A Year of Trimesters: The First Trimester

The Test:

IMG_0364April 20, 2017. It’s morning. I feel like I’ve waited long enough before taking another pregnancy test. The tests I took last week were negative. I have one test remaining (I’d bought several at the dollar store). I was assured that they work just as well as the more expensive tests from the pharmacy. And a good thing I did, because I would’ve wasted so much money sake of my impatience.

I wake up, excited. I know I’m pregnant. This was going be the morning. Deep down, I know I’ve been pregnant for a couple of weeks now, I’ve had a feeling. I can literally feel it; little tingly things happening inside of my uterus. I am pregnant and just need this stick to confirm it. I go to the washroom and pee. Morning pee’s are best I’ve been told. In a short moment, I know. Two very strong lines. PositiveIMG_0397

More Tests:

A few days later, I retake the test. Just to be sure, with a more expensive test from the pharmacy. I don’t want to take any chances. I don’t want false hope. 2-3 weeks pregnant, it says. I want to jump for joy, all over again. But I don’t. Instead, I smile and send out a silent prayer. I don’t want to get too ahead of myself this time.


New Beginnings and second chances:

It’s spring. There are blossoms everywhere. I’ve always loved Spring. Always thought it to be a beautiful prelude to the warmth to come. This particular Spring I have an extra spring in my step, literally. The birds chirp more loudly. Blossoms shine more brightly and even look bigger. I am filled with quiet optimism.



Doctor’s Visits:

My OB/GYN told me to let her know the moment I was pregnant again. I did. She advised me to take progesterone and explains that whether it works or not, we will never know. It won’t hurt to try, she says. I insert the pills, religiously.

Ultrasounds…I hold my breath. They’re nerve-wracking. When the lab techs turn the monitor to show me baby’s heart beat. I feel elated. I smile calmly while my insides are going crazy. 



Family Doctor

I visit my family doctor. He sends me to do another test to confirm what I already know and have already told him. Regardless, I’m nervous. I can’t stop waiting, expecting bad news. He returns and let’s me know that yes, I am indeed pregnant. In my head, I jump for joy all over again. He prescribes me prenatal vitamins. I begin them immediately. With each passing day, my appetite decreases. The prenatal vitamins wreak havoc on my stomach. I’m told I can try something else, but I’m diligent. I take the vitamins. I take the pain.


Every day, I feel more and more sick. As I feel more ill, I feel myself leaving behind the darkness of loss. I feel light and lightness surrounding the journey I am embarking on, but am scared to acknowledge it. With every visit to the washroom I check to see if I am bleeding. I try not to drive myself crazy. I try to remain calm. I try to live in the moment. I try to take things one step at a time. One day at a time. I try to allow myself to experience the joy that is bubbling inside of me.



Mother’s Day:

8 weeks pregnant. At this point only my partner and my mom know that I’m a Mommy-to-be. For Mother’s Day my siblings and I take our mom and grandma to ‘High Tea’, Caribbean style. It was my plan to let my immediate family know prior to the event, and then during the event, but I ended up not sharing until we got home. As much as I wanted to shout it for all to hear, I told myself to wait. My siblings however needed to be told as soon as possible! They (we) like to roughhouse and I needed them to know to be gentle around me and my precious cargo!




Cravings begin. Hotdogs. I want hotdogs. I only want hotdogs. Well, hotdogs or sausages. And Tim Horton’s Croissant Breakfast Sandwiches with a double chocolate chip cookie… every single morning after I have some orange or apple juice and take my vitamin. Once the obsession with hotdogs and sausages eases. I only want bread. Bread, bread and more bread. Along with oranges. The more oranges, the better. I can’t seem to eat much else.



Don’t go on ‘Getaway’s’ during your First Trimester:



I go away for a weekend with the Women’s committee for my Teacher’s Union. It was such an inspiring event. This is the first union event I’ve taken part in and I feel like I’ve been missing out my whole teaching career. I vow to take advantage of more of these opportunities, for both my professional and personal development. I think it wise not to go while pregnant however, because my God I’m sick the entire weekend! The food at the resort is absolutely delicious and I can barely eat. It’s horrible. I want to eat so badly, and can’t. There is no faking it.




I experience true constipation for the first time. It brings tears to my eyes. I try to grip the wall, anything close by to help me bear the pain. I think…ok, so this is what childbirth will be like. I tell my mom; she looks at me, laughs and tells me to go drink some prune juice.


Oh Sweet Clementine:

Your baby is the size of a clementine. I obsessively read about the progress of my pregnancy with the help of several pregnancy apps. Each week, tracking the size of this life growing inside of me. The changes happen so quickly. It’s a magical process and I’m trying hard to enjoy it but can’t help but get ahead of myself sometimes. Despite telling myself not to, I regularly skip ahead to the third trimester to see how big this baby is going to get and how exactly will I be able to push it out of me? Not once am I disheartened by my increasing waistline and swelling hips. I welcome the nausea each morning and the peeing at night.

I try not to let the stress of work and challenging students get the best of me, but it’s incredibly hard. I’m so scared, in a way I never have been before, that a violent child is going to hurt my growing baby. I try not to let the stress of job interviews get the best of me, as I really need to change schools and find one closer to home if I’m going to be welcoming a little one into the world. Despite these worries plaguing my mind, I am truly ecstatic and am thoroughly looking forward to meeting the little human growing inside of me. I am filled with such sweet anticipation. Again, I send out a prayer. A prayer for my sweet little clementine.



Reflectively yours,


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