
I went in for my first OB visit yesterday, at 15 1/2 weeks. It feels like just the other day I was there for Abigail! I had forgotten how weird and uncomfortable it is to get a pap smear...That is definitely not my favorite procedure to sit through. But I'll tell you what is my favorite and what makes sitting through the pap smears and all the other unpleasantries of OB visits worth it: getting to hear the heartbeat.
I have been looking forward to that all these weeks. I can't explain the rush of emotion that floods my entire body as soon as the Doppler picks up that rapid thumping--coming from my body but someone else's heart. A tiny someone I haven't even seen or felt and yet already love. Although I hear it at every visit, that beautiful sound never loses its novelty for me.
An even bigger treat, which I wasn't expecting at this first appointment, was an ultrasound. My midwife offered to bring in the machine so we could have a look at the baby. She is not a technician and couldn't do any measurements, but of course I was still delighted.
Having already confessed how emotional I feel over a heartbeat, you can imagine how I felt at seeing a perfect little body--with tiny arms and legs and hands that were moving!
"Aww," the midwife said, "don't you just want to hold him?"
That evening I was having slightly-less-than-tender feelings toward my two-year-old as I chased her around the house with pajamas and toothbrush in hand. I managed to wrestle her into her pajamas while she took a turn brushing her teeth. Afterwards when she refused to surrender the toothbrush so I could have a turn, I told her that she would lose her bedtime story if she chose to disobey.
She chose to disobey. So we went to her room without a story, which, of course, caused a major meltdown. As I tried to put her in bed, she told me she needed to give Papa a kiss. Well, I'm a sucker for that stalling technique. So we went and found Erik, but she decided she didn't want to kiss him goodnight after all. Of course as we walked back to her room, she changed her mind. "Sorry," I told her, "we lost our opportunity." Another meltdown. Of course when we got to her room, I changed my mind. (Did I mention I'm a sucker for this stalling technique?)
"Ok," I said, "I will give you one more chance to kiss Papa goodnight." She calmed down and gave Erik a kiss and then waved to him sweetly as we headed back to her room. I sat with her in the rocking chair and sang a few songs. She curled up in my lap and laid her head on my chest. Then she looked up at me with the sweetest smile and said, holding up an index finger, "Mommy, sing ooooooone more song!" Well, I'm a sucker for this stalling technique. So I asked her what song she'd like me to sing. "The mermaid song!" Little Mermaid it was.
As I sang it for the third time (did I mention I'm a sucker for this particular stalling technique?), she looked up at me and said brightly, "Mommy, you really good singer!"
Sometimes--like when I'm chasing Abigail through the parking lot with an armload of groceries or wrestling her into her car seat while she's throwing a tantrum or struggling to get out the door on time to church as I balance a million books and bags in my arms and try to move my toddler gently up a huge flight of stairs with my foot because she's pausing to admire every ant and leaf along the way--I wonder how on earth I'm ever going to manage two children. (What I really start to wonder is how on earth my mother managed ten!)
But other times--like when I'm watching Erik and Abigail laugh their heads off at some game they've invented or when I listen to Abigail sing or when we snuggle on the couch together to read or when she "helps" me in the kitchen while I'm baking bread or making dinner or when I'm looking down at her as she's sleeping peacefully in her bed--I think there's nothing on earth as wonderful and fulfilling as being a mother. And I want to be one again. And again. And again.




