it's alive!

We had our twelve-week check-up on Friday and heard the little bugger’s heartbeat. Such a relief. Of course, I have a slew of other worries about the pregnancy, but after an early miscarriage in January, it was a relief to hear that minuscule heart pumping away.

And did I mention that I love my doctor? She played a large role—in a saving-our-lives kind of way—in my first pregnancy, and it’s so comforting to see her again. I grew up going to an HMO, and I never saw the same doctor more than twice. How different it is to be treated by a doctor with whom I share a history, who knows me. And she’s no-nonsense. She never makes me feel stupid for worrying the way I do, but she does try to nip my neurosis in the bud. On Friday, when I mentioned that I was worried about the small jump in my blood pressure, she just smiled, said that the small increase was normal, and added, dryly, “Kate, you’re pregnant.”

“But—” I started.

“Kate, you’re pregnant.”

She then turned to D. and told him he could pull that line out if he needed to, just as a reminder. Okay, fine. I’m pregnant. She also said that I shouldn’t worry for TWENTY weeks. Since I presented with preeclampsia symptoms around 30 weeks, she said that even if I get it again, it’s not likely to happen before then, so I should put it out of my head. (Imagine, 20 whole weeks without worrying!) She also said that because I made it to the third trimester last time, she wouldn’t recommend that I take baby aspirin everyday (which has been shown—in some studies—to lower the recurrence of preeclampsia).

So, it was a good report, and hearing the heartbeat made the pregnancy feel real to me.

After the appointment, we picked up Stella at my sister’s house and told her that she was going to be a big sister. Have I mentioned that for the last few months she has been having tantrums for a baby sister? A friend of Stella’s recently “got one,” and since then, she has been throwing herself on the floor weeping and yelling, “It’s not fair! I’m never going to get a baby sister. I’m never going to get one. I want one right now!” (We have had discussions about the fact that she might get a baby brother instead, but she’s not believing that for a second. She’s got her mind made up.)

When we told her about the baby, she first said a long, drawn-out “no,” as if she didn’t believe us.

“Yes, sweetie, there’s a baby in here,” I said, pointed to my belly. “You’re going to be a big sister!”

Then she began to laugh maniacally. I’m not sure what was going through her head. It’s a lot to process.

But on Saturday morning, it had definitely sunk in. She looked at my belly as soon as she woke up. “It looks smaller today.” Uh, yeah. That’s because it’s morning and not full of food.

Then she wanted to see what the baby looked like, so I found a picture of a 12-week fetus.

“Oh, cuuuuuuuutttttttie,” she said, and then decided to write the baby a note, which included an almost-4-year-old drawing of a 12-week fetus. It was lovely, if slightly inaccurate.

Later that day, she was washing her hands in the bathroom, and I was sitting on the edge of the bathtub waiting for her. She was seeing how much froth she could create between her palms when she turned to me and said, “I’m excited for the baby, but I’m a little scared.”

“Oh, what about the baby scares you?”

She began rubbing her hands together again. “Well, I’m mostly excited,” she said again, as if to reassure me, “but I’m a little scared about changing diapers.”

How serious she seems sometimes. She had been practicing putting diapers on some of her bears, but I hadn’t realized it had been a challenge or something she was worrying about.

“Oh well, don’t worry about the diapers,” I said. “I can take care of that, and you can just play with the baby, if you want.”

“Okay,” she said, and rinsed her hands.

I’d been feeling nervous about the pregnancy, and I’ve actually been very nervous about reliving those infant months, which were not easy for me the first time. But being able to share all of this with Stella has somehow made my worries fade a little. Her excitement and questions and anticipation are contagious. And again, I have that overwhelming sense of gratitude. I am so lucky I have her.