MILESTONE DAYS.

Today marks the beginning of the 13th week.  In many books, this is the beginning of the second trimester.  Any way that you look at it, it is accomplishment.

Let me be myself for a moment and remind the world that all of this shitty positivity doesn't even out the mixed emotions.  I am now further than half-way through my pregnancy with Mira.  I am scared to death that the next 10 weeks will surge by and leave me without this baby, too.  I try to revel in each day of this pregnancy, but it is getting more and more scary.

It is likely you will never understand.  "Trying to relax" isn't really a thing.  If I murder your entire family in a freak machete accident, it's like asking you to relax the next time someone is swinging one around and threatening your life.  It's not possible.  Trust me.  If you tell me to relax, even in several different word combos, it's not going to happen.  Let it go.  I know it's just your fear, too.  I am, after all, the better person, here.  (insert evil grin here)

But, this is supposed to be celebration. . . so I will change the tune and tempo again and give you some of the game plan:

*  I have another ultrasound on May 29th.  It is to ensure that everyone is happy and healthy and that I am a good candidate for cervical cerclage surgery.  (Say that shit five times fast.)  Really, we just want to make sure that my cervix isn't already funneling (doubtful) and that my bag of water isn't so low that I could risk a puncture.
*  Pending a good ultrasound, I will have the surgery on Friday May 31st.  Because we are trying to keep the pregnancy quiet, we are not telling our parents for another couple months.  Therefore, we are not telling them that I am having surgery.  It is better this way.  My Mum and the Hub's Parents make me crazy in emergent situations.  I want to quietly get through surgery and come home to rest.  Trust me.  It's better this way.  I'll still call and tell my Mum I love her before I march off to battle.  Relax.  Right?  Yeah. . still not a thing.
*  Two weeks after my surgery, if successful, I will start Progesterone (P17) shots.  I hear they suck and have to be administered in the booty (which I have plenty of).  My OB is arranging for a home visit nurse to come once a week and touch my butt.  (Or, inject me with the goods.)  This will give my body further evidence that it shouldn't be going in to labor anytime soon.

This seems like a lot. . . so, this upcoming three-day weekend, I'm going to live it up.  I might even go back to Five Guys Burgers and Fries (my favorite love-hate burger joint) and have another custom baby cheeseburger.  The Gypsy Caravan, which supports the St Louis Symphony, will be happening on Memorial Day.  I'm not sure I'll make it, but I might send my Hub to pick up a Funnel Cake.  (Seriously.  I've been craving one and other than Six Flags and other random carnivals, I can't think of a single place to get one with certainty!)

So, there we have it all.  The current state of affairs and the plan.