You hit a growth spurt this week. Specifically, when I was trying to watch the Oscars last night. All of a sudden my hands got clammy, my chest constricted, my heart started racing, and my uterus and legs began cramping. Maybe some of this was due to Channing Tatum’s sexy dance number. Maybe some. But definitely not all.
After a terrible night’s sleep, I wake up still crampy. I’ve read too many pre-term labor stories on pregnancy message boards, so I’m a little anxious, I gotta admit. At noon, I call my OB/GYN’s nurse and leave a description of my symptoms on her voicemail, hoping she’ll tell me it’s normal. Ten minutes later she calls back and tells me to come in immediately. OK, now I’m scared.
On the way over, I call Matt and start crying. I need to get the tears out of my system before I see anyone. Matt wants to meet me at the doctor’s office, but I feel like his sympathetic presence will make me cry more, and I’m determined not to look like a baby (no offense) if this all turns out to be nothing. I meet with the nurse practitioner and report my symptoms. She sends me to the ultrasound department to get everything checked out. Once you guys flash up on screen, I instantly feel calmer. Trip A, you are face down, legs kicking like a swimmer. It’s the first time I’ve seen you really move. Trip B, you’re on the left in the same position. You’re also wiggling around, but we’ve come to expect a lot of action from you. Trip C, you are stretched out, floating zen-like above your brothers on your side. Your head is positioned near their legs, and as the ultrasound tech takes a photo of your face, two feet appear out of the blackness to deliver a kick to it. (See photo)
All three of you are perfect. And (not to steal your thunder), so is my cervix. The verdict? You’re growing and you’re stretching me out. Even though I’m only 19 weeks, my OB/GYN says my uterus looks like I’m 24 weeks. Nice work, guys.
When I walk out into the waiting area, your father is sitting there. “Sorry, I couldn’t sit at home with you in here,” he says. I give him a hug. I’ve got four wonderful boys. Channing Tatum (and his incredibly limber body) can go suck an egg.
** Trip B kicks Trip C, will go directly into timeout at birth. **