I am officially twenty-three weeks as of yesterday. This
means that three weeks ago I crossed the halfway mark and could officially
begin to count down.
While my husband has tried to be
as supportive as he can be, I have essentially been alone for over two-thirds
of my pregnancy due to the fact that his work flies him out of town for two
weeks at a time and sends him home for one quick week before he’s off again.
However, now that it’s the Christmas season they’ve given him three weeks off.
The bonus of this is that it seems as if this is where the milestones have
really began to pick up. For instance, my ultrasound was booked for the day
after his return.
My husband had been home for the
dating ultrasound. The timing proved to be crucial as both of us were able to
see that our baby really did exist - as the only evidence was my 24/7 nausea
and constant vomiting. This was a profound moment for him and I. It was a time
where both of us could tangibly grasp the reality that our life was changing.
It was a moment that deepened our connection. Therefore, both of us were
equally excited for this upcoming ultrasound where we’d be able to witness the
rapid growth that had occurred in the last twelve weeks: a fat little body with
short limbs that measured just over an inch and barely resembled a human being
to now being over a foot long with clearly defined features such as its eyes,
nose and mouth. Imagine our disappointment when after waiting with such
anticipation the technician told my husband he was to remain in the waiting room
until she called for him. Once again I was alone.
I lay out on the narrow examining
table while the technician squeezed jelly onto my abdomen and focused all her
attention on the screen. I looked over expecting to watch and somehow bond with
my baby like I had the first time. The only view I had was the screen’s black
backside. I closed my eyes and hoped that all was well.
Finally after a half hour I was
told I could clean up, go to the bathroom and retrieve my husband for our
viewing of the baby. The viewing took about one rapid minute in which we were
quickly told this is the head, the arm, the heartbeat, and the bum. I barely
had time to focus on the different pictures - let alone make out what I was
seeing. The only image that concretely stands out was a single image of my
baby’s skeletal arm. Then the appointment was over and we left bewildered with
my husband wondering why he even bothered to come along.
Although the experience is
slightly bitter it did teach me to stand up for what I want. If there happens
to be a next time I will be insisting that my husband accompany me into the
room – I’ve had enough of being alone. In addition, moving forward with this
pregnancy the experience has taught me that when something is important to me I
need to speak up and use my voice. In all honesty, I’m glad I experienced this
early on so that when it comes to more pressing matters, such as when I go into
labour, I’ll have the determination it takes to be heard.
On a positive note, a few days
later our baby’s movement became strong enough to be felt by others. While I
have been feeling my baby doing fish like flip-flops (or quick bloop-bloops as
I like to describe the sensation) ever since I was sixteen weeks, my hand still
had yet to feel it while resting on my protruding belly. The first time my hand
felt the baby was during David Bazan’s concert – the highlight of my night. It
seemed perfect: a night out on the town with my husband, listening to good
music, the vibe and energy was positive, and then with a soft boof I felt it.
In the middle of all the people surrounded by music, my baby and I shared a
private moment.
The following evening my husband also
felt our baby for the first time. We were curled up on the couch watching a
movie, my hand rested on the underside of my belly when I started feeling the
baby’s movements. I reached over and took my husband’s hand and replaced mine
with his. I wondered if the baby could feel the difference in weight, pressure
and even warmth and if it would cause it to become still from shyness or stage
fright. For a moment the activity ceased, but within minutes it started up. The
look of awe as it spread over my husband’s face as he felt our baby’s motion
for that first time is one that I hope remains ingrained in my memory. It was
just one tiny moment; yet, it was one that further connected us.
I have come to relish the small
moments, but the big ones are an excuse to celebrate. For us one such moment
was a perfect opportunity to throw a sex party.
“It’s not what you think,” my
husband would reassure after leaving an awkward moment of silence. “It’s a
gender reveal. We’re having cake that once you cut into it, it’s either pink
for a girl or blue for a boy.”
