Over the last few weeks, I've told a few trusted people. It felt needed as otherwise I don't think I would even know that I am pregnant. There was no sickness. Feeling pretty normal. If anything, better than normal. Energised and content. Online articles tell me that's the hormones. In any case, there was nothing to complain about.
Except that I wished for some kind of sign. A bump. A little vomit. Something to tell me it was happening. I have only been tired and my ability to fall asleep is verging on the hilarious. Sit still for more than a minute in a warm spot and I'm gone. Not just snoozing but deep, heavy sleep that feels almost drug induced.
Psychologically, there is far more to report. Thom and I have entered into a world of worry. Well at least I have. What can I eat is only the first question followed up by what would be the best thing to eat. I am suddenly aware of all the things that enter my body. The polluted air, the flu-like cold of the person next to me on the tube, the chemicals in my toilet cleaner, my not-quite-organic body lotion.
A world of worry and also of guilt. After all, am I not responsible to make my body a safe haven for the little foetus? I'm discovering that my body wasn't so much a temple, but a shrine to modern medicine. I wouldn't think twice about popping a pill to control my now voracious hayfever before. Now, I have survived the worsening symptoms until my sinuses are entrenched with goo and my throat is raw and scratchy.
I am left to negotiate competing risks, weighing up the costs to developing junior inside and my own health, using a lot of medical advice that perches itself firmly on the fence. I am only comforted by blogs and forums with armies of women who have trod this uneasy ground before me. I soothe myself with the thought that this is but the first of many hurdles that will require my weighing up the risks between a range of imperfect and uncertain choices. I might get good at it eventually.
On the plus side, being pregnant has brought cooked meals almost every night by a dutiful, culinary husband. I am waiting my bangers and mash to be served up shortly, complete with steamed broccoli at my request. Father-in-law has also dropped by flowers today and last week, a package of tiny baby things arrived from Mom in the States. Not too bad, eh?
