It’s still so early in my pregnancy that I know I could be un-pregnant tomorrow. That fear stays with me. I’ve been there before. Even though the first trimester is considered the most worrisome, I imagine I will carry that lump of fear with me throughout the next eight months. How can I not? Age, previous miscarriage, fibroids—these things conspire against me. I have gone to the bookstore three times now to look at pregnancy books. Each time, I have walked out without buying anything except the practical little guide Pregnancy Do’s and Don’ts, just because I wanted a handy reference. (Though the general consensus seems to be when in doubt to avoid most things-- and there is a lot of doubt about a lot of things.) The rest of the books scare me with all their dire warnings and grim reminders of all the things that could go wrong. Sheri said those books are called What to Expect When You’re Expecting Very Terrible Bad Things to Happen. That seems about right.
For now, I have come up with a surefire cure to ward off my fears of something bad happening: I tell someone I’m pregnant.
I had intended to wait a few weeks, at least until after my first prenatal appointment, before I started telling people. At this point, with a knot of fear in my stomach that is a hundred times larger than the tiny embryo growing below, the only thing that I will hold off on doing until after my first prenatal appointment is making this blog public. Because every time I tell someone I’m pregnant and feel their good wishes and positive energy, I feel better. Protected.
Good diet, proactive health care, regular exercise and caution in dealing with the hazards of life may be the key to a healthy, successful pregnancy, but I will take good karma, guardian angels and happy thoughts, too. Every little bit helps.
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