Our party was just a family
affair, but it was an exciting moment to share. As my husband’s family lives
out East he had a live feed through his phone so they could participate as
well. I was a little concerned that I would open up the cake box and that the
colour of the cake would be exposed through certain spots, so I gave it to my
brother-in-law and asked him to check it out and creatively fix it if needed.
As it turned out there were a few spots, particularly on top, so thankfully my
brother-in-law covered it with a floral arrangement made from mandarin orange
slices.
I really didn’t care, nor did I
have a strong idea one-way or the other, if it was a girl or a boy. If it was a
girl I knew that we’d be set as my sister’s seven-week-old baby was a little
girl and a bunch of friends had just had girls as well. Plus I thought it would
be nice if my baby was a girl so that she’d have a cousin the same gender and
close to the same age. Yet, I knew it would be fun to have a boy as well. Plus,
three of my husband’s good friends had boys and I knew it would be nice for my
husband as well. However, while I didn’t have a feeling, I did have a theory.
To be honest I never used
prescribed birth control. Personally, I wasn’t interested in introducing my
body to extra hormones – particularly since I already knew that medically I had
a hormone imbalance. So, I chose to use the scientific natural birth control
called the Fertility Awareness Method (FAM). I had been introduced to this
method through a book called Taking
Charge of Your Fertility by Toni Weschler that a group of midwives recommended
and lent to clients who were looking for a natural method of birth control
either for religious or personal reasons. The book is highly informative and
gave me a lot of insights to the workings of my body that neither doctors nor
naturopaths could really help me with. For two and half years this had been my
form of birth control. One aspect of being this in tune with my body was that I
was able to tell within a twenty-four hour period when I was ovulating.
Toni Weschler also gives certain
methods to try out if attempting to get pregnant with a specific gender.
Although my husband and I were no longer avoiding pregnancy – we definitely
weren’t trying either. In addition, with his work schedule being the way that
it was, I was never fertile while he was home; so, pregnancy (let alone gender)
really wasn’t an issue. However, in order to get pregnant, all it took was for
his work schedule to be delayed by an extra three to four days. Like I said, we
weren’t actively trying to get pregnant but neither were we avoiding it. Four
days after he left for work I ovulated. As the theory goes y-sperm are quick
swimmers and even though x-sperm are slower, they are hardier and live longer.
So, according to this if you want a boy it’s best to have sex as close to
ovulation as possible and if you want to try for a girl (while it may be harder
to time and therefore take a little longer to accomplish) it’s best to have sex
approximately five to three days before ovulation. So, while I had neither a
preference nor any true feelings, my suspicion was that we were having a girl.
The moment I cut into the cake
and pulled out the knife the gap glowed pink.
The cake glows pink: it's a girl! |
Once I made the second cut and
pulled out the slice for all to see, the room exploded in excitement and
congratulations: we are having a girl. My sister was ecstatic,
“I was hoping you were having a
girl! I have a box full of stuff for you right now.” Then turning to her
daughter cradled in the jungle baby swing she expressed, “Emma, you’re going to
have a girl cousin to play with.”
For some reason we had a boy name
picked out, but still had not agreed on a girl’s name. Finally Luke got right
on it and started looking up girl’s names. We still have not chosen one, but it’s
nice to know what we can focus on. To be honest, if I had had the perfect
pregnancy I would’ve waited until our baby made her entrance into the world to
have her gender revealed. However, for eighteen plus weeks I was so nauseas and
puked more than a couple times a day that rather than being excited I was
slightly resentful, bitter, and actually quite depressed about this drastic
change plaguing my body. Consequently, filled with all these negative emotions,
I felt no bonding with my baby. I hoped that discovering the gender would be
something to look forward to, something concrete to cling to, and a way to
specifically connect. I’m pleased to say that although we don’t have a specific
name chosen, it is really nice to call her my baby girl.
To look at you're baby's fetal development check out the following site:
http://www.babycenter.com/fetal-development-images-23-weeks
My belly at 23 weeks |
To look at you're baby's fetal development check out the following site:
http://www.babycenter.com/fetal-development-images-23-weeks