Six months into the ride
I have so much to say about being pregnant that I don't know where to begin, honestly. At the beginning? With the stuff that's more relevant to my experiences? What I've learned about the little person inside of me already? I guess I'll start at the beginning and see how it goes.
Back around the end of February, I woke one morning knowing something was different. I remember distinctly chuckling to myself that if I were pregnant, I wondered what the spirit that had joined our lives would be like. In the weeks that followed I began to notice little things, but things that later became typical symptoms that most people think of when they think 'pregnant': I was constantly queasy, restless, my breasts were sore. And then I missed my period, which seemed like a no-brainer to me. I had taken a pregnancy test, after much agonizing, and it was negative. Confused, I went to a doctor, who told me to just take another pregnancy test. I will never forget those HOURS of worrying waiting to see a doctor, who just told me to go home and do what I'd already done AGAIN.
That day was April 5th. The little pink line on the test strip was so faint that I had to squint to see it, but it was there. I went and woke Chris up and asked him to look at it, in case I was imagining things, and he rubbed and eye and told me that he could see it too. There was a lot of silence after that as we sat there. We only really talked about it later that night, when Chris got off work and I was about to head to my night shift. How did we feel? When should we tell people? What do we do first?
Things went fast after that. I called and made an appointment with an OB/GYN the very next day, got my name on 2 waiting lists for Birthing centers, signed up for various news feeds on pregnancy, signed up for daycare waiting lists (yes, that early). The Doctor I saw was lovely for a first meeting, and given her experience, I told myself that if I didn't get into a birthing center I would be alright with her delivering my child. Subsequent visits with her changed my mind, and I was very glad when I got the call that I had gotten one of the rare spots at the Pointe Claire Birthing Clinic.
The next question became when to tell people. Wait for Easter? Wait for Mother's day? Everything seemed so impossibly far away for me. How was I ever going to hold it in? I was so excited I wanted to scream it in the face of every single person I knew. They'd already figured it out at work (since they knew about my other symptoms previously, and could see my new giddiness). It felt just WRONG that work people knew, but not my own parents. We set the date for April 16th, and invited our moms and siblings to dinner at our place. My mom figured it out just from the invitation, I think. It was wonderful to tell people and see all the joy on their faces. So many hugs and so much love, for a baby who was, at the time, a little mystery no bigger then a sweet pea.
A week later, I had some cramps and bleeding and went to the emergency room with Chris. We got our first look at the baby... well. Chris says he could make out the heartbeat. All I saw was black and more black on a fuzzy little screen, but I was assured that everything was alright. It was shortly after this that we announced to our friends that we had a baby on the way.
I still had one appointment left with my OB/GYN and got to hear the heartbeat of our baby, albeit briefly. I was left feeling very dry by the experience. It should have never been rushed as it was. More and more I knew I wanted a midwife.
Shortly after this, on June 3rd, we met our Midwife, France. France is an amazingly reassuring, calming presence and I am grateful for her being a part of this process. Karla (Chris' mother) had given us a lift to the appointment and was allowed to join us in the office. Together, we all got to hear the baby's heart beating, and having heard about our previous experience with it, France let us just listen for a while. I remember feeling so relieved, and happy. Everything was going to be fine. Karla was crying, even though she thought I couldn't see it from where I was, and Chris looked very far away as he listened. This was the sound of our baby's heart. It was fast and fluttery, but very real.
At this point I stopped working nights and switched to days. What a difference! Even though I still had a lot of morning sickness, the constant exhaustion was far more manageable by day and I fell into a more acceptable sleep and health pattern within a week.
Time slips by, and baby grew within me. There were threads of conversation with friends over FaceBook for names. What the baby might be like. First trimester passed to Second and no one was happier then me when the constant nausea that had been my companion for months finally ebbed and then went away entirely. New were migraines and heartburn, but not a lot of either one, at least.
On June 12th I felt the baby move for the very first time. There had been fluttery hints before, but this was a distinct PUSH against my belly. It was a moment of great awe.
I had had several dreams about the baby by now. Many were of the expected 'pregnancy dream' variety, but always featuring a little blonde girl. Before I had gotten pregnant, I had many dreams of a dark haired little boy whom I carried at my hip, but he never featured after I got pregnant. Chris, however, had a dream about a little boy, who was very smart and a bit rebellious.
On July 22nd, which seems like a lifetime ago now, but was only a few weeks back in reality, Chris and I went to our first ultrasound. We'd agreed to find out the sex of the baby, for various reasons, and while at first I didn't really care, by the day of I could hardly wait to know, even though I was convinced it was a girl, as were most of my friends and family (with the exception, notably, of Chris' sister Natasha, who has said from the start that it was a boy). After what seemed like an eternity, but was only about an hour of waiting, we finally got called in and had our first look at the baby.
