Borrowed Pixie Angel

Sometimes I look at Oona and wonder if she's really mine.

I know she came from me, fruit of my womb...the scars I have are way too itchy to be ignored and proof that she inhabited me for 9 months (not to mention the poundage I still have to lose!). But sometimes, she's just really her own little person, if it's possible to see such self-possession in someone less than a year old.

Apart from having borne her and continuing to nourish her, I wonder if I really have any contribution at all to this little amazement.

Of course, the words of a certain poet ring true.

I suspect, many more times in the future will this prophet's words echo in my head, the last never more true than the first time, as my little girl marches steady into the fulfillment of her being with those twinkling little stars in her eyes and that mischievious sunshine of a smile.

On Children
Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let our bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

The Clinic Chronicles: Part 6

Keeping The Bean

“It’s going to be okay.” The doctor said as she patted my hand. “Just keep on drinking the medicine and taking it easy, alright?”

I just nodded and thanked her as Mr. F helped me out the door. I wanted to escape so badly but needed to keep as much dignity I could muster.

Can you imagine how it’s like to swing from ecstasy to utter despair in the space of a few minutes? I could be schizoid for all I know, but given the circumstances, I would have a legitimate excuse. I now felt like a baseball bat walloped the back of my head, my throat was too tight, and my heart was too big for my chest.

It amazed me how these doctors could take on that kind of responsibility. They literally have their patients’ lives in their hands. They could make or break a person with a few words.

How do they handle it, facing mortality every day?

I think Mr. F and I just went on home afterwards. It was exhausting: exhilaration and the dregs in one unbeatable combination. We just ate something to dull the headachy feeling and talked.

We knew we wanted to keep the Beanie Baby, as the sprout was now called. I’ve stopped smoking (cold turkey since the day before), stopped drinking (last drop of alcohol was the week before), and we agreed that I’d have to stop the helter-skelter pace of my work life.

Curled up on our comforter, we cover random stuff, basically musing about how we would be parents. I wondered which of us would be the disciplinarian and the devil’s advocate. Of course, Mr. F claims to be the spoiler.

“You would be the Supreme Court. I’ll be the Court of Appeals!”

I scoffed at Mr. F. Right. Like that’s going to happen.

Nevertheless, we still felt depressed about the news the doctor gave us.

The Clinic Chronicles: Part 5

The Delicate Balance

I was giddy seeing the bean for the very first time.

I forgot about everything else: the thing stuck in my insides, my nerves, my fears. All I could think of was, “That’s our baby! We have a baby!” I was still in shock, but I was now happy shocked.

“Is everything alright with our baby?” We asked excitedly.

“Well, let’s have the doctor interpret these images for you, okay?” the nurse said.

Blissed out, we were content.

Back in the good doctor’s little office we went to wait while she signed for the ultrasound images.

“Well, congratulations! You’re going to be parents in roughly 8 months!” she grins.

”You’re four weeks along and the baby seems to be holding on.”

We beam at each other. We beam at her and back at each other again.

“However…”

However?

There’s a however!?

“We need to put you on this medicine. Do you see this dark area here…and here? There shouldn’t be any. It means the little place where your baby is living in is not fully attached to your womb.”

And that meant?

“We need to help the baby attach more firmly or we could lose it.”

Whoa.

I couldn’t breathe. I think I crushed Mr. F’s hand but he wasn’t saying anything. I didn’t want to look at him at all.

“It isn’t your fault or anything. This can be brought on by the holiday stress, your travelling, work…there’s a lot of factors involved so we really don’t know what caused this. It just means we have to take it easy and be careful from here on.”

She began writing a prescription but I was barely listening.

I thought it wasn’t going to mean much. I honestly thought I was afraid to have the little bean. Now that I’ve seen that it was growing in me, I felt more afraid of losing that little pulse beating in my belly.

“So don’t drink, don’t smoke, watch what you eat, sleep early and lay off the stress. We’ll keep you on this for two weeks then you come back to me and we’ll see. Okay?”

Mr. F answered for us both. “We’ll see you in two weeks, Doc.”

The Clinic Chronicles: Part 4

And Baby Makes Three

“Is that my baby?”

I swear, my nose gets stuffy so fast, I was breathing out my mouth.

“Yes ma’am. That’s the sac, the little circle is where your baby is getting the nutrients. See that thread-like thing? That’s a tiny umbilical cord and the little pulsing thing at the bottom is your baby.”

I wasn’t full on crying,

I was holding it in for dignity’s sake but I did get a headache from trying to tamp down the waterworks. The monitor was getting blurry so I think I pretty much leaked enough.

She said we’d get copies, like snapshots of the bean.

It was just simply incredible. Ginormous.

I know its so cliché but I never felt such a deep-down kind of joy. I’m sure the technician sees things like this everyday so I hope she hasn’t grown numb being witness to the miracle of life. It’s simply awesome to be part of The Moment.

Mr. F and me plus the little bean….our little sprout.

We were going to be a family.

The Clinic Chronicles: Part 3

Open Wide and Say Cheese!

“So, let’s validate those pink lines with an ultrasound” Dra. O said after the cursory questions (and thankfully no IE!).

“Let’s see if your guess is right on the money.”

