Pretty, Pretty Pictures and Sleepless Nights

We went for a second-trimester ultrasound a couple of weeks ago. It was good to see Flippy again and to know that things were progressing just fine … well, I should know that by the way I’m growing these days, but still, it’s good to see it. Philip asked the lady if the gender was still what we think it is and she said with a smile, “based on my experience, those things don’t usually change, but I will see.” Then she confirmed (still not telling). She gave us a very thorough tour of Flippy-the brain, the spine, feet, hands, legs, and the face. We saw the face. She made a close up of the face so we can see. It was clearly a human face (sounds really stupid but I’m still amazed how this whole thing happens, inside of me). Sweet eyes, cute nose, and lips. We were in awe. It is a baby! Then it happened. The lady pressed the ultrasound device a little too hard into me and the face became transparent. In an instant, the cute angelic face turned into Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” We could suddenly see the eye sockets, the space behind the nose, and other details that would make anyone look horrifying. Philip and I both had a pause in our “Awwwww.” Then she pulled back a bit and it became an angel again. She went back and forth trying to get a good look and it was starting to look like one of those stickers that change when you change the way you hold it. We were going from googly sounds to screams internally and it was exhausting. So is it cute or not?!? I now have no idea. She printed us a picture of the face, but it was somewhere between sweet and scary so we will leave it off the blog. But here's a handsome profile:

"Hey, good lookin'!"

And a delightfully normal-looking foot!

All fingers and toes accounted for.

Speaking of pictures, I got a gig. A co-worker of mine forwarded me a casting call that was looking for a 7 to 8 months pregnant model. Up until about 8 or so years ago, I used to do what we call in the world of actors, “a print gig.” It’s not as swanky as fashion modeling, but it’s used for bank brochures, corporate catalogs, and various other advertisements where the client needs to use models that look like real people. In short, not too pretty or perfect, but photogenic and/or could act a role in a photo. It’s often good money. Anyway, I thought it might be fun to do this while I was pregnant so I sent my stuff in and they decided to use me. This is a stock photography company in town so the pictures could be used in variety of print materials. One friend said, “you’re not going to be on an ad for ‘Are you suffering from herpes while pregnant?’” Well, you never know, but based on the kind of photos they took, I don’t think so. I had one shoot in a studio, and I have another one in a hospital. It was fun. I looked at the photos and didn’t really recognize myself in the body, but at the same time, it was fun to see it. Yup, I’m pregnant all right. Some of the shots were just my stomach, so I’m the only one (and Philip) who will know that it’s me when it gets used, but still, they gave me the photos, so we have that to keep. This was unexpected. A little treat. And a little cash to put towards college fund or my next massage. Here are just a couple of them:

"Hey, other good lookin'!"

Philip and I have not been sleeping too well. It’s part jet lag left over, but also we realized that we are reading the birthing book before bed and it’s causing us some stress and odd dreams. So we try to "study" a little earlier in the evening. Flippy is also moving a lot, which is good, so when it’s going crazy or not crazy enough, I stay awake. Philip said that he couldn’t wait for it to be out so that he can move onto other kinds of worries. I agree. Things that we worry about are so random. It’s anything from birth, to money, to SIDS, to discipline (I’ve learned in my grad school and years of teaching that the first three years are practically all we have to get it right), to enrolling the kid in school, to how to live with a teenager. Every time I go to do something, I think about how I have to break it down to teach that task. Then I am convinced that I have no business having a child. Then I look down and panic that it’s coming. Then I tell myself that I really wanted this and remind myself that we worked so very hard for it. It’s crazy that I have to remind myself of that. So, no sleep. Well, we might as well get used to that I suppose…