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••• updated at 2:30pm EST •••

So.

Dear SuperKid,

You are, um, hilarious. After 3 hours of genetic counseling, level 2 ultrasound-ing, doctor consultation, and a regular OB visit we know the following:

• you have a cute button nose like your sister

• you sleep with your buns in the air like your sister

• you have your feet tucked up under you and your arms down to your side… like an Olympic ski jumper

• absolutely nothing more about your possible twisted foot; you refused to give us a good look

I expected nothing less from you, you crazy mover and shaker.  The technician was impressed with your constant movement and evasiveness.     The doctor said you were lovely in all other aspects… all fluids and rates and measurements tested perfectly, so bravo.  You’re in the 50% at 4 pounds, which is the highest anyone in this house has ever scored on one of those tests. 

This also means your mother is carrying 40 pounds of questionable weight, and I’d like to discuss that with you at another time.

For now, we celebrate the good news of apparent normalcy.  We are all getting soooo excited to meet you on March 11th, and I suppose we’ll just wait and see about the foot.  We’re used to that- the whole wait-and-see thing.  We’re ok with it.

We love you so much.

Your mother.

••• original post •••

I am currently sitting in a doctor’s office waiting for a special ultrasound for SuperKid.  My doctor 2 weeks ago (who I hadn’t seen in 2 months due to our schedules being wacky) said, “Hey- about this foot thing… we have fancy doctors here in Grand Rapids.  You wanna go see a specialist and get an update?” 

Um, yes, thank you.  The other docs have been kind, but dismissive.  And me, with my overactive brain, would loooove another look.  So, I’m at Doctor FancyPants.

I’ll be right back.

Please hold.

Please enjoy this photo of Peanut sledding yesterday.  She is a killer sledder.

And, while you’re waiting anxiously for my return, you can go spend some money here to help Haiti.