I haven’t seen River for 11 whole days and tomorrow morning we’ll be reunited. I’m very excited to see him, but overall, I haven’t been pining. I’ve been keeping busy, thinking about him, and talking about him (probably too much on occasion) but I’ve also had lots of new experiences to focus on.
I missed a milestone today – his first ever puke. Admittedly, I don’t really feel bad about missing this one, certainly not in the way I feel about missing his first steps. But I feel bad that it happened. Mark said it occurred while eating, that no one even noticed until well after the fact, and that River didn’t seem to be phased by it. Apparently there is a stomach bug floating around the house, which makes me glad I’m staying in a motel tonight and didn’t try to gun it all the way there.
Last night – the final night of the event gathering – I had a glass of wine. Two. I’d been craving wine for a days in a way I never do. I became slightly tipsy. I thought to myself, all things in moderation. Two glasses as a one time event doesn’t seem so serious. Yet when I woke up this morning and didn’t feel movement, I began to imagine that I killed it, or that I caused it brain damage. I knew I was being ridiculous, but I also thought how horrible I’d feel if I caused lasting harm because of my short-term desire.
So I googled “pregnancy two glasses of wine.” Not only did I find plenty of people who had done the same, but I found the reassuring news that the UK Department of Health says up to two glasses per week is a safe limit. This article goes further and even claims that an occasional glass or two can benefit the baby. Even before that research came out, the New York Times ran this thoughtful piece.
Thank you, UK, for not ruling in absolutes. I don’t have plans for a lot of drinking. But perhaps I might like to enjoy a glass or two during a week in the upcoming months. It’s nice to know that it may well be a perfectly reasonable thing to do.