Bad Math

I am well aware of the significance of making it out of the first trimester. This pregnancy—the first in which it seems getting through the first trimester is even a possibility—I had my mind focused on the magical 12-week target. Once I reach 12 weeks, my chances of m/c drop significantly and my chances of this pregnancy having a happy ending increase significantly.

Today I am exactly 12 weeks, and yet this isn’t the end of the first trimester. Just like that realization that a pregnancy last 10 months and not nine months, the first trimester doesn’t end when you hit 12 weeks. After all, that would imply that pregnancy is only 36 weeks long. And yet 40 weeks isn’t neatly divisible by three (13.333 isn’t neat to me). Pregnancy has its own rule book, and so now I find out I need to get to the 14th week, which means I have all of this week and all of week 13 before I can officially say good-bye to this trimester. And this seems very unfair, like someone moving the finish line just when I had it in sight.

I still haven’t signed up for the weekly email update. The pregnancy books I have are literally gathering dust on the shelf, as I never neither the inclination to read them nor the energy to dust and clean them. I haven’t stepped foot into Buy Buy Baby or any child section of a store. And though I have made a few forays online, I only allow myself a few moments to ponder high chairs before I think, “This can wait.”

I did have a baby moment though, which made me long for the chance to feel those moments all of the time. I was at Columbus Circle, which is bustling with holiday craziness and obnoxious shoppers. And the light show started, which basically consists of giant star-like objects lowering from the ceiling to the tune of Christmas carols. I watched it for about 20 seconds, which is uncharacteristic of me because (1) I don’t like to stop or slow down to smell any roses while I am on a mission and (2) it really is a boring little show, despite the potential and the stunning backdrop of five-story windows. But that day I found myself stopping and watching if only for a moment and then I found my hand touching my stomach, in that I’m Pregnant way, wondering if the babies were kicking around in there or if they were sleeping. It just felt so foreign and familiar at the same time.

And now it is the dreaded wait till the next appointment. I have another ob/gyn appointment on Monday, December 11th, which might as well be a year from now. I think about all the things that are going to happen before that appointment and I am overwhelmed. Nicole’s mom will come into town; I will have a presentation and the last meeting of one of my three classes this semester; Nicole will fly to San Francisco and fly back; I will student teach three days down in Chinatown; I will have my dreaded Fordham observation; I will have to figure out how to complete a rather complex section of my portfolio; Jennie will return from her week-long St. Maarten vacation; and then there is that long weekend before Monday to endure…all of these events must come to pass before I am back on that table in the little room at my doctor’s office. Once again, a test of my patience, faith and strength. I guess I keep getting these lessons thrown at me until I get it right.