Being Pregnant - Part One

Being Pregnant - Part One



So I was beginning to settle into the idea of having a baby, and bringing a new life into the world. I was getting more excited, and for one reason in particular.  Maybe this baby would be girl.  It was a childhood dream of mine to have a daughter.  I think some of this goes back to my cherished relationship with my mother, and wanting to duplicate that relationship with a female child.  The bond I have to my mother, even to this day, is one of the strongest of my entire life.  She is the first person that taught me what is it to give unconditional love, and I would in no way be the person I am today without her. 

When pregnant with Jared, I was sure I was carrying a girl.  Having a boy never entered my head, which was clearly magical thinking, but what can I say?  In my mind, through my entire life, when I thought of having children, I thought of having girls.  Weird thing is, so did my whole family.  We were literally planning for a girl.  My mother was sure I was having a girl; I was carrying all around, and that meant a girl, because when  you carry a boy, you carry all in front.   I think also my mother-in-law was hoping for a girl.  In the Jewish faith, children are named for the deceased, and Scott and I had talked about naming a girl Robyn, after his sister. 

We did not have the luxury when Jared was born, in the late 1980's, of having ultrasounds that would definitively confirm the sex of a child.  Ultrasounds were a new thing then, and only were used to identify potential problems.  I had one, and that was all I needed.  Everything looked fine.

So when I was in the delivery room, and I looked up to see the baby, and I saw it was a boy, I admit I was shocked.  I never thought about having a boy. It was kind of like the feeling you get when you are at a restaurant, and you are dying for steak, and they bring you fish. You feel a pang of disappointment.

But unlike the restaurant, you can't send it back. 

Please understand these feelings lasted for maybe a few minutes.  Then I realized I was being an idiot.  All I cared about then was Jared recovering from his ordeal, and being able to bring him home.   He was already in the NICU by then.  I would have done anything for him to survive.  Jared was like a gift you never expect; one of those gifts where you think you want something desperately, and you end up getting something different, that is infinitely better. This makes him all the more special to me, now and always.

My wonderful son, Jared Nathaniel Rosoff, at three months

But now, ten years later,  I had my boy, I wanted the girl even more.  Of course I would love any child I had, but to have a daughter? That would be awesome. 

What wasn't so awesome was the morning sickness.  Since I didn't have it at all carrying Jared, it was a new thing for me to be violently nauseated the entire day.  It is hard to explain morning sickness to someone who has never experienced it.  It's not like getting sick to your stomach from, let's say, eating something that doesn't agree with you.  This is a deep, seering nausea that makes you sick all over.  You have to keep your stomach full, or you feel worse.  I carried Saltine crackers in my purse everywhere I went.  It was the only thing I really wanted to eat. 

I had just taken a job as a receptionist,, starting two days before I took the infamous pregnancy test.  It was not a job I really was thrilled about, but my little part-time jobs teaching writing and coordinating art events was just not bringing in enough money.  This reception job was in a very high traffic area; lots of people in and out, and the phone was just insane.  I was also responsible for doing heavy volumes of photocopying.  Now, this was a real challenge because the copy machine was nowhere near the phone, and the phone had to be answered in three rings.  I felt like that episode of "I Love Lucy," where she is on the conveyor belt with the candies. And to top it off, I was trying to sneak eat the crackers so I didn't feel like I would die. 

Here I was standing at the copier, crackers in one hand, photocopies in the other, running to the phone. I looked like a deranged rabbit, running and stopping to nibble. Then of course people complained because they couldn't understand me because my mouth was full.  I was finally told I would not be able to have any kind of food at my desk.  At that point, I had to break down and tell the truth, I was pregnant, and had morning sickness.  A few days later I was called into Human Resources and terminated.  Poor performance, they said.

As it turned out, it was for the best, because as the pregnancy progressed, I would not be able to work; I would not be able to do much of anything. Not to mention that the job itself just sucked.

Luckily, at about the 10th week, I didn't feel sick anymore.  Just like that, like a switch turning off. It just kind of sneaks away from you.  Thank goodness!!

I was enjoying all of the planning that goes into expecting a child.  We made my first appointment with the obstetrician a family affair.  I was four weeks along when Tony and Jared and I went off to the doctor's office.  We went into the ultrasound room, and as Tony and Jared stood up by my head, the doctor inserted a tube like camera into my vagina.  And that was the first time we saw her. 

The doctor was pointing out various things like the placenta, etc.  Then he pointed to this white dot. 

"There's your baby," he exclaimed.

Jared looked and looked.  "That's a baby?" he asked  "That's not a baby; that's a dot."

"Well, yes," said the doctor, "It's a dot right now, but it's the beginnings of your brother or sister."

Jared just shook his head.  "That's pretty weird," he said.

We were thrilled with our "dot." As a matter of fact, that was her name for a while. "The Dot." 

