And the familiar sense of panic settles back in…
I’ll be 17 weeks tomorrow. At what point should I “pop” (like I’m a goddamn turkey button or something)? I’m no bigger right now then I was at 10w. OK, I’m a little bigger but certainly not by much. My OB said at my last appt that my uterine growth appears to be on track, but I swear there’s no growth.
Heart-rate seems to be OK. I was finally able to get a count of about 143. I hear movement through the doppler, but don’t feel anything.
I can’t believe I’m bitching about this, but I am. I honestly thought that I would have something to show by now besides looking like I’m partaking in too many ho-hos and raspberry white-chocolate mochas (curse those stupid studies on caffeine for making me feel even more guilty!).
I thought it was because I’m now only wearing maternity pants, which can be too comfortable. Maybe I should try stuffing my butt into my regular pants to get a better handle on what’s going on?
You want to hear the crazy reason why I’m stressing about this? In a week or so we plan on telling XBoy. I was hoping that by then we could have visual proof.
This sucks: I bitch because I don’t want anyone to notice; and I bitch because there’s nothing to notice. Gawd, I’ve got issues on top of my issues, don’t I?
And apropos to nothing, my left hand smells like a cigarette; and I ordered the wrong type of blinds for the spare bedroom so now Mr. DD has to rig up some shims in order to hang them since they were custom cut.
I need a drink. Or some ice cream. Or both.