Other than a few small acknowledgments to the womb-crawler, I haven’t said much about little expected one.
So here’s a baby story!
Gwenna’s father and I got married in October of last year. At the wedding, Gwenna was walking and dancing around. She was beginning to talk. She was growing out of her baby face. After the wedding, that made me sad. Now our family had no baby. Good thing I now had a husband, I thought.
We talked about another little one… our first was simply awesome, and since that was the case, we would be doing the world a huge injustice by not making more. We weren’t financially solid, so that was a negative. I still needed to finish school, so that might get in the way. We hadn’t bought a house yet… there were several things that could have held us back.
However, my mother and her mother had both had all their children before their late twenties, due to reproductive issues. I’d been diagnosed with PCOS when I was 17 (one reason our darling Gwenna was such a nice surprise) and had always been concerned about how long I could reasonably take advantage of my fertility. At some point before Gwenna, I pulled out a special diet, started charting and taking my basal body temperature every morning, and found that I was probably not ovulating. A few months of that, and it seemed I’d regulated- so I went back on birth control. I somehow got pregnant in that (serious, long-term) relationship, and it quickly terminated on its own. The nurse told me I shouldn’t expect to get pregnant on my own and keep it with the condition I was diagnosed with.
WELL! We showed her. Gwenna not only stuck around, but she stuck around for 41 weeks. And even then, she didn’t want to come out! That’s a different story all together, though.
Concerns about fertility coupled with the fact that I was suffering from some serious baby fever, Zack gave in, and we decided we would start trying in March, for a possible December baby. That was still up in the air, though, as I had a nanny job that I wanted to remain committed to for as long as I was needed.
In January, I went off of birth control so I could start charting and see where my body was- if I was ovulating, or what. I started loosely observing my cycle and following natural family planning, or the Rhythm Method. I wasn’t sure yet if I was ovulating, but I noticed when I could possibly be ovulating. I will spare you the details, here, but I do want to say that our experience with the Rhythm Method was not a failure- I knew when I was ovulating.
Fast forward to the first week of February. My period isn’t due for another week, probably, but Zack keeps making jokes that I’m pregnant. I tell him there’s no way I’d be exhibiting symptoms so early, even if I was, and I wasn’t. We were watching How I Met Your Mother, one of the episodes about Lily having a baby, when I decided that geeze, the world sure does seem to insisting I’m pregnant. I quietly excused myself to the bathroom and pulled out a pee-stick.
I proceeded to watch the second pink line appear.
I guess I wasn’t having any fertility issues. And yes, I remember that I said our Rhythm Method experience was not a failure- it wasn’t. There is a huge book on charting and the Rhythm Method, and you should read it if you want to understand more. Basically, there are requirements for using it effectively, and you have to do ALL of them. We understood this, but thought it didn’t apply to us for a few reasons. Oh well!
So I spent the first half of the pregnancy vomiting/being ill. We were pretty sure little lady was a boy (well, Zack was). We surprised our family at a gender reveal party (we did the gender reveal for ourselves with Gwenna, and this time we found out at the ultrasound and made the surprise more for our family).
I’ve been teaching Zumba 1-3 times per week, walking like crazy, watching calorie intake. I’m up about 10 pounds in week 29. That may jump up a bit more since it’s August and hot as Hades outside- no park walking for us for a while. I’m trying to keep up with the Hypnobabies program, have a student doula, see my midwives regularly. We’re planning another hospital birth, but this time we will hopefully be able to avoid interventions and use the tub we’ve reserved.
If someone asks me if I’m excited, heck yes I am. However, I try not to think about it much. I try to keep myself preoccupied with activities for Gwenna, work, house stuff, cooking… I don’t want that insane anxiety at 37 weeks that insists on eating your soul with the teeth of anticipation. Seriously, no one warns you about how uncomfortable and crazy-making those last couple of weeks are. You start to lose your ability to reason that waiting maybe one more week is surely better than a labor with interventions and high risks.
So I’m telling myself I have way too long to go, even though this pregnancy has flown by and I know that the fall, with all the work, school, and football I will have to enjoy will fly by as well. Just humor me- I have 3 more years to go.
That is the story of sweet Clover Jean thus far. I will now go back to ignoring my huge belly.