So, I'm getting married in 6 days.
When you're getting married in 6 days, you're usually worried about the weather, or if your Wiccan mother-in-law is somehow going to say something to offend your Jehovah's Witness mommy, or your fiance is going to say something that makes Daddy pull out his nonexistent shotgun, or you're going to drop something gross and stain-y all over your wedding dress.
I'm worried about my first ultrasound.
And the worst part is? It's really, really silly. It's like this scenario that plays over, and over, and over in my head, and it's so me. I can imagine the ultrasound tech's eyebrows furrowing with confusion, the cold gel all over my tummy (or worse, in my vajayjay! Oh, God, the amount of people who are going to see down there in the next 8 months...), the doctor rushing in to verify the ultrasound tech's obvious mistake, only to find out that it's not the tech that's the retarded one in the room, and finally, the why-are-you-so-stupid-and-wasting-my-time look before Nifty Spiffy Doctor in a White Coat drawls (in a Southern accent, because obviously that's how it should be), "Ma'am, there's no baby in there." (Alternately: "I think that's an alien and I'm sending you to Area 51." Only, THAT bad dream is actually kind of cool, because then I could totally tell everyone everything about Area 51 and I'd be famous forever and my baby would be oodles and oodles of steps closer to becoming Evil Supreme Ruler and taking over the universe. But you all probably didn't want to know that.)
But seriously, brain/body/uterus/feet: Like the 5 pregnancy tests aren't enough. Like the blood test isn't enough. Like the phone call from the doctor's office didn't happen. And not to mention, like the damn symptoms aren't enough.
Baby, you better exist. My boobs are sore, my bowels are dysfunctional, my mood swings are epic, and I told my mommy and daddy that I wasn't their innocent girl anymore just so you can come into this world.
P.S. When you come out of there, bring all my extra weight with you. I'd like to drop 50 pounds by the time you're born. Maybe 80 with all the weight I'll gain with you inside me. Kay? Thanks. Love, Mom.