Hello Baby, I Feel You

I've had my fair share of miscarriages in my life. It isn't fair, nor am I fond of sharing that little tidbit of information about myself. I won't get into detail of what it was I experienced, what I saw, nor how I felt about any of it, besides this one small phrase: I love and miss them all to the center of my being. But the fact of the matter is that this passage isn't about me; it's about her.

In the midst of the pandemic that 2020 hurled into our everyday lives (the name of a beer, of all things, shut down businesses and sent all delights of face-to-face human interaction to a screeching halt), a miracle happened. April showers bring May flowers, and that particular flower was her; my sweet unborn daughter. You see, due to the events of my past, I truly believed that I couldn't have a biological family. I didn't necessarily try to start one either. But on June 22nd, 2020 there the test did beckon...TWO FREAKIN LINES.

My whole world turned on its heels for a second and knocked me on my feet. I slipped and slid on my tears falling to the floor. Fear and rejoice danced hand in hand as I sit in complete and utter shock. I knew it. There's this feeling in the area of skin that protects the uterus that just gets tougher than usual. As if you can vaguely identify an extra level of protection; newly acquired armor shielding precious cargo. But it's easy to miss. I also could sense tiny hints of nausea, but I just ignored it for a little while.

Now enough about me. Back to her.

This tiny love has so much spunk, and she's only 23 weeks old, still bouncing around inside her own personal spaceship. I don't remember what it was like being inside one of my own, so I guess that's the beauty of being the vessel; experiencing what it would've been like to be you from the outside looking in.

She was conceived around May 15th. I have irregular periods on a normal basis, but had gotten off of birth control that made me miss my periods. Even though I didn't think I could ever conceive anyway, I still took the necessary precautions for a little while. Once I cut those off, a month and a half later BOOM. Preggers.

As I've said before, I officially found out she existed on June 22nd. I saw her for the first time on July 14th. My little pulsating lima bean. Her puny little arms and tail were dancing as my nurse said that she seemed to have the hiccups. Any my goodness were they the tiniest hiccups.

I saw her again on August 3rd, just a little bit bigger than she was before. Her head was more pronounced, arms a tad bit longer, and she finally had feet. My legume was now the most adorable potato I've ever seen in my life.

Food references are a must when it boils down to the structure of my vocabulary. So bite me.

Just kidding.

Anyway.

At 15 weeks and 5 days, on September 2nd, she finally resembled a healthy baby. Albeit she was being scanned by sound waves, so one would blatantly assume that's how a healthy baby would look like. You think a newborns hands are tiny when pressed to yours? I had downloaded an app that kept updating me on the size of her feet and hands and I just about died seeing them waving around on the screen in front of me. She rolls around so much. Always on the go. No sense of direction by any means necessary, but that's what lots of adventurers long for sometimes...the art of being lost.

Now all of this was wonderful. Getting to see her for just a few minutes at a time over 15 weeks brought me to near tears. But the anatomy ultrasound is what really rendered me speechless.

Literally all but two people guessed that my growing baby was anatomically a female. They kept telling me all the old wives tales of how you can identify gender:

Whether you carry high and outward or low and teardrop.

Whether you crave sweet or spicy.

Whether you get acne or not.

Whether this, whether that.

But the one that piqued my interest the most was the Chinese Gender Predicting Chart. Age of the mother when they conceived, crossed referenced with the month and you get your answer. Boy or girl. Mine was 28 and May...girl. My moms was 23 and June...girl. I didn't hunt down anyone to check on theirs, so I just stopped there.

So there I was on September 29th, watching as my child remained in the fetal position while also managing to roll around somehow. She slept just like I do. Arms up by her face, legs tucked in nice and tight. My tiny ball of stubborn. The nurse had to improvise and log all of her other features to make sure there were no complications. I got to observe her limbs and all of her little bones and organs, and I even got to see her eye sockets, which is kiiiiind of the stuff of nightmares if I'm being quite frank. I got to see legitimately everything else before she finally managed to show us what we were waiting for.

"Do you see those three lines?"

"Yes." I say hesitantly, still unsure of what I'm looking at.

"You're having a girl."

That moment was when it all truly settled in officially. I was pregnant, and I was having a girl. There's something about not knowing that makes the whole process feel a little bit like make believe. Especially after experiencing miscarriages in the past to lead up to this angel being my first. But having those definitive answers just opens your eyes a bit more to the reality of the situation at hand.

And I'm completely and utterly terrified. But that's apart of the journey.

What a lot of people find fascinating is that I could feel her moving around around week 10. I don't know how, but I could identify the abnormalities even though she was so small. Tiny taps, butterfly wings, whatever people call it, I felt it.

I worried when it had been too long for my liking to feel her, but there has to be child-to-mother telepathy because I swear, as soon as I just passed the THOUGHT of:

"Hmmm I haven't felt baby in a while..."

TAP.

She would kick or punch me almost instantaneously, as if she were saying:

"Here I am mommy. I'm okay."

And as the weeks have passed, I've grown bigger while she grows stronger. But she's still so gentle. She still always answers when I call to or think of her. And she isn't a picky eater. Her mommy is a foodie at heart so that truly resonates well with me. And that's just the tip of the iceberg that is the beauty of the bond I have with this brilliant little human inside me. The bond that I hope all mothers get to experience as they carry and concoct their little ones.

23 marvelously beautiful and emotionally confusing weeks, with less than halfway more to go before I get to see her with my very eyes. And when she will finally get to see me in return. I'm not ready for that physical pain, but I know that she will be worth it then because she is already so worth it now.

I love you my little swan, and I feel you everyday. You are allowing me to love within myself like I've never knew how to love before. You've taught me how to be healthier. How to moderate my fluctuating emotions. How to take self care even more seriously than ever before.

To love her now means to love myself unconditionally as I've learned to love those around me. And with that, she is my best teacher.

So to all the mothers or moms-to-be out there, I congratulate you and I'm finally understanding the beauty of pregnancy. I stand with you in this journey, and trust that were all equally as scared, but at least were not alone.