Monday
The foggy bog is back. I want to write but I keep getting stuck on avocados. That’s how big the baby is now, according to one of the many websites I check each week to see if I’m going about this right. Strange how the weekly growth is always compared to some sort of produce. So right now, I have a small human being about the size of an avocado growing inside of me. It still warps my mind to conceive of such things. No pun intended, sorry.
Rob left late this afternoon to head back north, wrap up loose ends in Mystic. The house is so empty without him. As much as I have always loved and needed time alone, there is something so blank about his not being here. Perhaps the pregnancy has softened me a bit. Or more likely I’ve let myself feel totally connected to the male species for the first time in my life. Either way, I miss him.
At least he won’t have to put up with my gas. God, is it humiliating, even if he does chuckle about it. It’s the perfect conditioning, actually, all of this feeling lousy and sudden blasts from the ass. Sorry to be so crude, but what I mean is that it prepares you for the fact that you really are not in charge. Hardly at all. Sure, you can choose the color of your baby’s curtains, but when it comes down to the inner creation, Mother Nature has her way. All you control freaks out there, take heed.
I’ve officially been browsing the web now for two hours. It can suck you in. I’m not even sure what I initially wanted to research. I think something more specific about what sort of growth was happening with the avocado in my belly. I did find out that about now is the time that some feel what’s called quickening, otherwise known as baby back flips and would-be kicks to the ribs. Not that it is that huge of a movement, more like a flutter or a ripple, sweet and soft. I also saw a YouTube video of some gal showing her 15 week pregnant belly, wanting opinions from viewers if it was growing. Looks to me like she has a cantaloupe in there, which makes me wonder if I’m not showing enough. So I get nervous and start Googling other 15 week pregnant belly images to see if I check in. After about 45 minutes of ogling other’s midsections, I get a grip and realize you simply can’t compare. Despite our urge to do so, it’s best to just go with our own flow and stop obsessing over what is happening with everyone else.
Which brings me to the prenatal testing, recommended by doctors for us old gals over the age of 35 ( If I remember correctly, technically called elders gravida, which sounds more like you’ve got one foot in the grave than a baby in the belly). From everything I’ve read and been told by friends in the know, it’s “good” to have these tests to see if there are any genetic disorders or chromosomal abnormalities. What they don’t seem to emphasize is the fact that a huge percentage of the results are false positives, meaning you’ll be told there is a possibility that your baby has some sort of major malfunction. A POSSIBILITY. Not a guarantee. So you might be told something could be wrong when really, nothing is at all.
Now, why on earth would I be interested in getting poked and prodded with long needles to find out information that may very likely be incorrect and make me wonder if I ought to keep moving forward with this person-making business? That makes absolutely no sense to me. Especially when, after three solid months of feeling like complete dog-doo, I’m finally starting to feel somewhat better. Unless some wise and trusted professional can make me understand why I ought to follow through with these medical suggestions, I see no reason in taking these tests and then be stressed out for the next 6 months wondering if my child will spend his life struggling with some sort of severe physical or emotional challenges. As far as I can see it, this baby picked us and picked us NOW. I will trust that all will be well and let things run their course.
Now excuse me while I get back to Googling waterbirths and the (who knew!) benefits of eating raw potatoes to aid in gastrointestinal problems.
