I'm No Outdoorswoman

So last night as I'm getting ready for bed, I turn the lights off and run my hands along my belly. 

I feel a flap.  Of skin?  I start to pani...wait, no. I literally read the other night how it is normal for those to form at this stage of pregnancy.  Crisis avert...uh no.  This thing wasn't there this morning.  SURELY something THIS noticeable wouldn't form in a matter of hours...

I hop in the bathroom, flip on the light and discover A TICK.  A. TICK.  Ummm, a freaking TICK is leaching off my doubled blood supply and is going to transmit some unknown cootie disease to jelly bean. 

I panic and grab the tweezers because I thought for sure if I'd wake up Josh, he would think I was a nutcase.  Somehow I had the momentary brilliance to put it in a ziploc baggie in the event I woke up with antlers or spots or something.

I went to bed feeling like I had creepy crawlies all over me; I hadn't done anything outdoors ALL DAY, so I was just wigging out thinking there were more and I just hadn't found them yet.  I take that back; I went outside on the porch for about 90 seconds to let the dogs use the bathroom.  The front porch.  Not a wooded area infested with centipedes and spiders and other multi-legged guys. 

I woke up and circled the spot with a Sharpie.  Called my doctor and felt like I was asking if I needed to be checked for an STD.  Not that I know what that's like, but still.  I felt really dumb.  Who DOESN'T know the right way to get a tick off of something?  Your favorite city girl, that's who.  And it's not like I'd have to know this if I wasn't growing a baby.  It's like I spun the wheel of random and won a tick bite on my pregnant belly. 

I am still expecting to wake up and realize I've sprouted a tail.