Chapter 7: An End and a Beginning, Part 2

We arrived at the hospital just as the pale pink fingers of dawn were stretching into the starry black night. I was dizzy with excitement, frightened by the first hints of real pain in my contractions, and uncomfortably wet. For some reason, I had always assumed that when a woman’s water broke she gushed out a bunch of fluid all at once and then was pretty much done. Nope. I just kept leaking. Fortunately, that was my golden ticket into a birthing room. I can’t imagine the frustration of coming to the hospital with contractions and being sent home.

The nurses gave me a plastic bag for my amniotic-fluid-soaked clothes and dressed me in a double-wide backless hospital gown, a blue robe that clearly aspired to be a tent, shapeless blue socks and a pair of super high rise mesh granny panties. I hadn’t been dressed so comfortably in months. Of course, Chase felt obligated to take several pictures of my flattering ensemble to share with everyone on Facebook, but for once I didn’t mind at all. Everything was joyful that day.

I had two wonderful nurses who checked in every half hour to monitor Noah’s heart beat and see how my labor was progressing. I told them I wanted to try natural birthing methods for as long as I could handle the pain, and they cheered me through everything I tried. I realized pretty quickly that I was having back labor, which means that Noah was facing the wrong way and pressing uncomfortably into my lower spine, so I spent a lot of time rocking back and forth on my hands and knees to help him move into the correct position. I also walked the halls, bounced on a birthing ball, sat in a Jacuzzi bath, and just breathed through the pain.

Chase was heroic through the entire labor. He supported me when I walked, made sure I always had water and ice on hand, timed my contractions, constantly told me what a great job I was doing and how proud he was of me, and pressed on my lower back every time a contraction hit. The one time he was gone during a contraction, I nearly panicked. His touch and voice helped me deal with the pain more than anything else. A few days later, though, when I told him how much it helped when he pressed on my back, he just grunted and said, “You have no IDEA how much my arms hurt!” Men.

Six hours and four centimeters into labor, I decided I needed drugs. My nurses were helpful and encouraging and Chase was superman, but the back labor was starting to wear me down and the contractions were becoming so intense and frequent that I could never relax. For the first time since I arrived at the hospital, I was on the verge of tears. I asked for an epidural – now, please.

The anesthesiologist came in about twenty minutes later and told me that he was going to poke me with a needle, drill into my spine, poke me with an even bigger needle, stick a tube in me, and then – finally! – start dosing me with enough pain medication to reduce the pain of my contractions by about 90%. Yes, that sounds wonderful, I thought, just get on with it! Poor Chase tried to support me while avoiding the nauseating sight of a huge needle sticking out of my spine. Chase hates needles. The most excruciating part for me was being forced to sit perfectly still during a contraction. I barely noticed the needles.

The anesthesiologist finished, packed up and left. My nurse asked me to tell her when I was having my next contraction. I waited anxiously.

“Um, I THINK I’m having one now.” The nurse hooked up one of the monitors and confirmed that I was having a huge contraction. I smiled. This was awesome. Chase left to get a breath of air and call his parents to tell them that everything was going well.

Almost as soon as he stepped outside, trouble started. Noah’s heartbeat on the monitor was slowing way down. My nurses called in three more nurses and a doctor. They asked me to flip from side to side, then to get up on my hands and knees. I could barely feel my legs because of the epidural, and I just kept praying that they wouldn’t collapse under me before Noah’s heart rate returned to normal. Oh, please God, let my baby’s heart rate return to normal!

When Chase came back to the room after telling his parents that all was well, he saw me surrounded by doctors and nurses, on my hands and knees on the hospital bed, an oxygen mask on my face and tubes sticking out of me in all directions. And Noah’s heart rate was so slow. Chase was terrified.

After four or five impossibly long minutes, Noah’s heart rate started to pick up speed again, and everyone took a relieved breath. Noah was fine. They let me lie down again, and once I was sure Noah was really okay, I fell asleep.

Two very short hours later, the nurses told me that I was 10 centimeters dilated and 100% effaced. It was time to start pushing.

I couldn’t believe it. I knew this was the part that I had been working toward through all of the contractions, but it had arrived much sooner than I was expecting. I had been though six weeks of birthing classes and watched lots of horrifying videos of women giving birth, but I suddenly realized that I had no idea how to push my baby out. The fact that I could barely feel my contractions through the epidural was suddenly very scary.

Fortunately, my nurses coached me through exactly what I needed to do, and it even seemed to be working! After three or four big pushes, they told me they could see the top of my baby’s head. They asked if Chase would like to see, and he got the first glimpse of our son’s thick, dark hair. Chase had insisted throughout the pregnancy that he would never look below my waist during the delivery, but he couldn’t help but watch from that point on.

