Dude! There’s an actual human baby in there!

 Last night I dreamed about the baby, Baby Georgia, for the very first time. In the dream, she was tiny and adorable, a sweet, perfect newborn. She was healthy, we were happy, the other kids were happy. Life was good.  This is the first time I’ve dreamed about her since early in pregnancy, when I kept dreaming things like I’d given birth to a repulsive baby lizard who bit me when I tried to nurse it.  I think the dream last night confirms what I am realizing in the daylight hours; I am beginning to believe that this pregnancy will end with me cradling a beautiful newborn rather than in tears and tragedy and loss, like all those others.

I am 19 weeks pregnant now and I look more pregnant than that. I finally broke down and bought a few dresses last week that I can wear to work since I was down to two sweaters, a stretchy black skirt and one pair of wonderful Japanese Weekend maternity pants handed down to me by my friend Julianne.  Those four items were about the only things I had that fit any longer, and as someone who likes clothes, it was getting really old wearing them every day. But I was secretly afraid that if I bought anything “maternity” that I’d look like a complete fool who had wasted her money when (that’s “when” not “if) something went wrong with the pregnancy. B y buying those few dresses and spending those $$$ last week at Target (the dresses are pretty cute, too, if I do say so myself), I broke through an emotional barrier in thinking about the pregnancy, and in accepting it.

Also this week, I had my “big” ultrasound – the one that you get at the halfway point during pregnancy. Although my genetic testing all came back as normal 7 weeks ago, I still harbored a not so secret worry that the real problems would show up on this ultrasound – that there would be a major heart or kidney defect, or her head would be undersized or she’d have two club feet and major facial abnormalities. I know, I know… this all sounds so morbid and unnecessary, but I am just being honest here. I was SURE something would be wrong. For this reason, I wasn’t bothered that Jon couldn’t come with me (it’s tax season and he’s an accountant). I figured I’d get the bad news myself and tell him later. But no, the ultrasound went beautifully, except for the fact that the tech was clearly irritated by the way I kept peppering her with questions about what terrible thing she was surely seeing as she probed and scanned every part of baby Georgia’s tiny body. When it was over, she told me that the baby looks perfect in every way, and that currently, she’s about 7-8 inches long and she weighs 10 ozs. My placenta is indeed totally anterior while the baby is facing my back most of the time, which explains the continuing lack of fetal movement. She’s moving plenty but because of these positioning factors, I just can’t feel it. 

After the ultrasound, my acceptance of the pregnancy went to a different place. The CVS test helped me feel better about the pregnancy, but this ultrasound helped even more. She’s fine. She’s really fine. And she’s REAL. This pregnancy is not going to end up with a painful miscarriage and another D&C. It isn’t going to end in disappointment. Jon – who has had an equally difficult time believing that this pregnancy is real -  won’t have his hopes dashed yet another time. The last two years have not been easy for us. We’ve experienced death (my father) , quite a bit of illness in the family, multiple miscarriages, challenges from raising my 18 year old (who seems determined to do me in emotionally before he reaches full adulthood), and financial stress primarily brought on by paying the not insignificant medical bills that all the illnesses and miscarriages have racked up. Yes, it’s been a tough couple of years, even as we both count our many blessings regularly. But with all that’s gone wrong, it’s just really hard to believe that something as important as a pregnancy is going to go right. After all, Jon and I have had six (or is it seven?) pregnancies together, and only ONE has resulted in a child. The rest have ended with tears and unhappiness and more medical bills for something that was completely transient and ultimately fruitless. Even this one, which now seems to be going so well, started in a very unpleasant and unsettling way. I was coming off of a bad virus that actually hospitalized me for a week last October, and then I was sick as a dog with “morning” sickness for the entire first trimester and a little beyond. It was hard to get excited about something that was making me so miserable. 

But this time…THIS time, it looks like everything is really, truly going to go right. I feel terrific, I look very pregnant, and since my appointment this week, I have actually begun thinking of the bump I am sprouting as an actual baby – all 10 ozs of her. I’ve begun allowing myself to imagine sorting and pulling out little newborn sleepers and hats from the boxes of baby clothes I had stashed away in our basement (and was getting ready to sell or give away just about the time I found out I was pregnant). Jon says he’s started allowing himself to remember the way a newborn baby’s head feels cupped in your hand, and the way they smell right after a bath. This is really happening. She’s  a real, living, soon-to-be breathing human baby. And in only a few months, we get to bring her home with us.

Now that I know for certain that I am going to have a baby, I guess I’ll lay off the bourbon and meth (I kid! I kid!)

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