Oct
13

They Call Him Flipper.

Thursday’s ultrasound was lovely—the Science Babies have arms and legs now (if you use the terms “arms” and “legs” somewhat loosely), though you couldn’t see them properly on Baby B, because it was curled up upside down far away in the top back of my uterus, looking cocktail shrimp-y. I was quite hungry at the time, and had been sitting in the waiting room trying to decide what to have for dinner (this is an involved process, and involves considering and discarding a stunningly specific array of options) and during the ultrasound of the decidedly shellfish-y Baby B, my mind suddenly piped up “Mmm, maybe takeout gulf shrimp spaghetti from D’amico!” horrifying me entirely. I ended up having a tuna melt, in case you’re wondering.
Anyway, Baby A’s arms and legs were clearly visible, and it’s heartbeat clocked in at 170. It was actually measuring a day ahead, at 8w6d, which pleased me tremendously. A was stretched out, head up, and we got an excellent picture, which I will try to post later. Baby B, as mentioned, was curled upside down in a corner looking delicious cleverly like a comma (with flippers), and only measured 8w3d, though Perky NP thought that might have been because B was so curled and frankly hard to see, being further from the probe. B’s heart rate was 185, possibly because it could sense that its Host Body was mentally comparing it to a foodstuff.
The Science Babies are big enough now that it is difficult to get both in a picture, and it is astounding to see how much they grow in only six days. However, the ultrasound smorgasboard is about to end: my OB doesn’t want to see me for four weeks, and my next scan will be my Nuchal Translucency at the Perinatologist’s office on November 5th, when I will be 12 weeks, 2 days. And by “will” I mean theoretically, you know, if they don’t DIE in the meantime. Not that I would know if they did, what with the lack of goo-smeared probes jostling for position in my nethers. I raised this concern with Dr. Schrodinger (I believe my exact—very delicate—phrasing was “No ultrasounds? But how will I know if they’re dead?) and he started to give me a pretty little speech about things we can and cannot control, and my face must have done something terrible without my consent, because he broke off to laugh and say “I can see this is a concept you are wrestling with.”
Only since birth, my friend.

I asked about dopplers and he said they can usually pick up the heartbeat by 12 weeks, though he has heard it as early as eight or so. He pulled a funny little machine from his pocket (not a euphemism):
“Would you like to try it now?”
I leapt onto the table.
“Is this a “pants on” thing or a “pants off” thing?” I asked demurely.
It is, in case you are wondering, a “pants on” thing.

Alas, it was too early, and all we could hear was my own heart and what sounded like the desolate winds of the English moors. But I am thinking of ordering a doppler for myself next week, when I will be 9 1/2 weeks. Have any of you used them? What was the earliest you found a heartbeat? I suppose it will be difficult to distinguish between Science Babies, am I right?

Last Friday my RE told me I could stop my progesterone, which I ignored entirely. Thursday my OB assured me that if my RE said I could stop, I could really and truly stop, and I almost didn’t do my shot that night, but at the last minute couldn’t bring myself not to. I am nine weeks today, and perhaps I will start weaning myself tonight. My OB did tell me that continuing the progesterone wouldn’t do any harm, so I suppose I will keep up the nightly stabbing, reducing the amount until I run out or feel less panicked at the thought of flying without a net, as it were. So…30 weeks?
I do understand that by now the embryos should have fashioned themselves cushy little placentas, but if they are anything like their mother, they were totally meaning to get around to that particular action item, but haven’t yet, and probably won’t until the last possible moment, and will only do it then because there is nothing good on TV.

My mother is home for a two week visit from Switzerland, and I had dinner with her last night. I was telling her about this latest ultrasound, and how B was curled up and hard to measure.
“That’s the lazy one, maybe,” she said.
“Well, but its heart was faster—185 beats per minute.”
“Lazy and nervous then. Aww! It’s just like its mother!”
Indeed.

By Alexa | Posted in Ceci N'est Pas Une Ecrivaine |