Quickening

14 weeks 6 days

This week I think I felt what the experts call “quickening.” I know that it’s earlier than most people say that quickening is detectable. But I swear, it’s true. I was just lying in bed, wondering why I was nervous—what the butterflies in my stomach were all about…why the flutters? Then I wondered what I had eaten that would make me feel gassy…maybe it was just gas? It was definitely something I had never felt before.

It was then that, all of a sudden it hit me and I was like… “Oh. Huh. You know what? I think that’s the baby. Isn’t that interesting?” And I laid there for about ten minutes just kind of being shocked and amazed that there was a living person inside of me fluttering around. Hmh. Who knew?

It’s funny. So far, I feel like this pregnancy has sorta been like that to me; An interesting, slow process that I’m just kind of quietly discovering and getting used to as I go along. I know that lots of other people gush and swoon and squeal and scream about stuff like that. That all this stuff is so exciting and magical that you must immediately begin speaking about everything baby-related at a decibel level higher than that of a dog’s hearing. I definitely have friends and family that are operating there. And I appreciate their enthusiasm for sure.

But I’m not there yet. I’m still in the, “hmm…isn’t this all very unexpected and interesting?” phase. Very reserved. Very level headed. No squealing necessary.

There are times still that I’m like…wait, am I really pregnant? Is this real? Really happening? No way am I pregnant for real. I couldn’t be. We barely “tried.” It just sorta happened. It’s not supposed to just sorta happen at our age. We’re supposed to struggle mightily like all my friends have. It’s supposed to take years. Even the doctors and books say so.

But then I look down and remember that I’m already fairly sizable and that the raging and consistent heartburn and mild nausea that I have basically non-stop are my daily physical reminders that this is legit. Whoa.

I’m not totally sure why all of this seems so surreal to me. But it still does.

They say that a woman becomes a mother the second she gets pregnant and the man becomes a father when he holds the child for the first time. But I gotta be honest, between J and me, I feel like so far it’s totally the opposite. He’s already so very there (he’s gonna be such an amazing father…) And I’m, well, I’m only getting there…slowly. Slowly but surely. But slowly nonetheless.

I’m happy to say that my lovely and amazing husband is the planner between the two of us. J spends his time operating in the future, always. Planning for tomorrow. For five years from now. He’s reading all the books. He’s doing all the prep work. He blows me away with how unreasonably good he is. And I couldn’t be happier about that. Because for some reason, I myself am not quite to the planning for tomorrow phase yet. It’s basically taking all of my current energy to worry about the right now.

This is not to say that I’m not excited about being a mom. I so very much am. And that I’m happy to be pregnant. Because I absolutely am. I’m just having a super hard time articulating the happiness right now in a way that seems appropriate for me.

Maybe it’s because I’m older and all my friends have had babies and I’ve done the excitement and magic part on behalf of them and it seems weird for me to do it for myself. Maybe it’s because I’ve seen so many of my friends struggle mightily with conception; have seen them deal with such loss and heartache—perhaps I’m protecting myself from what I’m secretly convinced is inevitable sadness.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because I’m still scared out of my mind of all the things that expectant mothers are scared of. Of the unthinkable happening…of doing something wrong during the pregnancy… of turning out to be a terrible mom when the time comes. You know. The usual.

Although, here’s the frustrating part. I *think* all of this is “the usual.” But I’ll never really know that. Because expectant moms don’t usually talk like this—at least not out loud or publicly. You never hear folks talk about the scary parts. It’s always “oh we’re so excited and thrilled and couldn’t be happier and life is so perfect and pretty.” Even as I write all this, I’m waiting for the judging to start. “How could she SAY such things?? We don’t talk about such scariness and doubt!!” I can even hear my child someday reading this journal saying “Damn, mom. That was harsh. Couldn’t you just be happy that I was about to bless your life?” (My kid isn’t even born yet, and already mouthy. Figures.)

And I *am* happy that I’m about to have a child bless my life.

I’m just a little afraid to say it out loud yet. Afraid to get too excited. And I’ll definitely never be a gushing squealer.

Does that make me a bad mom already? I hope not. I don’t think it does.

I will say this—J and I had an ultrasound at 9 weeks. At that point, we were giving birth to a lima bean, basically. We could see *something* but it was just sort of blobby. Nine days later we had another ultrasound (due to some ridiculous, borderline comical mix-ups with our OB and ultrasound techs at the hospital who are very excited about double scheduling most of our appointments. That’s a fun story for later.) In those nine days, our lima bean had sprouted visible limbs. And a nose. And a profile. And a noggin three times the size of the body (our child will be so smart…)

I looked at J with tears in my eyes. “Holy crap, we’re having an actual kid.”

“Yes dear. Welcome to the party. I’ve been here almost 3 months now.”

That made it real.

With the feeling of the quickening beginning, our upcoming ultrasound (the big one—the 20 week gender one, place your bets now!) and the halfway point rapidly approaching, I think it’s gonna get much more real…fast. And then maybe my heart will start to flutter, to quicken as well. But until then, please indulge me in my slow and steady reactions. I’m probably not gushing on the outside so much, but on the inside, I promise, I’m giddy as a school girl.