I will be 21 weeks pregnant tomorrow and that kind of blows my mind. I keep writing it, but I think I had myself convinced that this would not happen for us. And now, I’ve been able to push most of the traumatic outcomes to the farthest corners of my mind, while remaining aware, of course. It’s just that at this point, after the ultrasounds and the heartbeat checks and the faith of so many around us, I’ve started to believe that we will bring home a baby in another four and a half months.
The reality of a baby, our baby, is still surreal and I don’t think that I will fully “get it” until they hand me (or I reach down for) a real, live infant. And from the stories being told, I’m reassured that sometimes it doesn’t set in for new moms until the baby is here – it’s not just me. Although, some of those feelings are also contributing to the denial of the need for stuff. I can’t believe how much stuff our society thinks a baby needs.
Babble.com’s list was for the Top 100 Newborn Essentials. Seriously? I don’t need to be lost in stuff; I just need enough to adequately take care of my kid.
In the more about me section, I had an ultrasound at 19 weeks, 2 days that confirmed our child was alive, has kidneys, a spine, a four-chambered heart and loads of other essential structures and organs that make life a real possibility. I haven’t felt the baby move much, but last night, after a glass of lemonade, I felt the thumping* that had become familiar. I tried to figure out if I could feel it externally and sure enough, I was able to call C over and he felt the thumping too. So I’m guessing that this child is taking after me and thoroughly enjoys sugary foods and drinks (and perhaps, likes to kick things?). *I’ve felt what I call thumping, but since it was different from the bubbles or flutters that everyone talks about, I just assumed it was something else – that and I’m not often still or quiet enough to sense these types of things. It was all pretty cool.
I also wanted to mention that this past Saturday was the fifth anniversary of when we lost our first pregnancy. I’ve been quietly aware that the date was creeping up on us, the awareness that I wrote about last year that seems to make February a little dark for me. That hasn’t happened at all this year. There are still small issues surrounding that loss that float around in my head, but I think that I’ve come to terms with what it was and what it meant for us. I find the five years between pregnancies quite outrageous actually. There are two main contributing factors to the length of time between pregnancies: first, my doctors’ inability to admit there may be a reproductive issue in an otherwise healthy 23-year-old (aka, ignorance and being ignored by the medical profession), and second, us taking our time, figuring out our options, hearts, and finances before bringing in the big guns (aka IVF) after trying everything else. While I am thankful that time was on our side, I am disappointed (still) that I wasn’t taken seriously by my doctors when I thought something was wrong. I’m disappointed that they treated me like a child, refused my research and collected information, were reluctant to run the simplest tests, and randomly prescribed medication to “make me happy.” It took me a year and a half to find doctors that believed and supported me, doctors who helped me. Although, it took me even longer than that to deal with losing a much wanted pregnancy. Without formal acknowledgment, I think this pregnancy has done a lot for my healing process. And again, I am so thankful to be in this position.
Laugher ensues when I point out my protruding belly. The once-slender girl isn't so slender anymore and there has been some serious growth since 16 or 17 weeks. I think it's meant a lot for my parents and sister to see my body change (did that sound creepy? Was not intended to).
So for now.
