Since the smallest appearance of a baby bump I have consciously tried to conceal it by wearing larger tops and loose fitting clothing, so it was with great astonishment that Eugene inspected his girl friends physique last night when I dared appear in a tank top.
At 18 weeks pregnant two things are quite eye catching. The first being that if it weren’t for my new found love of loose clothing I would look like the product of an incestual relationship between a tellytubby and an umpa-lumpa.
And the second being that I no longer have a belly-button. I used to have an inny that could house a small family and now my belly button in a leveled out spot in the center of my globulous tummy.
The bright side is however that I have great and I really mean great skin
At 18 weeks pregnant I have finally reached the end of my rapidly frying rope. This being said I think it is safe to assume that I have the worst timing in the history of human civilization.
After falling pregnant right after taking on a huge mortgage that we can barely afford, I chose now to start job hunting.
In my defense my desperation for a new job and more importantly a stable income is due to the fact that I cannot see myself or my beloved surviving parenthood and its financial strain when I’m earning peanuts.
I decided to give it a go and I posted my CV on a few portals. To my great surprise I received a fair few responses and started setting up interviews for today and tomorrow.
However I have been faced with the dilemma of when to tell.
Despite my constant bitching I can quite successfully hide my baby bump and after ready five hundred opinions on 6oo web sites I decided that I am not gonna let the cat out of the bag until someone either asks me an undodgeble question or offers me a job.
My first interview was with a recruitment agency in alberton who were doing a very general interview for a few positions one of which I am interviewing for tomorrow. I kept my mouth shut even though I felt terrible about it.
But I told myself that nobody wants to hire a preggie and Id rather they interview me based on my skill than the probability that im gonna drop a baby in their reception area.
The second interview however was not as easy. I really really wanted the job in this one. The offices are close to eugene’s the pay is brilliant and Ill be back into corporate sales.
But the recruiter asked that horrible question
“do you have any dependants” she said.
I was not going to blatantly lie to her because its going to come out and then I look horrible.
So I spilled my guts in the most sellable way possible and I now hope that my honestly is rewarded. If the employer does decide to see me Im at an immediate disadvantage.
But I want it so bad.
Tomorrow Im seeing another agency and a company and I can only hope that that goes well.
Im sorry that my writing is so horrid but the blog has very much become more a platform to make notes. I am hoping that someday I may be able to turn this into a book.
After falling pregnant right after taking on a huge mortgage that we can barely afford, I chose now to start job hunting.
In my defense my desperation for a new job and more importantly a stable income is due to the fact that I cannot see myself or my beloved surviving parenthood and its financial strain when I’m earning peanuts.
I decided to give it a go and I posted my CV on a few portals. To my great surprise I received a fair few responses and started setting up interviews for today and tomorrow.
However I have been faced with the dilemma of when to tell.
Despite my constant bitching I can quite successfully hide my baby bump and after ready five hundred opinions on 6oo web sites I decided that I am not gonna let the cat out of the bag until someone either asks me an undodgeble question or offers me a job.
My first interview was with a recruitment agency in alberton who were doing a very general interview for a few positions one of which I am interviewing for tomorrow. I kept my mouth shut even though I felt terrible about it.
But I told myself that nobody wants to hire a preggie and Id rather they interview me based on my skill than the probability that im gonna drop a baby in their reception area.
The second interview however was not as easy. I really really wanted the job in this one. The offices are close to eugene’s the pay is brilliant and Ill be back into corporate sales.
But the recruiter asked that horrible question
“do you have any dependants” she said.
I was not going to blatantly lie to her because its going to come out and then I look horrible.
So I spilled my guts in the most sellable way possible and I now hope that my honestly is rewarded. If the employer does decide to see me Im at an immediate disadvantage.
But I want it so bad.
Tomorrow Im seeing another agency and a company and I can only hope that that goes well.
Im sorry that my writing is so horrid but the blog has very much become more a platform to make notes. I am hoping that someday I may be able to turn this into a book.
sorry
I know that I have been a dismal blogger lately and I appologise for that, but the fact is that while I am nearing 18 weeks the news on the baby front is scarce and quite honestly I have not been very motivated to post anything funny.
Pregnancy has a way of amplifying every small nigeling little upset into the sinking of the titanik and you are left feeling down right depressed sometimes.
The biggest contributor to the depression is my job and the fact that I just cant catch a break. Clients cancell apointments and laps their policies and I am the ass that sits without a paycheck at the end of the month while the fact that I am pregnant prohibits me from finding a new job.
