is in the works for this weekend.
I have a hard time not focusing on the pain that I'm in. It's a dangerous thing, thinking that things can't get worse. Because that's when they do. Of course there's the back pain. Then came the pain in my ribs. I told Andy earlier this week that it feels like the baby is going to burst through my rib cage and he asked if that's possible. I guess I've heard that babies can crack ribs. Anyone have any stories?
But the latest now is cramping akin to menstrual cramps. Oh goody. Something I thought I would avoid for at least four more months. If it weren't for the increase in kicks, I would be really scared that something was going wrong. Instead, I imagine this is the result of rapid growth. I should've predicted it would be painful. Should I predict any other impending torture?
Luckily the kicks keep me from worrying too much. So I'm a blubbering, desperate blob of pain, prone to intermittent giggling whenever the baby kicks my hand resting on my globe of a belly. It's strange, this pregnancy thing. Andy says it's weirding him out. It's weirding me out too.
I can't wait to meet you, baby. I can't wait to hold you and look at you and learn about you. Years and years and years of getting to know you.
And, sadly, I can't wait to get rid of some of this body pain either.
The doctor didn't have much else to say. We told her the gender of the baby (she's the only one who knows besides Andy, me, and the ultrasound technician) and she told us some of her naming stories -- she doesn't care what we name the baby as long as we don't give it a strange phonetic spelling. As an English dork, I had no trouble promising her a proper spelling.
For tonight's song, I'm going with a guilty pleasure -- one of those songs that I recognize as not being all that good yet I can't help enjoying it. One of those songs you're embarrassed about when someone catches you listening to it, yet you like it so much that you don't change the station to save face. Anyone else have one of those? Andy's latest is one by the Black Eyed Peas, I think.
Mine is "The Climb" by the pop-tastic Miley Cyrus. I suppose I'm on my climb right now. We'll get to the top of this mountain eventually, Baby. Maybe sooner than I think.
The struggles I'm facing The chances I'm taking Sometimes might knock me down But no, I'm not breaking I may not know it But these are the moments That I'm going to remember most Yeah, just gotta keep going And I, I got to be strong Just keep pushing on 'Cause there's always gonna be another mountain I'm always gonna wanna make it move Always gonna be an uphill battle Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose Ain't about how fast I get there Ain't about what's waiting on the other side It's the climb.
I didn't notice a lot of movement today. However, I felt some pressure at one point this afternoon, like the baby might be shifting, so I pressed my whole hand over the area, and within five to ten seconds I felt this one little thump against my hand.
It's the first time I've ever felt it on the outside, and I'm dying to share it with Andy. I know he's waiting for this part too; I hope it won't be too long before it's a regular occurrence.
I tried out our new scanner on the last of the ultrasound photos. For anyone who's unsure, the head is the round thing on the left and the body is the round thing on the right. In the top picture, you can see the spine. The last two pictures are pretty much identical.
As soon as you see the pictures, the secret is going to be out anyway, so I might as well tell.
It's an alien species.
"I am from France."
The ultrasound was wonderful, everything looks good and healthy and perfect, and I can't seem to stop crying.
I remember the moment when I realized that I was going to spend the whole rest of my life with Andy. It was like the world had paused, and then begun spinning in a new time, a new speed, a new universe... It was like that again today. There was a new element and definition to the rest of my entire life. The universe held its breath, and my world began spinning its new course.
Yesterday, everything changed. My world shifted in an instant, shifted permanently, and I'm filled with more love than I thought a body could contain. Using the words of Stephenie Meyer in Breaking Dawn:
All the lines that held me to my life were sliced apart in swift cuts, like clipping the strings to a bunch of balloons. Everything that made me who I was... disconnected from me in that second – snip, snip, snip – and floated up into space.
I was not left drifting. A new string held me where I was.
Not one string, but a million. Not strings, but steel cables. A million steel cables all tying me to one thing – to the very center of the universe.
I could see that now – how the universe swirled around this one point. I'd never seen the symmetry of the universe before, but now it was plain.
There was nothing but good news at the doctor appointment. My blood pressure was 90/50 (higher than previous visits!), I'd lost a few pounds (thank you, nausea), and I received both the flu and swine flu vaccines.
Reading and writing about our baby's development – its size, arms, legs, hands, facial features – is a wholly different things from actually seeing our baby's face for the first time, watching the rapid beating of the heart, seeing how it moved and twisted and turned right there inside me, in real time.
