Baby Update: First Trimester, Week Nine

A few of my younger friends from the art gallery turned me on to the idea of doing a few developmental updates do document the physicality of the pregnancy. They had done it for their pregnancies and now read back with amazement as to how much they've changed. So, I'm jumping on the bandwagon.

As of October 24th, I started my ninth week of pregnancy. According to WebMD, this week wee one is taking shape to soon become a fetus:

• The little miracle is roughly one inch in height and like a strawberry in size.
• The neck and limbs are becoming stronger, now with movement capabilities.
• It still looks like an alien, but a cute alien.
• Before the end of the first trimester, by week twelve, the alien will be more human like with all set features from reproductive organs to teeth. By then, the baby will be four inches long and carry a weight of a hefty one ounce.

From my own point of view, this week has been about:

• More morning sickness than before, so not exactly a fun time.
• My skinny jeans that were fitting great a month ago are now slowly tightening around me.
• I've gained a total of one half pound, but even then I'm not sure if that's baby-related.
• As of today, I've been craving mustard on Frito chips. It's not a healthy option, so I hope this passes.
• A little bit of heartburn has bothered me late at night, but otherwise I'm good.
• I've finally adjusted to my increased-in-number-for-number-one bathroom visits.
• My moodiness has made my go from crying to singing in as little as two minutes. This has made the Pops a little unnerved, but he still helps me hug it out.
• I've started reading What to Expect When You're Expecting simultaneously with What to Expect: Eating Well When You're Expecting, both by Heidi Murkoff.
• We have an appointment with Dr. Sellers next week to have our first ultrasound, because the pregnancy is of high risk.

Other than that, Jeff and I have been discussing when to tell the boys. With Jasper now living in Dallas for his graphic design job and Hyde in Memphis working as an accountant, we've been able to keep this pregnancy under wraps from them despite our openness with our friends. So, we have to tell them soon. Maybe Thanksgiving will be the most appropriate time? We shall see. But, one thing is for certain: They will be the first of the family to know. My parents and Jeff's parents can wait until after that point. But, hey, if we reveal it at Thanksgiving, they should all be here!

Step One Down a Long Road

Every successful day with a past-35 pregnancy is something to celebrate: I've read some odds of how high miscarriages are in women younger than that, so I'm sometimes baffled by the ease so far of the pregnancy so far. A little bit of morning sickness is about as far as I've gotten, so I'm more than satisfied. But, just a few weeks ago, it felt like no one really wanted to let me celebrate these moments of success-by-survival.

From my personal journal entry on October 10, 2010:

Sometimes I think doctors are too logical for their own happiness, or at least to ever be personable. Meeting my new OB/GYN for my first appointment two days ago should have been a happy moment filled with optimism and excitement. But, I left Dr. Sellers' office feeling almost like a fool for having any enthusiasm for such a risky pregnancy. I even picked Dr. Matthew A. Sellers as my OB/GYN in hopes that his youthfulness would actually make him a bit less rigid and jaded. I may have been wrong.

After driving into Little Rock and waiting in his waiting room at the Cornerstone Clinic for Women, Jeff--wanting to take the day off to join me for support--and I were brought back to meet him. Both of us were excited, having rounded out our decision to stand firm with this pregnancy despite Dr. Dobbs' prior concerns. We held hands as we walked down the hall, excited to get more news on what were now calling the "miracle baby": It was like an echo to how we acted when we first started dating, with that odd breed of optimism that only happens out of a great case of caution thrown to the wind. Unfortunately, the joyfulness kind of trailed off from that point on.

Dr. Sellers is a nice enough guy, don't get me wrong. But, he made it clear from the starting off point that this pregnancy was going to need to be handled with a cautious optimism: My age could not be shrugged off. Because of this, he recommended that I maintain two appointments per month until the pregnancy reached seven months. Then, it would increase from there as he saw fit. He also pointed us in the direction of a genetic counselor to discuss testing options, just to be on the safe side.  It was at this moment that I looked over at Jeff, and could swear I could see dollar signs popping up in his eyes like a slot machine in Vegas. His insurance from UCA, the UnitedHealthcare Choice Plus plan, made sure that doctors visits were between $20-$35. It was the testing that raised his concerns, as he knew that we paid 20% coinsurance with ever test. It was like I could read his mind: Was all of this really necessary?


Dr. Sellers reminded us, again, of the risks as if to read our minds. Chromosomal defects seemed like the key-phrase of the visit, just like Sesame Street's key word segment. 


The conversation continue as he told us the due date to be April 29, 2011. He stressed the importance of prenatal vitamins, especially folic acid. I told him I was already on the ball with that, at least. He reminded me that my weight gain should not be excessive, that I should be eating as healthy as possible, and I should be maintaining a weekly low-impact workout. He ran through the list of what I can't have, the bad symptoms to feel, and the unfortunate reality that my clip had in fact slipped from my tubal ligation. But, on a lighter note, he reminded us of the value of sex and that made Jeff smirk.


Then, he went on to do a physical exam, pelvic exam, draw blood, and make me pee in a cup for urinalysis. I guess with that sentiment, and my fear of needles, it isn't surprising that this doctors visit wasn't living up to my idyllic scene of joyful celebration of this miracle pregnancy. But, it was good to know that he has the baby's best interest at heart.


So, the past two days, Jeff and I have been discussing the future. The first appointment with Dr. Sellers at least made the situation a crystal clear reality. We, again, agreed to use the vacation savings on the prenatal costs. We decided to set aside any money from my paintings and $500 from Jeff's monthly income to prepare for baby's first year and a college fund. We also decided that, since I am work-at-home artist, that it would be essential that we find a good babysitter for incidents that call me away for short spurts. And, we discussed the importance of finding some friends with babies to start building a community for the baby to associate with as he/she won't have siblings like Hyde and Jasper.