I cant write about it because I end up crying.
so untill I have some good news thats me bunnies
I'm sure by the end of this post you will be good and confused and quite honestly I dont blame you. This may not make any sense to you right now but its going somewhere for me. I know its not the best written piece I have ever writen but I had to jot it down quickly before it left me.
The zoo keeper stood waiting for me on the street corner. Tapping his feet in agitation and consulting he’s wrist watch every few seconds. He’s name was William and as I inspected the short old man it became clear that he’s parents must have had a sense of humor because William had a tail.
The zoo keeper was not tall, not even by my standards, his feet were big and flat and his big ears were softened only by his unkept white beard and sulky eyes. It was apparent that while he was able to communicate quite well with any form of beast of bird humans were among his least favorite and he regarded me with an instant air of disapproval.
So perplexed was I by the impatient little man and his generally cold greeting that it escaped my attention for the moment that I had no idée where I was nor why I felt I needed to be there.
“Your late” he grumbled at me and he’s frown made his eye brows look like a large hairy worm had taken up residence across his forehead.
I must has stuttered or mumbled something as my mind reeled and searched for words to explain my utter confusion.
Just then a large orange housecat turned the corner, he sauntered in that manner that house cats do and came to sit near the zoo keeper and gave me a rather expectant look that I didn’t understand.
“well did you bring it?” the zoo keeper snapped at me.
I felt the color drain from my face and my eyes widen, “your bag girl, check your bag” he grumbled again and obviously had little sympathy for the fact that my brain had turned to pudding.
I obediently checked my bag, among the usual mess of unnecessary and arbitrary items was a large jar of peanut butter, since I could not think of any reason the zoo keeper may require the use of my lipstick or any reason why the jar was in my bag I pulled it out only then considering what reason the zoo keeper may have to require a jar of crunchy peanut butter from in such an urgent manner.
My retrieval of the mysterious jam jar had not won me any favor in the sullen eyes of the zoo keeper and he glared at me with even less affection then he had afforded me before.
“well open it!” he shrieked “or do you perhaps expect him to do it himself”
I managed “oh yes of coarse” and did not quite master a tone of comprehension while the zoo keeper grumbled “unprepared, unprepared” under his voice.
The cat still looked at me in that asking manner.
I opened the jar and laid it the cats feet presuming that the jar was the reason I was being fixed with that look.
It seemed that presumption had for the moment won through as the housecat took to the peanut butter with reverence dipping his whole paw in the jar up to his elbow and then licking it of.
He rolled on his back with enjoyment savoring every last drop.
The zoo keeper simply waited, he did not tap his big flat feet or inspect his wrist watch he simply stared into space and waited.
I on the other had tried to make sense of the strange place I had never seen before, where had I come from where we were going. I tried to explain my unique companions but nothing came to mind and since I saw no way out of where ever I was and since the zoo keeper and the cat seemed quite confident about their mission I decided to follow their lead.
The cat finished his jar of peanut butter, looking satisfied and full he dragged himself off his back and started to strut up the road in that self important way cats always seem to strut.
The zoo keeper followed plodding on on big flat feet and since it was the only avenue open to and since I hadn’t been told otherwise I followed too.
The zoo keeper stood waiting for me on the street corner. Tapping his feet in agitation and consulting he’s wrist watch every few seconds. He’s name was William and as I inspected the short old man it became clear that he’s parents must have had a sense of humor because William had a tail.
The zoo keeper was not tall, not even by my standards, his feet were big and flat and his big ears were softened only by his unkept white beard and sulky eyes. It was apparent that while he was able to communicate quite well with any form of beast of bird humans were among his least favorite and he regarded me with an instant air of disapproval.
So perplexed was I by the impatient little man and his generally cold greeting that it escaped my attention for the moment that I had no idée where I was nor why I felt I needed to be there.
“Your late” he grumbled at me and he’s frown made his eye brows look like a large hairy worm had taken up residence across his forehead.
I must has stuttered or mumbled something as my mind reeled and searched for words to explain my utter confusion.
Just then a large orange housecat turned the corner, he sauntered in that manner that house cats do and came to sit near the zoo keeper and gave me a rather expectant look that I didn’t understand.
“well did you bring it?” the zoo keeper snapped at me.
I felt the color drain from my face and my eyes widen, “your bag girl, check your bag” he grumbled again and obviously had little sympathy for the fact that my brain had turned to pudding.
