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Welcome to my three-part series on the glorious and adventure-filled journey that is “pregnancy,” divided (surprise!) into trimesters! Parts two and three to come this weekend…

Being at the OB office this week really made me realize how much has changed since our first visit there. I remember going in and seeing these women who looked like they were about to a) pop, and b) kill someone. Without saying or doing anything at all, these women had the power to instill great fear into me. On Monday, as I strolled waddled through the waiting room, I realized that I had progressed to the point that I now had the privilege of causing immense fear and trepidation in all who saw me, especially the poor innocent barely pregnant ones. It was wierd, and awkward, and in a strange way, a great milestone. I kind of relished the power, I felt as though, in some twisted way, I had earned it…kinda sick, isn’t it?

It has been almost 7 months since we first learned that something was going on, or should I say growing on, in my uterus, and looking back I see it as a progression of various emotions. The first was easy to identify: shock. Don’t get me wrong, the shock is still a factor (case in point, every time I look in the mirror I think WHO THE HECK IS THAT?) but it eventually takes a backseat to the onslaught of emotions that will follow it. But for those first few days, my mind went completely blank with pure shock.

Once the fog cleared enough for me to be able to function again, somewhere around week 6 or 7, I started to feel like I was harboring some huge secret, which, because I wasn’t sharing it, felt like some huge indiscretion (not that it was anything to be ashamed about). People asked me how I was doing, and I’d think…”My entire life is about to change and I’ve got nothing to show for it, and I can’t even tell you why yet, but thanks for asking.” But instead I’d smile and say “fine” and ask them where the restroom is. 

The first big milestone is, of course, the first visit to the OB-GYN, which for many of us isn’t until week 8. When I first found out from my three CVS brand pregnancy tests (a word to the wise ladies, spend a few extra bucks, get the digital ones), I was only able to confirm the findings with a trip to my PCP. They gave me a plus sign and a due date, and told me to set up my first appointment with an OB. Waiting for that visit was TORTURE! We couldn’t wait to get there, if only we’d known…

I could devote an entire post to the first visit. I mean, every single day between weeks 8 and 12, you worry about what’s going on with your baby, his/her health, and of course are praying that everything will progress well, but in that short 20 minutes with the nurse, before you even meet the stranger who will deliver your baby, they throw every complication/birth defect under the sun at you and make you sign all sorts of papers. What a beautiful way for two completely terrified parents-to-be to spend their first visit to babyland together. No ultrasound, no heartbeat, just waivers and pamphlets and magazines – no action. Oh wait, how could I forget, I did get a pelvic exam. Yippee.

This blend of shock, secrecy and awkward nervousness lasted until somewhere between weeks 8 and 12, when we could start leaking the news to people. But I have to admit, I still felt like somewhat of an imposter. I was, in the clinical sense of the world “pregnant” but I had no belly, no waddle, no ultrasound pictures; nothing to show for it, basically. We lived by the little weekly updates from babycenter.com that told us what random anatomy was developing (“Your baby grew fingernails this week”) and what vegetable/fruit she was comparable in size to (“Your baby is about the size of a kiwi”). Sidenote: I would love to meet the genius who decided that food was the best way to describe the size of a developing fetus to his/her parents. Considering that a pregnant woman’s relationship with food at any given time during the pregnancy can definitely be described as a “love-hate relationship,” I really don’t think it’s the wisest choice. We all learned all glorious systems of measurement in grade school, why not just put those to use?

Meanwhile, I probably should have started to develop some healthy panic in regards to our family’s future plans, but who had time for that? I was too busy sipping ginger ale, eating saltines, struggling to stay awake, and popping Tylenol to get me through the day. Forget “how will we pay for diapers and childcare,” all I wanted to know was, “when will I be able to tolerate solid food again, and where is the nearest restroom?”. And as for a belly, well, instead I lost almost ten pounds during my first trimester, which I attribute to Saltines being intolerable after 3 consecutive weeks of eating them exclusively, and a slight case of walking pneumonia. (And no, ladies, the weight you get down to at the beginning of pregnancy DOESN’T count as your starting weight when you tally how much weight you gain total. Now that would just be cruel, wouldn’t it?)

To be continued…