Then the nurses asked me if I would like a mirror so I could watch, too. I hesitated for a second. After watching dozens of gory birthing videos in child birth classes, I had thought birthing mirrors were the worst idea ever. But now…

“Yes, I would like a mirror. Thanks.”

So, despite our best intentions, Chase and I both witnessed the full birth of our son. Far from being horrifying, it was actually very motivating to see Noah’s head poke out a little bit further each time I pushed. And it was mind blowing to actually catch a glimpse of the invisible little person I had been carrying around in my womb for nine months.

Some time during all of the pushing, one of the nurses called in the doctor. I thought it was very funny that he arrived at the same time I was scheduled to visit him for my weekly prenatal checkup. He was only mildly amused when I pointed this out to him.

The doctor did a quick routine check up, then felt all around my distended belly for a few seconds and declared, “About seven pounds four ounces.”

“Sounds like a good size,” I said. Chase nodded. Then the doctor sat down at my nether regions and we really got to work.

At this point, even the epidural could barely numb the pain of delivery. The “ring of fire” is no exaggeration. In fact, I don’t think it fully conveys the searing pain of a baby’s head trying to push its way through an area that once felt too small for a tampon. I was so eager to push through this agony that the doctor actually had to tell me to slow down and not push quite so hard. I was shaking and drenched in sweat. Then, just when I thought I couldn’t bear it any longer, Noah’s head pushed through, and his little body slid out easily after it. I collapsed back on the bed. It was done.

One of the nurses mercifully moved the mirror at this point so I didn’t have to watch the aftermath of the birth. The other toweled Noah off, put some drops in his eyes, wrapped him in a swaddling blanket and laid him on my chest.

“Hi, Noah,” I whispered, folding him securely in my arms. He looked up at me with huge, dark eyes, and in that moment I realized I loved him more than I ever thought was possible. He was so beautiful he took my breath away. I had been fully prepared for an ugly, lovable little dwarf with wrinkly red skin and a bald head. Noah had thick, soft hair, porcelain skin, beautiful eyes, a delicate little mouth and an adorable little nose that was slightly squished to one side from the delivery. The doctor assured us that his nose would straighten out over the next few days. And, sure enough, he weighed exactly seven pounds four ounces.

Chase leaned over and kissed me, then kissed our baby boy’s tiny little head. We could barely speak, but we couldn’t stop smiling at each other. We had a son, and he was perfect.

After a few routine shots and measurements, the rest of the family was invited in to meet Noah. Chase was the first one to hold him after me, and the look of love and awe as he gazed into his son’s tiny face brought tears to my eyes. Then the grandparents and aunt and uncle each had their turn with the little newcomer. Noah is the first grandchild on both sides, so it was a significant moment for everyone. The only people missing were Chase’s mom, who was flying back from visiting her family is Massachusetts, and my brother, who was at college in Pennsylvania. Chase’s dad, who had protested loudly all along that he wasn’t old enough to be a grandpa, melted when he held his little grandson. “Wow, he sure is cute,” he said – several times. After my mom got him, I wasn’t sure she was ever going to give him back to me.

Then the men left to get dinner and a beer for the new dad, and my mom and sister stayed to help watch Noah while I got some much needed rest. Before I closed my eyes, I lifted up a prayer of thanks to God for my healthy baby boy, my wonderful husband, and our loving and supportive families. It hadn’t been an easy day, or a particularly glamorous one, but it had definitely been the best day of my life.

Chapter 7: An End and a Beginning, Part 1

Noah will be two months old on November 15. So much has happened since the last time I sat down to write about this whole baby adventure. It has been incredible to watch a brand new little person unfolding before my eyes.

I wasn’t able to write anything during my third trimester of pregnancy – I had absolutely no perspective. Everything I started to write sounded grouchy and woefully unappreciative of the beautiful miracle of life blossoming in my womb. My awkward, achy, swollen frame did not seem particularly miraculous to me at the time. In hindsight, it is miraculous that a 7-pound, 21-inch baby ever fit inside of me…and even more miraculous that he came out.

The beginning of my third trimester was when I really started to feel pregnant. Of course I had been pregnant for the first six months, but I had never been this huge, this achy, this clumsy, or this grouchy. You know those terrifying pregnant women on movies and sitcoms that you know must be exaggerated for laughs? They’re not. We really do waddle, we really do need to pee every time we stand up, we cry for no reason at all, and we can be awfully mean when we’re feeling uncomfortable (which is most of the time).

One of the first events of my third trimester was the beginning of childbirth preparation classes. I was excited for these classes. I felt completely clueless about the whole birthing process, and I missed college classes. Of course, the final exam for this course would be more painful than any literary criticism test. Chase was much more reluctant to give up his Tuesday evenings to sit around in a circle and hold hands with strange people, but, good husband that he is, he agreed to come with me. Fortunately for him, we usually sat in chairs, and he only had to hold hands with me during the floor exercises.

