The letter “P”: Miracles and bumps

23 weeks and counting! Within a week’s time, I’ll be six months along in my pregnancy while one of my best friends, Jenna will say “I do” at the altar.

It wasn’t too long ago that she stood by my side as a bridesmaid and witnessed my own wedding. I was driving and thinking how my journey has changed drastically in a year.  Come June 2016, it will change even more so when Baby Texi will be welcomed into the world. Without trying to sound so nonchalant about the birth, the truth is I’m nervous and pretty much scared shitless.

So like anything major that happens in life, I like to plan. This may be writing endless lists on what needs to be done or doing the much needed preparation. Although I know there will be no manual handed to me while I’m wheeled out of theatre, there is no “one size fits all” rules when it comes to babies.

In preparation for Baby Texi’s arrival, I signed up for antenatal classes. Before I hear the moans and comments like “It’s not that hard, women have been giving birth for thousands of years” or a comment like my mother’s “Just ask me questions, I had you!”, despite her confidence now, she often phoned my gran crying “I think the baby’s going to die” when something didn’t look right.

However with  the lessons, I hope that any ridiculous, irrational fear will be met with some serenity and comfort and not sniggers alongside eye-rolling responses by the experienced mothers.

It was the first class last night and I did feel out of place. Being a mother was never an idea I forged in my mind as I lay down the path of where I thought my life journey would go. I envisioned one hyphenated word, “career-driven” thus nappies, sleep deprivation and everything else surrounding the word “baby” wasn’t factored in . Secondly as I sat there, I felt way too young to be sporting my latest accessory for nine months, “the bump”.

While the coordinator introduced herself and chatted about how girls from a young age have a maternal instinct to be mothers one day, I tried hard not to die from a malfunction overload of eye-rolling. It made think why on earth was I even taking this class, until a kick and somersault  in my uterus catapulted me back from my own sexist thoughts to pay attention.

To add  more injury to insult on my bladder, all the expectant parents had to introduce themselves and chat about the sex of the baby and whether it’s their first baby. I was seated at the back so I had to go last and hear everyone’s story. Towards the end, as I was thinking what I would say at my turn,  then the third last woman spoke.  She made me feel sheepish as I swallowed my nonchalant attitude about pregnancy. She’s a 40 year old woman who struggled for many years to fall pregnant, and pretty much gave up. She was about to adopt and discovered that she was pregnant with her miracle baby.

By the time it was my turn to introduce myself, I messed up as I forgot to mention all the other things the coordinator asked us to include in our introduction. All because of  what the lady with miracle baby said.

So did antenatal class make me feel better after the first lesson? Not completely as there many weeks to go but it did teach me to swallow my nonchalant attitude about pregnancy. Yes, it may not have been my timing to fall pregnant now or be apart of my original career-driven plan. But I learnt that I must appreciate the fact we didn’t encounter problems on falling pregnant and to just embrace the beauty of the bump.

Here’s my pic of appreciation of my nine month accessory.

P.S. – Baby Texi revealed her goods to be a girl at my last scan.

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