3:22 p.m. - 2005-08-03
I'd been thinking for a week and a half that my doctor visit was this Friday, so it shocked me when the message told me it was today. Alan decided to go with me at the last minute, probably because there was another scheduled ultrasound. His mother also met us up there. She's been dying to come, but wanted to wait until she'd be able to tell what she was seeing. I'm usually able to distinguish what the tech is talking about, but that's because I've had so damn many of them. She kept exclaiming over how much better the equipment is now; she couldn't believe how much you can tell from that black and white picture.
We got a perfect view of the baby's foot right off the bat. She caught an image of that, and it's weirdly comforting to be able to count off five little toes in the picture. Incredible. Her facial features are becoming clearer, too, and I swear that she's going to have Alan's (perfect) nose. We've been assured of the sex five times now, so I'm feeling a little more confident about the way my sister did the room. I've been joking to Alan that our son might end up very in touch with his femininity. I'd really hate to have to change it all.
Baby's approximated weight is 2 pounds and three ounces, so that's right on target too. It's so weird to think about having a two pound little person inside me. I hope the doctor is right about this nerve problem going away in a couple weeks, because otherwise I won't be able to move at all by the time she gets to be six or seven pounds. He recommended against a chiropractor since I'm pregnant, but did say that a belly sling might help lift her up and away from it, so I'm going to try that. It's gotten to the point where sitting down on the toilet hurts terribly, and I have to do that WAY too often to be in pain every time.
My brother broke up with his (crackhead) girlfriend the other day, and he spent Monday and Tuesday night with us. Yesterday, he decided that he simply couldn't live without a pet to keep him company, so we went in search of a dog. We went to the Humane Society first, but all the dogs there were way bigger than what he felt he could handle. I fell in love with nearly every dog there (the mama pit bull who seemed to want to rip us limb from limb? no thanks), but no matter how sorry I felt for the Great Dane mix being cooped up that way, I knew I couldn't bring him home with me.
We scanned the classifieds, and that just served to piss me off. Who the HELL pays $600 or $1,000 for a dog? Those teeninsy little fluff balls certainly don't do anything worthwhile. You can't even play with them. I'd blame it all on P@ris Hilton, but chihahuas have been big since the Taco Bell dog made his ad debut. They're not the worst of it, though. Now people are making up trendy breed names and selling the dogs for a fortune. Cockapoo. Labradoodle. Shizorkie. I've always just called them mutts, but I suppose that's not PC anymore.
Anyway. We finally found a Basset Hound for a reasonable price, so as soon as Alan got off work, we headed to get her. It took all of five minutes for Alan to fall head over heels for a little male, so you can guess where this is going.
We're now the proud owners of the Most Adorable Dog Ever. His name is Rufus. It fits him perfectly. His sister (J.'s new companion) is yet unnamed, but they love each other very much, and are so cute sleeping together that I almost can't stand it.
Pictures to come.