Although I was unable to talk about the situation I had so recently found myself in while we drove to Alabama, it certainly did not mean I was not thinking about it.
Jay and I had gotten up, made coffee and started getting ready to get out the door – something that is never an easy task. Ezra was happily ensconced on the couch watching Sesame Street and we had not picked Greta up from her dad’s, so we were still practically alone – and we probably greatly resembled deer in headlights. I had counted out the months once I’d taken the test and knew we were looking at an October-November birth. Ezra will be 4 on November 3rd, so I am tracking along pretty well with my last pregnancy. Ok. I could deal with that.
As I took my first sip of coffee I started thinking about what this meant for me. First of all, no more wine. Shit. No wine at the end of a hard day after navigating over an hour’s worth of traffic to get home on a Tuesday, would be problematic. I told myself that it was simply a matter of priorities and, quite frankly, if I could not stop drinking immediately, well, that probably meant I should stop drinking altogether. I hate to admit it, but get me a few glasses of wine in and I want a cigarette. Horrible, I know, but that is just how it is. Without alcohol, however, I do not want cigarettes at all, so I knew smoking would not be an issue. Ok, done. Then I realized that I was going to be sushi-less for the duration. This was one thing that is very hard for me. Before getting pregnant with Ezra, I had enjoyed Sushi Thursdays after work every week. It was my time. I found this nice little sushi restaurant on my way home from the law firm I worked for in Texas and that time was my own personal treat. I would go there every Thursday alone and have white wine and sushi. It killed me when I had to give it up. I remember specifically when the doctor told me after Ezra was born that I could have both wine and sushi. I didn’t give a shit about the wine, but I left the office and went straight to the best sushi place I knew and got as much sushi as I thought I could eat. It was difficult as I was alone and Ezra was all of 6 weeks old and uncooperative, but I did it and enjoyed it immensely. I know I can have California Rolls, but it is not the same. Salmon is my favorite and I get a hankering on a regular basis. But, new priorities mean new resolve, so I grimaced and came to terms with the upcoming deprivation. I also love fried eggs over easy, unfortunately, this means they are not well done, so I am not supposed to have them either. Add brie, bleu cheese and other soft cheeses I love to that list. This was getting depressing.
I pulled out my phone and started looking at the calendar. October was a pretty free month for me. My parents’ anniversary is the 17th, but there are no birthdays in our family that month, so that was promising. Wait, there was something on my calendar at the end of October. I opened the reminder and was instantly disappointed. Corey’s Vegas Birthday Bash is over Halloween weekend. I have never been on a girlfriend trip and have never been to Vegas, so when Corey invited me I immediately said yes. I was actually using this as a bit of inspiration for my weight loss plan I discussed in an earlier post. Granted, since it was 7 months away and I am a born procrastinator, it had not been much of an incentive as of yet, but I really wanted to go. Well, not anymore. For a brief few minutes I thought maybe I would have the baby earlier, like at the end of September and still be able to swing it, but the complete selfishness of this idea sunk in and I realized there was no way I was going to be going to Vegas in October. Shit on a shingle, dammit, (insert several very bad words here). As I reluctantly came to terms with this, I defiantly poured myself another cup of coffee. I have my pride and my limits and I was not giving up caffeine – certainly not today, anyway. A little refrain started going in my head (recited to the particular cadence I use when reciting The Cat in the Hat to Ezra): “Oh, the things I can’t have, Oh, the things I will miss, Oh, I do not like it, not one little bit.” The only really good thing I can see coming out this feeling of deprivation, the one thing that made me smile, was that I would get to call and cancel that ^%$#&*@ dentist appointment I had scheduled for March 3rd. So far the score is Pregnancy 4, Marnie1.
Once we were packed up and on the road, I started looking at the calendar. Let’s see, how far along did I think I was? I had a negative pregnancy test on the 9th and a positive one on the 19th, probably meaning I was pregnant but the HCG levels had not been high enough to register on the 9th. A few google searches, some calendar reviews and calculations later, I came to the conclusion that I was probably between 5 and 6 weeks along (meaning the baby was only 3-4 weeks into development). I did some googling for a bit of a refresher as to what was going on in my uterus. I would need to find a doctor and hospital and get an appointment in the next month. I will be 40 in April so the docs will have a field day. All the tests I will be offered, as if being 40 is ancient and dangerous and no one has any business being pregnant at such an advanced age. Well, Kelly Preston (wife of John Travolta) had just given birth at 48, so I was good, right? If she can do it so can I. I conveniently did not think about the fact that Kelly Preston is in much better shape than I am, as she has personal trainers, chefs, maids, etc, etc, plus plenty of money to make sure that she was seeing the best doctors and all that. Of course, she is Scientologist which means she gave birth silently at home with Scientology people (and, I am sure, no meds at all – no epidural for Kelly. Well, good for her, but having had a child without meds and one with meds, I can assure you, I will be well medicated for this birth). Anyway, there is really no point in comparing myself to Kelly Preston, anyway. Truth be told, though, I am old for someone having a baby. No matter that it happens more and more these days, the fact of the matter is that at my age (and Jay’s as a matter of fact – he is a whopping 35) there are more risks than there would be if I were 32. However, Ezra is only 3, so it has not been that long since I have done this, and I came out of that ok and so did he, so I really have no real reason to worry. I already know I will do the triple (or quad) screening, but no amnio or anything like that. More googling and reading about baby stuff. It was a nice way to occupy my time while Jay drove to Troy.
Jay and I rarely mentioned the pregnancy to each other during the trip. There were a few comments made here and there, but for the most part, we kept quiet. My mother has a 6th sense about things and she could pick up on the tiniest detail. I did catch Jay practicing his scolding looks on Ezra and teased him a bit, but that was about it. We played cards with my parents Saturday night so Jay and my mother could trash talk a bit and we all had a good time.
We made it back home without having said the word “pregnant” aloud for a whole 24 hours. I was bursting…. And I was dying to know what Jay was thinking. I figured I would not ask, though. There were a few opportunities to mention it in passing (like when Jay went to the store and got him some wine and I sat there watching him drink it – ok, I did have a few sips – only SIPS, though). He did tell me he had called his mother in an attempt to tell her, but she had not answered the phone. I could see his relief that he’d dodged that bullet. We talked about coming to terms with all this meant. I pointed out that he would go from filing single with the IRS in 2010 to filing head of household with 3 dependants in 2011. I think his blood pressure went up considerably with that realization. At least he was still smiling and joking about it.
This is how we spent the first week with our new knowledge. I think we did pretty well for an old chick and a guy coming to terms with a most certain end to his bachelor days.