the due date.

It's Sunday evening. Todd is reading some Tolkien (yes I did just look up to glance at the cover to see if it was ei or ie.... it's ie). And Peter is in the back room car zoning on our bed (aka totally zoned out and driving his matchbox cars up and down the sheets into a variety of nonsensical formations). I am sitting on the couch wondering what to do with myself. My calling has made Sundays a bit crazy this last month but things are finally slowing down and coming to a nice steady cruise. So like... I have free time. Sweet!

I figured, hey... Sundays are a good blogging day (a form of family history, you know) so I pulled up my drafts and seriously I have nothing that I'm working on... well nothing that isn't from months and months ago that are now irrelevant.

Side note: Todd is no longer reading TolkIEn. He is most definitely asleep. It's 6:50pm. He never does last long reading "The History of Middle Earth: Volume I" on a Sunday. ;)

Isn't he such a cutie? All tuckered out from working hard all week...
 I should go make him some cookies or sommit to wake up to.

Anyhow, this post isn't about how I have nothing to write or about Todd's reading habits on Sunday afternoons... 'cause I actually do have a story that I want to document. It was funny in a frustrating way at the time so hopefully it brings some sort of entertainment to your evening.

So... babies. We're having another one, right? Right. And like I shared in this post, it was kinda sorta hard for us to get pregnant this time around. It happens. It's not very fun, but it happens. We had a few extra worries about this pregnancy and we were so antsy to just get out of the first trimester. We were obviously a little nervous when my doctor told me the baby was too small at 9 weeks... 

It all started when we got pregnant, as you have probably gathered. The first half of Peter's pregnancy was in Provo so we figured we'd just go to the same doctor as we did back in 2012. I called up the doctor's office and they scheduled me for a 9-week appointment. My first concern. Well not really a concern... just a "huh..." 'cause they didn't even want to see us until week 12 with Peter. I went in regardless, left some bodily fluids, filled out paperwork, and met with the doctor. After some brief reintroductions he said, "Well let's do an ultra sound then!" Another concern. We had one single ultrasound at 20 weeks with Peter. Why all of the sudden are we having a seemingly pointless one at 9 weeks?? But really who can resist seeing their little baby? So Peter and I rolled into the ultrasound room, the doctor got the machine all booted up, clarified that he wasn't an ultrasound tech and only knew how to find heart beats/count babies (concern #3), and took a peak at the little tiny grape sized baby in my belly. Emphasis on "grape sized."

What a MAJOR relief to see and hear Mr. #2's minuscule heart beating away! My relief didn't last long though... after looking around a bit the doctor asked if I was sure I was 9 weeks along. I told him that yes, this is most definitely a 9-week grape baby... I had been tracking things for an entire year. I was 100% positive I was 9 weeks pregnant. The doctor broke the news to me that our baby was a little too small and that I needed a legit an expensive ultrasound to confirm the age of the baby. 

My first thought was, "So you're telling me that it's a small grape baby? I mean... grapes are small."  

I don't know if early ultrasounds are something they have all people do these days... like as a "just in case" thing... but I was concerned given the circumstances of the previous year of failed attempts at getting pregnant. He probably should have clarified a bit more... just to either ease or peak my concern. Either way, the next morning we went to the outpatient center at Utah Valley to get an ultrasound to find out how big this grape baby actually was. 

The technician checked all sorts of things. My kidneys and liver looked nice. I had (have) two ovaries. And the baby was measuring great... a day big even. 

That's right. 

He was a big grape after all. We were once again relieved and so grateful to really have a healthy 9 week and 1 day baby doing just fine in my tummy.

So we're due on May 17th! Not the 18th. And he's no longer a big grape... he's an "average rutabaga." We're delighted. (:

We're not so delighted about all of the bills that we got from that incident... but hey, we can't always enjoy GHC insurance now can we?

Our baby is healthy. And in the end that's all that really really matters. And if he wants to he can pay us back eventually. Haha jk... well not really... we'll eventually want payment in grandchildren. (: