Wednesday, August 19, 2009


I would like to give off the impression that I'm handling this whole pregnancy thing with grace and as much dignity as one can muster up when they're getting regular pelvic exams, but right now, I feel like I'm coming unglued.

Am I freaking out about parenthood? Nope. I have a pretty good handle on parenting from my time spent as a nanny for many, many infants. Am I worried about labor? Not yet, but that post will come in the future, I assure you. I'm just not handling pregnancy all that well. Yeah, yeah, there are things that are disconcerting about being pregnant that are fairly obvious. For one, you have to get fat. Bummer. Add to that the digestive problems, serious constipation, heartburn, food aversions, cramps, backaches and aches and pains, and I'd almost like my period back, please! Geeeeeez. But all of that is doable. You get used to it, and then you get over it. You keep your eye on the prize. What I'm really freakin' about is the overwhelming task of getting her here safely.

It seems simple enough, right? Just don't do anything stupid, like base-jumping or extreme dirt biking, and they'll be fine...right? Eh, that's what I thought, but now, I just don't know. I know that D thinks I've jumped ship and lost my damn mind, and he has every reason to from his perspective. But to me, the one that spends all day with Baby B nestled inside me, I am terrified. I wake up on my stomach, and then can't go back to sleep for fear that I've suffocated her. God forbid I wake up on my back, either, because then maybe I've compressed my vena cava and she hasn't gotten enough blood flow to stay alive. Or the other day when I screamed at the cat? If your memory serves you well, you'll remember that this is how my last goldfish died. I screamed at the cat so loudly one night when he got out for the 2397240th time, that my goldfish up and had a heart attack minutes later. It occured to me the other night, mid-screamfest, that the same could happen to poor, unsuspecting little Baby B. Shit. I've since kept my voice down. Do I know that these are ridiculous fears? Yes, absolutely. BUT, it's my responsibility to keep her safe and get her here in a few months, and I've never taken anything so seriously.

Besides these obviously batty thoughts, I have some realistic fears as well. If you know me in what I like to call "real life", you'll know I have terrible luck. I've been bitten by a brown recluse, had early-stage cervical cancer, broken the same bone twice in one month, had a serious car wreck at 16 weeks pregnant, had TWO apartments catch on fire (both of which I was several states away at the time), fainted while crossing the street in NYC and almost got ran over by a cab...the list goes on and on and on. I tend to be the exception, not the rule. The story you heard about something off-the-wall that happened to a friend of a friend? I'm usually her. It's insane. So I don't think it's that off-base that I am terrified for her safety, and think there could be no worse person for her to be attached to. Luckily, by the grace of God, I've been healthier than I've been in a while since I've gotten pregnant, so maybe her luck is rubbing off on me instead? But either way, I sit and worry. Constantly.

Anyhow, I had to go into the doctor today. The baby hadn't moved in a couple days, whereas she had been kicking strong and regular before, and I was freaking out. I was even more freaked out when my nonchalant doctor's office said, "Can you come in at 2:15?" I was ready to be given a lecture about how that's normal, but was met with a hint of panic. Long story less long, she's ok. After some searching that left me hysterical, they found her heartbeat and said that chances are, she's just moved back somewhere where it would be more difficult to feel her. Naturally, she kicked the shit out of me the entire drive home from the doc. All's well that ends well, right?

The point is, dear readers, pregnancy is terrifying. It's a huge responsibility. And sometimes, you'll feel overwhelmed. I know I do. But just take a deep breath, do your best, and know that the overwhelming majority of pregnancies culminate in happy, healthy infants. THEN you mess them up. Lord knows if I can get this far, you can too!

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