I'm 14 weeks today. Though it's been a lifetime since I got pregnant, in reality it's moving right along.
I went to the OB last week. He did an ultra sound. I'm spot on for my due date. I need to remember that when I have a later u/s and my dates get moved up. It always happens and I convince myself I'm due earlier and start to get anxious. I'm getting another one on the 31st. Technically I'll be far enough along to find out the sex. The docs machine is old and fuzzy so I'm not counting on it, but am hoping for all I'm worth. I hate the wait. It kills me every time. I'm feeling like it might be a girl. Leave me a comment and let me know what YOU think it is.
As for the title of this post.....if I'm supposed to give my fertility to the Lord, and if this pregnancy could be considered a test of my faith, then I'm afraid it is going to be an epic fail of epic proportions. I. Am. Struggling. My family is paying the price. My poor husband is paying the price in a multitude of ways. If September cant get here fast enough for me, then I wouldn't be surprised to find out he's secretly building a time machine. I won't lie and say he's got the patience of Job, but he's ranking somewhere in the vicinity. Seven is a nice round even number, right? Just lie to me. It will be OK if you do. I PROMISE. And I can do that. Cause it's my blog and all.