I'm finding that, as a guy, the first few months of pregnancy are much a mystery. My lovely wife hasn't been barfing her brains out and she hasn't yet had some bizarre emotional outburst. She's been taking it like a champ, but except for a monthly checkup with the doctor (yes, our Obigen is named "Miles Davis"--not black and doesn't play trumpet), there's very little to remind you for the first couple of months. In fact, at times, I found myself dwelling on whether or not something was wrong. My lovely wife was actually losing weight. Not sure that "pregnancy" is listed as an effective weight-loss program.
First time I heard the heartbeat, though. I was floored. It was the heart rate of a sprinting jackrabbit. Like 155 or something. Incredible. Knowing that it wasn't my lovely wife's heart rate, I knew something was in there. Some alien was living in my lovely wife's belly. I started calling her the mothership. No, ladies, she said she didn't mind. I just like the Parliament/Funkadelic overtones of it.
It really becomes real, though, for guys like me when you can see something so if it's not my lovely wife growing like a blimp, then it would be our first sonogram. That's what would make it real.
I sat there quietly (as I've learned that's my role--be quiet) and in heightened anticipation of what the little rolling instrument would reveal was dwelling within my lovely wife. Heartbeat, check. Still around 155. She continued to search. I was squinting to see.
"There it is," said the nurse.
I squint.
"There's the heart."
Besides being the size of a thimble. It appeared to be nothing of a human, but rather a little gummy bear. It's a bittersweet moment. At least you see something now and it becomes much more real. The first time I heard a heartbeat it was like the baby's morse code. It was how it was communicating with us from deep down in my lovely wife. But then you get a glimpse and it looks like something more from a textbook than a baby. It's a freaking sea monkey.
I need more patience. People that say the pregnancy flies must've never celebrated Christmas morning. This is torturous. Guess that's what we'll celebrate though, for the time being. Our little Gummy Bear. Works for me. Miles Davis said it looks healthy and that's good enough for me.
