Making the announcement

My first ever Facebook pregnancy announcement makes me feel strangely a part of the modern age. I joined Facebook shortly before River was born. I believe I posted a few pics after his birth, but didn’t announce my pregnancy there.

A facebook announcement is the official statement of open news – of this is so official, so obvious, that it’s now OK for anyone to know. It gives permission for the gossip mills to flow.

It kind of makes me wish that more colleagues were on facebook. I don’t want to share the details of my life with many of them, but I would kind of like to make a mass announcement. I think one of the reasons I have been so hesitant to wear revealing clothes is that I’m dreading what I imagine will be an onslaught of banal observations/conversation – oh you are pregnant? Congratulations! When are you due? How are you feeling? Do you know the gender?

It’s hard to criticize this as I know people are just being polite/kind. And I ask the exact same questions when I find out a colleague, even one I don’t know well, is expecting. I just dread repeating this conversation over and over again. I know people mean the best, but it kind of feels like an overstepping of boundaries, of letting people in on something that is intensely personal, when I may not even be on terms to discuss hobbies with them.

Then again, I have to remember that births and the regeneration of life is something that ties people together, that reminds us of the cycle of life, and how we are all in this together. They are there as the community that will take in my child, regardless of how vigorously they partake in the responsibilities. I, in turn, have to allow them the access to participate.

It's a girl

“There are the labia,” said the radiologist. ‘It’s a girl.”

Convinced it was a boy, I was not prepared to hear that. I’m happy, but stunned. It’s going to take me a little time to reorient to the reality.

Last day as a genderless fetus

Tomorrow is my appointment for the anatomy scan –the day we are supposed to find out the gender. That is, if the fetus is showing its privates. I believe this is the last ultrasound I have scheduled, so if it decides not to show itself, we could be surprised at birth.

I have mixed feelings. Part of me is excited. I question why, since during the first pregnancy I would have preferred to not know the gender (Mark wanted to know, so we found out, but didn’t tell anyone). I didn’t want to subject River to gender stereotypes before even emerging from the womb. I want to give him the chance to make his own mark.

This time I want to find out for reasons of very basic practicality – to simplify the discussion of names (River didn’t get named until just before leaving the hospital, despite knowing the gender ahead of time) and to plan the wardrobe. If it’s a boy, I’ll be moving clothing down from the attic. If it’s a girl, I’ll have to keep my eyes peeled for cheap baby girl clothes.

As much as I don’t like gender to define a person, I am becoming more comfortable with the idea that some differences are innate due to gender. River’s attraction to trains and cars was just too immediate and too strong to be credited to socialization.

This time around, I view the gender as just one more indication of who it is. It is human, I know its race and ethnicity, I have a sense that it’s fairly healthy and normally developed, but I don’t know what type of genitals or hormone makeup it has.

Mark is worried I will be disappointed if it’s a boy. I asked how he’s going to feel if it’s a boy/girl. He said he’ll be looking for my reaction. As long as it is healthy, and I hope happy, I will love it fully. In fact, I’d probably love it even if it’s unhappy and unhealthy.

If it is a boy, then I will still want a girl. But that won’t diminish my ability to love the boy. And if it’s a girl, I’ll be surprised and it will probably take me some time to adjust, because I’ve already pretty well convinced myself that it’s going to be a boy.

Mark will be there with me, so we’ll find out the news together. I’ve already announced the pregnancy news to family, close friends and supervisors (and blog readers!). If everything looks normal, after tomorrow, I’ll make the general announcement.

Heading back

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.