Baby boy (who, yes, does have a name, but whose name I just can't reveal until he's here with us) is fine. Scratch that. He's perfect.
There is a growth on my placenta, and the doctor gave it a fancy, ridiculously hard-to-pronounce name, but it's unconcerning and, apparently, very common. It's also not near the umbilical cord and since our kid has gained entire OUNCES since Friday (child has an appetite like his mother), we're assuming he's getting just all the nutrients (aka, chocolate and French fries) he needs. He was again squirming and moving all over the place, and there was a moment it looked like he was gesturing inappropriately toward his mother and father, but, again, HE'S PERFECT. OH MY, OUR PERFECT LITTLE BOY.
Now, the goopy, cheesy rant: this pregnancy hasn't been easy, no, but, LORD, we have a son. His father and I decided ages and ages ago that we were going to share our lives together and that is huge and big on its own, of course, but then we both decided that we wanted a kid, and there was no talking one of us into it or frantically working up a pros/cons list. We both wanted a baby, each other's baby, and now, my god, there's one growing (impressively) inside me.
I realize I did not invent pregnancy and this is nothing new, but, WOW. It's common yet totally MIND BLOWING all at the same time.
The hurdles have popped up along the way, yes, but I was always meant to be this little guy's mama, and I'm going to love him every moment for forever.
Beautiful, isn't he?