Well, so far so good. I'm pregnant. I'm wearing maternity trousers, mostly, although still in normal tops and jackets and dresses. Until last weekend I was wearing pre-pregnancy jeans although the ones with stretch only. I regularly check Sib with the doppler, and can find the heartbeat every time, although Sib seems to move around quite a lot and not be mad keen on being measured. I saw my OB 10 days ago, and he doesn't want to see me again until 20 weeks unless I need reassurance. But since I have my trusty doppler there isn't much point in that. I haven't even booked the 20 week scan yet. Not sure why.
Often I forget I'm pregnant. And then I suddenly feel ravenous and remember. And eat something, anything, just to get rid of the feeling. In the middle of a cold snap, I've been craving salads. The crunch and the clean taste have been all I've really wanted to eat. Until H cooked a big pot of a Nigel Slater bean dish with coconut milk, spices and lime juice last night and I wolfed down two portions. It was delicious, but there again, there's that citrus-y clean taste. I don't remember this particular need when I was pregnant with Pob, it seems to be specific to this pregnancy.
I nearly wrote 'to this baby' but then I stopped myself.
I've told the powers that be at work that I'm pregnant. Mostly people have been delighted for us, it's just the local big guy who was distinctly ambivalent. Since he doesn't have much to do with how I'm evaluated that's probably fine and I probably just caught him at a bad moment, but given he knows some of our back story I was a little disappointed. Perhaps I'm just no longer the high flier I was and therefore less interesting to him. Either way, I was glad that straight after the conversation with him I had a great session with another senior colleague who offered me a bunch of very practical advice on how to manage this leave, and was thrilled for us, which made me feel less concerned about my professional future - or rather, just as concerned, but with a good sense of how to manage it.
One of those funny-ha-ha but not really moments happened the weekend before my birthday. H organised for us to go away to a fancy hotel for the weekend, while his parents looked after Pob. Really, given I'm working full time, I'm not that keen on leaving Pob, but he organised it as a surprise so I said lovely thank you and threw myself into it. On the Saturday night we got chatting to a family who were sitting around after dinner near us. A family of two parents and one very sweet, incredibly well-behaved little boy, who was perhaps around 8 years old. We said our daughter was with her grandparents and the little boy solmenly berated us, saying: "you know they really like children here and you can order anything you like and they'll make it for you, your daughter should be here!" And I silently agreed with him. H then volunteered that we were expecting another baby (I have no idea why) and the father joked "you guys need to get a television!" We laughed and just continued to chat on other topics.
I was in a mellow enough mood that I didn't feel any need to correct his assumption that this was a lucky accident or a bit of silly planning on our part, to explain that we didn't have much choice in the timing, but it did raise for me, as it has done for many of you who've been lucky enough to come out of infertility with a 'normal' number of children, that probably people will no longer look at us and see the possibility that we struggled to get here. And it really will be a case of too much information if I try to explain that or add it into the conversation. Obviously in some situations I explain and I always volunteer the miscarriage thing in particular when it happens to friends or colleagues who don't already know it, but in social situations it just sometimes isn't appropriate. And that feels odd. It's been my life since 2004. Now that I'm part way to having two children, what is my future identity other than 'mother' 'professional' (which broadly does not come into the blogosphere), and perhaps 'wife'? I know we all know the scars of infertility will be there forever, although I also know that for me they have faded considerably over the last 16 months. But I'm not really infertile any more, am I? At least not in how the world sees me.
Let's see. We'll not count any chickens or determine any future identities just yet. They will be emergent.