I've noticed a new cycle in my life. (Perhaps replacing the old one...) Every four weeks since late July I spend approximately 3 weeks, 6 days, 23 hours, and 35 minutes worrying that I have hurt/mutilated/strained Peanut and 25 minutes feeling confident that all is well. This does not aid my (already fragile) sanity.
At my first prenatal appointment my midwife (Yes, a midwife. No, I don't eat granola, hug trees, or wear organic fabrics. I even plan to use (gasp) disposable diapers.) was pleased to know that I was the assistant tennis coach because it meant I'd be exercising regularly. I had been terrified that a tennis ball would bean me in the midsection, crushing my fragile gummy-bear-sized babe, but she said that I had nothing to fear and that Peanut was well protected by my torso. (Note: Did she call me fat? How did I miss that at the time?)
Since then, I find it easy to believe that my every decision impacts Peanut's well-being. If I miss a prenatal vitamin with breakfast I have hindered brain and heart development. When I pick up a 24 pack of Pepsi to put it in the grocery cart, I have strained Peanut's limb or kidney development. On the really challenging mornings that I drink 1/2 of a cup of coffee, I have forced ADHD upon my unsuspecting child. Obviously, I overreact. If you've been reading my blog this should be no surprise.
Well, yesterday I had a real scare and I couldn't blog about it until I had some results from my doctor's appointment. At school we had a dance on Wednesday afternoon. A few of the more rambunctious kiddos went wild with the freedom and began running in crazy circles around the gym. One of those kiddos ran smack into my bump with some real force. Then, through the evening and night I didn't have the constant internal nudging of Peanut. (How about some pickle juice, mama? Maybe a bite of chocolate, coconut, almond Grater's ice cream? You know we could indulge a little...) I didn't relax until today when the nurse squirted some goop onto my tummy and Peanut let loose with some irritated kicks. Apparently, being cold is not kosher to my fetus. Then, we heard a loud, steady heartbeat and I could breathe again.
Of course, the feeling lasted about 25 minutes when I walked past a man smoking on the street. (My baby is going to have asthma, now.) At least now my appointments will be 2-3 weeks apart so there will be less time between peaceful moments.
Gratitude List
Mid-morning nap
Phone time with Joanna and Mom
Made plans to see Jenny-bunny
Found some perfect presents
Listening to Newsies while wrapping presents
Chatting with Patt at my appointment and giving her a chance to hear her newest grandchild's heartbeat
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