This is a picture of Andrew & I last year at Mom & Dad's for Christmas.
I've just been thinking about a year ago at this time and how painfully pregnant I was. This thought led me to the memory of going in to one of my check ups and having the Dr. tell me my blood pressure was a little high- great, overweight with high blood pressure = ME. Soon after that appointment, which was toward the end of the ninth month, I went in for an unscheduled appointment as a result of my paranoia. My Dr. didn't have any openings, so I saw a different guy who I'll call Dr Smith. A very nice guy, he comes in, glasses on the end of his nose, looking at my file (which was almost as big as me by this point) asking what the problem was. I had been experiencing heart palpitations and was nervous that it was an unhealthy combination with the 'high blood pressure'. I almost crack up just thinking about it -he goes on to examine me at length, all the while giving a narrative so full of highly intelligent, speedily mumbled medical jargon, I still don't know what he said. I listened carefully for words like 'problem' or 'complication' -since these were terms I could understand- and I came to the conclusion that things must be alright since I didn't recognize any of the words Dr. Smith used. Luckily my brilliant nurse-of-a-sister Anna came along so she could translate after we left. (It was also unlucky that she was there, though, because if we looked at each other we got the giggles!) Due to the mumbling, she didn't catch much of what he said either, but could deduce that everything was fine.
And behold, everything is fine. It's been just about a year now, and we've got an overly active toddling Oli whose mommy can't remember life without him...but imagines it was pretty peaceful...and boring.