Pregnancy, at times, can feel like an interminable game of waiting.
Of course, there is the road to pregnancy that can seem endless, fraught with challenges and heartbreak. This is when “trying” (i.e. what married folks say when they are having frequent unprotected sex) does not result in what it’s “supposed to” – a happy, joyous pregnancy – and each month is met with tears and disappointment.
With this pregnancy, each day and week of the first trimester slowly inched along. I was impatient when I was told I needed to wait until the 8-week mark to meet with my doctor. And I anxiously awaited the 13-week mark – I would be able to breathe a sigh of relief knowing that I was in the “safe(r) zone.” Then there was the 20-week anatomy scan where we would be told if we were having a boy or a girl (during which our baby conveniently had her legs crossed). More scans, more tests. I’m typically a good test-taker, but somehow I managed to fail the 3-hour glucose tolerance test.
The countdown now is 12 weeks and 5 days to go, or 89 days to be exact.
This waiting period reminds of the engagement period. Much of the same feelings are there – fear, excitement, anxiety, and anticipation for the BIG DAY (more like fear and dread of my private parts being ripped open). There are meltdowns (for which I’d like to thank progesterone – the pregnancy hormone that makes you certifiably insane), sometimes stress, and thoughts of – How on earth am I going to pay for all of this? What will she look like? Will my nipples bleed? What does no sleep really do to your psyche? Checklists, things to do, time-lines, registries, babymoons and showers.
I can hardly believe that my third trimester is already here. I hope my baby doesn’t look like an alien. My heart will burst for her anyway.
“Wishing and hoping and thinking and praying…”