I am amazed. Stunned, overwhelmed, and deeply in love.
And now it's picture time. :) The doctor gave us three pictures to take home. Here is each of them as is, plus each of them zoomed in and turned 90 degrees clockwise with captions. (title of blog... obsession...) *Please note that my illustrations are somewhat guesswork. You may see things differently.
PHOTO NO. 1 – The Face of Baby Schultz. Andy pointed out last night, as we lay in bed with our heads together holding the picture up and pointing out all the little parts, that Baby Schultz bears strong resemblance to a Koopa Troopa from Mario Bros. Andy feels that this has baby name potential. Hmm. The dark spot under the head is the heart beating.
PHOTO NO. 2 – The Profile of Baby Schultz.
PHOTO NO. 3 – Talk to the Hand. The head is tilted down and baby's right arm is sticking up. Baby is in the process of turning away, but with that little hand up (right under the right eye) it looks like it's saying, "Talk to the hand." You'll have to look close to see it.
The way Andy and I share this secret is so precious to me. As eager as I am to announce the news, I love that this is ours, and only ours. I've never felt closer to him than I do now.
Our second appointment with Dr. Hicks was brief and wonderful. "Yep, there it is," she said the moment she started the ultrasound. "That's the little heartbeat."
It's so tiny and so fragile, yet so alive. Andy said, "I guess I can't deny it now," and smiled. I love you.
At the moment, the due date widgets here are a little off, technically. Normally, today would be 7w 4d, but according to the ultrasound we were just at seven weeks yesterday, making my due date May 31. Of course, that's subject to change based on how Baby Schultz grows. I suppose I should've labeled my entries by date.
I told Andy I'd have to adjust all my calendars now. He was nice enough to describe me as "precise" rather than "obsessed." Thank you. My "precision" is a product of overactive thoughts due to excitement (and fear), and possibly a need to feel like I have some level of control in this situation.
When the doctor says that the chance of miscarriage goes down after 12 weeks, all I hear is that the chance of miscarriage is up right now. I want to tell my head please to stop constantly thinking thinking thinking about it before I go totally insane.
But then I sigh and smile like a silly person, just at those two little words... our baby. These are the thoughts of which I will never tire.
It's so overwhelming that it's really there. I'm scared I'll wake up from this dream. Here's the picture with the size computed -- not even half an inch yet. Grow, baby, grow!
Yesterday was our first ultrasound, and the doctor couldn't find the heartbeat. I keep telling myself to calm down, that it isn't a big deal. The doctor wanted to see us again in a week, so we'll be going back for another ultrasound on Monday. In the meantime, here's the shot of the amniotic sac.
I never thought pregnancy would be easy, and I was right. The nausea has picked up. If I felt this sick normally, I wouldn't have gone in to work. Additionally, I've never understood the word fatigue until now. It's like trying to crawl out of quicksand when you really would rather just sink. I'm so dizzy it's difficult to stand up -- having a blood pressure reading of 87/44 may have something to do with that.
If I felt like this for any other reason, I'd be curled up on the couch right now. That's a little difficult to swallow. I just have to remember why I'm here, that this is all for that tiny life (whose heartbeat I WILL see next week, damn it).
I love you, baby. I'll crawl through quicksand for the rest of my life if I have to.
Andy is still in a different place from me in the pregnancy process. That seems normal, but I can't help wishing for more enthusiasm. He said he'll be excited when baby gets here, or when the time comes that the pregnancy will be obvious by looking at me. It's all very rational.
I'll just sit over here by myself and stew in my early excitement alone. That is, if I don't vomit or faint first.
From "These are the Days" by Van Morrison. Thank you, God, for my little miracle.
These are the days of the endless summer These are the days and the time is now There is no past, there is only future There's only here, there's only now...
These are the days by the sparkling river His timely grace and our treasured find This is the love of the one great magician Turned the water into wine.
"I am from France."
It's so tiny and so fragile, yet so alive. Andy said, "I guess I can't deny it now," and smiled. I love you.
I never thought pregnancy would be easy, and I was right. The nausea has picked up. If I felt this sick normally, I wouldn't have gone in to work. Additionally, I've never understood the word fatigue until now. It's like trying to crawl out of quicksand when you really would rather just sink. I'm so dizzy it's difficult to stand up -- having a blood pressure reading of 87/44 may have something to do with that.
