“I don’t know why the innocent fall, while the monsters still stand” – Brooke Frasier

It’s my very last appointment at the Feto-Maternity Unit. I’m 29 weeks and 4 days and I’ve graduated. All my appointments from now on will be within the general antenatal unit. My doctor, along with a visiting doctor from Bowral, greet me. New doctor man reads my file and makes small talk as the last ultrasound is conducted. It’s the last time I’ll see the little man in black and white before we meet in person. I’m somewhat sad, but relieved to be saying goodbye to this place. Relieved, as I can finally distance myself from this place that had brought me so much sorrow and anxiety, but saddened that the reassurance I’ve been getting from these world-class professionals is no longer at my service. I guess I’ll just need to trust that everything will be ok.

I’m evidently pregnant now, but there is still no sign of any maternal instinct kicking in. I don’t go gaga over little babies; however, I do find the tiny little clothes somewhat… moving? I’ve filled my time planning. I’m so, so busy planning, planning, planning. I have lists for the lists I’ve written and lists for lists that still need to be written. What I need, what I want… research, research, research… only the best and safest of everything. I’ve got it all covered… from prams to liners… from car seats to cloth nappy snappies. It’s all ready. I’m all ready. All I need now is to hunt and gather!

My first prey: the pram. We’ve been very fortunate to have a lovely family friend give us a Mountain Buggy Swift, which is just amazing! However, I have my eyes on the holy grail of prams, the Emmaljunga Mondial Duo Combi – It. is. serious.- However, I’m not exactly comfortable with paying the hefty price tag of $2200. Challenge accepted. I have morphed into a lioness stalking her prey. I end up locating a barely used Emmaljunga in Berry, which included all the attachments and accessories… perfect condition… for a mere fraction of the price!!! I still have to pinch myself. And when we met the lovely lady, she threw in a whole bassinet of toys! This whole baby paraphernalia hunting is seriously consuming me… and I love it. It’s distracting. It’s numbing. It’s just what I need. Next on the list… pram covers.

 

My fur babies are still the real babies in our family. My dog, Mace, has no suspicion as to what is going on, however, I think Ketut our cat, has caught wift of something. He seems to think that all these new and exciting furnishing in the house are somehow his… and his always got an eye on me. I remember hearing once that cat’s can suffocate newborn babies… I must remember to ‘shoo’ him off the baby gear… wait, I’ll just put that on my list.

I’ve slowly started turning the radio back on. I’m still emotionally unstable with music, but I’m starting to enjoy bopping away again to most songs. Aww, a cute new song about a baby bump by Ed Sheeran. What lovely timing.

 “You are my one and only. You can wrap your fingers round my thumb and hold me tight. And you’ll be alright… ‘cause you were a small bump unborn for four months then torn from life. Maybe you were needed up there but we’re still unaware as why.”

 You are extremely talented, Ed… but that was cruel… that was very, very cruel.

Music off, get the lists back out. Let’s just drown out these thoughts with a little more busyness.

“You don’t understand what I’m doing now, but someday you will.” -Jesus

“People inspire you, or they drain you- pick them wisely”- Hans F Hansen

I’m still living out of my skin. I wish I could just hide in a cave for the next few months and come back out when life is back to normal. Wait, what is normal?

This week I have my very first 3D ultrasound. It’s the first scan we’ve booked privately with a referral from my GP. My doc tries to explain to me how unnecessary an ultrasound at this stage is, but rather fetal movement count or something along those lines, is a more appropriate indication of health. He’s pretty much telling us to save our money. He could probably tell from my face that I wasn’t interested in any  rational decision on what’s considered necessary or not. I don’t care the cost. Take all my money. It’s irrelevant. I need peace. I need reassurance. Is this what we call desperation? I assume he wrote the referral anyway on the grounds of ‘mental health’ on my behalf… and no, I don’t want it for a pretty 3D profile picture for my Facebook page. Truthfully, even though Little One’s been kicking away, I need to see him to make sure everything is still as it should be. I’ve conjured up every possible fear inside and I need a professional to tell me that it’s all ok.

Wow, these private facilities with their leather lounges and flat screen TVs are definitely a far cry from the public health trimmings. Feature walls and flowers in vases… Yes, vases! And the pens aren’t all tired up to the desk. We’re off to a good start. The lovely doctor reads the referral in front of us and soon realises the nature of the appointment. The whole time she is amazingly accommodating, giving constant commentary on our ‘beautiful baby’ who has a ‘wonderful, strong heart’… and yes… still a boy with his legs remaining in typical male fashion. She clicks the scanner over to 3D mode. I feel a sense of relief when I can see his ears, nose, mouth, fingers, toes… it’s all accounted for. At the same time I’m taken back. I can see him but I don’t know this face. He doesn’t seem familiar. While looking at the pixelated screen, no thoughts of grand admiration come to mind, but a huge sense of relief.

A week later we fly to Queensland for our friend’s wedding. For a moment in time, over this short weekend, I begin to forget how scared I am, and for a second I feel like, maybe, I’m normal again. It’s amazing what good company and the celebration of love can do for the soul. So much so, I finally posted my first ‘tummy’ photo on Facebook. That’s got to be a good sign, right?

A physician once said, “The best medicine for humans is love”. Someone asked, “What if it doesn’t work?” He smiled and said, “Increase the dose.”