On what may be the penultimate OB visit this time around, I was invited along to be the Grump-handler. I hadn't been to any of these doctor visits at all before now, other than one specific official ultrasound halfway through Val's cooking process. I promised we would sit quietly and not interfere. I even said, "Sit with me. This is not the Valerie and Grandma Show," as I pulled the Grump out of the way. My daughter's doctor was lovely. Seemed to be very trustworthy. I got all excited when I saw the bottle of transducer juice (no idea what to call it), as it specifically had the word "ultrasound" on its label. Alas, no, the US machine never appeared. It was so we could hear the heartbeat, which sounded strong and clear. We are getting so close to meeting this mystery human. It's nearly all I want to talk about. I have to remind myself that the world exists beyond my grandchildren, but boy, is it hard.
Now that number two is almost here, I finally convinced my daughter to let Val swap over to her big girl car seat. I'm glad she agreed. I thought it might be nice for her to make that swap before she also had to get used to a whole new family member at the same time. She was fascinated to watch the road coming at her, where she could see the windshield from the back. She spent two years plus only getting to see where we had been. This gave her a new perspective on travel.
I expect to be holed up in a dark room, under a fan tomorrow, and then if we are lucky, we will get a pass reservation to go up to Rocky Mountain National Park on Sunday. It's going to be too hot to do anything else. I'm about to start my "It's just a few weeks of this" chant to get myself through the heat. It has worked every other year. Why not one more?
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