First (only because it happened first) I was able to fit into a pair of pre-pregnancy shorts. Yes, they're still gym shorts, the likes of which I *never* would have worn outside the house before this time of fashion crisis thanks to my oddly shaped deflating belly.

Secondly, we went to the pediatric cardiologist with Val. I have to say, I hate that place. Hate that it exists and that we had to go there. Hate it that they had a crapload of badass toys for other kids, all of whom, like my kid, had to be there because there's something wrong with their heart.

I also hate how many fucking wires are on the ekg. I will not discuss the number of stickers required to hold those wires in place or how removing those stickers made my baby's skin stretch until she cried.

Val hated it more than I did, screaming like a baby banshee until I actually did something I'd thought I could never do. I busted out the goods and breastfed her so she could be calm enough for the test. Which totally worked, even if it threw the whole 'do this test, then height and weight' portion of the visit off.

Tough shit. Val needs to eat, she eats. Y'all can wait.

Anyway. She's up to 8lbs 4oz and is now 21.5 inches long. Translation - all systems are working well.

We finally went back for the eeg (that looks like 'egg' misspelled), which is this longass ultrasound on Val's wee heart. The doc went about her bidness, looking at this, measuring that, not saying much. Finally, after forever and a day we heard this:

Her heart murmur is too small to measure. We don't have to go back for 3 months.

To whoever in the heavens made that statement possible, I thank you a thousand times.