On Thursday we met with my surgeon for the last time before the day of the surgery. I am terrible at asking questions. I always forget them during the visit and remember them after I have left the office. So, for the past couple of weeks I had made little notes on my phone with the "notes" app. My phone goes with me everywhere, so every time I would think of a question I would just whip my phone out and type it up and save it. I had about four questions. Yes, for the past few weeks that I had known of this appointment and this being one heck of a serious surgery I had thought of four whole questions. And they were all answered in a whopping five minutes. I thought they were pretty good, too. Thought they sounded pretty knowledgeable. Like:
It's 21 days from my due date. I should be so excited, but I'm not. I should be completely worn out, but I'm not. I should be putting the final touches on Darcy's nursery, but...I'm not. Four months ago, I was a happy little pregnant woman. My husband and I were so excited to be blessed with pregnancy. Everything was great for us. I'll start from the very beginning. It was in August when we first found out. We were making spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. We had just ran to the store to pick up some things we needed to make dinner and I thought "Maybe I should pick up a pregnancy test?". I had been feeling a little unlike myself, so I thought "what the heck" I grabbed one and we were on our way. Back at our apartment my husband was preparing dinner and I decided to take the test, minutes later it was positive! We couldn't believe it, so I took the second one...you guessed it, positive. We weren't trying for a baby at the time, we we...
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