After you've had three kids, getting an ultrasound is boring. No cute little toes. No finding out if we're going to have to buy truck jammies or reuse our mountain of pink ones. Nothing but blobs and shadows and a menacing-looking gallbladder shaped like a sack of marbles.
About a year and a half ago, I had similar belly pain and Jeff and I went in to get it checked out. Also, then, gallstones. But while we were in that dark room, those glowing stars on the ceiling, Jeff joked to the ultrasound tech, "while we're looking, can you see if she's pregnant?" and the tech said, "Let's see... Yep! You're definitely pregnant!" and we said "WHAT???"
And now, little Daisy, almost ten months. Already a jokester. Or, maybe, still a jokester?
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