19w1d – I’m too proud to cop to pregnancy brain just yet, but whoo-eee has this week Slap-Chopped any articulate thoughts. Here, some of the scraps I’ve been jotting. (Coherence returns in the third trimester, right?)
- 8am, monthly checkup: Supposed to see one of the midwives in my practice whom I’ve not met before. There’s the requisitely polite knock on the door, and in walks Favorite Midwife, the one who solved the progesterone debacle, who saw me through my first two losses, whom I’ve not met with in months. I burst into tears, crying, “Ginny, we’re having a baby!” She guffaws and hugs me, though in her face I can see the sheen of I told you so, you monkey.
- No maternity coat is any match for 13 degrees in New England. I wondered briefly yesterday where I might purchase a maternity ski or snowboarding jacket. Thankfully, I realized how paradoxically absurd that is before inquiring with my sage (and merciless) mommy friends.
- Following the completion of my finals this week—and before my next and final semester starts and all nonacademic intentions blow away like parking tickets under wiper blades—I am going to begin planning in earnest some birth-related things: Interview doulas, preferably ones who do both labor and postpartum care; sign up for March childbirth and new parent classes; fill out the adorable Chinese-menu-style birth plan our hospital sent us (When you are in pain, do you prefer: Silence / Encouragement / A double Cape Codder).
- I’m still in search for a frame for the perfect card I was sent, photo above, midway through my first trimester. My dear, crafty friend collaborated with her illustrator extraordinaire sister (both Etsy mavens) to create this cartoon of The Mister and I, keeping our boat afloat while something enormous loomed below the surface. Perfectly fitting then, and now, and likely still once this kid has made his or her way ashore.
- I guess I don’t really need my belly button anyway.