The first view was something out of Alien: the baby was crouched on its side, and all I could make out was the shape of a large head, and a very thick spinal column. And then it moves a hand and I could see all the little joints in articulation, all the tiny bones. This was a living thing, moving inside of me. The attendant moved her magic wand and we had another view. The face. The belly. Tiny feet. And then "I do believe its a boy." I asked if she thought it was, or she knew. She said she was sure and placed a great big arrow pointing at his penis, to show us clearly. She left it, in the pictures. Very classy. But there it was. We were having a boy, no longer an 'it'.
A lot happened in a short amount of time. Telling people, of course, as well as gifts and advice. I felt the baby moving more and more inside of me, growing stronger.
Last weekend we had our second real scare: Early Saturday morning I started to have contractions. These weren't the brief little Braxton-Hicks contractions that I had felt previously. These were harder and longer and much more scary. After what seemed like forever, they stopped. Baby was still moving and I was exhausted. Chris pushed me to call our midwife, France, to make sure that everything was okay. As it turned out, France was on break and so her partner, Rashida, was on call. She drove from Pointe Claire to our place within 20 minutes, and having misunderstood, had arrived with a full kit, prepared to deliver the baby then and there if needs be. She was wearing pajama pants, and had apparently also just finished delivering another baby shortly before this. This woman is my new hero. After some checking and consulting, it was declared that baby and I were both alright, and that I needed to be on bed rest for a few days and to take it easy. She gave me some homeopathy to stop cramps and prevent miscarriage and left me to sleep.
Baby, however, has taken none of her advice and has been insanely active ever since that day. He has been moving more and more, and has made some things very clear to me over the past few weeks: He loves anything with lemon in it, and anything with cheese. He dislikes when I'm being shaken, like on the metro or car rides, and absolutely hates it when its too hot or too cold. He actually will move away from a source of heat or cold very quickly...so that means he likes things temperate, like me. In terms of music, he likes some classical, and in particular 'Fantasia on a Theme' by Thomas Tallis. He also likes Songs Ohia, Sufjan Stevens and Feist. Yes, this is clearly my son.
We still have a ways to go. The expected date of delivery has been moved from December 2nd to December 12th, but I still have the feeling he might be a little early. I have told him that I want to hold him in my arms desperately, but NOT YET. He has to wait until at least my birthday. He's allowed to be a Scorpio at the earliest, but would be better off hanging in there until he can be a Saggitarius like he's meant to be. Yes, I've really had this talk with my unborn son. I talk to him about everything. Sometimes in whispers, sometimes loudly. Sometimes he kicks me, or moves. I know he's listening, dreaming. This little life inside of me.
Back around the end of February, I woke one morning knowing something was different. I remember distinctly chuckling to myself that if I were pregnant, I wondered what the spirit that had joined our lives would be like. In the weeks that followed I began to notice little things, but things that later became typical symptoms that most people think of when they think 'pregnant': I was constantly queasy, restless, my breasts were sore. And then I missed my period, which seemed like a no-brainer to me. I had taken a pregnancy test, after much agonizing, and it was negative. Confused, I went to a doctor, who told me to just take another pregnancy test. I will never forget those HOURS of worrying waiting to see a doctor, who just told me to go home and do what I'd already done AGAIN.
That day was April 5th. The little pink line on the test strip was so faint that I had to squint to see it, but it was there. I went and woke Chris up and asked him to look at it, in case I was imagining things, and he rubbed and eye and told me that he could see it too. There was a lot of silence after that as we sat there. We only really talked about it later that night, when Chris got off work and I was about to head to my night shift. How did we feel? When should we tell people? What do we do first?
Things went fast after that. I called and made an appointment with an OB/GYN the very next day, got my name on 2 waiting lists for Birthing centers, signed up for various news feeds on pregnancy, signed up for daycare waiting lists (yes, that early). The Doctor I saw was lovely for a first meeting, and given her experience, I told myself that if I didn't get into a birthing center I would be alright with her delivering my child. Subsequent visits with her changed my mind, and I was very glad when I got the call that I had gotten one of the rare spots at the Pointe Claire Birthing Clinic.
The next question became when to tell people. Wait for Easter? Wait for Mother's day? Everything seemed so impossibly far away for me. How was I ever going to hold it in? I was so excited I wanted to scream it in the face of every single person I knew. They'd already figured it out at work (since they knew about my other symptoms previously, and could see my new giddiness). It felt just WRONG that work people knew, but not my own parents. We set the date for April 16th, and invited our moms and siblings to dinner at our place. My mom figured it out just from the invitation, I think. It was wonderful to tell people and see all the joy on their faces. So many hugs and so much love, for a baby who was, at the time, a little mystery no bigger then a sweet pea.
A week later, I had some cramps and bleeding and went to the emergency room with Chris. We got our first look at the baby... well. Chris says he could make out the heartbeat. All I saw was black and more black on a fuzzy little screen, but I was assured that everything was alright. It was shortly after this that we announced to our friends that we had a baby on the way.
