Little Popcorn.

Little Popcorn turned into 4.2 pound Popcorn pretty darn fast. Peter and I went to an ultrasound place yesterday, and got to see exactly what she's doing to my body. Not only is my bladder "significantly distorted," she's pushing on my right kidney enough to distort that too, and trap fluid in it. I didn't need the lady to tell me all of that, I have zero problem feeling both.

It was pretty amazing to see how little space she has in there, considering at 5 weeks she was a little speck of cells fixed to my uterus without any personality or any signs of life. We could see her hair floating around, and needless to say, she got it from her dad.

I called to ask my insurance company, to whom I pay $600/month for services, if they provide coverage overseas. Apparently being stuck somewhere unable to travel due to pregnancy complications is not considered an emergency. Thank you very much, Blue Shield, you have put another tally in the column for why I probably won't move back to the US. The total cost of a c-section here at a public hospital will probably cost $1500. That includes an epidural, the surgery and the 3-4 day stay, albeit not a fun one. It's crazy to be so removed from the insurance system and see it for what it really is; a way to make money on people's illness. Here, people get into medicine and dentistry because they love it. There's certainly no way to get rich. That gives me even more confidence that Viper, my doctor, will do what's necessary for my health and not his pocket book.

The great part is, when I express this to my family and friends, the response is always the same, "yes, Kelly, we know, Europe is the best." I'm not trying to make a point or preach how wonderful this place is, because believe me, I hate quite a few things about it. I'm just trying to give people a little insight as to how things are done here that actually work. Trust me, if I had enough cash to raise a family in the US, I'd probably argue that position. However, the prospect of Peter working 60-80 hours/week flying, and me busting ass running my company doesn't sound like the American dream. In Budapest, Peter flies maybe twice a week, is home every night (except a few overnight trips here and there) and we make enough money to live pretty darn comfortably.

What I'm really trying to say is that there are trade offs for everything. I'm not willing to sacrifice my happiness, or my child's development for a few thousand extra dollars a month and a nice car. Crazy how my brain got re-wired so quickly. A year ago, I would have said I wasn't planning on ever getting married or having kids...let alone with Peter the Cessna pilot I met 7 years ago. Be jealous ladies, that Bud drinking hillbilly is all mine.