Friday, March 26, 2010

Gurney Humor

I am short-waisted with a long torso, something I re-discover about my body every time I try to buy a dress (or - help me, Mary - a bathing suit). When I was pregnant this meant that I didn't look all that pregnant until about the 8-month mark. It also meant that Westley had room to stretch out.

"You've got a lot of space in there," one student midwife said, examining me. "You could carry twins, no problem!"

Well, not exactly no problem.

Finding out that I have a bicornuate uterus (my official diagnosis as of yesterday evening, though who knows how accurate that is) right when Rob and I were not-so-tentatively planning to ditch our birth control later this year shakes things up. My pregnancy-planning apple cart has totally been upset. In fact, now that the thing has capsized, I'm not even sure it was an apple cart in the first place! More like a rickshaw. Full of artichokes.

Which is to say I'll have a lot of questions for the specialist my doctor has referred me to - if I can ever get an appointment to see her.

While I'm waiting in appointment-scheduling Limbo, I can't help but think of my ladypart insides like a duplex. "I should have twins," I think (as though I had any real control over that): "One in each uterine cavity!"

Of course, then they'd come out and want their own rooms right off the bat.