I have this iPhone app that alerts me every Thursday morning that I have started a new week of pregnancy. There is no need for the alert, really, as I obsessively read and reread every day’s tidbit, and I know at every moment of every day just what week and day I’m on.
This week there is a little lime-sized thing in me. If all is still well, its bones are hardening, its tooth buds are forming, and its little fists are getting ready to start opening and closing and, hopefully, getting ready to be christened with good old-fashioned Irish nicknames some day. It is now technically a fetus and no longer an embryo. That’s a big upgrade, baby. But you still have a long time to go before you can rent a car.
I’ve been feeling pretty okay lately. I took a couple of days off last week after the ultrasound to decompress a bit, and spent much of the time reading. So far this past month or so, I’ve knocked out What to Expect (bleh), Dr. Sears’ The Pregnancy Book (better), Naomi Wolf’s Misconceptions (terrifying), and Ina May Gaskin’s Guide to Childbirth (amazing), not to mention three thousand articles on various pregnancy/parenting websites.
I’m trying to eat well and stop reading horror stories on message boards. It’s interesting: When you have a mostly symptom-free pregnancy, you can instead just make yourself sick with worry. It’s hard to keep it in check when you have no good way of knowing what’s going on in there and you just have to wait until the next time someone can peek in there or listen with souped-up microphones. It necessitates a level of laid-backness that I have only ever dreamed about before. And that, friends, lets you save your freakouts for the times when you’re shelling out cash to compensate for your worthless insurance.
Hey Lindsey — I missed the first round of congratulations, so … congratulations! Cool news. You’ll do great.
First of all, CONGRATULATIONS!! My advice to you – enjoy being pregnant. There’s nothing like it and since it’s totally natural, you can just eat right, rest, take care of yourself and let nature take care of most of it. The time will fly by so enjoy as much as you can. And the horror stories? Ignore them. Labor isn’t easy but time passes and it will be over. The love that will hit you afterwards is worth every ounce.
Congratulations!
You should read “Let’s Panic About Babies!” and burn “What to Expect.”
One can never go wrong with Miss Ina May. She is one of the most common-sense folks to ever draw breath, besides fighting hard all these years to ensure that midwifery gets the respect it deserves for all the lives it’s saved and gently handled. I wish there were some way y’all could make a road trip down to the Farm’s Midwifery Center, too, but I’m sure the midwife you pick will be able to tell you all about it.
You’re so wise, ma’am. Baby’s gonna be born into a fine “Hey, glad you’re here, let’s hang out” family in a fine “hey, glad you’re here, let’s hang out” way. Lucky, lucky Baby!
You know, I should’ve been suspicious the first time you tweeted about Ray cleaning the litterbox. But then I thought, “Oh, what a helpful dude he is. Or Miss Kitty has charmed him into it.” Heh.
P.S. — If you read Let’s Panic About Babies!, you better do it sitting on the potty and avoid the rush/extra cleanup. Hi-larious.
Get a gander at the website, for instance: http://www.lets-panic.com/ . (Check out “Why Borderline Hysteric Southern Mothers Are Superior.” Yessssss!) The disclaimer reads, in part, “None of the information contained herein should be mistaken for anything real or helpful in any way.
In the event of actual panic, call a loved one.”
Heeeeee!