The Second Hurdle

November 5, 2012

I jumped over the first hurdle and prepared to face the second hurdle of my first trimester. I headed off to my appointment with Dr. OB. After taking a thorough health history, she began the physical exam.

When Dr. OB felt my belly, she exclaimed, “You’re growing nicely!” I smiled and exhaled. Then she placed the heart rate monitor on me. Within a few seconds, I could hear the fetus’ heart beat.

“156. That’s a strong heart beat.”

My smile and my sigh of relief got bigger.

As the exam continued, Dr. OB commented, “You have the perfect pelvis for pregnancy. Everything feels beautiful!”

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. In 39 years, no doctor had ever commented that anything on my body was perfect from a medical perspective. Maybe it was about time?

The second hurdle was behind me. 

Upon checking out with the billing representative, I was informed that I needed to take a first trimester prenatal class.

“Is this one of those classes for expectant women who have never had any health issues to stress out and be all sentimental about being pregnant?”

Dr. OB said, “No,” at the same time that the billing representative chuckled and nodded in the affirmative.

I shook my head. I fully appreciate that for most women, pregnancy is the most significant health experience they have been through up until that point in their lives. My journey is just very different. 

I’m also far more pragmatic about being pregnant than sentimental. After dealing with so many health issues, that approach is second nature to me. And, I want this child, but I never wanted to be pregnant. The process, miraculous though it is given all I have been through, is a means to an end.

“Since there are still a few hoops to jump through over the next month, would it be possible for me to take the class in December?” I inquired.

Thankfully, Dr. OB indicated that would be fine. (I understand that the doctor’s office wants to assuage the fears of newly pregnant women, but a part of me thinks it would be very difficult emotionally to sit through a two-hour class about your pregnancy only to miscarry shortly thereafter.)

The billing representative then interjected eagerly, “Oh! I almost forgot to give you your gift!”

“Is it some mom-to-be gift?” I asked, rolling my eyes for a second time.

“It’s a journal!” she exclaimed. 

“I’m good. Thanks. I’ll write about this later on when I feel like it.”

I left with a feeling of peace that all was growing, as it should be. A part of me wondered, though, if I was the only pregnant woman who was very excited about the prospect of having a child, but didn’t rejoice in every minute aspect of the pregnancy. I didn’t think I was.

To be continued…

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