It's odd. I would think that, since it's been 10 weeks since conception, that I would be considered 10 weeks pregnant.

Nope.

Apparently they measure 40 weeks from LMP (Last Menstrual Period), so I'm considered 13 weeks pregnant.

Huh?

Not that it would make that much difference, except that, since I'm going to be 35 as of delivery date and I have a family history of diabetes, I'm going to be undergoing amniocentesis for genetic testing. The thing is, if it's done at 14 weeks, things should be hunky dory. If it's done at 12 weeks, there's a 30% chance of miscarriage due to too great a percentage of amniotic fluid being removed.

That would be bad.

One thing in our favor is that termination is not an option, regardless of test results, for emotional, not religious reasons. Therefore, waiting those few extra weeks to Make Sure shouldn't be a problem. I've got an appointment this afternoon, and I'll double-check with the doctor if there are any concerns about testing too late in the pregnancy, but I don't think it'll be a problem.

We're supposed to have my first ultrasound this Friday. Originally, we were supposed to have it on November 1, but the evacuation thing made it kind of difficult. I'm really excited about it. I'm pretty sure it's still too early to determine gender via ultrasound. We'd use the amnio for that -- if, that is, we agree to find out gender beforehand. I'd really like to know, but Shawn's iffy on it. I've told him that, if he honestly believes that knowing ahead of time would significantly lessen the experience of his first child being born, I'll go without knowing, but he has until the amnio next month to give me a definite yea or nay. Me, I want to go shopping and decorate!

My body is definitely changing. Like a lot of women, my weight has fluctuated over my lifetime. Although I've pretty much stabilized over the past decade, I still have pants that ranged from "cute and skinny" to "the bigger ones" that often required belts. I'm astonished at how quickly I've outgrown even The Bigger Ones. I gave up tucking in my shirts about a month ago, but my sartorial options are becoming slim. Back to the thrift store, I guess.

I've put on about 5 pounds so far, which is considered healthy and on track. The odd thing is that, contrary to my usual pattern (and despite the way my pants aren't fitting), I'm not getting more flab on my hips. I'm losing my waist (also contrary to pattern, since I'm usually an hourglass), and there's a definite little bump about the diameter of a baseball in my tummy. It's really odd to realize that, in essence, my body is creating addition organs. This placenta thing is kind of like growing an additional pancreas or something. Trippy.

I'm not nearly as nauseous anymore -- yay! Still tired, and occasionally ravenous, but doing okay. Emotionally, I find I'm a lot less tolerant of BS, and the filter between what I think and what I say has become increasingly porous. Oh, well. It's kind of nice for an instinctive diplomat like myself to be able to be blunt.

Shawn picked up and has been reading The Expectant Father. I was reading over his shoulder the List Of 50 Nice Things To Do For Your Pregnant Wife. My favorite was, "Say 'no' when she asks if she's crazy." He's been (fortunately) delighted with my quirks and foibles, taking pride in finding a 24-hour donut place in Big Bear when I had a late-night craving, and thinking I'm adorable for being desperate for Taco Bell (not my usual eatery of choice.) He's a good partner, and occasional bouts of deer-in-the-headlights notwithstanding, he's just as thrilled about this as I am.

But, in the Real World, I have to go move the laundry into the dryer. Such is life: a mixture of the miraculous and mundane.

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QotD

A baby changes your dinner party conversation from politics to poops.
-- Maurice Johnstone