The Undiscovered Country

What to expect . . .

A while back Dave saw a brochure on the break room message board. It said if an employee or family member is pregnant, they can call a number and request a free package of stuff.

It came a few weeks later containing a small diaper bag, bib (too small for me, darn it), a rubber ducky that changes color if the bath water is too hot (did Rufus want that ducky! It’s now hidden away so she can’t find it), and the books “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”, and “What to Expect the First Year”.

I looked at the first one a few days before on Amazon, but didn’t buy it. I admit to being a bit ambivalent, because the people who reviewed it either loved it or hated it. The ones that loved it said it helped them understand what their body was doing, and eased any fears and anxieties. Others had the opposite reaction. Instead of easing their minds, the book made them near neurotic with fears of all the things that could go wrong.

I figured after reading all the reviews the soon-to-be parents have to consider the kind of people they are before buying the book. If they tend to be high-strung and focus on the worst that can happen in most circumstances, they should stay away from that book.

If they tend more towards optimism, or appreciate the variety of answers, no matter how frightening, given for most any symptom during pregnancy, then “What to Expect . . .” is the right book for them.

I found out I tend toward the latter. When I had a certain kind of pain or symptom, I read that portion of the book, and ended up more relaxed. Same with after my last scare on Friday. It gave several reasons why I would bleed, and the ones that applied to my circumstance were not serious, and were actually quite common.

Aside: I had to laugh at myself this morning. One thing I kept looking for after that last episode is any reduction in my other symptoms, such as sore breasts and queasiness. When I gagged this morning after taking a shower, I giggled, even more convinced everything is still going well. That’s the first time I was truly thrilled I wanted to puke.

I’m also not reading the book cover-to-cover. It’s set up more like an encyclopedia. I think reading the entire thing would be a mistake for anyone, especially while pregnant. The book highlights so many disorders, diseases, possible difficulties that could lead to miscarriage, to read them all would drive even the most optimistic person into an emotional tailspin.

The book has other, less serious sections such as ways to treat the inevitable, unsolicited advice. Have I received some doozies! Some have been good, most of it repetitions from what others, including my doctor, have said, but the rest is so outlandish I take it for less than a grain of salt. I should write them down, they’re so funny.

All the advice doesn’t bother me. They give it to me because they mean well, and only want to help. Most of the time, even for the sage advice, I smile, nod, say thank you and leave it at that.

I am not looking forward to people coming up and rubbing my belly uninvited when I start to show more, though. I like my personal space enough, they will likely walk away with crooked and throbbing fingers. I honestly never understood the allure of a pregnant belly anyway. Maybe it’s because I don’t like my personal space violated, I don’t want to violate others'. I consider it rude.

However, when it comes to rubbing my own belly . . . .