The doctor gave us pictures, and we were the very proud parents of our dot.  We showed everybody that picture.  It was a beginning. 

But even with being happy about having the baby, there were times, when I was alone at home, I would start to feel anxious, and the doubts would creep into my head, and the fears I had that kept me from getting pregnant in the first place would daunt me.  What was my life going to be like with an infant? Tony worked a tremendous amount of hours on his job. Very often he was gone on weekends, and weeknights.  I would be on my own a lot with this baby.  I feared I would become isolated and alone.

With Tony working so much, and Jared spending fifty percent of his time with my ex-husband, I had gotten used to a tremendous amount of freedom.  I was creating constantly, writing songs and poetry.  I was painting and crafting and just really tapping into this creative part of myself I never knew existed.  Would I have to give all of that up? So while I looked forward to having this child, I was also concerned about how the responsibility would alter my life.  Would I be able to do the same things I did before?

I tried to keep myself busy to keep my mind from drifting into places it really should not go.  I was still working my part-time jobs with the gallery and with my writing group, so I still had that to do. 

After a few months, it was time to look at getting at least some maternity clothes.  When I was pregnant before, I was able to borrow most of the clothes from friends who had recently given birth.  All of us at that time were in our 20s, and had like a club going, one would have the baby, and pass on the clothes to the next expectant mother.  But most of my friends now were way past that stage; a good portion of my friends had teenagers now; I even had a few friends my age, or slightly older, that were becoming grandmothers.  So the borrowing was definitely out. They for sure didn't have their maternity clothes anymore.

Thank God!!!

My memories of maternity clothes were not fond ones.  Anyone who knows me knows I'm somewhat of what they now call a "fashionista." In high school, I was actually accepted to the Fashion Institute's School of Design and Technology (FIDM) to become a fashion buyer.  I ultimately decided I wanted to attend a regular college for an academic education, but all my life I have loved fashion.

The maternity clothes I had wore with Jared were terrible.  They were big and blousy, with those little puffy cap sleeves.  The worst thing was the collars on a great many of these clothes.  The little white Peter Pan collars gives off an aura of purity, like a little five year old girl.  I always felt there was something intrisically wrong with a visibly pregnant woman wearing a Peter Pan collar.  It was an oxymoron; purity and being pregnant.  They just didn't go together.

I finally found a catalog where some of the clothes were tolerable and reasonably priced.  A good thing too, ten years later, the styles of the maternity clothes had changed, and pregnant women were not wearing those ugly, pseudo-virginally maternity clothes any longer. The maternity clothes were now fitted to the belly.  It was now completely acceptable to show you were pregnant, and to celebrate the changes in your body.  I was thrilled; and I actually ended up spending way more money than I should have.

It was soon after this that I fell down the stairs.

We have just purchased a small television for Jared to have in his room.  Tony took the box with the television up the stairs, set the TV up, and left the box in his room.  Of course, being the neat freak I used to be, (I think I have since conquered this obsession a bit), I had to get that giant box out of Jared's room and put it out for the garbage man. Couldn't wait for Tony to do it, or Jared.  It had to be done now.

My grandmother, Tess Edgerton, with me in 1988.

There is something you must understand: the women in my family are always falling down.  We have a real problem staying on our feet.  I can only surmise it is something in our DNA.  My grandmother was always falling over.  My mother too.  My dear late grandmother, who had a marvelous sense of humor about everything, used to say we were all a bunch of "tumble-turds." Where she got this semi-vulgar saying I cannot tell you.  But she had many and they were hilarious.

And with me, I have no business living anywhere with stairs.  When Scott and I when first married we lived in a townhouse.  I fell several times down those stairs. 

My mother, Bea Gero, and I, 2009

Finally I figured out that the key is that I must be able to see my feet. If I came see my feet, I'm fine. I would generally fall doing things like carrying an overly stuffed laundry basket or things like that.

And this time, I was trying to carry that massive TV box.  I couldn't see a thing.  At about the third stair, I lost my footing.  I felt every one of those stairs slamming into me as I went down.

It happened so fast.  I found myself sitting on my butt at the bottom of the stairs.  Luckily, I had just sort of slid down.  But I was scared to death.  I sat for a minute, fully expecting to feel pain.  Luckily, I didn't have anything but a sore butt. 

I figured I was probably okay, but I called the doctor just to be on the safe side.  The nurse said to come in.

I called Tony, and over to the doctor we went. 

The doctor performed an ultrasound, and thankfully, everything was in its place still, and I felt fine, other than feeling like an idiot. 

But I try and believe something wonderful can come out of something bad.  I was not scheduled to have an ultrasound, but since I fell, they did one, and during that ultrasound, we discovered something wonderful. We discovered that wishes do come true. 

"I definitely see a vulva," the doctor said. "I'm positive you are having a girl."

It was, without a doubt, one of the happiest moments of my life.