Little updates

I think I mentioned somewhere along the way that I'm not that great at writing regularly; hence, the large gap between blog posts. SO much has happened since I last wrote--many of the exciting, even monumental, firsts of pregnancy. I feel like I have to record the major ones before I forget. Which, given my dicey memory lately, is pretty likely.



It felt like it took FOREVER for my belly to finally start expanding. I really only felt bloated and fat for the first 3 months of the pregnancy, like I had eaten a few too many slices of cheesecake. Finally, right around Thanksgiving, something had to give. And by that, I mean mainly my jeans. I could still button them up, but it was really uncomfortable on my stomach when I sat down or bent over. So I moved up to using the BellaBand for a few weeks. It was some progress, at least. But then, at long last, somebody noticed! And not just family and friends who scrutinized every inch of my body telling me exactly what was changing. This was a real, live stranger! At work one night (when I was 14 weeks, 6 days pregnant to be exact), one of my patient's family members asked if I had any kids. "Well," I replied, "not until June." "I thought you looked pregnant!" she triumphed, "but I didn't want to ask outright." I have to say, that statement was a triumph for me as well. What made it really feel good was that I was wearing loose scrubs when she asked. Finally, I was getting some credit for all of the hunger, the swift onset of nausea, the soreness in the general region of my chest, and the moodiness. I had started to show!



The next milestone? Feeling the baby move. Wow. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't peeked a few times at the baby on the ultrasound machines at work when I had some downtime. Let me explain. My job can be very emotionally draining for a woman who is pregnant. We see everything on our floor...the great highs of delivering a happy, healthy newborn all the way to the tragedies of babies who never even get to take their first breath. Those emotional lows, added to my own health history and the difficulties we had conceiving, made it almost necessary, for my own sanity, to check to make sure the baby was still moving or still had a heartbeat. I cannot relay how much of a relief it was every time I watched the kiddo move, or better yet, do little baby somersaults and kick and hiccup and suck its thumb. It was incredible to see all that motion but bizzare to know all of that was happening without my even being aware of it. One Friday morning (at 16 weeks, 2 days!), I rolled over and felt this twitch at the front of my stomach. And then I felt it again. I started to remember how some of my friends had described feeling their babies move for the first time: "a flutter," "a twitch," "a brushing feeling." Somehow, all of those could exactly describe what I was feeling. The baby was moving! As soon as I realized what was happening, it stopped. I stayed in bed for the next half hour hoping to feel the baby move again, but the moment had passed. Every morning, I would lie in bed for a few extra minutes to see if I could feel it again. Sometimes I would, sometimes I would feel it later on in the day. Now, of course, my little 22 week old fetus moves all of the time. And that fluttery feeling? It has changed into something a little more like a head butt or a swift kick to the bladder. Yet in a way, every little movement makes me love this child even more, and every time my stomach flutters I get a secret smile in my heart. (What on earth am I going to do when I see the first smile?!?) Jay's big moment finally came around 20 weeks when we were in Ireland. I had a hard time finding the right spot on my stomach for him to feel the baby move. Every time I would feel a kick, I'd grab Jay's hand, put it on my belly, and the little stinker would stop! (My mom kept telling him he just has a calming effect on the baby.) Finally, one night in Ireland, I made him patiently hold his hand on my belly when the baby was moving, and he got to feel his first kick! I like to think it started to feel a little more real for him at that moment.



My official ultrasound at the doctor's office was January 5. The big day. The day that was going to inexorably change our lives. Jay and I debated it from the day we made the appointment--was it a boy or a girl? Would we be attending soccer games or piano recitals? Basketball or ballet? Would we be be dressing up as knights or princesses? The funny thing, we decided, was that we had no control. We both have a little (or maybe big) part of us that likes to be in control. Finding out your child's gender is a revelation that alters so many details of your life, and we were utterly helpless to change the outcome. Either way, we couldn't go wrong. There was no wrong answer, just answers that were very different. Deep down, we only wanted a healthy baby, but it was fun to dream about what might be. The morning before we went to the ultrasound, we each took our final stance on the subject: he thought girl, I thought boy. I met Jay at the doctor's office, completely confident that my mother's intuition would prove to be correct. The ultrasound tech went through all of the relevant body parts--the four-chambered heart, the cranial diameter, the length of the femur, the stomach, the hands, the feet. Jay, while enthralled with the visual images on the screen of our baby, was at the same time gripping my hand and nervously bouncing his leg. I looked at him, "Honey, are you OK?" "I just want to KNOW!" Fortunately, the ultrasound tech took pity on the mess of a man that was my husband and moved the ultrasound probe to find what we had been waiting to see. As soon as the money shot came up on the screen, I looked. It was obvious. I was not seeing boy parts up on that screen. Those were labia! We were having a girl! We teared up, overjoyed! Overwhelmed. What on earth was I going to do with a girl?



I don't think it really hit me until I went shopping the next day. I REALLY wanted to go out and buy something pink. Jay made me promise to wait until we could do it together. To hold myself over until we could go together, I went into Baby Depot at the Burlington Coat Factory (it's the nearest baby store) and started to wander around. I got three feet into the baby section, took one look at some pink photo albums, and started to cry. I was going to have a daughter! I must have looked quite the hormonal fool! Thank goodness I had Kleenex in my purse...I hurried to the most obscure part of the store I could find to try to pull myself together. I am sure that there is something to be said about a father-son relationship, but somehow, I don't think it compares to what a mother-daughter relationship can be. I should, however, disclaim here that being a woman automatically excludes me from knowing what exactly a son-father relationship is like. What I DO know is that women have a communion with and an understanding of each other that I don't think men can replicate. To be able to share that with a daughter must be the most incredible experience. On the other hand, I know Jay is thrilled to be able to have a "Daddy's girl." He wants a son someday, but he has always wanted a daughter, too. I know he'll be a wonderful daddy (and by that I mean Hopeless Wreck) to this little girl.



All in all, it's been a pretty eventful month and a half. I have to say, I love being pregnant. Right now, I feel great. I have energy, I am not too tired to do anything. My aches and pains, if any, are mild and infrequent at best. I am starting to see why my mother was willing to do this seven times over! Hmm...now there's a thought. Jay??