what NOT to wear to your 16-week baby doctor appointment.

Things I did:
Wore a dress to my 16-week baby-doctor appointment.

Things I should not have done:
Worn a dress to my 16-week baby-doctor appointment.

Y’all know what they do at a 16-week baby-doctor appointment?
Whip out the doppler & check the baby’s heartbeat.

Y’all know how that feat is accomplished?

Via doppler to the exposed stomach.

Yeah.
The stomach that was conveniently located under my dress.

Somehow, it actually felt weirder to lean back on the exam table and flip up my skirt than it normally feels to hop up there in nothing but a paper boob vest.

However, I did use my phone to grab a sound bite of the rave in my ladygarden, which is absolutely my new favorite sound in the world.
My little dude, just raving away.

At four months (!!) and two weeks, we’re officially in the second trimester and ALSO HOLY OMG THIS MEANS IT’S LIKE HALFWAY DONE.

craving:
– tomatoes with sea salt, and/or cottage cheese and pepper
– chocolate fudge Pop-Tarts, all day e’ery day
– Mountain Dew, totally at random, of which I’ll take two drinks & then be like EXCEPT WHY SELF, WHY THIS
– cheese pizza (which is basically the same as when I wasn’t pregnant, because PIZZA FOREVER; it’s just more ferocious of a need now because there’s a second, avocado-sized human ALSO requesting it, and thus it becomes more critical a need)
– movie-theater popcorn

My favorite part of this trimester so far is that I don’t feel like I need to take six naps after doing something incredibly complex, such as existing, or taking the laundry all the way down the stairs & coming all the way back up.
WELCOME BACK ENERGY, HOW YOU BEEN GIRL DID YOU GET YOUR HAIR DID LOOKS GREAT

Also on the sleep-related note, my hips have not been pleased about this trimester thus far, so I ordered a Boppy pregnancy wedge
which, okay, can we just talk for a second about all these doofy, idiotic names they bestow upon things intended for pregnant women? I mean, Boppy? Effing Snoogle?
The first sounds like I’m going to giggle coquettishly while throttling someone with it, and the second is like one of those pet names that deeply bothers anyone who accidentally overhears it.

So yeah, I invited a Boppy into my home and immediately felt suspicious of its motives because right there on the package is this warning that’s all:
Like a fine wine, a Boppy needs to breathe. Please air out before use.

You open up the bag & it’s a total fume-fest in there, like they’d marinated this thing in melted tires and possibly that death dip in Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

LOVELY.
DEFINITELY WANT TO BRING THAT TO BED WITH ME EVEN MORE THAN I DID BEFORE.

I tried to sleep with it propped between my knees for two nights in a row, waking up multiple times during both because (a) I’d somehow torpedo’ed it entirely out of the bed or (b) it had slipped out and Clementine was totally sleeping on it.
I’ve since switched to an old, marginally flat pillow instead, and we are totally BFF. Hips are happy and not waking me up in the middle of the night to be distraught anymore.
Even better, when I told Amazon I was breaking up with the Boppy and wanted to give it back, they fully refunded me & were like, akshully no, no return is required, kthxbai.
So hey, who knows, maybe the wedge and I will want to hang out later on, in a few months, when there’s some belly action going on, and the wedge will impress me by how it NOT torpedoes out of the bed.
There’s also the option of a giant, hand-me-down pregnancy pillow (I REFUSE TO CALL IT A SNOOGLE) that I got from a friend (Kate, you are my hero)—but it’s summer, and ain’t nobody got time for that giant act of pillow when it’s 80 degrees AT NIGHT.

Another new development so far this trimester: Random acts of round ligament pain.
If I stand up too fast, surprise-sneeze (what up allergy season, I’M NOT TAKING ANYTHING WITH THE “D” THANK YOU) or cough, there’s about 10 seconds where the ligaments on both sides of my lower ab area go totally, weirdly taut and hurt a little, then go right back to their regularly scheduled ligamenting.

Also, cough-peeing.
That’s a thing now.

Bump-wise, we’re still in more of a “puff” stage than we are a “that’s definitely a human being in there” bump stage.
IT’S ALL VERY MYSTERIOUS.
I definitely catch myself doing that “doting pregnant mom cradling her belly” move without even realizing it, which is almost hilarious because there’s not even much there to cradle right now.
Like, AWWWW, PIZZA FROM LUNCH, SWEET PIZZA BABY

So here we are, second trimester.

We’ve got a whole bunch of days between now & trimester three to consume cheese pizza; take gratuitous weekend naps; celebrate the arrival of an actual bump; rock some cute maternity dresses; and procure many, many garage-sale baby clothes and fluffy footie pajamas to tuck inside the dresser we’re eventually going to finish, probably, ideally, hopefully.

A hearty, Pop-Tart-laden cheers to life at 18-almost-19 weeks, with this little dude about the size of a dollar bill; an amazing daddy to be who, when he learned that little dude would be able to start hearing in the womb, announced “I GET TO TALK TO HIM“; and a mama who can’t wait to see what these next few months will bring.

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About ashley!

in love, obnoxiously happy, and up to a lot of awesome.
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2 Responses to what NOT to wear to your 16-week baby doctor appointment.

  1. HI. This is fabulous. That is all.

    But seriously… I am sitting here giggling as I remember all of those fun things about pregnancy… so fun that I’m not doing it again. I’ll just enjoy YOURS!

    KEEP ROCKIN’ THAT BABY BUMP, CHICKA!

  2. Kate says:

    I just went down the internet rabbit hole on your blog, which is the ONLY place on the internet worthy of rabbit holes.

hi, cutie! what's on your mind?

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