I obediently checked my bag, among the usual mess of unnecessary and arbitrary items was a large jar of peanut butter, since I could not think of any reason the zoo keeper may require the use of my lipstick or any reason why the jar was in my bag I pulled it out only then considering what reason the zoo keeper may have to require a jar of crunchy peanut butter from in such an urgent manner.
My retrieval of the mysterious jam jar had not won me any favor in the sullen eyes of the zoo keeper and he glared at me with even less affection then he had afforded me before.
“well open it!” he shrieked “or do you perhaps expect him to do it himself”
I managed “oh yes of coarse” and did not quite master a tone of comprehension while the zoo keeper grumbled “unprepared, unprepared” under his voice.
The cat still looked at me in that asking manner.
I opened the jar and laid it the cats feet presuming that the jar was the reason I was being fixed with that look.
It seemed that presumption had for the moment won through as the housecat took to the peanut butter with reverence dipping his whole paw in the jar up to his elbow and then licking it of.
He rolled on his back with enjoyment savoring every last drop.
The zoo keeper simply waited, he did not tap his big flat feet or inspect his wrist watch he simply stared into space and waited.
I on the other had tried to make sense of the strange place I had never seen before, where had I come from where we were going. I tried to explain my unique companions but nothing came to mind and since I saw no way out of where ever I was and since the zoo keeper and the cat seemed quite confident about their mission I decided to follow their lead.
The cat finished his jar of peanut butter, looking satisfied and full he dragged himself off his back and started to strut up the road in that self important way cats always seem to strut.
The zoo keeper followed plodding on on big flat feet and since it was the only avenue open to and since I hadn’t been told otherwise I followed too.
A poo and a pram
Since Dr Yasmeen saw us and informed us that our darling Thingy will not be arriving on the 7th of September but in fact on the 12th and thus putting my calculations back almost a week. I feel like a terminal at the OR Thambo airport with this late arrival thing and I am taking the news with my usual bad grace.
I am quite ready to meet our little one but since I now have a little longer to wait than was originally estimated I may as well take this time to prove to you how brilliant I am.
While I may still be completely clueless when it comes to all things baby and have a long way to go before I attain any form of super preggie status I have learnt a few things that have basically been my saving grace for the past almost four months.
The first I didn’t really learn as I have always been stingy enough to accept hand me down lunches.
I am admittedly a bargain hunter of note and have been able to incorporate this part time hobby into my fulltime occupation of neurotic mother to be.
Like all first timers we had great intentions of providing our little Lilliputian with every luxury known to mankind. We knew babies are an expensive pass time but people had unfortunately always referred to the maintenance costs such as formula and nappies and never the start up costs. Nor the cost of the coronary bypass we found ourselves in need of after our first little stroll into baby city.
We went in with that kid in a candy store look and after repeating the words shit and fuck me several times (infront of moms and babies alike I might add) we dragged our long pale faces outside.
A week of utter financial depression followed after we made up our minds.
I wanted the pretty wooden cot but I refused to pay tree house R3500 for the damned thing.
Months ago I was under the impression that a compactum was a contraption used to crush cars, I have become wiser now and I want one but I would rather fornicate with a foul tempered cactus before I fork out two grand for the damned thing.
At this point we haven’t even discussed the fact the babies no longer get pushed around in prams but have graduated their mode of transport to an incredibly complicated contraption that can cost up to R6000 and is called a travel system. The producers of this sin agains mankind believe that the fact that its available in bright green justify this kind daylight robbery and the fact that those people who own corsa’s will have to invest in an SUV just to fit the damned thing in the boot was not part of the calculations that took place when inventing their compact folding system and has thus completely escaped the attention of these capatilist Nazi’s.
So in my pursuit of the finer things in life dragged the laptop closer and started typing.
I figured that since babies don’t last forever and no parent in his right mind, having taken out a second bond on his humble abode to provide the essentials for their brats, would have the heart to trash that wooden cot and compactum he’s toddler wanted upgraded to a ferari bed.
And since one moms trash is another moms sanity I searched gumtee until I found that bargain.
I did not pay R3500-00 for my cot I paid R400 for it and while it needs a wash it is perfect.
The compactum thing-a-majig did not break the bank and in absolutely perfect condition Eugene’s mom picked it up at a pawn shop for R1200pm.
I still scan the pages every day because we still need the damned travel system and the SUV that ensures you don’t need to decide whether you should leave the kid or the pram in the parking lot of the checkers sothat you can take the groceries home.
But I can assure you that come hell or high water I am beating the damn system.
I have even started a nice little collection of second hand kiddies books.
