Of Fish and Rain
Had the ultrasound appointment today at 11 a.m.. Got in, signed in and there were plenty of folks before me, but then we got in. Ellen said that the amount of blood I'd have to give would only be matched in volume by the number of pee cups, so I got to donate some of the latter today. Whee. Oversharing! Oversharing!
Anyway, the doctor's assistant then laid me out on the couch and stirrups and the ultrasound probe went in the designated areas and then shapes and ghosts of shapes started appearing on the screen. Diviniation by technology, seeing the unseen mysteries.
It's more of a fish than an embryo at just seven weeks. Smaller than my fingertip, it's 7.7 mm long, slender as a tadpole with a lump of a heart, just a quarter of the size larger than it's egg sack and swimming with the dark, clear depths of the embryonic sack. It's tail is stuck to the egg sack, still drawing nutrients. Turns out that it was the right ovary that made the egg that got fertilized. So it looks like the surgery was all for the good. Keenness. With the ultrasound they could tell that the heart was beating at 160 beats per minutes, which seems ultrafast, but the thing is so tiny. We could see the few pixels flipping back and forth, for the motion of its heart, which seems as healthy as they can tell, for now.
So far, everything looks good. Which is pretty good, because this is the time period from which about 95% of the embryos will actually not have an early miscarriage, or so the doctors say. And, at this point, if it does miscarry it's because of severe genetic faults, not anything I could do. So that's reassuring. I seem to have, half unknowingly, gotten through the most uncertain bits. The doctor handed us our 'first baby pictures', a smear of grey against a black egg shape amid other uncertain greyness. It seems a good enough metaphor.
The conception experts have said, now, to find a good obstrician, they've taken us as far as they go. Useful to know when and how the handoff works.
Am dealing with the reality that this pregnancy is taking all my brain time. Leaving a little for work, but little more for anything else, especially since the extra sleep requirements seem to be eating into all my free time. I spent most of the weekend asleep. 10 to 12 hours a night and then another one or two in the afternoon, admittedly after a full morning, Saturday, of errands and shopping and walking around and on Sunday after taking Fezzik for his walk; but it's a lot of time to be asleep instead of doing things. It may also just be that weekend, and I'm just psychologically weirded out enough to try and escape for a while.
We did see Chicken Run and Iron Chef: In New York City. Chicken Run was a blast. I loved it. Very, very Aardman in nature, and really, really nicely made. Funny and sweet and cool and tender and it has the best pie machine I've ever, ever even tried to conceive of in my entire life. It's cool for kids and has enough upper level content for adults to find interesting. There is a little bonus at the end of the credits, but I didn't think the bonus was very good. But that's me.
The special Iron Chef was pretty much what I expected. I've always been mildly disgusted with Bobby Flay, I am now entirely convinced that it's precisely the correct emotion I should feel for him. Bobby's always seemed to have been in it for the fame, not for the cooking. I've always respected Morimoto and he showed an extra layer of depth, energy and... I don't know how else to say it... well... understanding. He really knows what it's about, and it really showed up in the battle. For those that hate spoilers and have it recorded somewhere, it's still up in the air as to wheither a general American audience or completely American tasting panel can tell the difference of that kind of distinction in the food.
Anyway... I loved the little insert they had in the first hour having the very first Japanese Iron Chef and Morimoto in someone's house in the North East, cooking for Door Knock Dinners and just being mildly weirded out by the dishes that the two very Japanese chefs wrangled from the frozen ingrediants in the freezer. I loved that the old Iron Chef was so puzzled that he didn't even find tofu on the refrigerator. That was cool. Talk about clash of the cultures.
The sleep kept all thought and possibility of nausea completely at bay. I'm just not having it, yet. Halfway through the first trimester by most accounts, and it's kinda nice. We'll see if it keeps up, or if my eating habits really are good for me. I seem to have only gained one, maybe two pounds in the first two months. Which is about on track, from all indications. All the food and energy isn't going into the fish, it's all going into the placenta building that's happening. Mass and energy. Blood building as well.
There was rain today. And yesterday as well. Real rain. Pouring, soaking, misting rain that ran deep into the ground and really soaked the ground, the grass, the trees, and the skin. Breathing water scent again was nearly ecstatic after the dry heat of the last few weeks. Deep, grey, solid clouds and sheeting rain that just beat on the windows, the deck, the roof. It was wonderful. Fezzik had a great time just lying out in the wet. I actually danced for a while in the rain, after the first, hard downpour, when it had lightened into a steady drizzle of water. Oh, it was wonderful.
It's raining today, too, just a steady downpour again, in the middle of the day. Of course, everyone had watered, yesterday, just before the first downpour, and, of course, today was the day Bob moved in, finally, from Seattle, so it had to rain on his first day. That was pretty funny. A lot of small factors we've voodoo'ed into this wonderful moisture. It'll be in the 90's and sunny by the weekend, but, for now, I'm enjoying the rain