The twelfth week meant another Ultrasound, and another Ultrasound meant another prenatal exam. Between the first exam (6th Week) and the second exam, doctor’s orders were to not discuss the pregnancy with anyone. Now, that put a real harsh on the buzz, if you catch my driff.
This time period is defined by copious amounts of mind-boggling extremes that test everything you ever thought you knew about just-about-anything. And you’re put in solitary confinement by the man in the white coat. It’s been a real roller coaster of wanting to tell everybody on earth that the earth is about to receive the next big thing, and then the next minute alls you wanna do is go punch-crazy and break some glass while listening to Pantera and chewing on nails.
When people approach you and you successfully guard the information from them, you just feel like a big liar. Man, doctors are jerks. It’s not as if I’m asking for the world, you know? I just want to tell anybody who’ll listen that the pickle’s neck is getting longer and straighter and little hairs are sprouting on the head. But no! We’re sworn to secrecy, Dr.’s orders.
And then, right when you’re fed up with the whole charade, they pull out that old, dusty Ultrasound machine and show you your baby’s heartbeat, telling you everything is looking good. And the doctor lives another day!
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