We had our booking in appointment yesterday afternoon and all went well. Both of the community midwives - there was a qualified one and a student one - were lovely, and a rather amusing double act as they were so different in appearance and personality. One tall, slim, blonde and quiet; one short, curvy, loud and black. I was fleetingly reminded of Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker from one of my favourite childhood books by Roald Dahl. But the combination worked, I was quickly put at ease and the appointment, which was an hour long, seemed to fly by.
I was a little disappointed the midwives didn't try to hear our baby's heartbeat. I'd heard mixed reports about whether they would do this and I think policies differ between PCTs... so we have a few more anxious days ahead until our scan on Monday. But everything that they could test for was in order. My urine and blood pressure was ok, and my BMI was also fine. They couldn't take a blood sample for the technical medical term that "your veins aren't very good" (midwife number two!). I'd mentioned a little fear of needles - I am rather a first-class weed - so when my veins weren't forthcoming they decided it made sense to wait until I was at St Thomas's hospital next week and do everything then.
Even though much of the appointment was spent taking our health details and notes of any family illnesses, it was very exciting getting all the books about pregnancy and hearing how our appointments would pan out if all goes to plan. I was pretty impressed with the NHS for the wide-ranging information I received and how beautifully all the books were laid out and presented. It feels just that step more real having met with the midwives and having my own notes. Just feeling the notes and the books in my hand gave me a surge of excitement from the pit of my belly, bursting out onto my face.
We walked out of the surgery grinning from ear to ear. I think sometimes in this blog I've focused on my anxiety and concerns about what might go wrong, when I haven't paid even lip service to how happy both the Boy and I are. I suppose it's always the way to write about the worries rather than the euphoria, as they have a tendency to creep to the forefront of your mind - well, they do for me anyway!
But as we walked back home hand-in-hand with the Spring sunshine shining down on us and bathing us in light and contentment, everything for that moment felt absolutely right with the world. I know beyond doubt that I am with the man I shall love until the day my time on this earth is through, and having a baby together is the most exciting, breathtaking and amazing feeling. To have created a life together that we want to nurture and nourish feels like the most important thing we could ever do, nothing else we've done before this point seems of such significance. And if I think about it for too long it really does take my breath away and leave me astounded. I suspect this is why there is something of an emotional cycle of angst - I am so desperately happy to be at this point, that I long for the confirmation everything is ok far more than I would if it wasn't all so right.
We'd had a rather tense day before the appointment with neither of us able to settle or concentrate - goodness knows what state we will be in next week! - so we decided to treat ourselves to a relaxing evening out and we went for dinner and to the cinema to switch off. We watched Killing Bono which provided us with some good and needed light relief. And then trotted back home where we caught the end of One Born Every Minute. Tonight the programme moved me tears - it was so beautiful to see exhausted but exhilarated parents holding their newborn babies and beginning to grasp all the wonder and amazement that lies ahead.
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