Im scared

With the first trimester firmly behind me and the slow emergence of a profile resembling that of a Cambodian orphan I am on constant lookout for that Pulitzer prize winning vulture, the carrion eating hellbird has yet to show its face leaving me to deal with the ever increasing influx of woman who naturally gravitate towards preggies such as myself.
After much practice I have learnt to suppress my urge to shoo of the gaggle of congregating belly touchers that attack me around every corner and to enjoy the female company for the first time in my life.
To my shock and amazements I have to admit that this has not been a completely terrible experience as these woman tend to be an endless source of encouragement and ,unlike many other people, actually expect a longwinded answer when enquiring about your day and your health.
They are perfectly happy to answer stupid questions about nappy brands and breastfeeding without looking at me as if I’m an invalid. It seems that each just feels honored that you chose to ask her.
I have thus tapped into an endless resource of advice and knowledge that , unlike the preggie books don’t bombard you with ever increasing list of things you should not do.

On Friday Eugene and I will see an OBGYN for the first time an event that I approach with both fear and expectation.
The fact is that for as long as I care to remember I have avoided any form of doctor like an ABBA reunion concert. So on Friday I will clear my mind of any thoughts of my remaining dignity and spread my little legs for a complete stranger.
I have learnt that pregnancy is a trade off and this is no exception, in return for my willingness to subject my vajayjay to severe scrutiny I get to see my baby for the very first time, we get to hear his little heart beating and with any luck we may be able to find out if it’s a pink one or a blue one and settle the arguments once and for all.

Sadly I must admit that my excitement had been marred by the fact that I am having nightmares about what might show up on that screen.
Since the day I found out that I was pregnant I have googled my fingers to the bone and have print stains on my fingers from paging through stacks of pregnancy magazines.
I have read about birth defects and preemies and miscarriages and infant distress and cutting the cord to soon, the effects of too little folic acid and too much fish I have tried to be versed on what one should do and what one shouldn’t do. Too much exercise, too little exercise.
At the moment I am a walking dictionary on every possible eventuality and I am a neurotic mess. More so than I normally am and I carry a constant fear that something may be wrong or that despite my best efforts I am harming little Tyler or Liana.
If I feel too good I convince myself that the baby has stopped growing if I feel too bad I tell myself this is not normal.
Not even the fact that people are now starting to comment on my belly soothes the loony inside.
I hope that once Friday has passed my fears will be laid to rest