Breathing a sigh of relief

I get worked up before every appointment with this baby. I can't help it. Clear, reasoned common sense doesn't have a chance against irrational panic and the scars of IF.

We had another prenatal appointment yesterday. Before I get into that, you have to understand that I'm barely (in my opinion) showing and I haven't felt the baby move. Every other woman seems to have felt her LO move by 18 weeks. I panic even though I realize it doesn't generally happen for first time mothers until about 20 weeks. My worries were:

• There's no more heartbeat; the baby stopped growing two weeks ago
• There's a heartbeat, but it's too slow or it doesn't sound right
• The heartbeat is okay, but the baby is too small

So we got to the appointment, I climbed on the table, and Dr. Stegman set up the Doppler. Two seconds later, we hear a strong, healthy whoosh-whoosh filling the room. Oh, thank Heavens. Then he checks the size of my uterus . . . it's up to my bellybutton. According to the pregnancy sites and books which I should really stop reading, it should be about two finger-widths below that. The baby’s growing well.

All that worry for nothing. And I can guarantee, by the next appointment, I will be the same way. Four weeks is entirely too long between appointments.

The Level 2 ultrasound is set up for the Tuesday after next. We're finally going to find out if we're having a boy or a girl. To the most impatient woman on the face of the planet, this is good news. I am not at all worried about the ultrasound. I know it's meant primarily to check for anatomical anomalies, but I'm not worried about that . . . yet. I'm sure by that Monday, I'll be back to normal. In the meantime, I hope to revel in the good news.