Tweet I sent V a text letting him know we had another doctor's appointment this afternoon. It's a fun one because they'll do an ultrasound. I've been nervous because with my other pregnancies I underwent a plethora of ultrasounds, to the point I'd just hop on the table, lube up, and expertly swirl the magic wand around myself. This doctor is a minimalist: we had the initial "yep, it's a blob!" and the 20-week "So, do you want to find out the sex?" ultrasounds, but then absolutely nothing for the next four months. Now I'm nervous. What if something is wrong and they should have told us three months ago?
V, of course, oozes optimism. On more than one occasion I've accused him of living in a Fairy Land where nothing ever goes wrong, nobody ever gets hurt, and nothing bad ever happens to anyone. So, when I sent him the confirmation text I shouldn't have been surprised when I received:
Sweet! I can see our baby and his or her heart and head and arms and feet....
To which I appropriately replied:
If it still has all those parts....
Not to be affected by my negative attitude he responded with:
Well, let's hope he's not a cannibal and eating his own body parts. That would be creepy.