My little bargain baby
My second smart little tip spawns from the fact that eating whole brand cereal is like choking down brown paper envelope and. I have tried all of them, the boxes are different but all of them contain a compound of woodchip and cardboard bits, its no wonder you shit through the eye of a needle the moment you ingest the stuff, your body is reacting to a brutal assult by expelling the enemy.
However when you are pregnant, you find that despite being able to poo without assistance for the lions share of your life you have started shitting bricks no more than once a week and in the interim your farts should be registered as a weapon of mas destruction.
The magazines tell you to add more fiber to your diet and suggest the same cereal that you have sworn of because you cant swallow dust.
No shit Sherlock (excuse the pun)
Yet fear not preggies for I have found the solution in snow flakes easy bake bran muffins.
Yes I know easy bake is cheating but your not a mother yet and since you are gonna have 21 years of pretending you love baking for your kids you may as well shut it now.
These little darlings taste great and you can put jam on them. But one or two and the flood gates will open.
Believe me it works and it doesn’t taste like your chewing on a brick.
Anyways that’s me.
I am quite ready to meet our little one but since I now have a little longer to wait than was originally estimated I may as well take this time to prove to you how brilliant I am.
While I may still be completely clueless when it comes to all things baby and have a long way to go before I attain any form of super preggie status I have learnt a few things that have basically been my saving grace for the past almost four months.
The first I didn’t really learn as I have always been stingy enough to accept hand me down lunches.
I am admittedly a bargain hunter of note and have been able to incorporate this part time hobby into my fulltime occupation of neurotic mother to be.
Like all first timers we had great intentions of providing our little Lilliputian with every luxury known to mankind. We knew babies are an expensive pass time but people had unfortunately always referred to the maintenance costs such as formula and nappies and never the start up costs. Nor the cost of the coronary bypass we found ourselves in need of after our first little stroll into baby city.
We went in with that kid in a candy store look and after repeating the words shit and fuck me several times (infront of moms and babies alike I might add) we dragged our long pale faces outside.
A week of utter financial depression followed after we made up our minds.
I wanted the pretty wooden cot but I refused to pay tree house R3500 for the damned thing.
Months ago I was under the impression that a compactum was a contraption used to crush cars, I have become wiser now and I want one but I would rather fornicate with a foul tempered cactus before I fork out two grand for the damned thing.
At this point we haven’t even discussed the fact the babies no longer get pushed around in prams but have graduated their mode of transport to an incredibly complicated contraption that can cost up to R6000 and is called a travel system. The producers of this sin agains mankind believe that the fact that its available in bright green justify this kind daylight robbery and the fact that those people who own corsa’s will have to invest in an SUV just to fit the damned thing in the boot was not part of the calculations that took place when inventing their compact folding system and has thus completely escaped the attention of these capatilist Nazi’s.
So in my pursuit of the finer things in life dragged the laptop closer and started typing.
I figured that since babies don’t last forever and no parent in his right mind, having taken out a second bond on his humble abode to provide the essentials for their brats, would have the heart to trash that wooden cot and compactum he’s toddler wanted upgraded to a ferari bed.
And since one moms trash is another moms sanity I searched gumtee until I found that bargain.
I did not pay R3500-00 for my cot I paid R400 for it and while it needs a wash it is perfect.
The compactum thing-a-majig did not break the bank and in absolutely perfect condition Eugene’s mom picked it up at a pawn shop for R1200pm.
I still scan the pages every day because we still need the damned travel system and the SUV that ensures you don’t need to decide whether you should leave the kid or the pram in the parking lot of the checkers sothat you can take the groceries home.
But I can assure you that come hell or high water I am beating the damn system.
I have even started a nice little collection of second hand kiddies books.
My little bargain baby
My second smart little tip spawns from the fact that eating whole brand cereal is like choking down brown paper envelope and. I have tried all of them, the boxes are different but all of them contain a compound of woodchip and cardboard bits, its no wonder you shit through the eye of a needle the moment you ingest the stuff, your body is reacting to a brutal assult by expelling the enemy.
However when you are pregnant, you find that despite being able to poo without assistance for the lions share of your life you have started shitting bricks no more than once a week and in the interim your farts should be registered as a weapon of mas destruction.
The magazines tell you to add more fiber to your diet and suggest the same cereal that you have sworn of because you cant swallow dust.
No shit Sherlock (excuse the pun)
Yet fear not preggies for I have found the solution in snow flakes easy bake bran muffins.
Yes I know easy bake is cheating but your not a mother yet and since you are gonna have 21 years of pretending you love baking for your kids you may as well shut it now.