The videos were the most terrifying part of the birthing classes. Women in labor make awful noises and faces, and everything that happens to them looks extremely painful. Chase would look over at me at the end of a birthing video with a big smile and say:

“Did you see how happy that mommy was to be holding her little baby?”

“Did you see how much pain she was in for the rest of the video?” I would retort, wide eyed and white faced. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

I wanted to have a natural birth, but I actually cried after watching one video that showed lots and lots of women giving birth naturally. Noah was just going to have to stay in my tummy forever. (Of course, that was back when I could still see my feet.)

Despite the bloody, traumatizing videos, Chase and I successfully graduated from childbirth classes, fully equipped to do what billions of women have done for thousands of years. That was the last big milestone. Now we had to wait another month and a half for the grand finale.

During the first six months of pregnancy, I had been “adorable,” “beautiful” and “cute.” All of a sudden, I started hearing, “You’re so much bigger than you were yesterday!” and “If you’re tummy grows any more, they’ll have to carry you around in a wheelbarrow!” Cashiers and store clerks unabashedly asked when I was due. One random businessman that I passed on the sidewalk commented, “Hey, you’re just about to pop!” By the end of my eighth month, I was ready to be done with the whole pregnancy thing.

Fortunately for me (and for my poor tongue-lashed husband), Noah arrived a week before his due date. The day before, Chase and I had made a bet on when he would come. I bet September 21 (his actual due date) and Chase bet September 15.

At 4:35 on the morning of September 15, I gently nudged Chase – who was sleeping on the couch because he couldn’t sleep through all of my tossing and turning and getting up to go to the bathroom – and whispered:

“You won.”

“What?” he asked groggily, barely opening his eyes.

“My water just broke.”

Chase’s eyes flew open and he sat up. “Holy crap! Are you sure?”

“Yup. I felt these weird little pops and now everything is all wet.”

“Wow.” He grabbed my hand. “We’re having a baby. Do we have everything ready?”

We had packed a bag for the hospital, but, of course, we had forgotten to pack a million little things, and we ended up hauling a very large load out to the car. Well, Chase did. I had a large load of my own to haul.

It was a half hour drive to Silverton Hospital, but the roads were clear and the drive through the countryside in the morning mist under the fading stars was absolutely beautiful. I started having “real” contractions in the car, and Chase carefully timed each one. We were giddy. After months of waiting, we would finally get to meet our baby.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter 6: Ultrasound Day

