Pregnant Pause: Fear and Loving

Hey, y'all. You may know that I am currently knocked up. Preggo. Expecting. I have a proverbial bun in the oven. And, actually, I wouldn't mind having an actual bun in the actual oven. Mmmm carbs...

Feeling myself at 24 weeks, 6 days

Anyway. Here are some thoughts on potential parenthood from a familial neophyte.

1.

Earlier this week, I was listening to NPR at lunch and heard and interview with a woman who miscarried at five months.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I am 25 weeks right now and the only thought that frightens me more than the concept of natural child birth (currently the plan, BTW) is the idea that I will somehow lose this little fish that's been flopping in my gut for lo these many weeks.

Keeping this pregnancy secret for several weeks is probably the most heroic feat of my life (until, I assume, I actually bring this kid into the world). As my clothing choices no doubt illustrate, I am patently terrible at playing it cool, being subtle, and/or doing anything in a low-key fashion.

At the same time, I understood that some pregnancies just don't come to fruition, and the idea of crowing my enceinte state to all my friends and coworkers and then having to crawl back to retract the good news was downright terrifying. Secrets suck but sharing heartbreaking news is even worse.

 

The notes I took on the phone when my doc called to tell me that all the tests for genetic issues came back negative and, congratulations: You're having a boy! 

So, I kept my clam clamped until the obligatory 12 weeks. (13? 15? I can't remember. Pregnancy Brain is real.) And now I find that, in addition to worrying about whether I'm consuming enough protein, I still get to worry about this sweet fluttering phantom keeping his home for our remaining months.

I'm trying to make peace with the idea that mothering involves a sizable and unending amount of worry, but man.

2.

Living approximately 1,000 miles away from my family is not ideal. I wish I could share more of this insane experience with them, though they probably don't mind being distanced from my crying jags, cravings and constant complaining.

The excited photo I texted to my folks back in March when this kid was nothing more than a blueberry with a heartbeat

I have to say, though, that my phone calls with my mom have been extra delightful these days. I spoke her last week, upon the completion of The Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy (which I honestly loved), and told her that I'd come to the chapter about sex postpartum.

Me: Mom, the whole time I kept thinking, 'Well, if my parents are any indication, I will have many decades of happy lovemaking after having this kid.'

Mom: [Guilty giggle.]

Trying to look cute and desirable at 20 weeks

We went on to have a frank and funny discussion. I will leave it at that, and continue to reflect on how amazing my family is.

3.
Does every woman feel like they are the first human to ever experience pregnancy? For the first three months, I was convinced to my very soul that I had invented the condition.

Taken on April Fool's Day, when the only joke was these Sea-Bands doing absolutely nothing for my crippling morning sickness

Now, however, I am devouring every story/insight I can into the experiences of my fellow mamas. (Also devouring anything that contains even a small amount of heavy cream.) I truly love that whenever I confess my fecund condition to any parental female, I am regaled with stories of her own pregnancy, labor and crowning achievement (weird, quasi-gross pun INTENDED). Regardless of relationship (coworker, sales rep, complete stranger) or location (the copy room, the elevator at my condo, TJ Maxx) my happy bulletin inevitably escalates into a personal paean of blood, sweat and tears.

I love it.

I'm nearing entry into the maternity fraternity and welcome the honesty and guidance of veteran progenitors. I'm obviously going to need it.