Yesterday we had another one of our ten-second ultrasounds. I guess that’s a good sign when they spend longer prepping you for the ultrasound than actually doing it. If there were something wrong, we’d see the doctor stop at a certain spot, go back and forth, zoom in, take a snapshot, leave the room for a minute, come back in, go back and forth over the area again, measure it, get another doctor to come in, etc. None of that happens. A quick sweep across the belly, a closeup of the heart, and he’s done. “See you next week!” Of course, we’re always there last thing in the afternoon, and the doctor is usually in a rush to get home. So we probably don’t get the full treatment. But it’s still comforting that we’re getting rushed out of there. If the doctor lingers at the end of the day, that’s not the best sign.

Of course, this time “see you next week!” was replaced by “see you at the delivery!” The day is coming up; we won’t even know it and then it’ll be there and then there will be the crying with the diapers and the feeding and the noises with the baby clothes and the cootchie coochtie coo and oh boy what are we getting into?

The countdown sits at 0 weeks, 6 days.

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