Monday morning had finally come. It was the most beautiful Monday morning of my entire life, which isn’t that hard because I generally hate Monday mornings, but this Monday morning was better than Christmas morning. This Monday morning I got to see my baby for the first time on the ultrasound.
Ultrasound day was quite an event for our little family. Baby and I were going, of course, and we had the whole day off work, which gave the day a little extra sparkle. Chase had taken the morning off from his job to come with us. My mom and little sister were meeting us at our apartment to drive to the doctor’s office with us, and Chase’s mom was going to meet us there.
Chase and I woke up early, went through our morning routines and sat down to a hearty breakfast of Honey Nut Cheerios and half a grapefruit each.
“Baby, are you a boy baby or a girl baby?” asked Chase, leaning over my stomach with a spoonful of Cheerios balanced precariously between the bowl and where his mouth used to be.
“I guess we’ll find out today,” I said with a nervous laugh. “I just hope baby’s healthy and only has one head.”
“Won’t you love baby even if he has three heads?” teased Chase.
“Of course, I will love her no matter what,” I said.
“You want baby to be a girl, don’t you?” asked Chase.
“No, I will honestly be completely happy either way. I just kind of think baby’s a girl for some reason.”
“We’ll see.”
Miraculously, my mom and my sister were on time, and even a little early, to meet us to go to the ultrasound appointment. My side of the family does not have the best reputation for punctuality. After brief hellos and double-checking to make sure we had everything – shoes, keys, health insurance card, camera – the four of us scurried across the parking lot through the morning drizzle and piled into our trusty red Jeep Cherokee. Well, more trustworthy now that we’ve sunk a couple thousand dollars into repairing the engine, but still.
Mary Kate was on a baby naming kick that morning. It started when we pulled out of the parking lot and…well, it still hasn’t really stopped. She was armed with a wide assortment of books, including a book of Celtic names, a book of flower fairies, one of my brother’s old dinosaur books, and the Starcraft computer game manual. My little sister is not afraid to think outside of the box.
“So, have you guys decided what you’re gonna name the baby?” demanded Mary Kate.
“We haven’t decided for sure,” I replied, “but we think we’re going to go with Natalie if it’s a girl and Noah if it’s a boy.”
“Well, if you’re not sure, I have some suggestions,” said Mary Kate, almost bouncing with excitement. “How about Arwen for a girl’s name and Aragorn for a boy’s name? Maybe you’ll have twins!”
“I hope not!” I said. “And I am not naming my child anything from The Lord of the Rings.”
“Why not?” asked Mary Kate. “Arwen was the most beautiful woman in all the land.”
“That’s sounds like an awful lot of pressure to put on a kid,” I said. “What if my daughter isn’t the most beautiful woman in all the land?”
“Oh, I see,” said Mary Kate thoughtfully. “Well, I have some other suggestions,” she rallied, picking up the flower fairies book. “How about Foxglove?”
“Nope, no botanical names,” I said firmly.
“Amaryllis? Buttercup?”
“I said no botanical names.”
“What does botanical mean?”
“Plant related.”
“Oh. Well then, how about Stegosaur? You could call him Steg for short!”
I just sighed.
Finally, we arrived at the doctor’s office. Chase called to check in with his mom and confused her by giving her different directions than the ones she had printed off from Google. Fortunately, she made it in spite of his directions, and the six of us – Mom, Mary Kate, Diane, Chase, me and baby – crowded into the tiny, dark ultrasound room and waited for Dr. Dalisky.
Before the doctor came, the nurse gave me a little plastic bottle of glucose drink – which is apparently super-concentrated sugar water – which I will have to drink on an empty stomach before my next appointment so they can test me for gestational diabetes. My mom and Diane had plenty of fun stories about gestational diabetes to tell me. I have found that my pregnancy tends to bring out everyone’s most horrifying stories.
The doctor finally came in, and Chase and I introduced him to our entourage. He actually seemed a little relieved to see that we have such supportive families. Chase and I must look as young as we feel.
After the introductions, the doctor had me lay back on the table, smeared some cold goo over my belly, flipped a switch on the computer and rubbed a wand over my belly and – there was my baby! Well, at first there was a lot of purple, and then some white shapes started moving across the screen. It was a little like making shapes out of sunlight reflecting off rippling water. But I knew I could see my baby wiggling and swimming around, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from that computer screen.
“Well,” said the doctor, “it looks like there’s only one baby in there.” Chase and I let out sighs of relief. Mary Kate was probably a little disappointed. I continued to watch in fascination as the doctor measured the baby’s head, checked arms and legs, and then moved the wand to a pulsating little white blob in baby’s chest.
“You see that?” asked the doctor. “That’s the baby’s heart beating.” He tapped on something, and suddenly the whole room was filled with the lively WHOM WHOM WHOM of my baby’s heartbeat. Spikes and valleys danced across the bottom of the screen, and the doctor measured each one carefully.
“Looks good,” said the doctor finally. I hadn’t realized that I was holding my breath until after he said the heart was okay and I started breathing again.
Then the doctor zoomed in on the baby’s head, tapped something else on the computer, and a beautiful 4D picture of my baby’s face appeared on the screen! Baby’s mouth was opening and closing, and baby’s head was turning and moving around as baby wiggled in my tummy, and I had never seen a more perfect baby in my whole life.
The doctor clicked back to the purple screen, moved the wand to another spot on my belly and announced, “Well, it’s definitely a boy.”
Chase and I looked at each other wide-eyed. A boy. We’re having a boy! I had been heroically dry-eyed up until this point, but I could feel joyful tears trickling down my cheeks now. I had a little boy inside me. This was real.
“It is not!” argued my mom with a laugh. She had been convinced all along that I was going to have a girl.
“You’ll have to tell Uncle Hayden,” Diane told Chase. “Now he can buy the infant wrestling shoes in blue instead of pink.”
Dr. Dalisky laughed at this. It was the first time I had ever heard him laugh.
Sadly, the ultrasound had to come to an end. Mom and Chase put away their digital cameras, which had been dutifully recording the experience. Unfortunately, cameras don’t record very well when the photographers don’t ever look through them. Dr. Dalisky had printed off four pictures from the ultrasound, though. Our first pictures of baby Noah. He looked like an alien in two pictures, there was one beautiful profile picture, and one purple and white picture proved that he is a boy. The ultrasound was nearly a month ago, and Chase and I still have a hard time tearing ourselves away from those four pictures.
After the ultrasound, the six of us went out to celebrate our healthy little boy with breakfast at a homey mom-and-pop diner in Silverton. We had hot coffee and tea, huge fluffy pancakes, fresh fruit, and all the joy of family and new life.

