She's. Utterly. Appropriate.
The results are in and she's fine. I feel like screaming "I'm going to have a baby!!"
Huge sigh of relief. We called everyone we could that were in appropriate time-zones and then I collapsed in complete exhaustion, the released pent-up fear of the last week (months?) leaving me like a punctured blow-up doll.
It was so disconcerting to feel the squirms and kicks of this daughter-to-be whilst not knowing her fate. Almost as if I couldn't allow myself to continue bonding.
It's amazing how quickly that feeling of euphoria at the results was followed by a sudden willingness to accept the cold, hard facts of the situation. Well of course everything was fine, the doctor said as much, and my bloodwork was excellent. Why the anxiety? The fact that I may still have a small baby (ha!) or an early baby (please not Christmas) or that she may have kidney problems seem so trivial, so, fixable that I am on cloud nine.
I'm having a chuffing baby!