I still had one appointment left with my OB/GYN and got to hear the heartbeat of our baby, albeit briefly. I was left feeling very dry by the experience. It should have never been rushed as it was. More and more I knew I wanted a midwife.
Shortly after this, on June 3rd, we met our Midwife, France. France is an amazingly reassuring, calming presence and I am grateful for her being a part of this process. Karla (Chris' mother) had given us a lift to the appointment and was allowed to join us in the office. Together, we all got to hear the baby's heart beating, and having heard about our previous experience with it, France let us just listen for a while. I remember feeling so relieved, and happy. Everything was going to be fine. Karla was crying, even though she thought I couldn't see it from where I was, and Chris looked very far away as he listened. This was the sound of our baby's heart. It was fast and fluttery, but very real.
At this point I stopped working nights and switched to days. What a difference! Even though I still had a lot of morning sickness, the constant exhaustion was far more manageable by day and I fell into a more acceptable sleep and health pattern within a week.
Time slips by, and baby grew within me. There were threads of conversation with friends over FaceBook for names. What the baby might be like. First trimester passed to Second and no one was happier then me when the constant nausea that had been my companion for months finally ebbed and then went away entirely. New were migraines and heartburn, but not a lot of either one, at least.
On June 12th I felt the baby move for the very first time. There had been fluttery hints before, but this was a distinct PUSH against my belly. It was a moment of great awe.
I had had several dreams about the baby by now. Many were of the expected 'pregnancy dream' variety, but always featuring a little blonde girl. Before I had gotten pregnant, I had many dreams of a dark haired little boy whom I carried at my hip, but he never featured after I got pregnant. Chris, however, had a dream about a little boy, who was very smart and a bit rebellious.
On July 22nd, which seems like a lifetime ago now, but was only a few weeks back in reality, Chris and I went to our first ultrasound. We'd agreed to find out the sex of the baby, for various reasons, and while at first I didn't really care, by the day of I could hardly wait to know, even though I was convinced it was a girl, as were most of my friends and family (with the exception, notably, of Chris' sister Natasha, who has said from the start that it was a boy). After what seemed like an eternity, but was only about an hour of waiting, we finally got called in and had our first look at the baby.
The first view was something out of Alien: the baby was crouched on its side, and all I could make out was the shape of a large head, and a very thick spinal column. And then it moves a hand and I could see all the little joints in articulation, all the tiny bones. This was a living thing, moving inside of me. The attendant moved her magic wand and we had another view. The face. The belly. Tiny feet. And then "I do believe its a boy." I asked if she thought it was, or she knew. She said she was sure and placed a great big arrow pointing at his penis, to show us clearly. She left it, in the pictures. Very classy. But there it was. We were having a boy, no longer an 'it'.
A lot happened in a short amount of time. Telling people, of course, as well as gifts and advice. I felt the baby moving more and more inside of me, growing stronger.
Last weekend we had our second real scare: Early Saturday morning I started to have contractions. These weren't the brief little Braxton-Hicks contractions that I had felt previously. These were harder and longer and much more scary. After what seemed like forever, they stopped. Baby was still moving and I was exhausted. Chris pushed me to call our midwife, France, to make sure that everything was okay. As it turned out, France was on break and so her partner, Rashida, was on call. She drove from Pointe Claire to our place within 20 minutes, and having misunderstood, had arrived with a full kit, prepared to deliver the baby then and there if needs be. She was wearing pajama pants, and had apparently also just finished delivering another baby shortly before this. This woman is my new hero. After some checking and consulting, it was declared that baby and I were both alright, and that I needed to be on bed rest for a few days and to take it easy. She gave me some homeopathy to stop cramps and prevent miscarriage and left me to sleep.
Baby, however, has taken none of her advice and has been insanely active ever since that day. He has been moving more and more, and has made some things very clear to me over the past few weeks: He loves anything with lemon in it, and anything with cheese. He dislikes when I'm being shaken, like on the metro or car rides, and absolutely hates it when its too hot or too cold. He actually will move away from a source of heat or cold very quickly...so that means he likes things temperate, like me. In terms of music, he likes some classical, and in particular 'Fantasia on a Theme' by Thomas Tallis. He also likes Songs Ohia, Sufjan Stevens and Feist. Yes, this is clearly my son.
We still have a ways to go. The expected date of delivery has been moved from December 2nd to December 12th, but I still have the feeling he might be a little early. I have told him that I want to hold him in my arms desperately, but NOT YET. He has to wait until at least my birthday. He's allowed to be a Scorpio at the earliest, but would be better off hanging in there until he can be a Saggitarius like he's meant to be. Yes, I've really had this talk with my unborn son. I talk to him about everything. Sometimes in whispers, sometimes loudly. Sometimes he kicks me, or moves. I know he's listening, dreaming. This little life inside of me.