Suspension of disbelief

I am sitting in the nursery. In a beautiful glider intended for breastfeeding, next to a crib filled with blankets and stuffed animals and adorable bedding, across from a changing table filled with baby clothes. There are also strollers (yes, multiple ones, I regret to say), a carseat, a swing, a bouncy seat, and assorted other items on the premises. There's a breastpump, a set of BPA-free bottles, diapers, wipes, kid books, and baby first aid stuff. There are baby carriers, a breastfeeding pillow, and books on every table advising how to get through labor and get a baby to sleep properly.

There's also a creature in my uterus that's stirring around right now. S/he is quite active and seems to have a definite schedule.

All of this seems to point to an actual live human being entering my family in the next month or so. In fact, at nearly 37 weeks, the kid could arrive tomorrow and probably be just fine (but, note to kid: please don't come yet. The world is harsh and cruel, and you could probably stand to cook a little longer.).

But I still find all of this pretty impossible to imagine. Yesterday, a friend asked about setting up some of the baby gear, and -- partly in an effort to keep my living room looking normal for another few weeks, and partly out of a self-protection mechanism I'll get to in a sec -- I said no, let's wait. She laughed and said, wait until what, you're in labor? And I thought, yes, perhaps labor will be an excellent time to fuss with poorly written instructions for items made in China. Or maybe when we're home from the hospital, sore, and overwhelmed and exhausted? That sounds perfect.

Maybe if I knew the gender this would seem more real. Or maybe if I hadn't spent two and a half years trying to get to this point, agonizing over infertility and watching two pregnancies go down the drain, I'd actually feel able to really connect with the being inside of me. I haven't sung to it as I imagined, haven't played the music for the fetus as I always planned. (In fact, I don't like calling it a fetus at this point. Isn't it a baby by now, asked the staunchly pro-choice feminist as she cringed a little inside?) I talk to the baby sometimes, occasionally encouraging it not to head-butt my cervix and asking it to consider going to sleep when it's 11 pm and I'm tired of the constant fluttering. But I don't know that I've connected with this baby in the way that I imagine others must do with their children. Can it really be the case that I'm going to be a mother?

Last October, just after my IVF procedures, a friend asked, when will you know if it worked? And I answered, in about nine months. It's coming upon that time. Even though all evidence points to success, I will still believe it when I see it.

PS Some stats:
Number of pounds gained: 29
Number of sympathy seats provided to me on BART: 4
Number of sympathy seats provided to me on Muni: 0
Number of people who've said I look small or even "tiny" for where I am in the pregnancy: 10+
Number of times I've run into people I know in the last two weeks and have had to tell them I'm pregnant: 2
Weeks of gestation it took for a woman I see once a week to realize I'm pregnant: 36
Percent of gender-specific dreams I've had where the baby turned out to be a boy: 0
Share of close friends surveyed who think this baby a girl: 4/5
Weeks since the amnio that I've managed to not call the perinatologist to find out the gender: 20
Number of non-stress tests performed thus far: 4
Number passed: 4
Times I've had heartburn during this pregnancy: 0
Number of contractions I've felt: 0
Weeks the baby has been head-down: 8
Pairs of work-appropriate pants that I can comfortably wear all day: 2
Pairs of work-appropriate shoes I can tolerate wearing all day: 4
Percent of rings that no longer fit me: 100
Number of days officially left in this gestation: 24

75 percent

Many mazels to Nikole and John and Sara and Erin -- it's lovely to have read your blogs for so long and see the long-anticipated fruits of your labors. Congratulations!

I cannot believe that I may be next. I'm now 30 weeks pregnant. The baby moves often -- the other day I decided s/he will be a gymnast because of all the apparent somersaults -- which makes it pretty easy not to wonder if it's alive. Still I worry: just last night I dreamt I was bleeding and had to call the midwife at 4 am. But at some point in the last several months the anxiety changed: for a long time I worried I'd lose the pregnancy; now I worry about preterm labor.

But so far I've been incredibly fortunate. Placenta previa has been ruled out, thank God, and every doctor's appointment has been fine. Baby seems to be growing appropriately, my blood pressure hasn't gone through the roof (though, pessimist that I am, I still worry I'm doomed to preeclampsia), and I have felt either none or few contractions. I'm having a non-stress test in a couple of weeks -- a reward for being both old and an IVF patient. But beyond that, I'm free to do whatever activities I like, within reason. I've been incredibly lucky in terms of how I'm feeling: I'm tired, but I'm still exercising nearly every day (mostly walking and yoga, with the occasional half-mile swim), still moving around at mostly my normal pace. My goal is to continue that as long as possible.

I don't, however, always look pregnant -- even at 7 months someone yesterday said she wouldn't have known unless I'd told her. I haven't had a single stranger ask me when I'm due, something I always expected, and I think I've netted a total of two BART seats thanks to my 'condition.' It's definitely disappointing to have imagined looking big and pregnant, and instead to just look big and fat. I think it makes the weight gain (about 20 lbs so far, totally normal) a bit harder to stomach. My original goal was to gain no more than 25 lbs during this pregnancy, but now I'm trying to be comfortable with 30. Sure, you might say, that's totally fine and you're being all crazy paranoid obsessive-about-your-weight lady. Yup, you got it! But you may also recall that I lost 75 lbs about five years ago. I've medaled at gaining weight, and I want to make sure I can lose it again.

As I've written before, in 2006 and 2007 I began April pregnant and ended it with a miscarriage. Even though I generally like the month of April, it began to seem like the cruelest month, indeed, a while back. Here's hoping 2008 improves April's reputation.

The sigh of relief heard 'round the world

That was me this morning, falling to my dining room floor in relief at the news that the amnio were normal.

I've been telling people at work today. After two years of trying, and two false starts, this is a day I never thought I'd see. And yet, here it is.

PHEW.

It's alive!

It should come as no surprise to regular readers of this blog that I'm a little anxious about this pregnancy. Since passing all of the initial tests, I've graduated to a state of regular pregnant-ladyness. Which is great, except for the part about not seeing the doctor that often. How the hell am I supposed to go a whole month without knowing for sure if it's still kicking?

Well, I don't have to, thanks to the combined wonders of modern technology and the Internet. Yesterday the fetal doppler monitor I ordered came in the mail. For $46 a month, I can use this thing to find the baby's heartbeat and even see what it is on a digital readout.

I didn't really think it was dead; even though my nausea has mostly subsided and my fatigue has improved, I'm definitely getting bigger and hungrier. But with my second miscarriage, I had no miscarriage symptoms and the embryos were gone. So there's no guarantee that the absence of symptoms is good news.

But a display of munchkin's heartbeat -- it was in the 150s -- is a pretty good guarantee for now. Worth every penny.