These little darlings taste great and you can put jam on them. But one or two and the flood gates will open.
Believe me it works and it doesn’t taste like your chewing on a brick.
Anyways that’s me.
our first sonar
On Friday Eugene and myself drove to our first pre-natal appointment with an elephant in the back seat. The out of place pachyderm sat quietly not unnoticed but definitely undiscussed.
Both of us were terrified, excited mind you but terrified. Our quest to become educated about our pregnancy had accomplished little more than to turn us into nervous wrecks.
To one another we were desperately trying to present a positive picture of confidence while in reality we were thinking about what our chances were of finding out that our baby had stopped growing.
Or repeating to ourselves the statistics of downs syndrome or infant deformities, conjoined twins and all the other horrors that prompt e-mail chain letters.
For a moment I chastised myself for refusing to forward those e-mails. Right there and Then I bargained with the universe promising to send every annoying- send this to as many people as possible burnt baby email that enters my inbox if my baby would just please be alright.
Admittedly not all of my fears were well founded or even based on excessive research.
I actually feared that the baby that had been mine and Eugene’s soul obsession for the past three months did not exssist at all.
When I felt anything other than utter shit I convinced myself that I was not pregnant and that I was simply picking up ridicules amounts of weight. When I felt like utter shit I was sure it was an indication that there was something wrong with the baby.
As we drove the tree lined streets to the hospital though it felt like both conflicting fears and a whole array of others had culminated around me and I felt like I was about to puke butterflies.
I appreciated the fact that if that is how I felt Eugene must have felt ten time wore, as unlike me he has a tendency to over think things but he handled it like the big burly pillar of strength I expect him to be. Only the little wrinkles around his eyes belied the fact that his head was about to explode.
When we finally reached the Birchmore hospital in parktown the elephant followed us into the waiting room with the pink door and stomped around in front of us as we waited to meet Dr. Yasmeen for the first time.
We had never met the doctor as I had avoided any contact with any doctor for as long as I remember and I had put special effort into not being accosted by a doctor who chose to major in fannies.
However one of the great necessities of a pregnancy is a presiding gyno whose soul job is often to belay the ridiculous fears of neurotic mother to be such as myself.
And one of my greatest necessities was a gyno who was willing to accept medical aids so after five hundred phone calls in search of this endangered creature we found Dr. Yasmeen and other that she took medical aid we knew very little about her.
After getting the medical aid nitty-gritties out of the way the receptionist issued me with a urine dip stick and sent me to the ladies. It occurred to me then that pregnancy can be defined as a time when your primary concerns are your upchuck reflex and trying not to pee on your hand. But I had long since accepted that there was little dignity in this thing called pregnancy and dutifully squatted at command.
Upon my return to the dr.s rooms with the pink door my way was blocked by a heavily pregnant lady who had dropped her dipstick and was attempting to retrieve it. Like a giraffe at the watering hole her legas were spread to accommodate her colossal tummy in the bend. Her one hand hung onto the receptionist desk and the other groped for the silly stick. I looked over to Eugene who had a twinkle in his eye as he watched the exercise . I considered for a moment helping the poor unfortunate preggie but it occurred to me that I was not inclined to touch stuff I had peed on let alone stuff that someone ells had peed on and besides this was hilarious and since people would laugh at me like that in a couple of weeks I may as well enjoy the spectacle. Finally Eugene and I met the doctor. Dr. Yasmeen is a kindly little Muslim lady whom we both liked instantly.
She asked us questions about our medical history and asked me how far along I thought I was, her and my calculations differed by only a day and I patted myself and my google info on the back
But the fact was that these questions and details were simply a prelude, soon I was lead into a darkened room and my eyes instantly focused on the ultrasound machine. I was weighed and my blood pressure checked and just as I was asked to lie down on the bed Eugene was called in. as doctor put conductor gel on my tummy he took his place behind me and took my hand in his.
Without warning there it was
Perfectly clear our baby
Till today I cannot tell you what I found more memorable. That busy little baby rolling around for us to see or Eugenes hand squeezing mine, perhaps it was knowing that while I cried black eye liner all over Dr. Yasmeens pillow the big burly man behind me was unashamedly crying with me. It was the most amazing moment for us as a couple and I doubt there has ever been a moment in either our lives that would beat that.
Our baby performed beautifully and pushed at the scanner giving us a great view of five fingers and then turned so you could count the vertebra in its back.
We were only slightly disappointed to that we could not find out the sex of the baby there and then but we were perfectly content knowing that he or she is perfectly happy and growing exactly the way it should.
