Time Heals

As the weeks pass, slowly we're allowing us to imagine life with a child. For years we didn't dare, it was simply too painful. And whenever one of us went off-course and did, the other would scold. 'Don't go there!', we'd say to each other. Our emotional well-being couldn't afford the indulgence. Instead we'd review all the positive aspects of being 'childfree'. Eventually we convinced ourselves that we'd find ways to be happy, fill the gap with adventure, with travel, with eating nice meals in fancy restaurants. We had to damper our urge to procreate with promises of boundless freedom. In retrospect, not a bad approach. The only problem being, that we have travelled a lot and have had a lot of adventure in our lives already and now there's a natural urge to grow in a different way.

There's that word again, urge. And therein lies the problem. Urges aren't something that can be controlled rationally. Like sleeping, eating and fucking, they are our raison d'etre. This is not to say that absolutely everyone out there should be reproducing. Hardly. Just like some people have big appetites, while others eat like birds, why can't the same be true for the urge to have kids? But urges come and go and it was our hope that eventually the baby urge would fade away. Or become less pulsating. Or something. When you find yourself in a situation that is totally beyond your control, the only hope remains is that time will heal. Our infertility wounds had started to close, making this pregnancy all the more flabbergasting. So as we get closer to the end of the first trimester, we're losing our fears, bit by bit and becoming a little less afraid to dream.

mini bump

Stef is obsessing over my mini baby bump. He makes me pull up my shirt about 4 times a day and wants to stroke it. Sometimes when I don't oblige , he whines loudly and says, "it's not fair, you've had it all day to play with your tummy and all I want is two minutes with it". Like a child wanting a turn with a new toy. But it's so small right now that he can't see it through my shirt, he can't even see it at certain angles.

It's cute how interested he is, but it's winter and his hands are freezing on bare belly.Especially when he first gets in from biking home. I can't complain though, the fact that I'm starting to poke out is all very exciting. Other than my growing girth, I feel great. No sickness, maybe a bit tired in the evenings, but other than that, I'm flourishing. Just hungry as hell!

Time is slowing down

Time is creeping along at a tortoise-like pace right now. I feel like I've gone down 3 levels on that Inception machine and seconds have become minutes, minutes have become hours. Will the 1st trimester never end? Not that I've been deathly ill or horribly tired, but I just want to be out of the danger zone . My next ultrasound isn't for 16 days!

On a fun note, I've a got a very slight belly. Especially if I slouch and let my shoulders hang. From the side I've got a bump! I've got a baby bump!

It has been almost a month since I had my first positive result. And even though I'm only 8 weeks along, it's starting to feel like this might actually happen. Life really is wild. Just as I was beginning to accept the possibility that I may never be pregnant, that I may never be that woman rubbing her belly and looking satisfied and smug, here I am feeling my uterus stretching and growing by the day. Like the old saying goes, "just when you least expect it".

After two promising blood tests, we had to wait 2 weeks for our first ultrasound. Typically women don't get to have an ultrasound until the 12th week, but using a fertility clinic to conceive has some benefits. Oh thank god for early ultrasounds! Waiting until the 12th week would have been excruciating. Already those 2 weeks were punishing enough.

Last Thursday I picked Stef up from work and we drove over to the clinic together. Luckily I'd been tutoring all morning so time had gone by relatively fast. When we got to the clinic though, they were behind schedule so we ended up waiting an extra half an hour. We both sat in the waiting room, desperately trying to keep ourselves occupied with the magazine offerings. Thankfully, over the years, the selection has improved. It used to be all glossy fashion magazines for the women and Sports Illustrated for the men. We both read long, engrossing articles to keep ourselves occupied. Finally, I hear my name called. Or a version of my name, I jump up. Like a student getting an award at school assembly.

Stef takes his seat next to the examination bed and the nurse makes sure everything is in order. Dr Taylor, my new favourite doctor at the clinic, is doing the ultrsound today. She is my favourite because she performed my one and only IVF successful embryo transfer. Also, immediately after performing the transfer, with my legs up in stirrups, she clasped her hands in prayer. A nice, sensitive touch.

Within seconds of her inserting the ultrasound 'wand' up my vagina, she tells us we're having a baby! And it's a singleton! What a mix of relief and exhilaration. Stef asks Dr Taylor to have a good look around, just in case there's one hiding on the sides. I well up and the nurse fetches me a couple kleenex. We hear the little heartbeat. It sounds good. The doctor measures the little bean to see if it's adequately growing. It looks good. I'm pregnant! I really am pregnant! It's legit! It's viable! It's a about time, fuck. We leave the clinic all smiles. Hopefully we"ll never be back.