Is that it's over! And that it's the shortest trimester. Because it's supposedly 12 weeks long, which sounds the same as the third trimester (which goes from 28 weeks to full term, which has always been 40 weeks for me, but could be shorter or longer), but the key thing is that you're not even pregnant for the first two weeks. Not remotely.
And then there's two weeks where there are things happening and maybe you suspect you're pregnant, but you really can't tell for sure. So, we're down to 8 weeks. And then maybe you're lucky (it might be that the third time is the charm, it might be that you're older and older women have less morning sickness (in itself an old study), or it might be that your developing baby isn't going to be very smart; I love science, but I really hate some scientists) and you don't even start to feel queasy until two more weeks after that. So, 6 weeks of first trimester misery, if the queasiness clears up by 12 weeks (which it did with Mr. P, did not with Shmoogie, although it was less dreadful with her, and seems to have this time).
So, by now, I'm really happy to be feeling pretty good and really happy that I never did feel too awful, although I was really tired and unproductive (I know this is kind of a boring and navel-gazing topic, but I also don't think I can convey quite how inescapably miserable it is to be inside a body that feels vomitous every waking moment for 8 solid weeks, or how different it is to feel only a bit queasy for a little while at a time for 6 weeks; I guess I should have had all my children after 30).
It's also really fun to be at the point of seeing a cute ultrasound picture, instead of just a blob with paddles.
And it's a joy to be surprised by Mr. P and Shmoogie's excitement at the news. Mr. P talked insessantly, only interrupting himself to look at me with concern and ask, "Can you make the, you know, milk happen again?"
Shmoogie, for her part, was pretty quiet at first and I worried. But then she came back from wherever she'd gone with a stack of drawings for the baby, "This one is for when she's a baby. And these ones are for when she grows up like me."
Not long after, she told me that when you get a baby you go somewhere and they give you a baby wrapped in a towel and you take her home and put her in your tummy. You can imagine the wide eyes and the uterine-tensing pokes that resulted when she was informed that the baby was already in my tummy.
She's been less receptive to the idea that we do not know the gender and do not get to choose!