Ok, so just to be clear. My kid looks like this:
or this:
and sometimes like this:
But he NEVER, EVER looks like this:
EVER
How did they make him look like that? How did they get him to smile at the them. And WHO DID HIS HAIR?! What happened to my child? The folded hands. Are you kidding me? There's another one that I didn't buy, where he has his hands on his folded knees, arms outstretched. Like he should be wearing a cordouroy jacket with elbow patches, and loafers. It's his book jacket portrait. I only bought these because I was in shock at what they had done with my child, I knew the grandparents would love it, and I don't know I was a little distracted because I have been looking at this picture for weeks:
for now we're calling him tiny.
That's right, I said him. We're having another boy! Did you like how I buried the lead? We're due in May, and the last few months have been a crazy roller coaster. We found out we were pregnant just before we left for the NYTVF. Which made for some wine avoiding moments EVERY NIGHT. I actually felt pretty good until the last 2 days of our trip. Which was when the morning (all day) sickness kicked in full force. Brutal.
We came home, I spent a few weeks on the couch like an amoeba barely moving except to get myself another orangina slushie or to complain about how bad I felt. Oh and then I flew to Pittsburgh to shoot a job. Which was, and I don't want to be dramatic here but 62 of the worst hours of my life. Those of you who've been through a first trimester, know how important it is to be able to eat when you are hungry. And to preferably eat what you are craving THAT MOMENT. So when you fly to Pittsburgh, and you leave your house at 8 am, but get in there late because of the time change, and you eat meh room service, and can't fall asleep because your body knows it's only 10pm back home, but you have a 5:45am calltime, which is before the hotel has breakfast. And then you get to set, and there is NO BREAKFAST. Now maybe this sounds like some kind of crazy rant from a loony actress, like "THEY DIDN'T HAVE PINK M&MS IN MY DRESSING ROOM!" But it's not. Breakfast is a requirement. It's like a law. A SAG law. So I'm feeling pretty tired. I'm STARVING, and it's 37 degrees outside. I shoot all day, do some ADR that night, and YAY my car comes to pick me up 5:45 the next morning. BLURGH.
Ok, so I make it through that. I dodge a little work because I'm ill. I dodge a few friends, because I'm sure if they see me, and my GIANT BOOBS, they'll know I'm pregnant. And I don't want to tell anyone this time because of last time. No jinxes. Then last week, Nipper Knapp and I went to our first trimester screening. This is the appointment we found out we had lost our baby last year, so we were a little nervous. Just holding out breath. We got into the room, and the technician started the sonogram before the doctor came in. We saw the heartbeat, and we both cried a little, a huge sigh of relief. But then she started measuring the nuchal fold. It's the little bit of space at the back of the brain stem. Too big and there's a problem. She measures and measures. I start to get a sinking feeling. The Dr. comes in. He measures and measures. FUCK. And then he says it. It's not good. The measurement is high, and after they put it in the computer and did their little algorithm we were headed for a CVS. The drug store? No. I don't know what CVS stands for because I'm too lazy to create a new tab, and look it up on google, but basically it's like a super early amniocentesis.
We went home. We were stunned. Frozen. Holding our breath again. FUCK. A week of waiting. Why can't cells grow faster in petrie dishes. I got through the week by watching Christmas movies, snuggling with Jack, and sleeping. A lot. Today was the day we were supposed to find out if Tiny was aokay or if there was some kind of problem.
Last night I had the strangest dreams. I dreamt something very weird about Justin Timberlake and Mr. Schue from Glee (shiver). But I also dreamt the genetic counselor called to say she had good news. I had that dream about 14 times last night. I kept waking up realizing it was still the middle of the night. When I finally got up, I was close to tears all morning. I cried a little watching Jack watch Curious George. I cried as soon as I saw Brett when we dropped of the kids at school. I cried as soon as I saw Nipper Knapp when I got back here this morning. And finally at 2 pm, I was sitting on the couch, trying to embroider a mermaid on Anoushka's quilt, and I gave up trying to distract myself. I set down my sewing and put my head back on the couch. The phone rang. "I'm calling to give you guys some good news". I cried. A lot. Because they count the chromosomes, we got to find out early what we're having. She asked if I wanted to guess. I was like, "no, no thanks, I've had quite enough guessing lately, just lay it on me." Then I called Nipper and we both cried... A house full of boys! Hoorah!
So there it is peeps. After a little bit of trying, and a whole lot of heartache, we are fixin to have another bambino. Now... More importantly do you guys think I should make the big leap and do colored lights on my tree this year? I always do white ones. Discuss.
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