Size Matters

As previously notated, I felt my bump last week. And that cute little bump is still there. Shocking, I know. But here's the thing: I think Squishy has company. As in Squishy might be plural. Ok, wait, before you start rolling your eyes, let me explain. If I were under the care of an Obstetrician I would have likely had an ultrasound by now and would be able to hear the rhythmic galloping of a heartbeat in the next week. Multiples would have most likely been discovered by now. For those who don't know, beginning usually between 14-20 weeks, the provider will begin measuring the fundus or the uterus. They do this by taking a nice, flexy tape measure, placing the end of it on your pubic bone and then stretching the tape up over your belly to the top of your uterus. The number of centimeters you measure is proportionate to how many weeks pregnant you are. This means that at 25 weeks you should be measuring 25 centimeters. This is accurate to within 2 centimeters either way. Well, I thought that my bump seemed rather large so just for funsies I decided to dig out my handy tape measure (I normally use it for sewing but, hey, a centimeter is a centimeter). First I emptied my bladder to assure an accurate measurement. Then I dropped my britches, layed flat on my back on the bed and unrolled my tape measure. Imagine my surprise when I brought the tape up to my eyes where my fingers were holding the place of the measurement and saw....

(drumroll please)...

15!

WHOA NELLIE! It should say 10.

So I called and made an appointment with some random OB/GYN that was spit out at me by the website owned by my insurance company. I'll be going in on the morning of March 9th for a head count to see if Squishy does in fact have a roommate or if my uterus is just abnormally large.

If Squishy is all alone then we continue on as planned, providing we don't discover any other threatening anomalies. However, if Squishy turns out to have cloned him or herself then all of my plans for an unassisted homebirth go right out the window and I begin the tedious hunt for someone who is spineless enough for me to push them around to get what I want, MWAHAHAHA! No, seriously, I want to find a doctor or midwife who is willing to put up with me and my very highly specific demands. I know more about natural birth than the average bear and fear that I won't be able to exercise self restraint when the urge to slap the lips right off of some patronizingly arrogant doctor overwhelms me (anyone who has been pregnant before knows the kind of unbridled rage I'm talking about here). Thus the need to find someone who won't fight with me.

If there's one Squishy in there then he or she is now the size of a kumquat (just over an inch long). If there are two Squishies (Squishes? Squishi? Squish? Squeeshe? whatever the plural is) then there are two kumquats in there. I think I should mention that the kumquat comparison is just the baby, not the furnishings required by the wee tyke. Each little kumquat is enveloped inside of a water balloon complete with a full functioning kitchen, or placenta. That's quite a bit of occupied space when you double it up. I'm 10 weeks now which means I'm 1/4 of the way through my pregnancy already. Also, if there are a couple of little citrusy sweeties in there then I can feel justified that my belly pooches out a bit further than I really like. HA, it's not just gas!