Time. It’s never on your side. It had seemed to be flying by until I got pregnant, when suddenly everything skid to an incremental crawl. Each day seemed to last forever. But slowly, one after the other, they accumulated into weeks that I could check off, each one taking me a little closer to that magical three month mark, when everyone tells you that you can relax a little.
When I got pregnant, I started keeping track of the weeks by reading Alphamom’s Zero to Forty calendar – which are the funny, down-to-earth observations made by Amy Storch through her first two pregnancies. The first time I’d barely gotten started before it became clear things weren’t going anywhere good. So I stopped reading, promising myself I’d be back soon.
Although I didn’t get a calculated due date until my first doctor appointment in early January after we returned from vacation, thanks to the oh-so-romantic fact that we’d been working with a fertility specialist who of course had us on a schedule, I knew exactly how pregnant I was and picked up with the calendar again right away.
This time, with the help of more competent doctors, tests and proper medication *knock on wood*, everything so far has gone as it should.
On Saturday, I got to open this week in the calendar. At this point, I have to admit that I think the walrus analogy is rather spot-on. But, having made it to 32 weeks, I’m not complaining.