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Sounds scary, and it is.  It’s when they stick a needle through my belly and into your amniotic sack to retract some fluid so they can test for genetic abnormalities.  I already know you have none and that you are perfect.  But it’s important to do when you are in your late 30’s, or so they say.  And who am I to argue with them?  Whoever they are.

I had anxiety dreams about it all night, so did your dad, and coupled with this nasty head cold I have, didn’t get any sleep at all.  Visions of giant needles danced in my head while I attempted to breathe like a human being.  It was a difficult night at best.  Exhausted and feeling crappy, we went to our appointment.  But on the way, we stopped for Noah’s Bagels and that made me happy, for some strange reason. I have had some very specific comfort food cravings today; a soft warm bagel with cream cheese, matzo ball soup, and now a chicken pot pie with Ben and Jerry’s for dessert.  Not a lot of greens going on today. But I’ll make up for that tomorrow.

We arrived at the office early. It was a different doctor highly referred by Dr. Dwight who specializes in amnios.  It was at the fancy shmancy hospital called Cedars Sinai in the heart of Beverly Hills.  Although I have never liked Beverly Hills, I liked our Doctor right away.  While I was peeing for the umpteenth time your Papa was making small talk with our doctor in his office.  He had three copies of the Four Agreements on his bookshelf, a favorite of your Dad’s.  This started a lovely conversation about spirituality, Alcoholics Anonymous, gurus, and God that lasted all the way through the procedure and afterward.  Dr. Wonderful only paused in our discussion for two things, to point out your amazing little body on his high tech ultra sound and to actually insert the needle and take the fluid.  The first part, seeing you up close and personal, was really magical.  Your Dad was holding my hand and together we watched you kicking your legs and waving your little arms around, as if you were dancing to the Devo I had been playing non-stop in our car for the past few days.  Dr. Wonderful finally got a glimpse between your legs and he said he was more then 95% positive that yes, indeed, you were a girl.  He even mentioned that he thought he could see your labia which made me kind of blush for you and want you to close your legs.  But hey, what can I say, I’m modest and shy. Although I know hearing that from me might make some people laugh.

Then we got to the second part.  The scary part. I admitted I was terrified. But between the doctor, the lovely nurse assisting him who admitted her own grapplings with God, and my amazing husband and your father in the room giving me strength, I knew it would be okay.  I didn’t even look at the needle but just stared at you on the ultrasound monitor willing you to be okay and sending you my love.  He told me I would definitely feel the needle going in, and I did.  Then I saw the tip of it pierce your sack.  It almost made me want to cry.  But I wanted to be strong too.  The Dr. told me to count to 10 while he retrieved the fluid.  I think I held my breath.  My eyes never left the monitor. The Dr. said you were being amazingly cooperative and the nurse emphatically agreed. You were laying there so sweetly and innocently, not moving a muscle when minutes before you were breakdancing. It was magical.  I imagined you looking (although I know you don’t see yet) at this foreign object piercing your world and thinking, What the fuck is that???

I was so proud of you Squirt.   You made me so proud.

When he took the needle it out the whole thing was over and hadn’t lasted more then 10 minutes and phew, finally, we were done.  I let out a huge breath.  He shook our hands and we left the office.  I didn’t realize till we were waiting for the elevator that my whole body was shaking and all I wanted to do was cry.  I hugged your Dad and he held me tight as we waited and walked to our car. We made it.  We did it.  It was over.  And now we can move on.

I know we have to wait 10 days for the results, but I already know what they will say.

You are perfect.  Absolutely perfect.

I love you.



Belly Picture

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Okay- this is what I looked like this morning.  With no makeup on.  Feeling like poop.

Lately, your Papa likes to say, “Holy shit you are really pregnant!”  Like he’s discovering it for the first time.  It’s an endearing game he enjoys playing with himself.  It’s more endearing for me to see his eyes light up when he sees you in my belly.  He can’t stop looking. He becomes mesmerized. Like I’ve hypnotized him and can make him do whatever I want him to.  Strut like a chicken or whatnot.  Not that I would ever do that. Cruelty is not my style.  But it really is like in the cartoons you’ll be watching where the person gets stars in their eyes.  It’s super cute.

Hard for me to see it though.  I have one view of you, usually, and that is from the top down.  I rub you a lot and talk to you all day.  I hope you like the music I rock out to in the car.  I really hope you don’t like shitty music.  That would suck.  But with parents like your Dad and I, I think the chances of that are rather slim. You go to AA meetings too, by the way.  And listen to many stories of courage, strength, and hope.  You might get a kick out of the clapping.  Or you might end up kicking me when they clap.  We’ll have to wait and see.  I have been trying to feel you fluttering in there.  Doing your somersaults and backflips.  But not yet.  All I feel so far I think is gas.

I’ve gotta get back to work.  I feel dizzy and light headed today with a slight headache and dreamed all night about your Uncle Strider getting out of jail and sharks with double rows of razor sharped teeth.

I love you.  Have fun doing your gymnastics in there. Hang tight.  Friday we have an appointment for an amniocentesis and we need to be strong for that.

Big love,