Dear Baby, Momma's not having a good week...

8 weeks

It hasn’t been a good week. I’ve been distracted since Wednesday. Just wondering what the “mass” or “growth” is. Wondering if you’ll still be there next week.

The appointment with the specialist is next Thursday. I hope we’ll know something then. I’m torn between wanting to know for certain what it is, and sticking my head in the sand and pretending all is well.

After we found out about you, I was anxiously awaiting our first appointment next week so we could hear your heartbeat, see you, and then tell our families about you. Now that has been replaced with an appointment with a specialist where we might find out “who-knows-what”. A little anti-climactic, I’d say.

I try not to worry, but frankly I’ve worried over much less so it seems an impossibility not to worry now. On the one hand I believe what’s going on and what will happen has already been determined and there’s nothing I can do about it, but on the other hand, I want to believe it can change.

Here’s what you were up to this week:

Everything that is present in an adult human is now present in you. The ears are continuing to form externally and internally. The bones are beginning to form, and the muscles can contract. Fingers and toes are webbed but are growing longer.

The facial features continue to mature. The tip of the nose is present and the eyelids are now more developed. The embryonic tail is also disappearing, and your body is beginning to straighten out.

While your gender has already been determined, the external genitals are still forming and cannot be clearly seen. The embryo is at the end of the embryonic period and begins the fetal period now.

You are a little over an inch long and are approximately the size of a bean.

These were my prayers for you this week:

That you will hang in there and continue to have a strong heartbeat no matter how big this “mass” gets. That the mass will go away, or at the very least, stay out of your way so you can continue to grow and develop. A couple of shallow ones—that you get your daddy’s muscle tone and your momma’s long fingers to play an instrument with!

Love,

Momma