When I was pregnant, there was no doubt we would find out what we were having as soon as we possibly could. Frustratingly, we had to wait until around 22 weeks because of my doctor's appointment policies and I thought those extra days would make me go insane. Some people find out at 17 weeks! The pregnancy injustices! Didn't my doctor understand that I NEEDED to know what we were having?
(Spoiler alert: it's a boy!)
Now and for the last couple years, though? Well. I regret finding out while pregnant.
I don't know how to articulate this without it sounding sorta strange or like I'm creating things to be weepy about four years later, but it's very likely I'll have just the one pregnancy. Combine that with how quickly these last (nearly) four years have flown by (so fast, my god), and I just wish I could have lived in the moment back then in a better way. I wish I could have forgotten about registries and blue onesies and his middle name (which we didn't decide until the day we were discharged from the hospital, anyway) (it's Parker) and just tried to enjoy being pregnant.
I had a relatively easy pregnancy. I say that because there were no big complications (there was a very brief scare mid-way but that turned out to be nothing) and he was born healthy and ultimately that's all that matters, but I was also very, very sick. I kind of feel weird talking about it because I wasn't the sickest pregnant lady you'll ever meet, no, and Zofran definitely helped and I ended up gaining (plenty of) weight but I was on Zofran for nearly the entire pregnancy (I only say "nearly" because I was on Reglan the last month after finally responding to it and it was OMG SO MUCH CHEAPER). Before I got on Zofran, I lost 12 pounds in two weeks.
I had to pay out-of-pocket for some Zofran because my insurance wouldn't cover all that was prescribed and I needed, hilariously, all that was prescribed. Because of this, I threw up in the shower many mornings so I could wait to take that first pill. When I was in California for BlogHer '08, I ran out of pills and that flight home was one of the most miserable experiences of my life.
Aside from nausea, I also had horrible reflux the last month that caused me to throw up a lot, as well. Oh, man. That was something special. And I'm just going to put this out there so we can all be very real with each other: there were hemorrhoids.
I say all this not to make you feel badly for me--I know plenty who had it so much worse (which is why I always feel weird talking about how sick I was to begin with), people who didn't respond to Zofran, who were in multiple ERs, who had complications much worse than a three-day false alarm, who dealt with all this and then some while parenting other kids--but I say all this because it doesn't make much sense that I went through that and ultimately still liked being pregnant.
But I did.
Feeling Kyle kick was, easily, without a doubt, hands down, my absolute favorite thing in all the world until the moment he was born. I was one of the lucky women who never got tired of those kicks, never. I loved them until the day he was born. I would sit on the couch and watch my belly roll around for literally hours. (It's what I would look forward to doing on the weekends.) I would take (dozens of, really) videos of my belly moving. I would sit in staff meetings and watch my shirt thump and shake, grinning. My co-worker said I kept my hand on my stomach when I'd walk around the office months after Kyle was born. I just...I still miss those kicks. I loved those kicks. (I'm weepy right now as I type these words because they made me love a pregnancy that didn't have many other redeeming qualities.)
For me, and this is a very unique thought that nearly no one has understood when I've tried to verbalize it before, I wish that for those nine months I could have just been pregnant, just focused on those kicks and little else, not wished the time by so quickly to get to Kyle because he was always going to be at the end of it. He was always waiting for me whether or not I knew he was a he at 22 or 40 weeks. I was always going to meet the coolest little boy that's ever existed at the end of my pregnancy and knowing he was going to be a boy didn't steal that coolness, don't get me wrong, but I just wish I could have shelved the constant loop of "is it a boy or a girl?" and then "It's a boy!" and replaced it with "these nine months will feel like a blink one day, just sit on the couch with your hand on your belly for a few minutes more and breathe."
Mike and I also made a deal that he would name our baby if it was a girl and I would get naming rights if it was a boy. We made this deal because our short list of names for either sex were names we both liked a lot and if it had been Sophia or Sloane or Addison (our top-three girl names), I would have been happy. But we knew, after making that deal, that if we had a boy it would be Kyle. That was always my top pick. I liked a lot of names (Reid, Seth, Gabe, Joel, Ryan, Sean--I apparently really like four-letter boy names), but something was always telling me I was carrying Kyle. I didn't need a sonogram to tell me, in hindsight. I always knew it was him.
I know this all sounds ridiculous. Even as I write this, I sense that your eyes have rolled right out of your head and I don't even blame you. And it was so fun to buy Kyle a little striped GAP sweater (this one!*) right after we got confirmation that he was indeed a he, but I can't deny that since then, every time I find out a friend isn't finding out, a pang of regret hits me. Not a pang that I want another baby or I wish I would have eaten fewer chocolate croissants (HA, NEVER) or I wish I would have bought that one awesome baby product. No, just, that would have been nice, to have waited.
What about you, did you find out, not find out, regret whatever you chose, etc.? We should all have different feelings on this, right, and I don't expect too many people to get where I'm coming from, but I'd still love to hear your experience.
*I look at that photo and physically remember that colicky baby but ooooooh that's still Kyle! Those eyes, that boy. All Kyle.