I managed to score my first OB appointment for 10w1d, and they plan to do an ultrasound. Rock the fuck on! I will request another at 12 weeks, so that will get me through the first trimester without more than 2 weeks between sneak peeks. Go industrious me!
I told a close friend about my newly delicate condition* and she immediately overnighted me some pregnancy books. Whoa. I did NOT know this required homework. I started reading the ACOG book, skipping past the "getting your body ready for pregnancy" chapter (that was a year-and-a-half process, check) and the "fertility" related chapter (fuck you, ACOG -- I'd like to introduce you to ASRM). I cruised through until I got to the birthing chapter and have only been skimming there. I don't want to spoil the surprise! No, really, I just got stopped in my tracks by an artist's rendition of an OB performing an episiotomy with a pair of scissors slicing through a perineum like it's a scrapbooking party. Heebie-jeebies. Birthing is scary. I don't have the faintest idea what my birth plan will be at this point, only some vague notion that it will be "natural." I am considering hiring a doula, but I haven't talked it over with KB yet and I want to know how he feels about it. I know he wants to be involved, but he's a bit squeamish and hates seeing me uncomfortable, so having someone else to coach and take the heat off of KB might be welcome. But that's getting ahead of ourselves. I'm trying really hard not to do that. This is a marathon, not a sprint.
* I am most decidedly not delicate. Showering every day has become both a chore and sometimes optional. Too much work. I think I bother blowdrying my hair about once per week. I go to the Starbucks drive-through for a smoothie and breakfast sandwich in my pajamas underneath a coat. I have created a spectacular ass-shaped imprint on the couch where I veg for hours each day, waiting for nausea to pass so I can work or eat. It's a glamorous life.