I’m doing much better. As long as I take my meds on time I don’t throw up and can even eat fairly normally. I’m still nauseous most of the time, but it’s doable. But I get the feeling that a couple people I work with think I was faking it to get extra days off. This. Makes. Me. Angry. I can’t help that the morning sickness came on fast and furious. And I should think people would be glad that I’m not running off the floor hourly. I’m pretty damn relieved that there’s something to make life livable during these months.

We had the first ultrasound yesterday. First little peek in at what hopefully will be your brother or sister. Already looks different than you did; your shape was unclear and we couldn’t make out any baby parts. This one, we could see arm buds, a clear head and a spine. We will be peeking in on this one regularly–the next US is in a few weeks.

The US wasn’t as terrifying as I thought it would be, mainly because in my phobic state I wrote down the wrong date for the scan, which is totally out of character for me. The office called asking where I was, and I was lucky enough that they could still fit me in if I hurried. So there was no time to even fret about it; I made it to the waiting room and before I was even half a page into the intake paperwork (first visit with this pregnancy) they had me in a room, on a table, and in seconds there was the new baby on the screen. There was a single awful moment of seeing what looked like my empty uterus up there on the screen, but then up bobbed this tiny, squirming, baby-like thing.

One, two, three measurements and they had me unplugged and finishing off the paperwork. And then the Genetic Counselor came in and filled out the rest of the pages for me (all the stuff about my history and you). So it was easy. In, out, with a picture of an amorphous blob (honest, it was much clearer on the screen) labeled BABY and a return appointment card. And a tiny wedge of hope.