Our baby is due August 3rd.
Yet anybody who has been my friend (real friend, e-friend, or otherwise) for any period of time will recall that I hate August.
The irony of this situation abounds.
Poor Kyle, in his wonderfully cheerful way, insists our baby’s birth will finally give me something to love about the month of August. I, on the other hand, maintain that our baby will be a good little chap and come in July like his momma wants him to. (I don’t know for sure that it’s a boy, by the way, but my friend at work did this hippie test on my hand with a piece of string and a needle and she says it’s had a 98% accuracy rate for her in the past, so for now I’m going with her prediction that it’s a boy.)
Statistically speaking, though, the odds of him coming in July are against me. According to some pregnancy site or another (I’m sure it was legitimate but I’ve no idea what it was), a very low percentage of women deliver their first babies early.
Another odd that’s against me is having twins. They don’t run in my family, they don’t run in Poor Kyle’s family, and I wasn’t on any sort of fertility program when I became pregnant. Chances are slim that I’d have twins, but all I can think about is how handy it would be. Two babies from one pregnancy? I’m no dummy; I know a deal when I see one and that’s buy-one-get-one-free!
Oh sure it would be difficult for, say, the first four years. I’ll grant you that. But I’ve been honing my hermit tendencies for years now, and if not for twins, then for what? I would be the perfect mother of twins! I would be 100% happy to stay holed up in my house for four years—yes, even with very little sleep—until the twins were old enough to go to preschool and give me some free time at last. I would order my groceries online. I’d cut ties with all two of my friends. I would go nowhere. See no one. Do nothing. It would suck for a little while but the benefits of getting two out at once would be worth it.
But alas. We’ve already heard our baby’s fetal heartbeat (160 beats per minute which is apparently spot on—good job Baby, acing all your tests and you haven’t even taken your first breath yet!) and there was only one. I mean, I guess it’s possible that there were two and that our doctor didn’t look for a second one, but all the same I think it’s best I don’t get my hopes up.
Of course it’s wretched of me to be disappointed that there is only one heartbeat when way too many women have to face zero hearts beating.
Still, at the end of the day there are so many different versions of disappointment in the world that it’s impossible to acknowledge them all. All I can do is give my own their time and get over them, and try to respect others’.
Which I will do.
But it still won’t soften the blow that pregnancy hair (mine at least) is nowhere near as thick and luscious as it was always made to sound. Thick Pantene™ Pro-V hair is a pregnancy myth, I’ve come to learn. Another disappointment. I had such very high hopes for my mopwater head.
Why get pregnant at all if my hair’s as thin and lifeless as it always was? That’s what I want to know.
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