Our nuchal translucency ultrasound (the big fancy one where they determine your odds of having a chromosomally abnormal baby) was moved to Tuesday. Tuesday. As in 2 days from now (1 day from now if you are reading this on Monday). One day. From now.
This ultrasound is a *huge* deal to me. After this point (we will be 11 1/2 weeks on Tuesday) the miscarriage risk goes way way down. We exit the 1st trimester, otherwise known as twomonthsofscariness, soon. I am already looking at names and making lists. This is good, except that I have allowed myself to become very, very attached.
As ultrasounds approach I no longer get excited. I had a post all ready in my head about what it feels like to be 11 weeks…the great parts, the scary parts, the funny parts. It was a tidy post. A sassy post. Now? Not so much. As the ultrasound approaches I feel terror. Straight up. WTF had a crumpled baby on her 11 1/2 week ultrasound. I know that things are not necessarily okay in there. This equals terror. From the outside, I know, it is easy to be hopeful, to assume that everything will be alive. If I were you I would think that too. But I’m me. And I have been privy to some fucked up ultrasounds, both in real life and through friends. Hence, I am feeling a bit ill in the stomach region. Nuchal is at 11:20 am.