Chapter 5: Second Trimester Relief

The beginning of my second trimester was like the first days of summer vacation after finals week. I would think about taking a nap and then realize I wasn’t actually tired. I would take a few cautious bites of food, expecting to feel sick, and then finish off the plate and look for more. I could actually concentrate at work for more than five minutes at a time. Almost overnight, I had energy, I had focus, and I had a ravenous appetite.
For example, one night after work, my wonderful husband decided to take me out to dinner. We went to one of our favorite restaurants, which happens to be a steakhouse. I have never really been a red meat person, so I usually order the grilled salmon salad. It’s healthy, it’s light, and it’s delicious. That night, however….
“Chase, I think baby wants steak.”
Chase looked up from his menu, a little shocked. Then he laughed. “Well, you should get a steak for baby, then.”
“I don’t know what to get. What are you getting?”
“Their prime rib is amazing,” said Chase dreamily.
“I don’t know, that’s awfully big. Maybe I’ll get the filet mignon.”
“Get whatever you want,” shrugged Chase. “But the prime rib just melts in your mouth. It comes in three different sizes, you know.”
“Oh.” I looked at my menu again and saw that I could get an 8 ounce, 12 ounce or 16 ounce prime rib. I was pretty hungry, so I decided to order the middle one.
The waitress came up with a bright smile. “Have you decided?”
We said yes, we had.
“Great! Ladies first, then,” she smiled, turning to me.
“I’ll have the 16 ounce prime rib.”
“Would you like sautéed mushrooms or onions on that?”
“Both, please.”
“Wow, we’re splurging tonight, aren’t we?” she laughed. I smiled and let it pass. “And what would you like for your side?”
“I can’t decide between the steamed vegetables and the sweet potato.”
“Definitely get the sweet potato,” said the evil waitress.
“Okay, I’ll have the sweet potato.”
Chase ordered the 16 ounce prime rib as well, and the waitress bustled away.
“I can’t believe you ordered the 16 ounce prime rib!” said Chase.
“What? It was the middle one,” I said.
“No, the 12 ounce was the middle one,” explained Chase. “That was the one I was going to get, but I figured you’d be mad at me if I ordered a smaller steak than you. I usually get the 8 ounce prime rib.”
“Holy cow,” I said, my eyes getting big. “I ordered a pound of steak!”
“Yeah,” said Chase. “You know those huge quarter pounder burgers? You just got four of those.”
“It’s okay, I’ll just make steak and eggs for breakfast tomorrow morning,” I said, feeling very domestic.
Somehow, though, there was very little prime rib left for steak and eggs. Oh well.
* * * * *
Along with my blossoming belly came the blossoms of springs. I have loved spring for the past twenty-two years, but this year was different. Special. Every pregnant bud, every newly unfurled leaf, every delicate blossom made me stop and gaze in wonder. It took me a little longer to get places than usual, and I must have looked pretty silly to anyone watching me. I once went a block out of my way just to walk through a canopy of gloriously flowering cherry trees. It was like being in love – quieter and deeper, but just as ridiculous.
I was starting to look a bit ridiculous even when I wasn’t burying my nose in the blossoms of the ornamental trees along the city sidewalks. I didn’t have to pretend to have a belly anymore, and my maternity clothes were increasingly becoming necessary rather than just comfortable. In one week, my tummy grew rounder and stuck out further than it ever had before in my life – even on my really fat days. I think Chase was a little shocked by how quickly his little wife was growing, too. He tried not to show it, and he still told me I was beautiful, but he couldn’t help staring at my stomach as it grew a little fuller each day.
And yet, despite deeply ingrained cultural prejudice about the female body, my rounding tummy was the most beautiful thing we had ever seen, because growing inside was our little baby. Baby did his part to remind us just how exciting baby was by kicking Chase in the ear.
I had been waiting impatiently for that first kick for two weeks – the pregnancy emails said that I would be able to feel baby kick at 16 weeks, and at 18 weeks I hadn’t felt a thing. I imagined I did sometimes, and maybe it really was baby fluttering at the edge of my consciousness, but it wasn’t the reassuring little kick that I was hoping for.
Then one day, after Chase had spent some quality time talking to my tummy, Chase pressed his ear into my belly to see if he could hear baby moving around inside. Seconds later, I gasped and Chase’s head jerked up, his eyes wide.
“I just heard a thump in my ear,” said Chase.
“I just felt a little pop,” I said. We grinned at each other. “Baby kicked you!”
It was so exciting and reassuring to know that baby was alive and moving around inside me. Baby kicks a lot more now – usually in the car, while I’m eating popcorn, or when I’m trying to go to sleep – and each little kick still brings a smile to my face. It’s incredible to know that there is a tiny, independent life taking shape inside me.

