Pregnancy journal - second trimester After a tentative beginning my pregnancy looked as though it would progress normally. The doctors said that the baby appeared to be developing properly and that the prescription medication I had taken not only didn’t harm the baby, but might have prevented my body from rejecting the baby and miscarrying it. I was feeling pretty smug about not having gained any weight the first trimester, but at 16 weeks I became absolutely ravenous and started eating with abandon. I’d wake not once, but several times in the night to a grumbling stomach. I satisfied those calls with bananas, graham crackers, and bowls of Cheerios and milk. All-you-could-eat buffets were a favorite destination for me, and I got my money’s worth. One day I was an exhibitor for my company at a conference where they had a lunch buffet of Mexican food. I filled my plate, shoveled it in, then went back for seconds, and thirds, and fourths. The woman at the next booth was impressed by my appetite, and although still not full after the fourth helping, I resisted the temptation to return to the buffet because I was making a fool out of myself. I never developed the "pickles & ice cream" craving, but I was startled to find myself craving red meat after 15 years of vegetarianism. I caved in quickly, and one afternoon I found myself hovering over the meat counter at the market, bewildered by the dozens of different cuts to choose from. I asked the butcher for assistance, admitting it was my first time buying meat, and he gave me a 10 minute lesson in bovine anatomy and the advantages of various cuts. From then onward I had steak about once a week, either at home on the grill or at a restaurant. My body welcomed the extra iron and my palate was delighted to be reunited with a childhood favorite. Days before the 18 week diagnostic ultrasound, I felt the first stirring of life within my belly. As I became aware of how active the baby was, I then came up with some new worries, including a fear that the baby would strangle in the umbilical cord. Occasionally my uterus would hurt, either from a kick or the strain of stretching ligaments. The sudden, sharp pains terrified me most, as I feared the placenta was ripping from the uterine wall. The ultrasound was fascinating. My husband and I watched as our baby’s contours snapped in and out of focus while the doctor moved the transducer across my lower abdomen. A careful examination was made of the baby’s organs and skeletal structure. Each vertebrae was perfectly placed, the heart was plumbed correctly, the lobes of the brain were the right size and shape, and the jaw and upper palate complete. I was convinced that I was carrying a son, partly because I hadn’t experienced any morning sickness, and also because I hoped for a boy because my husband already had a daughter. At our request, the doctor soon directed the probe to the appropriate place and said, "Well, there are the labial folds…" Somehow that didn’t sound very masculine. I was delighted to learn it was a girl, despite proving my "intuition" wrong. I knew in my heart that I always longed for a daughter, and this was obvious when I went home and sorted through the boxes of baby clothes I’d accumulated and discovered that about 75% of them were rather feminine. My husband was thrilled at the news of another daughter and never once mentioned that he’d rather be having a son. The ultrasound and an alpha-fetoprotein test were the only evaluations of the baby’s health that we were entitled to under my health insurance. Had either shown abnormalities, then other tests such as amniocentesis might have been offered. My husband and I had talked at length about what we would do if the baby were shown to have certain deformities. We concluded that we could accept physical abnormalities, such as a cleft palate or missing limb, but that we’d consider termination in the case of brain retardation, or a terminal disease that would subject the child to an early death after much suffering. After the ultrasound we felt pretty confident that the baby was in good health. The second trimester seemed to stretch on forever, but I did give myself goals. 24 weeks was the "age of viability" according to many insurance case managers. Part of my job at the office was to verify insurance authorization (a promise of payment to our company) for the patients who were referred to us for pre-term labor management. If a patient was referred to us at 22 weeks gestation, often the insurance case manager would deny coverage on the basis that the pregnancy was not considered "viable." This was especially cruel news to patients who’d had multiple miscarriages or a long and expensive battle with infertility. So I knew that if I started to cramp, bleed, or otherwise have complications before week 24, my doctor might do everything to save the baby, but my insurance carrier could easily refuse payment. By 28 weeks I was wearing maternity clothes exclusively. Being tall I anticipated some awful struggles to find maternity clothes that would fit. Luckily it was summer when my need for maternity clothes began, so I didn’t have to bother with sleeve or leg length. I spent most of the summer in maternity shorts, "swing" tops, and tee-shirts. Because I was often the only one in the office (my coworkers were out seeing patients), I could wear what I pleased to work. I’d finally relaxed into the pregnancy, my earlier fears of miscarriage almost forgotten. One by one the days passed and my belly grew larger. There was no question anymore as to my "condition," and strangers who might otherwise have rushed past now stopped to open doors for me. I was anxious to hold my baby in my arms, but I was also enjoying the unique and special experience of being pregnant. |
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| Another day at the office |