Before I got pregnant with Zeke, I had a miscarriage. It wasn't devastating or soul crushing or anything like that. But it was incredibly disappointing, particularly because it happened right around Thanksgiving and we had been so excited about announcing it at the dinner table as the thing we were thankful for. It happened very early on -- about 6 weeks -- and caused by a common chromosomal abnormality resulting from the embryo splitting improperly or something like that. Meaning it was just one of those things, not the result of anything I did or any inherent problem I might have carrying a child to term or any problem I might have conceiving again. In fact, I had become pregnant with no trouble -- I went off the pill and two weeks later I was pregnant.
Michele told us to wait a month and then we could start trying again.
So we did, and once again, I got pregnant immediately, and this time everything was fine. Normal ultrasounds, solid fetal heartbeat, everything developed on schedule, I felt pretty good. All was well.
But I couldn't relax. The miscarriage was always in the back of my mind, and I was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. I have a couple of friends who loove being pregnant, but I think it's because they never had miscarriages. Because even though I had a relatively comfortable pregnancy, I just wanted to get it over with because I kept waiting for something bad to happen.
But of course, it didn't. Right on schedule, I gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy. He had all ten fingers and toes, his eyes and ears worked, he ate, he pooped, he slept, he cried, just as he was supposed to.
But still, I worried.
Some of it is that I'm naturally an anxious person. Some of it is that I practice special education law, so all I deal with are cases involving kids who are autistic or cognitively impaired or learning disabled or blind or deaf or both.
So I was constantly keeping an eye on Zeke's developmental milestones. Is he smiling yet? Is he teething yet? When did he start rolling over? Does he appear to react to facial expressions? Are his gross and fine motor skills where they should be?
But of course, everything has been fine. With the exception of some ear infections and a couple of colds (which is totally normal), he's been healthy and happy and growing like a weed and doing everything he's supposed to.
In the past two weeks, Zeke has figured out how to crawl and how to pull himself up to a standing position. He now has 6 teeth, weighs almost 20 pounds, and is busting out of his 9-month-sized clothes because he's taller than average. He's developing this outrageous head of curly hair. He eats like a champ. He's always smiling and laughing. He chatters constantly, saying "mamamama" and "dadada" and "babababa" and "deedle-deedle" and a million other cute sounds.
And these are all normal, unremarkable achievements. Babies are born and they grow, just as they've been doing for thousands of years. But it's remarkable to me. I never cease to be amazed at this perfectly formed, perfectly functioning human being that I created.
It IS amazing! Definitely. It's both totally normal and totally incredible. And I think the more you're aware of things that can go wrong, the more you fret about the possibility. I know I will, no question.
ReplyDeleteLisa -- It bums me out that I'm such a fretter, but I can't help it. That said, I fret over developmental stuff, but not at all over the ins and outs of taking care of him. I don't obsess over every single thing he puts in his mouth or whether he's dirty or if he falls down or something. So at least I'm not completely crazy all the time.
ReplyDeleteIn its ordinary nature, it is so incredible! I'm glad you're noting it, but not making yourself crazy with it.
ReplyDeleteI still think about those little things. I still try to kiss The Dancer each night before bed so I can feel her soft cheek on mine like when she was a baby.
Some things never stop being there.
It is amazing. I believe it is in the ordinary, every day details of life that we find the extraordinary, the divine. Yes, God is in the miracles, but also in the smiles, the new tooth, the tiny every day miracles we take for granted.
ReplyDeleteI lost two babies before I had my Brendan and both experiences were excruciating. Every day I carried Brendan, and then his brother, Beckett, felt like miracles to me. I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Thankfully, we made it through.
So, I totally know what you mean.
dcup -- it's good to know the feeling doesn't wear off. I think my mother still feels that way, too -- we'll always be her babies.
ReplyDeleteDawn -- it's so hard, isn't it? I think the only reason my miscarriage wasn't worse than it was is because from the very first ultrasound (at about 5 weeks), it was clear something was wrong. The measurements weren't matching up with the age of the embryo, of which we were certain. So I never had a chance to get too excited about it because I had a feeling from the outset that there was a problem. But then again, we wouldn't have the kids we have, and I can't imagine having a non-Zeke baby.