I've decided that the minute i looked at the pregnancy test i took and it said "Pregnant" (thank you ClearBlue digital), something changed. I don't know if some innate "mom" gene kicked in after 22 years of hibernation or if peeing on a stick altered my brain waves, but things became different. I became a worrier.
The first trimester was filled with worry about miscarrying. I've never knocked-on-wood so many times or included that statement at the end of my sentences so much. I used to look at the ultra sound picture and say "just hold on tight baby." I'm pretty sure that Aaron thought i had lost it (and to be honest, i thought i had lost it too). I worried about what i ate, i stopped running at the gym, i avoided the bath tub. I'm pretty sure that i thought if i missed taking my prenatal vitamins the baby would come out with 3 arms.
This trend has followed me into the second trimester as well. The miscarriage thoughts have passed, although now there are other new ways that things could go wrong. Don't even get me started on the fender bender and the kidney infection because i was a blubbering mess. After all that, i thought i had finally gotten a hold of myself thinking that if the baby could survive two trips to the hospital then she was in it for the long haul. Then friday happened. I was blind sighted and my i've-got-it-under-control attitude completely failed.
Towards the end of work on Friday i realized that i hadn't felt the baby move at all. Normally she "wakes up" when i'm getting ready for the day, but she hadn't on friday and i couldn't recall anytime that i had felt her move. I tried not to jump to conclusions and concentrated on my belly as i finished up at work and drove home. Nothing, not a kick or punch or anything. Trying to keep my cool i called aaron and told him. Some time went by and still nothing. I called my mom and completely lost my cool. She told me not to worry and to lay day and move my belly around to see if that would get the baby to move or poke me back. My mom talked to my sister and she said to drink something sugary to get the baby to be more active and to lay down and continue prodding my belly. I ran to my fridge and found this gem sitting there:
I poured a glass and downed it. I laid on the couch and poked, prodded, and moved positions a thousand times. Aaron called to check up on me every couple of minutes, and give me advice for things that i could do (that he had looked up on the internet). I cried and thought the worst (OF COURSE). About 30 minutes went by with a few movements that i couldn't tell if they were gas bubbles or the baby, and then the mango nectar hit. That girl went NUTS. i have never loved getting kicked so much in my life. But boy was that dramatic. I was dramatic. Looking back i'm kind of embarrassed for myself. Aaron told me later that day that this little girl was giving him gray hairs already and she's just a fetus.
Is this what parenthood is? Is pregnancy your worrying initiation? I hope it lets up a bit or i might be going gray in my twenties.