Your Baby: Is about two-and-a-half inches long. So still in the lemon/lime range. Comparison reruns! Sorry about that. Already has pretty much every structure, organ and system needed for life by this point. Everything will continue to develop and mature, but your baby really is…
- Is about two-and-a-half inches long. So still in the lemon/lime range. Comparison reruns! Sorry about that.
- Already has pretty much every structure, organ and system needed for life by this point. Everything will continue to develop and mature, but your baby really is a perfect little miniature human being.
- Reproductive organs are distinctly male or female. A 3D ultrasound could possibly make a pretty good guess at the sex now.
- Can officially be Bugged By You. Reflexes have developed, so if you push on your uterus, your baby will squirm and move in response. You can’t feel it, but it sure is fun to imagine getting flipped off by your fetus.
- Are you feeling better? I hope you’re feeling better. I keep thinking I’m feeling better and then I’m not. And then I am again! And then I smell whatever it is that you’re eating over there and BLEH.
- Have a big-ass uterus now — too big to remain all low in your pelvis. It’ll sort of grow and migrate upwards during the second trimester. Pros: you won’t have to pee so much. Cons: your baby will better be able to land many, many karate chops to your internal organs.
- Are probably in some maternity clothes now, especially if this isn’t your first pregnancy and/or haven’t lost weight due to morning sickness. The whole waist-butt-thigh region is spreading, and it’s best to just go with it and be comfortable.
I had to go and double-check the list of published entries (repeatedly) because I cannot believe I am here writing Week 12. The last week of the first trimester. The time for big sighs of relief and even bigger announcements.
Some women wait until they’re safely past the 12-week mark to tell ANYONE besides their partners, while others may tell friends and family but hold off on any workplace announcements. And then there’s me, who ended up spilling the beans to my boss around six weeks last time due to a sudden spike in sick days and half days and panicked green-faced dashes out of important meetings. And this time I’ve been so compulsively blabby I’m pretty sure even the mailman knows my due date already.
This weekend, however, I became thoroughly and utterly convinced that my baby had died. I know I’m not alone in this flavor of pregnancy paranoia and I KNOW this will probably not be the last time I assume the worst has happened, but oh my goodness, what a STATE I worked myself into. Tears and moping and obsessive web-searching (BACK AWAY FROM GOOGLE, CRAZY LADY) and pacing pacing pacing.
Why? Well, I bought a stupid fetal doppler. For fun. And reassurance that everything was all right. (You can rent them too, but please. Think long and hard before welcoming this instrument of insanity into your home.) My first-trimester symptoms have decreased dramatically over the past week and I decided that the doppler would help keep me calm until I could feel the baby move in a few weeks or so.
HA HA! I FORSEE MUCH FAIL!
Long story short: fading pregnancy symptoms combined with hours and hours of nothing but static and my own pulse on the doppler led to a self-diagnosis of Dead Baby and Much Woe. I thought about all the people I’d have to break the news to — all the people who I would probably run into in a few months who would stare at me in confusion — the millions of little repercussions that would now follow my incredible cockiness for assuming that IT wouldn’t happen to MEEEE — not to mention just what in sam hill I was going to do with a first-person PREGNANCY COLUMN now.
Ahem. The baby is fine. Heartbeat going strong at 165 beats per minute. Ultrasound and nuchal scan scheduled for first thing tomorrow morning. And today’s pre-breakfast gagfest into the kitchen sink reminds me that I’m not quite out of the first trimester yet, so hold onto your butts, there’s plenty of crazy left for the next six months.
Oh Yeah, THIS: What, you mean BESIDES the raging emotions and soul-crushing paranoia? Well, fine. My nails (which are pretty much the worst and ugliest nails known to man, although I do have naturally well-behaved cuticles) are growing nice and long and strong, just like last time. They promptly all broke off within a week of giving birth, killing my theory that it was just the prenatal vitamins, so this time I plan to enjoy my lovely nails as much as possible. With as many manicures as possible.
New This Time Around: I am sort of shocked at the depths of my indifference towards baby-related purchases. Last time I couldn’t WAIT to start filling my house with small, pastel-colored crap and gifts! and things! and the nursery! This time, the only desire to set up the crib and move changing table and buy a few packs of onesies stems from the bigger desire to just GET IT OVER WITH.
Noah’s nursery was designed down to the smallest detail and included approximately 14,293,390 hand-stenciled leaves. The spare bedroom’s walls are already a light green. Eh. Seems close enough. The room is full of furniture I have to find another place for and bin after bin of maternity clothes that have been slooooowly migrating to my closet piece by piece, because I don’t feel like dealing with a full-on closet switchover.
My mom mentioned looking at little baby clothes and I mostly just moaned oh god, don’t buy me anything yet, I have nowhere to put it! The whole shopping and prepping for baby experience has been completely tainted by the realization that no matter what you do ahead of time, you’re still going to make 25 trips to Babies ‘R Us with a tiny newborn in tow, and that same tiny newborn is going to pee and poop and spit up all over the coordinated crib bedding and decorative pillows and every adorable little outfit, so you might as well just put a lot of newspaper down at first.