*Pregnancy related post
I’ll start with the most important news. Today’s 9 week ultrasound showed a heart beat of 180 bpm! It also showed something that is looking more and more human! So far, he or she is an active little baby because there was some serious wiggling going on. There are few things as bizarre as watching something move inside you without being able to feel it.
So at this moment I’m in Stage I, as described in Lamenting The Lentil’s latest post. I’m on top of the world. This is really happening. This might actually work out! I may actually have a half me/half Merp bebe waiting at the end of the rainbow. One that loves to dance!
We’ll see how long this euphoria lasts. I give myself until Friday before I return to my doubt filled purgatory.
You’d think my daily dances with the porcelain God would be reassuring. I have puked almost every day for the last week, sometimes twice, once three times. The one day I didn’t puke I had diarrhea (fun!). I have been living on ramen noodles and peaches and cream oatmeal packets. But, I just bravely devoured some chocolate pudding from a local deli. We’ll see how it fares, but I’m not hopeful. If I’m not puking, I’m gagging. It’s a rip roaring time over here! But this is what I hoped for. I wanted to be sick. Sayings like, “Be careful what you wish for,” really do exist for a reason. To annoy paranoid pregnant women who can’t hold food down after a symptom-less miscarriage.
Despite my new role as Gagatha McGee, I resolve not to spend so much time on the couch. I’ve got to get back to writing. To living. My dogs are bored out of their minds – they taunt me with expectant stares at squeaky toys and disappointed scowls when potty breaks don’t turn into actual walks. See them, don’t they look like they’re just dying for some action? (If you look closely you can see the legs of a one of a kind Merp creature photo bombing this picture).
It’s hot as hell here in Los Angeles, but I roused myself around noon today to walk these two and to see what all the commotion was about. There were helicopters circling our building and an HOA email chain circulating that an armed gunman was hiding in the parking garage. Awesome. We got a great deal on this brand new condo, and it’s gorgeous inside, a great investment, close to the beach blah blah blah, but unfortunately it’s a mile from the border of not the best part of Inglewood. I won’t bother listing all the crime that’s occurred in the hood since we’ve lived here because it might scare you. Really though I’m sad to say that even when I lived in Beverly Hills adjacent, where my book is set, there was plenty of crime there too (from armed robberies to butt grabbings). That’s life in the big city I guess. Which is why I want to move. To the Valley. Gasp. The Valley is where dreams go to die according to those who reside on the Westside or ish. Not for me though! I dream of oodles of dogs roaming big backyards and licking the faces of little ones. I dream of less traffic. Of horse properties. Of lemonade stands and happy, safe kids. All is possible in the Valley as far as I’m concerned.
I also recently did something cra to the z. I booked my 12-week nuchal scan and Maternity 21 blood test. On September 23 I will meet with The Center for Fetal Medicine to assess the health of my baby. Provided I make it that far. Booking the appointment felt like a huge affront to fate. Like I was tempting him to come f with me. But that was on Monday and now it’s Wednesday and I just saw a dancing fetus in my uterus! Owww owww oww!
As you can see. I’m moving slowly away from worrying back to where I’m most comfortable: somewhere safely tucked between dreaming and doing. I’ve wallowed in this nausea and fear for long enough.