We killed the rabbit

(Don’t panic; that’s baby-boomer slang for a confirmed pregnancy)

We spent the rest of the day in a muddled haze. It’s fair to say I was barely coherent, and Wayne wasn’t much better. Pleased, scared, horrified, delighted, confused.. we were all this and more. Would we make good parents? Were we too old? Were we mature enough? It had been just the two of us for nearly a decade, and we were fairly fixed in our life plan which had not been designed with a child in view.

Later on that day we started breaking the news to the various parents. I have one surviving parent, Wayne has four. All were delighted if as surprised as we were. After all, we’d told the parents so often that their only grandchildren would be the parrots that Joey (our Congo African Grey) would refer to herself as “grandchildren” (always plural.. but then Joey is more than the average parrot).

Time to book in with a doctor (ugh!) and get this confirmed. An appointment was made with a new doctor on Monday 10am, 14th February. Valentine’s Day..

Appointment time duly rolled around and I was as nervous as a cut cat. I’d started reading some up to date pregnancy books and it was brought home to me that there would be no avoiding a blood test this time around. I resigned myself to the likelihood of becoming a human pincushion for the next eight or so months. To say I was not looking forward to it would be a criminal understatement. The only way I got any sleep at all was to not think about it, and hope like hell I’d find the resources to put the baby first and somehow shelve my panic.

Dr Kaye (no surnames anywhere, I think that’s best) was brisk and I found myself relax in her efficient handling. Due to my advanced age (41) she decided I needed to enlist the assistance of a top flight ObGyn and got on the phone herself to Mr Richard. He agreed to see me the very next day. Wow.. things are moving fast. Should I be worried?

Fast schmast.. by 1.30 that day they were scanning me to determine (a) that the baby was where it should be, ie not fallopian, and (b) how far along I was. If you’ve yet to enjoy your first baby scan, I recommend you wear Depends or something similar. Drinking two litres of water in an hour is not so hard – holding ON to that liquid while they push down on your belly is another matter entirely. Preggie women know all about the need not to stray terribly far from a handy toilet – you know you’re in trouble when you find yourself staring at the pebble-topped terrarium in the packed waiting room and wondering if anyone would notice if you hopped up and had a quick piddle.

Somehow I managed to hold on while the technician did her thing, and I thank all those years of horse riding for fairly decent pelvic floor muscles. (Yes boys, it IS true what they say about girls that ride horses..) The weird shapes on the monitor began to make sense once the technician explained what we were looking at and soon we were admiring a tadpole with a very strong heartbeat. Seeing her pulse was pivotal. Suddenly my fears seemed unimportant. There was a being inside me, and her heart was beating. 134 beats per minute – they tell me that’s exactly as it should be.

Screen shots were obtained, then the technician was off on a hunt for my ovaries – there’s one! (They never did bother looking for the other one but I presume it’s still there somewhere and hasn’t wandered off to have a chat with a lung). Then off to examine my kidneys… OY that HURTS! It seems that long ago broken rib is sitting bang smack over my right kidney and they had to press on this to get a decent kidney scan. I whimpered like a baby, gritted my teeth and wished they’d get back to tormenting my bladder already.
Baby measurement time – 7 millimetres. This calculated baby’s age to 6 weeks and 4 days, meaning our likely date of delivery is 6th October. Wow.. a spring baby. I couldn’t have planned that better if I’d tried.

We had a couple of burning questions:
** Is the baby in the right place (ie uterus, NOT fallopian). Definitely yes.
** Is there only one baby? Definitely yes.

Yahoooo! Celebrations are in order!

Now to get home, have a bit of a lie down, and listen to Wayne ring the various parents and update them on The Tadpole’s news.

Tomorrow it’s the ObGyn, more tests, and that bloody needle. (gulp.. think about something else)

Btw you will have noticed we’ve assigned a gender to Tadpole. Based on the fact that girls outweigh boys on both of the parents' family trees, there is an excellent chance that Tadpole is a girl. Yes of COURSE I remember 5th Form Biology – the father dictates the gender with the Y chromosome (or lack thereof). But I also remember all those books and articles that were around in the 80’s claiming the mother had a lot to do with the viability of X versus Y-carrying sperm due to her metabolism, diet, and even the position utilised when conception occurred. So until we know absolutely otherwise, I’m factoring my genetic history into the equation. Y’all okay with that? Goodie :-)