So I went for my first midwife visit yesterday. The first of many. Yay. They did a urine test and politely confirmed that I am, indeed, knocked up.
"Oh good," I replied "I'd hate to have done all that puking for nothing..."
The midwife asked if I had felt any change in the size of my uterus. I wanted to say "Why yes, actually, now that you mention it... It quintupled in size in the space of one weekend, which made it feel rather like some maniacal clown had mistaken it for a balloon animal, the sensation of which was immediately followed by the distinct feeling that an Alien might burst forth and begin its vengeful hunt for Sigourney Weaver.."
Instead I said "uh, yeah". I swear her eyes widened and her eyebrows twitched upwards a bit when she actually got down to business and handled said bit as best she could... I hate how they try to make conversation as they've got their hands up you, because you know they do it in the hopes that it lessens the weird factor... It's doesn't. You can't change that. Do doctors do the same when they check out men's prostates? Ask how the last game went? How's the wife? And do you like Judy Garland, because I think she's fabulous?
Anyway. My bits suitably probed, my pee examined, and my dignity somehow in tact, I left feeling excited at the prospect of picking up my daughter from daycare and the gentle rain felt just that little bit more inviting and warm.