Ten weeks and one day.
Until now I never could have understood what Cousin meant when she told me that time seemed to move backward while she was pregnant. It is like in Ferris Bueller's Day Off when he is watching the clock and waiting for school to get out and the clock actually ticks backwards. . .
We are completely micromanaging this thing. Yesterday, the fools that we are, we headed toward Lake Harriet for a mid-afternoon's picnic. It was a balmy 50 degrees (weather is relative up here in the arctic circle) and we quickly discovered why the park was not overrun by fellow picnikers. It was freezing. The only people outside were MOVING: running, biking, roller-blading, even sailing. . . But they were at least moving.
Anyway, in the middle of our quick lunch, BioMom said she wasn't experiencing any symptoms.
I know this sounds crazy, but we freak out over these little reprieves.
Of course, it was because she was getting some fresh air. And eating. Eating chocolate. But that was besides the point.
I was talking with Cousin about this. Her experience with morning sickness and the worry over miscarriage and she said that she rarely, if ever, worried about it. She never expected to have a miscarriage.
What's sad is that when I told BioMom this, she said, she never expects NOT to have one.
I know we're crazy. And lucky. And delirious. But I just can't wait until 12.6.