We left the elephant there and drove home smiling like goof balls saying over and over how amazing that was.
Now its real now I know I’m becoming a mom and I can barely wait for our next appointment is “Thingy” a girl or a boy.
Both of us were terrified, excited mind you but terrified. Our quest to become educated about our pregnancy had accomplished little more than to turn us into nervous wrecks.
To one another we were desperately trying to present a positive picture of confidence while in reality we were thinking about what our chances were of finding out that our baby had stopped growing.
Or repeating to ourselves the statistics of downs syndrome or infant deformities, conjoined twins and all the other horrors that prompt e-mail chain letters.
For a moment I chastised myself for refusing to forward those e-mails. Right there and Then I bargained with the universe promising to send every annoying- send this to as many people as possible burnt baby email that enters my inbox if my baby would just please be alright.
Admittedly not all of my fears were well founded or even based on excessive research.
I actually feared that the baby that had been mine and Eugene’s soul obsession for the past three months did not exssist at all.
When I felt anything other than utter shit I convinced myself that I was not pregnant and that I was simply picking up ridicules amounts of weight. When I felt like utter shit I was sure it was an indication that there was something wrong with the baby.
As we drove the tree lined streets to the hospital though it felt like both conflicting fears and a whole array of others had culminated around me and I felt like I was about to puke butterflies.
I appreciated the fact that if that is how I felt Eugene must have felt ten time wore, as unlike me he has a tendency to over think things but he handled it like the big burly pillar of strength I expect him to be. Only the little wrinkles around his eyes belied the fact that his head was about to explode.
When we finally reached the Birchmore hospital in parktown the elephant followed us into the waiting room with the pink door and stomped around in front of us as we waited to meet Dr. Yasmeen for the first time.
We had never met the doctor as I had avoided any contact with any doctor for as long as I remember and I had put special effort into not being accosted by a doctor who chose to major in fannies.
However one of the great necessities of a pregnancy is a presiding gyno whose soul job is often to belay the ridiculous fears of neurotic mother to be such as myself.
And one of my greatest necessities was a gyno who was willing to accept medical aids so after five hundred phone calls in search of this endangered creature we found Dr. Yasmeen and other that she took medical aid we knew very little about her.
After getting the medical aid nitty-gritties out of the way the receptionist issued me with a urine dip stick and sent me to the ladies. It occurred to me then that pregnancy can be defined as a time when your primary concerns are your upchuck reflex and trying not to pee on your hand. But I had long since accepted that there was little dignity in this thing called pregnancy and dutifully squatted at command.
Upon my return to the dr.s rooms with the pink door my way was blocked by a heavily pregnant lady who had dropped her dipstick and was attempting to retrieve it. Like a giraffe at the watering hole her legas were spread to accommodate her colossal tummy in the bend. Her one hand hung onto the receptionist desk and the other groped for the silly stick. I looked over to Eugene who had a twinkle in his eye as he watched the exercise . I considered for a moment helping the poor unfortunate preggie but it occurred to me that I was not inclined to touch stuff I had peed on let alone stuff that someone ells had peed on and besides this was hilarious and since people would laugh at me like that in a couple of weeks I may as well enjoy the spectacle. Finally Eugene and I met the doctor. Dr. Yasmeen is a kindly little Muslim lady whom we both liked instantly.
She asked us questions about our medical history and asked me how far along I thought I was, her and my calculations differed by only a day and I patted myself and my google info on the back
But the fact was that these questions and details were simply a prelude, soon I was lead into a darkened room and my eyes instantly focused on the ultrasound machine. I was weighed and my blood pressure checked and just as I was asked to lie down on the bed Eugene was called in. as doctor put conductor gel on my tummy he took his place behind me and took my hand in his.
Without warning there it was
Perfectly clear our baby
Till today I cannot tell you what I found more memorable. That busy little baby rolling around for us to see or Eugenes hand squeezing mine, perhaps it was knowing that while I cried black eye liner all over Dr. Yasmeens pillow the big burly man behind me was unashamedly crying with me. It was the most amazing moment for us as a couple and I doubt there has ever been a moment in either our lives that would beat that.
Our baby performed beautifully and pushed at the scanner giving us a great view of five fingers and then turned so you could count the vertebra in its back.
We were only slightly disappointed to that we could not find out the sex of the baby there and then but we were perfectly content knowing that he or she is perfectly happy and growing exactly the way it should.
We left the elephant there and drove home smiling like goof balls saying over and over how amazing that was.
