Monday, November 14, 2011

Seventeen Weeks—Again!

Remember how when I went in for my 12-week ultrasound, I found out I was actually 13 weeks pregnant? Remember how it was the best news a pregnant lady could hear (other than “Your baby is a healthy, amazing specimen,” of course)?

I found out at my 17 week doctor’s visit last week that I was actually only 16 weeks. The 12-week ultrasound is apparently notorious for adding an extra five days or so to the wee one’s age, which I sort of knew from browsing the information superhighway but was sort of in denial of.

So: here I am at seventeen weeks and two days. Again.

My "due date" is back to April 21st.

The good news is that apparently for a second pregnancy, one is allowed to be induced at 39 weeks instead of 41-42, so if I'm feeling desperate, there are options. The less good news is that I'm already sick of photographing my less-than-beautiful-feeling self every week—and there are still 23 (or 22) weeks to go. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate being pregnant? I'm lucky and blessed and believe you me, I'm very excited for the little guy (or girl) already kicking me in the ribs—but still, I hate being pregnant.


  1. Sorry to hear about your temporal setback. If it's any consolation, your belly is looking especially cute.

  2. Me too, Wilson, me too. May Mother Nature or a doctor with a shedload of drugs bring us both early release.