That's right, folks, we have seen the face of the future, and it is cute.
At least, I think it is. Isn't it?
Himself booked the 3D scan a couple of weeks ago, which impressed me no end as we hadn't really talked about it in a while, so yesterday afternoon saw us trundling along to Harley Street to meet JB. That sounds so effortless... let me just say, she's definitely related to her father. Remember the trifold attempts to get all the medical stuff ticked off the list with the scan we had a month ago? Yesterday was a repeat performance. *lol* She simply refuses to pose for pictures. Her hands were in her face for most of the session, which led to the sonogram tech moving me from back to side to back to side to... well, you get my drift. And I had to get up once and drink some Coke, in the hopes that the carbonation/caffeine combo would shift her. Ask me how effective that was. *grin* I finally resorted to child abuse and had a good poke around, and we got a few good pictures and about a minute of good video footage. I swear she was laughing at me.
It's a very surreal feeling, seeing the face of that which I have incubated for the last six months. It's been likened to opening a Christmas present early, but that's mostly by people who didn't want to know the sex of their babies before they were born. Himself and I were both immediately aware that we wanted to know as much about this tiny human as we could find out before she wreaks havoc on our previously calm and serene lives... *snort* Now see, I almost got that out with a straight face. Those of you who know us at all are more than aware that we've almost killed each other more than once. All the more reason to enter this new experience armed with as much knowledge as we can get our hands on, right?
Unfortunately, one particular piece of that knowledge fills me with, I'll admit it, stark raving terror. She's huge. I mean, enormous. We're talking 90th percentile for size. She weighs 2lb15oz, and we've still got three months to go. On a more serious note, the tech told me I should have my blood sugar checked for gestational diabetes, and luckily I've already got a midwife appointment set for next Wednesday where she'll draw blood and all that good stuff. I find it a little hard to wrap my head around the possibility, given how healthily I've been eating during the preggo times, but if my blood sugar is high I can only blame the constant cravings for fruit Madam has been sending me.
Himself was impressive on several fronts yesterday, actually. Not only did he book that appointment, he voluntarily took me to Ikea. That's not so impressive unless you understand the depths of his hatred for Swedish megastores. I needed fabric to make bumper pads and curtains for JB's room, and also some semblance of craft storage so I can get my piles of fabric under control, and Ikea was simply the place to be for such findings. That said, I was remarkably restrained, and only looked at two things we didn't need. That's a serious accomplishment for me, and I demand that brownie points be awarded forthwith. We were in and out in an hour and a half and back home in time for Himself to declare that "The Glee Project" is boring and not worth watching. The only issue is that now that the fabric is in-house, I have no further excuses not to get her room ready... *grin* I'm going to be a busy girl.
Now if only I could get Himself's cat to stop rampaging across my inert form at twenty to five in the morning, I'd have the energy to get it all done...