First of all, my stupid RSS reader isn’t working right (there seems to be an issue with the cache, it’s not updating, keeps saying no new posts when I KNOW there have got to be about a hundred) so I’m unintentionally behind in my reading. I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do to fix the issue, so right now I’m just grouchy about it and ignoring it because I just don’t feel like messing around with a stupid script right now.

Secondly, I am thinking a lot about Becky right now. She is still spotting and it’s effing scary for her because she has had two miscarriages already. I hope hope hope beyond hope that this one sticks. Please stick, for Becky.

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I’ve been quiet lately. I’m not bad. I’m not good either. I guess the middle-of-the-road doesn’t really provide much emotional fodder for journally. I’m just kind of getting through… going to work, paying bills, dealing with crazydogs and crazycats, scrapbooking. Living life, such as it is. Like I said, it’s not bad. It’s just… not what it should be.

Today I had an immigration appointment (biometrics) to go to, and for whatever reason while I was driving down there my mind kept thinking about that ultrasound. THE ultrasound. I have been steadfastly trying not to think about it, but I was having a tug-of-war with my own memories. My mind was all like, How did that go again? When I called Den, what did I say? Like it was bored and, since it couldn’t immediately remember, was idly dragging memories out of the closet to examine and play with. I did not want to play with them. I felt a little ridiculous, arguing with myself in my head, asking myself WHY I needed to think about this right now? I turned up the music. And then I got stuck in a huge traffic backlog that made me late for my Very Important Appointment and I had better things to freak out about. (Everything turned out fine with the appointment, by the way. I was half an hour late, but no one cared. Thank the LIGHT. I should be getting my new green card after the usual extended wait time.)

As I was on my way home I thought to myself that this was two days gone by that I hadn’t seen BabyH. I both congratulated myself from staying away and not crowding, but also in the way of two more days I’ve gotten through, and I’m okay. My emotions surrounding BabyH are so dissonant. I feel like every day is a challenge, every day is a relief that I’ve managed another one, and maybe it gets a little easier every day. I guess it’s kind of exciting to be taking steps towards a day when it won’t be so confusing.

Someone – and I forget who – recently wrote about how the 3-month increments are hard. I never would have thought it would be, I mean what’s special about 3 months as opposed to 2 months, and yet it really was difficult. It just hit hard… and having BabyH born that week obviously didn’t help.

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On a “yay” note, I am now fitting my medium-size underwear…. my normal stuff. At the end of my pregnancy I moved into large, ostensibly to fit with the belly, but I realized later it was actually to cover the expanding ass. I had to stick with the large for 3 months and I (idiotically) assumed that was just the shape of my new after-baby body. No, that was just fat. Duh. Well now I’m getting back down to where I should be, I find the large undies are a bit… baggy. I was rather shocked when I realized that!

Between that, the number on the scale and the way my husband keeps telling me how great I’m looking, well, I can’t help if I’m preening a tiny bit. (Tinytiny.)

I figure I’ll get my pre-preg body back just as I get pregnant again. I can’t think of a better reason to get fat. (Personally I think the slightly roundish face and curves of a pregnant woman are just so beautiful.)