*ahem*
Twenty-four years ago today, I had my very last prenatal appointment. Ever. I was 38 weeks and 6 days pregnant. I relive this in my mind every year, and I'm not even going to apologize for re(x24)-hashing the story. People who were never told they wouldn't be able to have children, or people who have never suffered pregnancy losses, or people who don't blog or like to otherwise document their thoughts may not understand (or they might, IDK). It's my story, and I'll tell it again if I want to, tell it again if I want to, tell it again if I want to...(I'm not stuck on repeat, that's a random song reference. Just to clarify.)
But don't worry, I don't feel like getting super-introspective this year. I'll just point out that today was the day I had my last appointment, but I didn't think it was my last appointment when it started. I still remember the surreal feeling when, after spending about 15 minutes trying to relax so they could re-take my blood pressure (I don't recall that it was definitely 15 minutes; I'm going by what I know now that I didn't know then.), my OB (the guy -- I think his name was Scott? I don't remember his last name. Maybe Carlson? There were three different providers at that practice, one man and two women, and I'd seen all three of them but I think I saw him the most...) said all non-chalantly, "Why don't you come to the hospital tomorrow morning and we'll have a baby?"
I remember trying to argue that the reason my blood pressure was elevated was because my in-laws were visiting from out of state and I was stressed out because of that (no real reason other than I'm an anxiety-riddled introvert and had only been married just over a year at that point; having my in-laws visit now certainly would NOT stress me out!) but he wouldn't hear it. I was told that my blood pressure was elevated (and, I'm almost sure, questioned for any other signs of pre-eclampsia) and the solution was to be induced the next morning, which would be exactly one week before my actual due date.
And so signaled the start of the next phase of our lives. Well, the signals had been there for quite a while, of course. You could say this particular signal started the day I decided to take a home pregnancy test some months prior after having spent a few days ill miserable with what I had convinced myself was a stress-related ulcer and having it suddenly dawn on me that my period was late. Or a few days later when a blood test at the doctor confirmed those test results (because I never took just one home pregnancy test; I took several. To get an average).
I guess one reason I dwell on this day is because it was the last day we were just a couple and not a family. Re-reading that, it almost sounds selfish, which is not my intent. Ok, maybe it's a little of my intent, lol. I know it's the boy's birthday and I have no desire to take away from his celebrations, but it was also the day I physically brought a new life into the world, which is an amazing feat that not everyone gets to experience at all. We had only been married for 16 months when the boy was born, but we'd been living together for about 2 years by then, and had been dating even longer than that, and some other time I'll write a blog about our history together but suffice it to say that we had spent a significant time of our pre-parenthood late-teenaged and young adult lives together, yet now when I look back it seems like the boy was always there. Like I can't remember what it was like NOT being his mom.
Alright, I have to get back to work. Later, gators!
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