And, with that discussion, I decided to prepare myself with some reading matterial. I picked up the modern-day baby Bible, What to Expect When You're Expecting, and a few other reads by the same author on nutrition and the first year. I also grabbed some Mozart-for-babies CDs, as cheesy as that is. My defense is that it was on sale, and I'm a fan of Mozart anyway. Here's the receipt:

 

So, with a little help from books and doctors, it feels like I'm finally getting into the swing of being baby mama again. This is going to be a long road, just as Dr. Sellers continually reminded us, but every road can be walked with simply one foot in front of the other. And that small accomplishment is enough for me to celebrate, even if it is just that that the baby will soon start to look like a lizard instead of a tadpole.

A Healthy Review

After that last post, I can't help but feel some relief. There is something very cathartic in rehashing emotions, as if every time you feel the symphony of sensation it becomes a little duller and more tolerable. Plus, I've had a few friends--now readers--that have really responded to my openness. It has began an engaging conversation about later-in-life pregnancies. So, in the same spirit as my first post, here is my personal review of my trip to see our family doctor--Dr. John Dobbs--to confirm my First Response results.

From my personal journal entry on September 24, 2010:

I went to see Dr. Dobbs yesterday. It's never my favorite place to be, sitting in his waiting room with it's frank smell of sterility and DumDum pops. Normally, I avoid it at all costs with turning to more natural or holistic remedies for any illness that comes my way. But, Jeff and I needed an official "you're pregnant" so I made the appointment. And, a day after I had, I found myself sitting in the sterile waiting room three seats away from a coughing man and one seat away from an ancient edition of Fit Pregnancy magazine. I was numb.


When Nurse Nancy called my name, using my full "Lydia" instead of "Dia", I almost didn't hear her. My focus had been on the Fit Pregnancy magazine cover. The cover model, bump poking out from under a wrap dress, hardly looked to be 23 years old. Despite the fact that I had been younger than that with my first two pregnancies, I couldn't help but look at her with a disgust to her youth. It took the nurse three times before I finally recognized that it was my turn.


By the time Dr. Dobbs made it to the room, I was really missing Jeff's support. Back at work, despite taking a sick day earlier in the week, I couldn't help but be thankful for his emotional support. I wish he had been there to see the look on Dr. Dobbs' face after I had explained myself and shown him the First Response tests: He couldn't decide if he could maintain professionalism with a straight face or break out into a giggle. His expression landed somewhere between a smirk on his lips with an intense seriousness in his eyes before he sat down on his wheeled stool to have a heart-to-heart.


He explained the horrors that come along with past-35 pregnancy: Chromosomal defects, like Down Syndrome, had higher chances for this baby because of the age of my ovum and Jeff's aging genitalia. Before he went any further to test me for an official "yes", he made it clear that this was going to be a risky pregnancy that I might want to reconsider.

He couldn't even finish his sentence without me busting out with, "I'm keeping it!" With that, he began to swab my arm with alcohol to prep me for a quantitative blood test. 


One sore arm and $20 lighter, I just went for a drive. My mind was racing on his warnings. What would Jeff and I do to care for a Down Syndrome baby? How would it be different then a healthy pregnancy? Would Jeff have to stay employed beyond his retirement at UCA to keep the health insurance?


I also couldn't help but wonder if maybe Dr. Dobbs' test would come back negative. Even thinking that made my heart sting, though: Despite all of the changes, the drama, and the feelings, I had already become attached to the idea of being a mother reborn.


Somehow, before I knew it, the roads had led me out of Conway and into Little Rock. I found myself turning into the BabiesRUs parking lot. 


ToysRUs and BabiesRUs had been such a foreign place with my first two kids: It was the store we'd go to for big treats like Christmas presents or, rarely, a birthday gift. We couldn't really afford to go to Little Rock to shop there, back then, let alone afford the prices. With Hyde and Jasper, Wal-Mart was pretty much our only in-Conway option for kids' stuff that we could afford on Jeff's gallery assistant income. But, this new baby lived in a different time.


Jeff, now the chair of the Art Department at UCA, had worked his way up to a nice salary. Between his income and my sales of my paintings, we now fell into the 6-figure income category. This is a far cry from what we had with Hyde and Jasper. So, maybe I could finally get to shop in nicer places for this baby, at least some of the time.


I wandered through the store with an awe for how much everything had changed: The packaging was brighter, the toys could practically educate a toddler to anything, and the baby clothes were no longer frilly or screamed "BABY" in the fabric designs. The cribs could become toddler beds and the mattresses were mini name-brands. 


It was like I had walked into the latest Mattell version of Candyland after living in the Gum Drop Forest of my 1990's edition of the game for so many years. I drooled over the changes, and couldn't wait to treat this baby to everything I had so wished I could have provided for Jasper and Hyde. Knowing that we were intent on using that $12,000 vacation savings, and only that much, on the baby's first year, I couldn't help but start eyeballing nice furniture pieces and cute bedding sets. I had to keep reminding myself that we didn't even have the doctor's official "yes" yet.


But, I knew. I knew in my heart already.


So, I walked out of that store with a newborn-sized, neutral gender sleep gown. Here's the receipt, just for the sake of memory lane:

 

I made my way home with a renewed vigor: No matter what, defects or not, this baby was something that I felt was meant to be. For the odds to be so far against it, I couldn't help but already be it's biggest fan. It was a big change from being numb that morning, but it just felt right.


And, by the way, this morning Dr. Dobbs' office called. We are officially confirmed as pregnant.