I went to my first pre-natal appointment and was told by the registered nurse that I could not do the following:
1) Eat deli meat, hot dogs, soft cheeses, or tuna fish
2) Drink acohol
3) Touch a cat
4) Play softball
5) Drive a motorcycle
I pressed her on items 1,3, 4,5. We've already surrendered on item number 2.
Item number one: Why can't I eat these things that I love?
Answer: Bacteria accumulates on food which is left out for too long. Tuna has too much mercury.
Me: So it's not about the food itself, but where it is and how it's prepared or where it's taken from.
Answer: Well.... yes.
Me: So I can eat deli meat. I just have to be sure the deli hasn't left it out for longer than they're supposed to. And I can have tuna as long as it is certified to be mercury free. So really, these are not things I should just not do while pregnant, it's things that people should do in general. Right?
Answer: Well, yes, ideally...
Me: So why not tell me this important health news before I was pregnant?
Item number 3: So you just said that toxoplasmosis is bad for the fetus?
Answer: Yes. If you go to someone's house with a cat, just ask them to put the cat in another room.
Me: But you just said it was okay if I had a cat, just not to touch the litter.
Answer: Well, yes...
Me: Am I somehow more likely to get it from someone else's cat?
Answer: Well, no...
Me: And just how common is it for babies to be born with a defect caused by toxoplasmosis, anyway?
Answer: Well, actually... pretty rare.
Me: So it's really not an issue.
Answer: I guess not.
Item number 4: What do you have against softball?
Answer: You could get hit by the ball directly in the stomach, and that could cause miscarriage.
Me: I have never been hit directly in the stomach in my life. In fact, I'm more likely to get hit in the head; I'm the catcher. And I have softball tournament this weekend, and I intend to play in it.
Answer: Well at this stage it would have to be a hit the equivalent of a car crash to cause any harm, so I guess it's okay...
Me: You mean hard enough to cause internal damage?
Answer: Yes..
Me: Well in that case don't you think I'd have bigger things to worry about?
Answer: I guess....
Item number 5: I guess you noticed I rode my bike to this appointment.
Answer: Yes, I really think that you shouldn't drive a motorcycle while pregnant.
Me: Why not?
Answer: Well if you were to fall or be in a crash, it could cause a miscarriage.
Me: Well I certainly don't want to crash. Am I statistically more likely to get into a crash because I'm pregnant?
Answer: Well.... no...
Me: Then I guess we're okay then, aren't we?
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
And then there were three (one was very very small)
When I told the registered nurse at the OBGYN that I'd gone off the pill in order that my husband and I might get pregnant, she tried to reassure me by telling me that it often took 6 months to a year before one found oneself in such a state.
This is what my brain took from that statement: You will be pregnant in one year.
I could deal with that: it gave me plenty of time to prepare for the idea of being pregnant and, even more importantly, of being a parent for the rest of my life. Imagine my surprise one month later when it turned out that what she meant was: You have a chance of getting pregnant any one of the next 365 days.
I wish she'd been more clear.
Suspecting something was up, I went to the drugstore near the office after work in search for that which I'd never searched for before; a home pregnancy test. Consequently I didn't know where to look. This turned out to be a fortunate circumstance since a co-worker sidled up to me as I was aimlessly perusing what turned out to be the headache aisle.
"Whatcha buying?" he greeted me.
"Uh," I said. After he left I snuck out and went to the opposite side of town to another drugstore.
Home pregnancy tests are stored under "Family Planning," by the way. And you really can't miss them, because they are bright pink. That's right, an item that most people would probably want to buy discreetly is packaged in a color which screams BABY! BABY! BABY! all the way up to the counter. But they did do their thing; two lines showed up almost immediately.
I'm sure every expectant mother remembers with clarity the moment they learned they were pregnant. I believe my exact words were: Oh, fuck.
Which is how we came to be sitting there, after all, staring at a pink stick with lines on it. With apologies to those who have trouble conceiving, it was amazingly easy. I'd gone for years half-wondering if those organs even functioned, and three tries and one month later I had incontrovertible truth that I was fertile. Apparently quite so. Wham, bam. Thank you ma'am.
My husband, of course, was delighted. It was more his idea than mine anyway; in fact, if there'd been a way for him to be pregnant, he would have gladly done so. I wasn't so sure. I liked my life the way it was; why add somebody else to it? And I was definitely not on board with the whole nine months of pregnancy thing. I knew, for instance, that eventually it would be obvious to perfect strangers that I was pregnant, and all my actions would be scrutinized. (She's eating deli meat! Doesn't she know that's a no no??) The registered nurse had at one point tried to still these fears by pointing out that it was only for nine months.
"Nine months," I shot back, "is only three months shy of a year."
Still. After some doubts and some anger and some desperate tears, we've settled out some and we're ready for the long haul. Those wild hormones are no match for me. And though it seems like we've already been pregnant forever, we're only nine weeks along. Nine weeks is only three weeks shy of a trimester.
This is what my brain took from that statement: You will be pregnant in one year.
I could deal with that: it gave me plenty of time to prepare for the idea of being pregnant and, even more importantly, of being a parent for the rest of my life. Imagine my surprise one month later when it turned out that what she meant was: You have a chance of getting pregnant any one of the next 365 days.
I wish she'd been more clear.
Suspecting something was up, I went to the drugstore near the office after work in search for that which I'd never searched for before; a home pregnancy test. Consequently I didn't know where to look. This turned out to be a fortunate circumstance since a co-worker sidled up to me as I was aimlessly perusing what turned out to be the headache aisle.
"Whatcha buying?" he greeted me.
"Uh," I said. After he left I snuck out and went to the opposite side of town to another drugstore.
Home pregnancy tests are stored under "Family Planning," by the way. And you really can't miss them, because they are bright pink. That's right, an item that most people would probably want to buy discreetly is packaged in a color which screams BABY! BABY! BABY! all the way up to the counter. But they did do their thing; two lines showed up almost immediately.
I'm sure every expectant mother remembers with clarity the moment they learned they were pregnant. I believe my exact words were: Oh, fuck.
Which is how we came to be sitting there, after all, staring at a pink stick with lines on it. With apologies to those who have trouble conceiving, it was amazingly easy. I'd gone for years half-wondering if those organs even functioned, and three tries and one month later I had incontrovertible truth that I was fertile. Apparently quite so. Wham, bam. Thank you ma'am.
My husband, of course, was delighted. It was more his idea than mine anyway; in fact, if there'd been a way for him to be pregnant, he would have gladly done so. I wasn't so sure. I liked my life the way it was; why add somebody else to it? And I was definitely not on board with the whole nine months of pregnancy thing. I knew, for instance, that eventually it would be obvious to perfect strangers that I was pregnant, and all my actions would be scrutinized. (She's eating deli meat! Doesn't she know that's a no no??) The registered nurse had at one point tried to still these fears by pointing out that it was only for nine months.
"Nine months," I shot back, "is only three months shy of a year."
Still. After some doubts and some anger and some desperate tears, we've settled out some and we're ready for the long haul. Those wild hormones are no match for me. And though it seems like we've already been pregnant forever, we're only nine weeks along. Nine weeks is only three weeks shy of a trimester.
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