Chapter 4: First Trimester Trials

Some of the most common pregnancy stories I heard from other mothers when they first found out I was pregnant were the horrible, incapacitating morning sickness stories. When they then asked me how I was feeling, I blithely replied:
“Oh, I haven’t really had any morning sickness. Apparently this is a pretty easy baby.”
Silly Bridgette.
Just over a two weeks after I took that fateful pregnancy test, my tummy began to rebel against the hormones raging through my body. The mere thought of foods I used to love, such as chicken yakisoba or Pita Pit sandwiches, made my face turn avocado green. The only thing I constantly craved was plain white bread, which was strange because I usually prefer whole wheat, fabulously grainy breads. My plan to eat only healthy food for baby was failing miserably.
My fickle stomach inevitably affected poor Chase as well. Since our offices are so close, Chase and I usually eat lunch together. For two months, Chase never got to choose where we ate. Some days I would be craving Mexican food; other days I couldn’t handle more than a cup of soup. Fortunately, he was a pretty good sport about it. When we met for lunch he’d ask me:
“Where does baby want to eat today?”
My worst morning sickness was in the evenings. I had always envisioned myself becoming a great wife like my mom and cooking mouth-watering dinners for my husband every night. For those two months, a bowl of cold cereal was about all my poor tummy could handle. I still tried to cook for Chase at least a couple nights each week, but he inevitably wanted food that made my stomach churn – fried eggs and bacon, fried chicken, French fries, hamburgers. Baby did not approve.
The sheer exhaustion of creating a human being was even worse than the morning sickness. I have read that pregnant women in their first trimester expend as much energy as a person running a marathon or climbing a mountain. Chase didn’t believe it, but that’s certainly how I felt. Baby was forming organs and growing brain cells and developing all of baby’s unique characteristics, and it was all I could do to concentrate on the computer screen at work without letting my head droop onto the keyboard.
Naps were my favorite activity. Normal people nap for about twenty minutes. My naps frequently lasted four hours. When Chase couldn’t meet me for lunch, I would nap in the car. I would daydream about sleeping. If I couldn’t nap during the day, I would get horrible headaches, and I have a very low tolerance for pain. No aspirin, no caffeine, and never enough sleep were not a good combination for Mommy.
And yet, despite everything that my body was going through, I had never been happier in my life. Chase and I grew closer than I ever could have imagined as we shared our joy and fear and indescribable love for our first child. Our future was still far from certain, but I felt hopeful and fulfilled. I realized just how much I truly wanted to be a mother.
One of the most nerve-wracking experiences of my first trimester was my first visit to the gynecologist when baby was ten weeks along. I have never enjoyed visits to doctors of any kind – they weigh you, they prod at you, they stick things into you, and they tell you to do things you don’t really want to do. And this time, there was so much more at stake.
My gynecologist is in Silverton, which is about half an hour away from where Chase and I live. We could have found a doctor closer to home, but everyone said the Silverton birthing center was the best, and I wanted the best for my baby. My mind was racing as we drove through the countryside.
Baby is fine. I know baby’s fine. But what if there’s something wrong? What if baby is dead inside me? What if baby has two heads or baby’s spine is on the outside of its body? Or, even worse, what if I’m not even pregnant? What if I’ve just been imagining the whole thing? I have a real little belly by now, but maybe I’m just getting fat. That stupid doctor is going to tell me I need to lose weight, isn’t he? And on and on and on.
“I hope you don’t have the baby on the way to the hospital,” said Chase, only half joking. The drive seemed very long. I couldn’t imagine how long it would seem when I was in labor.
We arrived early, which was fortunate because the nurse gave me a formidable packet of medical information to fill out before I could go to my appointment. I was relieved that I was able to check mostly “no” boxes – including the one that asked if I was over 35. I finished fairly painlessly and handed the clipboard back to the nurse. So far so good.
Then it was time to go behind the gray door. The first thing I had to do was step on the scale. Fortunately, the nurse didn’t gasp or point and laugh. Then, I had to pee in a cup. I didn’t know what to do with it afterward, so I wandered down the hallway with my cup until some kind intern told me that there was a clearly labeled shelf in the bathroom for such things. Whoops.
Chase was waiting for me in Room 2, in a rather uncomfortable little chair in the corner. The nurse came in soon afterward and gave me one of those lovely backless hospital gowns to put on. Then, sitting up on the padded table and feeling rather exposed, I let the nurse get back to work. She took my blood pressure, then, just as the blood started flowing back into my fingers, she stuck a needle in my arm and started filling various test tubes and vials with my blood. She must have drawn a gallon of blood before she finally decided she had enough. Chase looked like he was about to pass out.
Then the doctor came in. He was a brusque yet kindly old gentleman, and he obviously had many years of experience in the baby business. Still, some of his questions were a little awkward.
“Was this baby planned?” he asked.
“No,” I said, “but we’re very excited.”
“What happened?”
“Ummmm,” I looked at Chase helplessly. Should I tell him?
“I mean, were you on birth control?”
“Oh.” Fortunately, he had heard of Natural Family Planning, so I didn’t actually have to explain very much.
Then he had me lie down on the table and he spread some cold goo over my belly.
“Now, we can’t always find the heartbeat this early on,” he cautioned us, “but let’s give it a try.”
He moved the cold wand of the Doppler around my tummy for several seconds. I could hear strange, hollow noises, but no heartbeat. Then he moved the wand over to the left side of my stomach and:
WHOM WHOM WHOM WHOM WHOM.
Chase and I grinned at each other. Baby was in there, and baby had a very strong little heartbeat, and everything in the world was just perfect.

