Ultrasound

Had a twelve-week ultrasound today. The point of the ultrasound was to measure the nuchal translucence or some other similar-sounding mumbo jumbo. I just wanted to see if there was really a baby in there and if it had all its arms and legs and other assorted extremeties. There was indeed a baby in there, just one thank you god, and it was kicking and waving its arms around and opening and closing its mouth. The ultrasound lady and the midwife both said everything looked wonderful and was right on track datewise. Heartrate ranged from 157 to 167 when the baby was more active. Everyone who saw the picture said the baby was very cute, the big liars. Ultrasounds are vaguely creepy and never cute. Anyhow, it was all in all a nice, reassuring appointment.

Fiona, in other news, has fully reclaimed the throne for whiniest child alive. I don't know what to do with her sometimes. She can't just ask for something, she starts screaming and crying and whining instead. I feel like giving her a good shake and then feel like a terrible mother for feeling like that. Sigh. Please tell me this stage passes quickly, because she's driving me nuts.