Now its real now I know I’m becoming a mom and I can barely wait for our next appointment is “Thingy” a girl or a boy.
our first sonar
On Friday Eugene and myself drove to our first pre-natal appointment with an elephant in the back seat. The out of place pachyderm sat quietly not unnoticed but definitely undiscussed.
Both of us were terrified, excited mind you but terrified. Our quest to become educated about our pregnancy had accomplished little more than to turn us into nervous wrecks.
To one another we were desperately trying to present a positive picture of confidence while in reality we were thinking about what our chances were of finding out that our baby had stopped growing.
Or repeating to ourselves the statistics of downs syndrome or infant deformities, conjoined twins and all the other horrors that prompt e-mail chain letters.
For a moment I chastised myself for refusing to forward those e-mails. Right there and Then I bargained with the universe promising to send every annoying- send this to as many people as possible burnt baby email that enters my inbox if my baby would just please be alright.
Admittedly not all of my fears were well founded or even based on excessive research.
I actually feared that the baby that had been mine and Eugene’s soul obsession for the past three months did not exssist at all.
When I felt anything other than utter shit I convinced myself that I was not pregnant and that I was simply picking up ridicules amounts of weight. When I felt like utter shit I was sure it was an indication that there was something wrong with the baby.
As we drove the tree lined streets to the hospital though it felt like both conflicting fears and a whole array of others had culminated around me and I felt like I was about to puke butterflies.
I appreciated the fact that if that is how I felt Eugene must have felt ten time wore, as unlike me he has a tendency to over think things but he handled it like the big burly pillar of strength I expect him to be. Only the little wrinkles around his eyes belied the fact that his head was about to explode.
When we finally reached the Birchmore hospital in parktown the elephant followed us into the waiting room with the pink door and stomped around in front of us as we waited to meet Dr. Yasmeen for the first time.
We had never met the doctor as I had avoided any contact with any doctor for as long as I remember and I had put special effort into not being accosted by a doctor who chose to major in fannies.
However one of the great necessities of a pregnancy is a presiding gyno whose soul job is often to belay the ridiculous fears of neurotic mother to be such as myself.
And one of my greatest necessities was a gyno who was willing to accept medical aids so after five hundred phone calls in search of this endangered creature we found Dr. Yasmeen and other that she took medical aid we knew very little about her.
After getting the medical aid nitty-gritties out of the way the receptionist issued me with a urine dip stick and sent me to the ladies. It occurred to me then that pregnancy can be defined as a time when your primary concerns are your upchuck reflex and trying not to pee on your hand. But I had long since accepted that there was little dignity in this thing called pregnancy and dutifully squatted at command.
Upon my return to the dr.s rooms with the pink door my way was blocked by a heavily pregnant lady who had dropped her dipstick and was attempting to retrieve it. Like a giraffe at the watering hole her legas were spread to accommodate her colossal tummy in the bend. Her one hand hung onto the receptionist desk and the other groped for the silly stick. I looked over to Eugene who had a twinkle in his eye as he watched the exercise . I considered for a moment helping the poor unfortunate preggie but it occurred to me that I was not inclined to touch stuff I had peed on let alone stuff that someone ells had peed on and besides this was hilarious and since people would laugh at me like that in a couple of weeks I may as well enjoy the spectacle. Finally Eugene and I met the doctor. Dr. Yasmeen is a kindly little Muslim lady whom we both liked instantly.
She asked us questions about our medical history and asked me how far along I thought I was, her and my calculations differed by only a day and I patted myself and my google info on the back
But the fact was that these questions and details were simply a prelude, soon I was lead into a darkened room and my eyes instantly focused on the ultrasound machine. I was weighed and my blood pressure checked and just as I was asked to lie down on the bed Eugene was called in. as doctor put conductor gel on my tummy he took his place behind me and took my hand in his.
Without warning there it was
Perfectly clear our baby
Till today I cannot tell you what I found more memorable. That busy little baby rolling around for us to see or Eugenes hand squeezing mine, perhaps it was knowing that while I cried black eye liner all over Dr. Yasmeens pillow the big burly man behind me was unashamedly crying with me. It was the most amazing moment for us as a couple and I doubt there has ever been a moment in either our lives that would beat that.
Our baby performed beautifully and pushed at the scanner giving us a great view of five fingers and then turned so you could count the vertebra in its back.
We were only slightly disappointed to that we could not find out the sex of the baby there and then but we were perfectly content knowing that he or she is perfectly happy and growing exactly the way it should.
We left the elephant there and drove home smiling like goof balls saying over and over how amazing that was.