Chapter 3: Spreading the News

It was time. Church was over, coffee hour was over, and, after two hours at my parents’ house, dinner was nearly over. My mom had been sitting at the table and eating for nearly ten minutes without rushing into the kitchen to bring out something else. Soon she would start cleaning. I looked at Chase and swallowed a mouthful of chicken tetrazzini. It was time.
I cleared my throat. “So, um, we have some news.”
My mom gasped and smiled. My dad just looked at me, expectantly. My sister triumphantly stated, “You’re pregnant.”
My little sister, Mary Kate, is ten years old. During the six years that Chase and I were dating, she constantly asked when we were going to get married, which was a little awkward for a couple of high school students. She was briefly satisfied after we were engaged and she could help me plan for my wedding. The day after the wedding, however, she started asking when we were going to have children.
“Yup, I’m pregnant,” I said, laughing a little. “Are you happy now, Mary Kate?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling. My sister has never been very good at picking up sarcasm.
I looked at my parents. “So, I guess you guys are grandparents now.”
“Yay!” said my mom, smiling all over. “I can’t believe it!”
My dad was had been looking down at his plate. He looked up and said, “Congratulations.” He meant it, but he was obviously in shock. His little girl was having a baby.
“Do you think you’re going to have twins?” asked Mary Kate hopefully. I sighed, everyone laughed, and my parents began asking us questions and telling us their stories about pregnancy.
* * *
One family down, one to go. As we drove up to the Tedrow house, my stomach kept twisting into knots, which could not have been very good for baby. Somehow, despite how happy and supportive my family had been, the mere act of telling my parents there was a baby growing inside me had made this whole pregnancy thing a lot more real. I wasn’t just pregnant – in less than eight months I was going to have a child. I was a mom.
It didn’t take Chase quite as long to break the news as it had taken me, although it did take a while to get Brad, Diane and Hayden all into the same room. We were all drinking coffee around the kitchen table – well, everyone except for me and Hayden – when Chase made his announcement:
“So,” he said with a nervous grin, “we have some news.”
“I knew it,” sighed Brad.
“Knew what?” asked Diane, confused.
Brad looked at me accusingly. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
“No, she’s not!” Diane laughed.
Chase and I grinned at each other. “Actually,” he said, “it’s true.”
“What’s true?” asked Diane.
“I’m pregnant,” I said. I was getting pretty good at that line by now.
“Whoa,” said Hayden. He didn’t say much else the rest of the time we were there.
Brad sat down. “I’m not old enough to be a grandpa,” he protested. “There are too many things I still want to do.”
“You can still do them, Dad,” said Chase.
“Yeah,” I said, “you can just be the cool, fun grandpa who climbs mountains and stuff.”
“I’m not telling anyone about this,” said Brad. “I told everyone it was going to be at least five years before you guys had kids. I’ll never hear the end of this.”
Chase laughed. “Oh, I’ll make sure everyone knows, Grandpa.”
Brad glared at him.
“So, what do you think, Mom?” asked Chase.
“I think you’re pulling our legs,” she said, thrumming her fingers on the kitchen table and then running them nervously through her hair.
“You don’t believe us?” laughed Chase.
“No, I think you convinced Bridgette to go along with you and you’re playing a big prank on us.”
I couldn’t blame her. Chase has a wide mischievous streak running through him, and one of his favorite games is to make up outrageous stories and convince people that they are true. One time he tried to convince me that Old Faithful in Yellowstone Park was named after a famous bear that was blown to smithereens when it unwisely lingered too long over the geyser.
“I promise we’re not joking,” I said as sincerely as I could manage.
Diane was only half convinced by the time we left that day, although as it sunk in over the next couple weeks we could see her becoming more and more excited about her first grandbaby. Brad, a passionate photographer, accepted his sudden old age more graciously once he realized that he could take pictures of the baby. And Hayden is determined to teach our child how to wrestle.
After we had told our parents, we started telling everyone. Chase prayed for our parents in church on Sunday because they had recently become grandparents. I had some of my best friends over for a girl day, and they all screamed and hugged me when they heard the news (and, incidentally, seemed to know a lot more about child rearing than I do). Chase and I drove up to Seattle to spend Valentine’s weekend with two old friends who were married two months after we were – my pregnancy was a little more frightening to them, but they were happy for us and assured us that we could all still be friends. Chase’s employers were thrilled. My employers were less enthused when I told them at my first annual review, but they were supportive nonetheless. And then, of course, we posted the news on Facebook, and everyone knew.
Baby was no longer just our little secret; now we had a huge family of people who were supporting us and cheering us on. We could hardly fathom how greatly we had been blessed by someone so very small.

