Sheets & Blankets

No news is a horribly tense, stress-filled week

So, yeah. I still could be carrying a flipper baby. Ok, ok, that's not totally true, there's a chance it's not a flipper baby. At this point I have convinced myself that either this is a flipper baby and I should start building a giant tank and selling tickets, but Sarah, you know how that turned out. Or my baby could be totally fine and I should start getting ready for it to totally take over the America's Little Princess pageant circut. I know Gabe and Joana have some dresses I can borrow.

Anyway, I'm done worrying about this...for tonight. Right now I'm going to enjoy the surprise fancy dinner my dude sprung on me and I may very well watch Princess Diaries 2.

Grand Mal

My baby doctor called and told me that something funky showed up on one of my blood tests, meaning that my baby could be born with a pointed head or flippers or something equally horrifying. Doctor told me that the majority of these tests are false positives and the chances of birthing a flipper baby are very rare.

I keep repeating that over and over because, truth be told, I'm one step away from a superfantastic freak out and I can't have that. I have to help my dude and feed my kitties and, come Monday, get up and go to work and read to my storytime kids.

I'll know more next week. In the meantime I'll be doing all I can to keep my shit together. Please pardon me for not going into more detail, but I just can't talk about it anymore. All I can say is "False positive" over and over and over again.