Finally, the prenatal vitamins no longer make me feel ill. My God those little pink and blue pills wreaked havoc on my poor stomach. I hated taking them. I’m positive if I hadn’t had to take them, I wouldn’t have thrown up or felt like throwing up every morning. The headaches have eased as well. It seems, this truly is the ‘Good Trimester’. The peeing continues to increase, but I’m getting used to it. This pregnancy thing isn’t so painful after all. Maybe?!
I’ve reached the point in pregnancy where ‘they’ say you can feel confident and at peace that all will go well. You’ve reached the safe point, ‘they’ say. You can begin to tell people ‘they’ say. Make your big announcement. And while I feel somewhat less anxious, I’m still extremely scared and not ready to jump for joy, let alone tell a lot of people…not just as yet, anyway. At this point, I’m still trying to enjoy the moment, the now…I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself. Ever again.
With each day, my body changes more and more. With each day, my excitement and joy quietly grow. These feelings grow enough for me to constantly think of baby names. I become obsessed with finding a name that means ‘light’, because that’s what the little person growing inside of me brings…light. I’m getting heavier and heavier, but I feel so…light.
I’m taking two courses. I’m trying really hard to complete my Masters sooner than later. Ideally, before baby comes. It’s getting harder to focus. Harder to think. I only have baby on my mind. There is no space for academic readings and essays. No room or capacity for critical thinking. Just thoughts of my baby. What will he be like? Who will he look like? How big am I going to get? How big is he now? What will labour be like? Is baby doing okay? Those are my thoughts. That’s it.
I need to shop. I thought I had enough loose, oversized clothing to last me a bit longer, but they don’t really work. Gap Maternity jeans?…yes, I think so!
Time to get fit! Well, try to stay as fit as possible. Walk. Yes, I’ll walk! I buy new sneakers for extra motivation. I don’t walk.
My cousin’s getting married in Jamaica this July, “Yay, Baby Moon”! The many pregnancy apps I follow recommend going on one. A Baby Moon, a little getaway before baby comes and your life and relationship(s) change(s) forever. They suggest to take it during your second trimester, when you’re feeling your best. How could I not take advantage? To Jamaica I must go and to Jamaica I went.
I’m thoroughly excited, and I’ve been reassured that Zika is not to be of concern. The mister disagrees. My doctor’s advise that I should take the regular precautions one would against those dreadful little mosquitos, and all should be well. A week after getting back home, the Mister insists I get checked for Zika. I comply. No Zika. Thank God!
Oh ya, food…I love it, again! Plenty of it. Especially coconuts.
Anatomy scan complete. All looks well. I relax some more.
Glucose test complete. All seems well. Thank God.
Boy? Girl? Keep it a surprise? The midwife hands us a folded piece of paper with the 
gender enclosed. Do we look? Do we wait? Do we throw it out? He wants to know. I want to be surprised. I say he can know, just don’t tell me or anyone else. He says, he feels bad knowing if I don’t know. I say I feel bad keeping him from knowing. I ask if I can call a ‘lifeline’. He says ‘sure’. I call my mom. “Mommy, do we look? Should we find out?” She asks my sister, who of course tells us to look. We look. The paper says ‘baby boy’. Did they really need to specify ‘baby’? Obviously it’s a baby! We’re in shock. Our surprise came early as we were pretty convinced the little human growing in me was a girl. It takes us a while to process. We really thought we were having a girl. A boy?! What does this mean? Boys are more work, aren’t they? We smile, laugh and ponder happily as we walk to the subway station to go home.
Can people tell I’m pregnant? Do they think I’m just getting fat? I become slightly obsessed with whether or not my friends notice. Only two, maybe three friends know at this point. I don’t want to advertise my pregnancy, not yet anyway. I’m still scared. But those who know me should notice, shouldn’t they? Strangers notice. Why don’t they?!
Your iron is still too low, says my midwife. You need to get it to 120 or no Toronto Birth Centre for you. I fret. I worry. I promise myself to try harder.
I celebrate my 35th birthday with a baby bump. Anyone who sees me knows now. I’m pregnant. The theme is “Wings and Wine”. I’ve wanted to have this party since five years ago for my 30th. Non-alcoholic for me, of course…The non-alcoholic wine we picked up from Costco was actually delicious. Regardless, I may have to do a re-do in a year or two so that I can indulge. I must admit, I felt like I was a little bit tipsy that evening…but it was probably just from all of the birthday love I’d been receiving. All of the love congregated in my backyard. It was palpable. I was high on life.
I’m nearing the end of my second trimester. Starting to feel more and more tired. A new school year, in a new school has begun. As well, a new semester, my second last semester in my Masters program starts. I have two more courses to complete and then I can graduate. I attend two classes and realize, I can’t do this. I can’t manage. After a long day of teaching little children, and then commuting downtown for class let alone completing all of the coursework; it’s too much. I put a pause on my masters. I have until 2021 to complete my degree, I have time. I’ll complete it later. I have a whole three more months ahead to prepare for the welcoming of my little guy. No stress allowed. The first three months of my pregnancy were filled with me trying not to stress out. It was hard, but imperative. The first trimester…it seems so far away. A distant memory. To be continued…
Reflectively yours,
Tamla
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