"... a baby in your tummy?" a two-and-a-half year old asked yesterday. "And you have these..." pulling at the front of her shirt with her hands, "... for nursing, too." Yes, I am popping. And my boobs are continuing to grow, close to two band sizes up and three cup sizes out now. I started off short-waisted, flat-chested and fairly thin, and until about a week ago simply passed for a more typical American woman of my age. No more. I expected to show early, and now the silhouette is determinative. Some days there's enough skin and muscle stretching that walking is unpleasant. No stretch marks yet, although I have an irregular oval of blue veins around my (rapidly depleting) navel.
The wavering and wobbling I've felt deep inside, well below the navel, for a couple of weeks now, are getting more consistent. Even though we haven't made it to rat size yet.
The integrated screening results came back: Downs odds of 1/31,000, and everything else fine, too. I'm not sure I believe they could possibly have enough data to back up a number that tiny, but we're skipping the amnio.
Unsurprisingly, Nanna has turned out to care a lot about becoming a great-grandmother. Not enough that she'll call me herself, but it's less acceptable than ever for me to miss the weekly call. She talks sometimes about her own pregnancies, but she's never yet mentioned my mother's—and really, I don't even know whether Annajane was in regular contact with her parents when she was pregnant. I'm pretty sure she wasn't living with them. (Nanna herself has been doing quite a bit better. She's making it out to church every week, and a couple of weeks ago she got my uncle to take her to the local Borders afterwards. That was probably her first trip anywhere besides church or doctor's office since my mother's funeral. Marina has taken a home health care aide job that gets her out of the apartment 10 hours a day. Nanna hasn't said so, but I bet she's exulting in the time alone.)
I'm 23 weeks and keep hearing "you don't look pregnant at all!" My new response is, "just fat!" I know, I should reply with something more graceful, but I guess I'm resentful that the only person who notices my bump is my hubby, who misses my old jelly belly and is kind of weirded out by the rock in its place.
Posted by: boxing octopus | Tuesday, March 29, 2005 at 11:00 AM
I did the integrated screening tests as well, and we were happy enough with the results to skip the amnio, too (I loved the contrast between the columns of the pre-test risks and post-test risks). Do you find people ask you about this all the time, and don't quite believe you that the integrated screening test exists? Best wishes to you, the baby and your family.
Posted by: Cory | Tuesday, March 29, 2005 at 11:44 AM
Ooooh yes, Beaker is certainly terrified of what's going on with my body. (And it is pretty scary!)
With the integrated screening: if I were at home in Ohindinois, it wouldn't have been possible. (I have friends there who flew to Chicago for a nuchal scan! No one in the nearest city does them!) Here in California, it seems like everyone I know who's been pregnant got increased odds on the AFP, and most went on to get amnios. So they're unhappy about that, they know how crappy the false positive rate is on the AFP, and they're glad to hear there's another option.
Posted by: Emma Jane | Tuesday, March 29, 2005 at 09:56 PM
Seems like showing and passing the triple-screen both merit hearty congratulations.
So mazel tov.
Posted by: Jody | Wednesday, March 30, 2005 at 01:40 AM