G has instituted a policy of silence covering all matters related to my current gravid state. His view is that, considering the risks involved, all that we can do is wait until we actually have something, good or bad (please good?), to talk about. My initial response to this was a vehement tongue wag, accompanied by a na-na-na-na-na-naaaaaa, because I have a BLOG and I can go there to talk about whatever I want!
But then I realized that he’s right. Sure, I could talk about the state of my boobs or the fact that I feel nauseous and exhausted and generally, optimistically MISERABLE. But experience has taught me that none of that guarantees that my life with soon be turned upside down again by the arrival of a tiny, needy, well-loved human being.
And so I wait.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
My first OB appt. came and went with nothing more than an order for bloodwork and some surprisingly kind words about doing the best that she can to monitor me along the way. Actually, it was quite a relief if you consider that I was fully prepared for a thorough scolding along the lines of: What are you thinking by trying to do this again? You SUCK at pregnancy and I am tired of delivering your dead babies!
Luckily, I had my answers well prepped in advance: Um, well, it was actually, erm, kind of an accident (cue red cheeks and averted eyes).
So I must leave you for now to contemplate the absurd predicament of a woman who has nothing to say about the only thing that has occupied her mind for an entire month.
Ultrasound on Tues. Positive thoughts welcome!