Chapter 2: Our Little Secret

Walking into the office on Monday was surreal. My whole life had changed overnight. I must have gone to the restroom ten times that day just to stare at myself in the mirror and giggle at the hint of a tummy I was positive I could see. I had this little person inside me with a little heartbeat – but work marched on. Business as usual.
I wanted to confide in everyone I saw that day, but Chase and I had agreed that we weren’t going to tell anyone until we told our parents. And, of course, we had to tell our parents in person, and the only way we could surprise them was to wait until we saw them at church next Sunday.
Business as usual wasn’t exactly what I wanted, though. I knew I was being ridiculous, but somehow I wanted people to know. How could they not instantly sense the aura of new life surrounding me? Of course they didn’t. And there were documents to file, and letters to write, and photocopies to make, and meetings to schedule. By the end of the day, my baby was beginning to fade from reality.
Thank God for Chase. As I saw my husband walking toward me after work, my baby sprang to life again, demanding my attention. A huge smile broke out across my face while he was still nearly a block away, and I could see his answering grin. We both felt silly, so we embraced our embarrassment by breaking into dramatic skipping, hugging and laughing when we met, our breath puffing around us in frosty white clouds.
Finally, we could talk about the only thing that had been on our minds all day. We laughed at the ironies of life. We had filled our new wine rack with six lovely bottles of wine the day before we discovered baby’s existence. Chase had accepted a three-year position as an elder at our church the same day, making me promise that I would not allow him to take on any additional responsibilities. And, of course, there was the very frightening irony that Chase’s job at the legislature ended in six months – just two months before the baby’s September due date.
“How is baby doing?” asked Chase, rubbing my tummy.
“Baby’s just fine,” I smiled, placing my hands over his. “Baby missed daddy, though.”
“I missed baby, too. You’re not going to have a miscarriage, are you?”
“I hope not,” I said, a little confused. “I guess that happens, though.”
“But I’m so attached to baby already,” said Chase, looking at me pleadingly. “I can’t explain it, but I love baby so much more than I ever thought was possible.”
“I know,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Me too. Hey, can we walk down to the mall and buy a pregnancy book? And maybe some prenatal vitamins? I really have no idea what I’m doing.”
I didn’t. My mom had Mary Kate when I was twelve, but apparently I didn’t pay enough attention during the pregnancy part. I bought What to Expect When You’re Expecting and What to Eat When You’re Expecting, and Chase and I read, or at least skimmed, both of them the same night.
One of the first things I learned was that caffeine was suspected to cause a higher risk of miscarriage, so caffeine was out. Normally, I would drink at least five cups of coffee at work and then come home and have a couple cups of tea. This was going to be fun.
Sushi was also on the taboo list, which was unfortunate since Chase and I ate sushi at least every other day. Deli meats and excessive amounts of mercury-containing fish were off the menu, although I should try to have salmon a couple times per week for the omega-3 fatty acids. Exercise was important, but I should avoid certain kinds of exercises. No ginseng, Echinacea or other under-tested herbs. I should have started taking a folic acid supplement years ago. My head was spinning with everything I should and shouldn’t do by the time I went to bed that night, but I was determined to do everything possible for my baby to grow healthy and strong.
The first day without caffeine was the worst. I came home with a pounding headache that pulsed through every inch of my body. And, of course, aspirin wasn’t allowed. Chase took wonderful care of me, though. He had me sit down in a warm shower in the dark, which helped my headache tremendously. Then he tucked me into bed and went to make dinner for us.
Five minutes later, he tiptoed into the room and whispered, “Hey, Bridge, how do you make rice?” Then three minutes after that, “What should I do with the chicken?” Then, “Um, the rice is boiling over, what should I do?” I didn’t get much sleep, but dinner was delicious.
That week, for the first time since we had been married, Chase allowed me to buy expensive healthy food when we went grocery shopping. I got whole wheat pasta, whole wheat twelve-grain bread, vegetable soup, lean chicken breast, fruit popsicles, organic seven grain cereal, and lots and lots of fresh fruits and vegetables. I was beginning to enjoy pregnancy.
The end of the week drew near, and Chase and I had to decide how we were going to tell our parents on Sunday. We decided that my parents would be easiest, so we would tell them first. We called to make sure they would all be around after church. Our baby had been our fun little secret for a week, but the pregnancy was about to become so much more real.