Whoosh Whoosh Whoosh Whoosh.
A nice steady something-or-other beats per minute. The baby is just fine, great even, and I am doing just fine myself now, great even.
I didn't realize how much it had been bugging me - the not knowing for sure if everything was OK - until after the appointment today. I felt a sudden whoosh myself - a whoosh of energy as we left the clinic and Bella and I went to a coffee shop and shared a bran muffin and then did grocery shopping where I bought ingredients for my favorite recipe - Chicken Tikka Masala. Look at me go!
I think yesterday's wah-wah post was related to me feeling worried about the baby, but trying not to feel worried about the baby. I was choosing to focus on the seemingly endless nausea to spare my brain the frightening thoughts of what could happen at the midwife appointment. Sure, I still feel gross, especially in the mornings and at night, but it's OK. [Remember that self: IT'S OK. THIS TOO SHALL PASS.]
Also? Husband told the midwife that I have dirty hair. She was commenting on Bella's curls and asked where she got them. I made some comment about how I have wavy hair, but my curls usually get brushed out and that I tend to wear my hair up. And Husband, dear, special Husband, pipes in "Yeah, she wear it like that when it's dirty." I washed my hair yesterday afternoon AND showered this morning, thankyouverymuch. AM NOT DIRTY RIGHT NOW WHY ARE YOU TELLING MEDICAL PROVIDERS THAT I AM DIRTY?
Was this better or worse than the time he went on and on about my semi-albino and flat nipples (um, make that formerly semi-albino and flat nipples - YES YOU DID WANT TO KNOW THAT) to the midwife two years ago? It's debatable.
PS - Announced on Facebook. Whee! Attention for me!!! Here is what I wrote: