Sunday, February 28, 2010

6 - 19 wks


6 wks
Mom knows and is very happy. Grandma for the second time. Me and my hormones cry along with her. The next day my shower doesn't work. I get to work bawling.

Tomato soup and sausages.

9 wks
Christmas party at work. People keep shoving beer bottles into my hands. Luckily, they're drunk enough not to notice when I pass them around later. The later it gets, the more annoying it is not te be drinking. People give me long slurred speeches about why they love their work. My back aches. I get to bed at 4 am and feel very tough.

I wake up feeling like I've been hit by a truck. I go downstairs to lie down on the couch and eat some sandwiches, and thus unleash a puke-attack that lasts all day. By 7pm I'm so afraid I've messed up the complete prenatal development of my kid that I call my mom and she comes over to calm me down and put me to bed.

10 wks
The ultrasound tells me it's not just my imagination; there's actually a tiny human being growing inside me, although you can't see anything yet from the outside. I can see it moving on the screen, floating silently inside me, one of the better sounds I've ever seen in my life.

In the meantime I keep up my morning routine: wake up, bathroom, the race back to bed, to the horizontal pose that I keep for about 45 mts, eating dry cornflakes in the hope the nausea subsides. Then a careful try-out, a short walk to the closet, to pick up my clothes for the day and if that works out and I'm still not puking - finally - the shower.

Of course there's no use mentioning the boob-factor, right? Merely that by now, there is one.

11 wks
A trip to New York. Could have had better timing, of course, but hey. Maarten and I struggle through the airplane trip, a terribly irritating delay at LaGuardia, then the cabride to Brooklyn. The next morning our first purchase....dry cornflakes! New York is cold and I am tired. I have to pass all the coffee houses I usually frequent, because coffee's awful all of a sudden.
Instead of spending New Year's Eve in a bar somewhere, or cheering with the rest of them at Times' Square, we eat Ben 'n Jerry's and do a jigsaw puzzle. On the airplane home a pregnant woman in the seat behind me constantly complains about food, drinks, service. I get to put my situation into perspective.

Avocado sushi.

13 wks
I've survived the danger zone. This baby is actually going to get born!

Vanilla porridge.

14 wks
Maastricht is cold and snowy. I'm afraid to get on the bike home and feel like a dork. My sister eats smoked salmon that looks divine...

15 wks
Still mostly very tired.

16 wks
Trying very hard to resist french fries and milkshakes. Fall off the wagon at a drive-through McDonald's where I flirt with quite a non-interesting guy. Me and my friends learn that it's frowned upon to talk about sex when dining at McDonald's. A mother of two stares us out. Will I ever be like that?

17 wks
I can get up without the cornflake-treatment now!

Grapefruits.

18 wks
My obstetrician tells me I work too hard. She might have a point. Whenever I get home in the evenings, my body feels so exhausted I lie on the couch until I feel it's okay to go to bed. I spend half my weekends in bed recuperating. I should change something, but work is actually the funnest place to be right now.

I no longer fit my regular jeans. Assistant Joey told me that it's simply not done to keep walking around at the office with pants zipped open. So there it is: the switch to the pregnant woman's wardrobe. I'm officially mourning. What to do with friendly people telling me it must be so much fun to get to pick out all these cute new clothes? Nothing. Simply smile. I LOVE my own clothes, thank you very much. And somehow designers only make girly girl maternity wear. Where is my body going?

Pear-flavoured popsicles.

19 wks
My friend Sytske comes over from The Hague to help me pick out a stroller. She is not pregnant. She is my ultimate hero.

Turns out these things cost a fortune and the selection process entails various factors I've never considered in my life. What's more important to me, how small the stroller is when you put it in your car, or if it can easily be manoeuvred through sand or mud? Will I ever BE in a sandy or muddy situation with my one-year-old or will it be possible for me to avoid these kinds of nature-calls-moments? How high or low should the crib be? Do I want foam wheels or the regular air-filled ones? The expression on the shop lady's face tells me I better not ask her whether it has one or two airbags.... In the end I must admit the Bugaboo's got the most advantages. Plus, its fabric is the softest, which I would prefer being a baby.

A lady in a pet store asks me: 'How many weeks?'. At first I've got no idea what she's talking about. Then I smile, knowing that I'm now officially obviously ostensibly pregnant. And a new member of the not-so-secret 'I've been where you are'-mothers-club. Now let me get some kitty litter.