Candy's Column
OMIGOD THAT BABY IS ACTUALLY IN MY BELLY?!?!
I was born back in the olden days, before they gave regular ultrasounds to pregnant ladies and had fancy inventions like running water, so I know this 3D ultrasound of Baby Girl is going to blow my parents’ mind:
22-week ultrasound taken this morning
Sure blew my mind. Not that it takes much these days. Pregnancy Brain has left me with as many functional brain cells as Amy Winehouse after an all-night bender.
Once I got over the shock of “OMIGOD, THAT BABY IS ACTUALLY IN MY BELLY?!?!,” I had to laugh. No, not because I had just passed Pregnancy Gas — although, sadly for anyone within a five-foot radius, that is always a distinct possibility these days — but because I realized my healthy ice cream sandwich-based diet must not be satisfying Baby Girl’s hunger. I mean, she really seems to be chowing down on that Filet du Index Finger.
Then again, she needs alternative food sources to fuel her energy, which seems to be in overdrive: not only was she kicking and moving nonstop, but Sassy McSassPants also made sure to let us know she did NOT appreciate the intrusion of the ultrasound instrument, punching in its direction every chance she got. Mr. Candy and I had different interpretations of what this means.
“Yay! She’s going to have a saucy attitude,” I beamed.
“Yay! She’s going to punch all the boys who hit on her,” my husband said with a sigh of relief.
Not the last time we’ll have a difference of opinion when it comes to Baby Girl, I’m sure. But we still agree on on thing:
“OMIGOD, THAT BABY IS ACTUALLY IN MY BELLY?!?!”
