Yesterday I saw the gynecologist for the monthly visit. This time it was at the hospital where I’ll be giving birth, the same one where Maia was born since it is the only one on the island. I had my blood taken, the file opened and I met again the midwives and nurses who helped me six years ago. I couldn’t believe they remembered me and it made a welcome change from the usual treatment you get at our hospital. The staff on this ward are dedicated and really very nice. They had gone out of their way to make sure I was comfortable and serene the first time round. I had had a short bout of paranoia the day after Maia was born, convincing myself that her birth father would come and abduct her. I needn’t have worried but hormones took over those first couple of days. The staff there quickly became counsellors/surrogate mothers and helped me through those horrid few hours and for that I’ll always be grateful.
Then it was time for the doctor to inspect my bump. While waiting outside the examination room, I had plenty of time to observe the fellow pregnant ladies who will, presumably, be popping in the next seven months (for the unitiated among you, visits usually start round the second month of pregnancy). Dear reader, I couldn’t tell who the pregnant ones were. Was it the twenty-something year olds or the overweight mothers accompanying them? They were all stick thin! I, in comparison, looked like I would go into labour any second (which I’m convinced is what they thought, judging from their surreptitious looks). Once I was inside, the doctor had a hard time keeping track of the baby because it was so active. The doctor said it will be a dancer but I was thinking more along the lines of judoka! Honestly, the little wiggler doesn’t stop one second. A couple of days ago I didn’t feel it much and got a little concerned but it was back to its energetic self within a few hours. The doctor also said it had doubled in size since last month, which I assured him I had noticed. My belly ballooned again these past few weeks, even though I’m more mindful of what and how much I eat. I don’t mind that much anymore. It’s the way my body carries babies and I just have to accept it. I’ll never be the type to sport a neat little bump and people will always think I’m at least 4 weeks ahead of where I really am. As long as all is well with the little one (and I lose all of the weight within a year of giving birth) I’m fine with it.
And, for your eyes only, this is what ze bump looks like of late: