Week 5: An Invasive Exam

On Wednesday, in two days, I will be six weeks pregnant. Thirty-four to go. Well, I survived my first prenatal visit, which did not exclude a rectal exam. I imagine that this is only the beginning of intrusive and otherwise inappropriate exams of my physical body. The nurse answered my long list of questions and the doctor reassured me that everything would be fine.

“Being pregnant is easy.” He told me from behind his large desk. I could not help but wonder how many women, just a few notches more feminist than me, would have reached across that large desk and slapped his face. I settled for a quiet smile. Other than his male faux pax I found him exceedingly reassuring. “Your grandmother did it, your great grandmother did it, you’ll be fine. Also, everyone will give you an opinion and tell you whatever you’re doing is wrong—don’t listen to them.” Though my first impression of him was dismal, I left the appointment with confidence.

I do not feel pregnant. I don’t have morning sickness (thank, thank, thank you, Jesus). I do, however, have so much gas that if there were a way to siphon it, I could fill my gas tank. And I want a beer, more so than any other time in my life.

So, here is a list of the things I love than I cannot have for at least the next 8 months: coffee, alcohol, hot dogs, pepperoni… but it will be worth it. I get a baby.

Tonight I’m going to tell my mom. She’s visiting for Rebecca’s birthday. She’ll probably scream and start dancing around the house. I guess I actually hope she does.

I’m going to stop now. I want to. In some respects, I know that since I am pregnant I can whatever I want. Oh yeah.