early signs of a trouble maker

[Written on December 9, 2008 - the last of the archived info...] It’s been four weeks since our last doctor visit where we saw the heart beat, and while we’ve gone about telling a few more people and doing more planning of paint colors and possible closet organizers, there has still been the little voice for both of us saying don’t commit – things can still happen during the first trimester.

Rhiannon hasn’t had anything that makes us think anything is wrong.  In fact, she has probably had some of her worst days so far in just the past week.  We got some roasted pepper and tomato soup for me after my wisdom teeth came out – she took one sip and immediately knew that there was no way she was going to eat it.  We still haven’t had chicken since the one evening when it didn’t agree with her taste buds.  She’s been waking up to use the bathroom in the middle of night.

Still, four weeks has seemed like a long time since we saw the flickering black and white on the ultrasound monitor.

Yesterday, we had the monthly checkup.  We were put in a new room to wait – one that had a Doppler and a bottle of gel.  After the assistant took Rhiannon’s blood pressure, the doctor came in and proceeded to ask the standard "How are you feeling" and "It's cold outside, huh" questions.  We just wanted more heart beat.

She had Rhiannon pull up her shirt, applied some gel, and fired up the Doppler.

Doppler - not just for detecting weather.  And apparently not for finding small hearbeats inside other living bodies either.  At least not right away.  She moved up, she moved down, she moved side to side.

And we heard static.  There wasn't even anything that could be mistaken for a heartbeat.  When the doctor had to apply more gel to keep looking, I have to admit I was a little concerned.  Everything has gone so well, I've had the feeling that the other shoe had to drop eventually.

And finally, through the static, (live from way down in Rhiannon's pelvis) came a static wooshing sound at about 168 beats per minute.  Yep, our kid-to-be at about minus-29 weeks of age has already been called a little stinker.

What have we got ourselves into indeed.