So with that, off we went with another nurse to what would technically be our little sprout’s first picture.

Of course, I thought it was going to be something like on TV. They put you up on a bed, paint your tummy with some kind of gel and use a contraption on you that look like a roll-on deodorant.

While that DOES happen, it turns out that I’d have to be a couple months pregnant-er to be able to use that particular gizmo (transabdominal ultrasound).

So what I’d get? A Transvaginal Ultrasound. Yep, right up my yahoo.

If anyone hasn’t seen a Transvaginal Ultrasound thingie, all I can tell you is that you had better be nice to everyone in the clinic…especially the nurse in the Ultrasound room. The thing looks like the prototype for a Jedi light saber. It’s a little short so maybe it’s for a tiny Jedi Master (Yoda, maybe?).

Sooo...the thing is put in a disposable condom and lathered with KY jelly. I was told to relax and breathe deep and YAHOOOOO. Needless to say I wasn’t relaxed.

“Ma’m relax.” The technician said. “This is going to be more uncomfortable for you since I have to move it around.”

“You have to what!?”

“I have to get a picture of your ovaries and your fallopian tubes.”

I felt like a popsicle. Cold, exposed and stuck on a stick.

Then, it happens. No preambles, no drumrolls, no heraldic blast of trumpets to announce The Moment.

“Ma’m? Sir? There it is.”

Right on the monitor…our sprout.

The shape of a kidney bean. A little circle in it. A little pulse in the middle of the stillness. I wanted to touch the screen. I looked over at Mr. F and there he was, no longer smiling, but I could see this moment would be something we would both remember for as long as we lived.

No shit.

Remembering it, I still get teary-eyed.

The Clinic Chronicles: Part 2

The OB-Gyne Lottery

So I loosened my death grip on the lounge chair and went inside.

“Dra. O will be with you shortly” the nice nurse said with a warm smile as led us into a little office.

It was definitely quiet in the little office with fresh pastels all around. Since it was a little bit cozy, I felt myself begin to relax.

“See? It’s not that bad, right?” said Mr. F.

I managed a smile. Yeah, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Wow! Pastels really do calm you down! I could feel myself actually loosening up.

I couldn’t care less if we got an old prude. We can always change doctors and never come back here again. Maybe a motherly type would be nice. You know, to take us by the hand and guide us through our impending parenthood?

The knob turns and in walks…a young girl. Who let the interns in!?

“Good morning! I see you’re here because you suspect you’re pregnant?” she smiles and looks up from my patient profile on her clip board.

Good God! Not only was this OB young, she looked exactly like one of my aunts! I can almost see her running straight to my mom to tell her about the nitty-gritty of my inner plumbing as soon as we’re out the door.

Shock must have registered on my face because Mr. F elbowed me into closing my mouth.

“I’m sorry. You look so young and you look like my aunt! I’m seriously weirded out” I say.

*Elbows*

“Sorry!”

The young doctor laughs with my aunt’s laugh (déjà vu) and say she’s pretty sure we’re not related.

Turns out she’s had a few years worth of live babies under her belt, a couple of hospitals residencies, and a big boy of her own.

Besides, she said, virtually her entire family was in medicine. Her father is also an OB, having delivered her kid (his grandson) via cesarean, her oldest brother is in general surgery; her other brother is in neonatal care and pediatrics, and their youngest brother ended up in pharmaceuticals (you know…just for a change of pace).

“So what does your husband practice?” we asked in awe.

“Ooh! I met him on a blind date!” She laughed.

“He’s in construction. So different, no?”

Mr. F and I couldn’t agree more.

The Clinic Chronicles: Part 1

Modesty Aside

The day after finding out I was pregnant found a blissed out Mr. F with me in tow at the local family clinic to have myself checked out.

It was pretty much standard: vital stats, BP, weight check (so that’s where all the donuts went!), and the numerous forms to be filled while waiting for the OB to see us next. I know the nurses have been probably been through this hundreds of times being in the biz and all but I still felt ridiculously shy. Even if I had been reading up a bit on what to expect on my first Pre-natal visit, it was hella different being actually here.

“Babe, just the fact that we’re here announces to the general public that we’re most likely having sex” said Mr. F ever so succinctly.

I guess that’s why they put you through the nurses first, so by the time you get to the doctor, your modesty’s been shell-shocked to oblivion.

I’ve never been truly modest but surprisingly, I still managed to blush when asked about my LMP (Last Menstrual Period) to determine when I possibly conceived. I honestly couldn’t say when we “planted the seed” so we just hazarded an educated guess.

What was really worrying me however was that I’ve never revealed so much about my personal hygiene to just anyone!

I couldn’t even imagine talking about my sex life with own mother much less reveal details to someone I just met. I also had issues about possibly being “felt up” by a perfect stranger. I wasn't kinky that way and from what I heard about IEs (Internal Exam), I just knew I wasn’t going to like it.

We’ve never met the OB on duty at the clinic either so for all I knew we could be getting a prudish old geezer we might shock to death if we ever even mention the word “sex”.

I was working myself up into a real basket of nerves.

By the time they called us in, I had decided to just wait outside and let Mr. F find out what was what. He would’ve done it too if not for one tiny little detail.

I was the one who had the ovaries and the womb.