Paul and I went with our friends Daniel and Sherri this past Saturday and had our elective 3-D ultrasound in Pensacola. We were all super-excited to see the little one again, and I was hoping we’d be able to get some good pictures, as Malcolm has been pretty non-cooperative with getting any kind of good face or profile pics during other ultrasounds. My grandparents met us there as well, and my grandfather was thoroughly fascinated with the whole thing.
Why I expected our child to be anything but a character I’m not sure, but he once again started out by being turned around the wrong way and completely covering his face with his hands. The technician had me lay on my side, and she jiggled my belly a bit to try to get him to turn. Eventually he did, but not before letting us know *exactly* what he thought of this whole picture-taking mess.
I can only guess we disturbed his sleep, because he did a lot of yawning(which we got on video) and rubbing his eyes.
I think my favorite of the bunch was where he finally woke up and appeared to be trying to eat his toes.
The rest were just some really cool face shots, and you can pretty well see how much he already looks like Paul. His nose and mouth for sure!
We got a good few more (around 25 total I think) but those are my favorites of the bunch. He’ll be here 6 weeks from today and I can’t wait to see what he looks like in person!
We were out running errands yesterday and stopped by Walmart to pick up some prints I had done at their photo center to frame and hang in the nursery. Got the pictures, which turned out way better than I expected, and picked up a couple of other odds and ends. The weather was great, we had no obligations and nowhere to be, and overall I was in a fantastic mood.
Until I got to the checkout line.
The cashier looks at me as people so often do these days(going on 8 months pregnant it can’t be avoided), and asks me how much longer I have.
“Oh good!” I think, “At least she’s not another of those telling me I must be due any day now”, which I get….a LOT.
So I tell her I have about 9-10 weeks left.
“Oh wow!” she says, “You are WAY bigger than me and I only have 6 weeks left!”. At which points she points to a belly the size of which I have not seen since mid-first trimester, and on most people looks like she just has a predilection for Oreos.
I get that every person and every pregnancy is different. I get that not every belly is the same size. What I don’t get is what pregnant woman says that to another?? Really?? It’s not enough being reminded on a daily basis how huge I am(thanks!), how there is NO way I am going to make it til August(I will), and how am I sure there’s not 2 in there??(3 ultrasounds say no.) But to hear that from someone who sure, surely should know better? I cussed and ranted all the way to the car, much to Paul’s amusement.
She may have a tiny belly, and probably will have a smaller baby, but I am wishing her some great big ginormous hemorrhoids to make up for it.
Mother’s Day has always been something of a hard day for me. I am one of those horrible people who chooses not to have a relationship with her own mother, and while I don’t regret it for a second, it makes Mother’s Day somewhat bittersweet. As I log into Facebook tomorrow I will get to see half a million status updates of people thanking their moms for being so wonderful, pictures chiding people that they should always appreciate the woman who brought them into this world, and thank goodness I don’t have cable, because I’m pretty sure the Hallmark and FTD commercials would be enough to put me over the edge.
Not every mother is wonderful, and not every person who gives birth is worth celebrating, and there are many, many people who should be recognized on Mother’s Day but aren’t.
I was in Hallmark today, and I didn’t see any cards recognizing those who should be mothers, but through battles with infertility are not…yet.
There was also a lack of cards for those who have been pregnant but suffered losses, and those who have lost a child.
You won’t generally find cards for women who are non-custodial mothers, those who are estranged from their children for their own health and sanity, or those who have given children up for adoption.
Not every mother or those who wish to be fit into the standard soppy holiday mold, but know that you are thought of, and appreciated, nonetheless. I wish you love and peace on this bittersweet day tomorrow.