Worry!

(Article four of the "On Being Pregnant Series")
The cruelest part of pregnancy isn't any of the aforementioned inconveniences or discomforts.  It the onslaught of information in every pregnancy book, pamphlet, show, etc. about what could be wrong with your baby.  I'm getting anxious even thinking about it.  One book had me stressed out after I read that stress was bad for the baby.  We live in an age of too much information.  If I have symptoms of an ailment, then a nice index by which I may look up my symptoms would be helpful. Just make sure it's all in some appendix at the back of the book.  It would even be nice to post a warning: "SCARY STUFF IN HERE -- OPEN ONLY IF NECESSARY".  If there's no indication of anything amiss, I don't want to know all the terrifying possibilities.  Just stick to showing me how big my tadpole is and what adorable parts she's developing at this point.

Of all the possible defects, the one that scared me the most was Down's syndrome.  The only reason I worried is because I opted for the screening.  WHCA recommends it; so how could I turn down the opportunity to know my baby was OK?  It also came with a bonus early ultrasound.  But!  The screening is done to give you the option of terminating the pregancy.   I can't explain the horror of imagining the scenario in which you'll have to make that choice.  Although the testing is done fairly early, you don't get your results (which are in the form of odds -- Vegas style) until 20 weeks.  That's about four weeks after I'd already begun to feel the baby move.  'Nuff said on this subject.  Shudder.

If  caused any pregnant mommies and undue anxiety, please accept my apologies and view the below video over and over until your blood pressure returns to normal.

Don't Worry They All Look Like Aliens at this Stage

(Article four of the "On Being Pregnant Series")

Isn't she the cutest little ink-blot you've ever seen??

The coolest part of pregnancy is getting those first few sneak peeks at the baby via an ultrasound machine.  The image is black and white, blurry, like a bad charcoal drawing; and also the most amazingly beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.  It always amazed me how little they are (only about 4" and 2.5oz at 15 weeks) and yet how much they already look like a fully developed baby.  I loved feeling them kick then seeing it on screen a moment later.  When feeling the movements my imagination would always try to figure out what was creating the sensations, but here I could see it, in real time, live.  It was breathtaking.  A weepy person I am not, but both times I saw my babies for the first time kicking around in there, I cried tears of pure happiness.  Afterwards, I'd check my book to make sure the oversized alien head on my perfect baby was normal...

Before I had kids, I'd view my friends' ultrasound pictures with indifference.  "Um yeah that's great.  Where's the head again?  Oh that? OK I think I see it.  Uh, here you go."  No so anymore, now they elict genuine responses of "How adorable!" and "Look at that cute button nose!"  I see no blurry images anymore. I see a cute little baby waiting to bring his/her own brand of joy to the world.

There's a Baby in There!

(Article three of the "On Being Pregnant Series")
Sometime early in the second trimester (16 weeks or so) I'd feel little twitches, like muscle spasms in my lower abdomen.  Humm strange, then with wide eyes and a sharp intake of breath I'd realize, that's the baby!  This triggered a whole new mindset.  Suddenly every discomfort and sacrifice (no coffee, no wine, no sports, no lunchmeat, no hot baths, no this, no that, nononono...) was worth it.  It's the moment that the pregnancy in all it's beauty and magic became real.  There really was a new little life living, growing, and maybe even playing in there.  Suddenly my body was no longer mine, it was hers for as long as she needed it and I felt blessed to carry her.  Ah, l'amore!

This was also a gift for the other people in my life.  My husband Charley, loved feeling the movements and would talk or sing to her and imagine that her subsequent movements were in response to his voice.  During my second pregnancy, my older daughter enjoyed this phase as much as we did.  She would talk to the baby and even told her sisterly secrets.  Although I pretended not to overhear, it was invariably the suggestion that she should kick me.  Sometimes the baby obeyed, but usually I feigned feeling a good kick -- "Oh ouch, that was a good one.  Be nice to Mommy baby."  It was magic.  Once while cuddled up with my older daughter reading her bedtime stories, I felt a good kick and Danielle said, "Hey, she kicked me!"  I pretended to scold the baby by pointing at my tummy, "No hitting in this family, young lady."

By the end of my pregnancies, my babies, already eager for their first gymnastics lessons would start training, -- in utero.  My belly would contort into a rectangular shape (sideways) and I could often, very accurately, measure the size of their feet and even count toes.  Their antics earned more than one "whoa!" from spectators.  During a late lunch with a sightseeing group, our waitress remarked, "Wow - I can see your baby moving from over here."  I had more than one nightmare where the baby's foot broke through my belly button and was sticking out of my body.  I'd wake up in a cold sweat grasping my intact belly, then I'd heave a sigh of relief to find that it was just a dream.

Sometimes, as my babies rolled from one side to the other a point, probably and elbow or knee, would create a bump that would streak from one side of my tummy to the other.  I referred to these as shooting stars.  I didn't feel the need to wish on those, because my wish had already come true.