Week 0: Period ends.
Week 1: I should eat more sushi this week. And we really should have gone for that raw oyster buffet – plans which have been on hold since the last pregnancy. And did I only drink ONE BEER between the time I stopped breastfeeding and now? I don’t know how that happened.
Week 2: Sushi, raw oysters, and beer have not been consumed. It’s too late now, I could be pregnant. No seriously, I could be pregnant. Two pimples have appeared on my chin, which doesn’t happen generally speaking. And I also had bad post-dinner gas the other day.
Week 3: Am I pregnant? Am I pregnant? Am I pregnant? Am I pregnant? Am I pregnant?
Week 4: Am I pregnant? Am I… Oh yay, I can FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY take that test. And… I am pregnant. Wow. Initial feelings are relief and gratitude.
Week 5: Still feeling relieved and grateful, but not especially excited for the coming baby yet. In fact, I forget that I’m pregnant for most of this week. I have another baby ex-womb demanding too much of my attention.
Week 6: Hi, new baby. Were you really called a “blastocyst” last week? The most awful word for a baby that exists (although foetus comes in a close second) which once learned can never be unlearned. But this week I think you start to take on a little more form, and by next week, you’re going to have those little stumpy arms and legs just like your brother when I first saw him on ultrasound. Your tiny heart is apparently beating and circulating a minuscule drop of blood around your sesame seed sized body, a fact which makes my head explode. I haven’t spent much mental or emotional time on you at all, and in fact I am probably endangering your life daily by the physical gymnastics I undergo everyday with your brother who still refuses to walk. I realise that this is just how it will always be – you are not and never will be my only child.
But you are wholly mine, and you are here, so suddenly. A complete and independent life packaged into a tiny lump, waiting to spring out into the world like a jack-in-the-box. Beginnings are so bizarre. You’re a sesame seed today, but one day you will be crawling around, placing flowers very deliberately into holes in the ground because I tell you to, like your brother was doing this morning.
Week 7: Cast taboo to the wind and publish pregnancy on the internet.