I'm 4 weeks and 6 days pregnant. Approximately. Give or take, ya know. Which means that I'm officially scheduled for not this Tuesday, but the next one.
There were people praying with pictures of babies outside of the Planned Parenthood. I was almost hoping they'd say something so I could use a snazzy reply like, I bet you wish YOU were getting laid, or I'm saving MY life, or be all classy about it and just flash the peace sign. But they just kept on praying for my unborn's soul and the nice girls outside held the door for me.
Inside was waiting and more waiting and finally the ultrasound. Fact: Fetuses have growth spurts. It's really hard to tell how old it is, because some weeks it grows a lot and others not at all. Mine's itsy-bitsy. Just a tiny dark spot on the ultrasounds and in my uterus. A mere speck.
Next Tuesday better come quickly, because I kicked the elevator door at Whole Foods with venom because it closed on me.