Now its real now I know I’m becoming a mom and I can barely wait for our next appointment is “Thingy” a girl or a boy.
Both of us were terrified, excited mind you but terrified. Our quest to become educated about our pregnancy had accomplished little more than to turn us into nervous wrecks.
To one another we were desperately trying to present a positive picture of confidence while in reality we were thinking about what our chances were of finding out that our baby had stopped growing.
Or repeating to ourselves the statistics of downs syndrome or infant deformities, conjoined twins and all the other horrors that prompt e-mail chain letters.
For a moment I chastised myself for refusing to forward those e-mails. Right there and Then I bargained with the universe promising to send every annoying- send this to as many people as possible burnt baby email that enters my inbox if my baby would just please be alright.
Admittedly not all of my fears were well founded or even based on excessive research.
I actually feared that the baby that had been mine and Eugene’s soul obsession for the past three months did not exssist at all.
When I felt anything other than utter shit I convinced myself that I was not pregnant and that I was simply picking up ridicules amounts of weight. When I felt like utter shit I was sure it was an indication that there was something wrong with the baby.
As we drove the tree lined streets to the hospital though it felt like both conflicting fears and a whole array of others had culminated around me and I felt like I was about to puke butterflies.
I appreciated the fact that if that is how I felt Eugene must have felt ten time wore, as unlike me he has a tendency to over think things but he handled it like the big burly pillar of strength I expect him to be. Only the little wrinkles around his eyes belied the fact that his head was about to explode.
When we finally reached the Birchmore hospital in parktown the elephant followed us into the waiting room with the pink door and stomped around in front of us as we waited to meet Dr. Yasmeen for the first time.
We had never met the doctor as I had avoided any contact with any doctor for as long as I remember and I had put special effort into not being accosted by a doctor who chose to major in fannies.
However one of the great necessities of a pregnancy is a presiding gyno whose soul job is often to belay the ridiculous fears of neurotic mother to be such as myself.
And one of my greatest necessities was a gyno who was willing to accept medical aids so after five hundred phone calls in search of this endangered creature we found Dr. Yasmeen and other that she took medical aid we knew very little about her.
After getting the medical aid nitty-gritties out of the way the receptionist issued me with a urine dip stick and sent me to the ladies. It occurred to me then that pregnancy can be defined as a time when your primary concerns are your upchuck reflex and trying not to pee on your hand. But I had long since accepted that there was little dignity in this thing called pregnancy and dutifully squatted at command.
Upon my return to the dr.s rooms with the pink door my way was blocked by a heavily pregnant lady who had dropped her dipstick and was attempting to retrieve it. Like a giraffe at the watering hole her legas were spread to accommodate her colossal tummy in the bend. Her one hand hung onto the receptionist desk and the other groped for the silly stick. I looked over to Eugene who had a twinkle in his eye as he watched the exercise . I considered for a moment helping the poor unfortunate preggie but it occurred to me that I was not inclined to touch stuff I had peed on let alone stuff that someone ells had peed on and besides this was hilarious and since people would laugh at me like that in a couple of weeks I may as well enjoy the spectacle. Finally Eugene and I met the doctor. Dr. Yasmeen is a kindly little Muslim lady whom we both liked instantly.
She asked us questions about our medical history and asked me how far along I thought I was, her and my calculations differed by only a day and I patted myself and my google info on the back
But the fact was that these questions and details were simply a prelude, soon I was lead into a darkened room and my eyes instantly focused on the ultrasound machine. I was weighed and my blood pressure checked and just as I was asked to lie down on the bed Eugene was called in. as doctor put conductor gel on my tummy he took his place behind me and took my hand in his.
Without warning there it was
Perfectly clear our baby
Till today I cannot tell you what I found more memorable. That busy little baby rolling around for us to see or Eugenes hand squeezing mine, perhaps it was knowing that while I cried black eye liner all over Dr. Yasmeens pillow the big burly man behind me was unashamedly crying with me. It was the most amazing moment for us as a couple and I doubt there has ever been a moment in either our lives that would beat that.
Our baby performed beautifully and pushed at the scanner giving us a great view of five fingers and then turned so you could count the vertebra in its back.
We were only slightly disappointed to that we could not find out the sex of the baby there and then but we were perfectly content knowing that he or she is perfectly happy and growing exactly the way it should.
We left the elephant there and drove home smiling like goof balls saying over and over how amazing that was.
Now its real now I know I’m becoming a mom and I can barely wait for our next appointment is “Thingy” a girl or a boy.
