January 21
Your Dad is home from the hospital, all full of hope because his diabetes is regulated (again) – please don’t ask how many times you fall “off the wagon” as a diabetic. Then, son of a gun, today, I felt this brief but ripping pain – I race to the bathroom –oh, oh, break through bleeding . Your Aunt Who Taught Me Most The Things I know claimed she ever experienced such a thing with Matthew – how comforting is that? Over the years I swiftly learn how perfect her three children are and I am not being facetious – you Baby are a bit more of a challenge in conception, in birth and in life.
She and Grandma advise I call our doctor who is “off” that night – he is probably across the street at the Old Folk’s Home where he ministers to them medically and psychologically so I am talking to a disinterested Answering Machine Service who to her credit passed the information on because an intern called back in ten minutes, telling me that they are trying to locate Dr. D.
January 22
Your Dad comes with me to see the good doctor. The doctor seems to think I lost weight although I feel like a balloon is being blown up in my tummy. He gives me stronger vitamins, lectures me to take it easy and worriedly sets up an appointment for me to get an ultrasound. I go home and call your Grandma and my sister, Matthew’s Momma. Apparently they had a meeting of the minds because they told me not to take any more baths – just take showers. You must understand, the list of what I should not do now that you are on board, Baby, grows as problems rare their ugly heads.
January 26
The day of our first ultrasound dawns, Baby. The night before, sleep escaped me as I pondered every possible “what if’s” – if you were missing a limb, if you were missing a vital organ or more importantly, it was all a big mistake and my womb was as empty as Mother Hubbard’s cupboard. I followed the rules, drank my six glasses of water and kept my legs crossed, all the while trying to concentrate on everything but my full to tipping over bladder. Surely this can not be good for you, Baby. I felt you reacting negatively as pain develops on both my left and right side. I swear I gurgled as I walk. Please, please, please God, let the unconcerned staff take me in on the time of the scheduled appointment.
Finally it is show time for you and me. The technician took one look at my lack of belly and can’t believe I am suppose to be somewhere need 16 weeks pregnant (from date of last period). The technician pushed the wand in the cold gel, then slid it across my tummy and there you were, a grainy image of an alien- tadpole, a feisty little survivor, such a mind blowing relief after all the worry I have conjured up, especially in the past weekend. As the wand moves, you deek and dive, already an entertainer – the technician nicknamed you, “Jumping Jack Flash” because of your constant motion, as you successfully avoided her magic wand.
In order to get a better look at you, the technician tells me to partially empty my bladder – no kidding, I knew there was too much water in there. And so you contently fell asleep, now that the pressure is lifted. The technician probes and prods you rudely and you woke up and took off again – flailing your tiny arms and legs in desperation to get away from that relentless wand. The ultrasound was over. I am told you are fine. I dressed in a hurry and rushed out to tell Dad (in those days, dad’s had not yet pushed their way in to ultrasounds). He made me repeat over and over all your antics. But it seemed to tire us out, Baby. That night we went to bed at 8pm and slept like the proverbial log.
January 29
It is the weekly scrub the floor and vacuum the entire house night. I “getter done” and rush over to the nearest couch to catch my breath. And you communicated for me for the first time. Somewhere on my lower right hand side I felt your first bonafide movement. It was like the gentle scratching of a new born kitten. What an awesome feeling!