The Geriatric

Somehow, it’s already August, and I’m in the seventh week of pregnancy. This time around, things are different. I have a loving and attentive partner, Jason, by my side. Younger me was in a totally different place than I am now. (No need to dive into the details of my first pregnancy, but let’s just say having a great partner is a true blessing!)

Jason works on rotation, so he wasn’t home when I found out I was pregnant. He had to endure his entire hitch anxious to return. Talk about timing, right?

I think I’ve done remarkably well for someone who has said they were “done with all of that.” I adore my first baby, but since he’s 20 and an adult, we’ve been enjoying a fair amount of freedom in our lives. Let’s be real—it’s nice being an adult with an adult child. We can sleep in and eat lazy croissants on Sundays. I can take a spontaneous 3-hour hike. We can stay awake until 2 AM having intense conversations about everything. I completely understand the appeal of this lifestyle!

Well, let’s brace ourselves, because things are about to change drastically. In fact, they’ve already begun to change! According to my fitness watch, my resting heart rate has gone from 51-53 beats per minute to about 60. I’ve also noticed my mood go up and down and a little extra tiredness.  And oh, the hunger! The hunger is huge. I’m talking constant snacking and planning what I’ll eat next while I’m still eating—it’s madness! I must plan ahead to make healthy choices. Otherwise, I’ll be stuck with a carb-heavy diet!

Some of my favourite things so far are curry with rice, giant salads, and tonic water with lime. (Like a gin and tonic without the gin!) The fresh, clean taste of citrus and water is irresistible! (Oh my goodness, where is my glass?) 

I saw my family doctor on Monday. She checked my vitals (all great) and is referring me to another doctor since most of her patients are seniors. “Young, pregnant women” aren’t her typical clientele, you see (her words, not mine!). I reminded her that I am, in fact, 40. She frowned and said, “I need to get you in with an obstetrician right away,” as if she had half-forgotten she was looking at a ‘geriatric’ pregnancy. (Speaking of seniors!)

Ah, medicine, with its delightful vocabulary like “mucosal plug,” “mons pubis,” and the ultimate gem, “geriatric pregnancy.” Apparently, anyone pregnant and over the ANCIENT age of 35 earns this charming title. What a self-esteem boost! My “advanced maternal age” makes me feel so incredibly attractive.

Now, I’ll admit I’m half-joking here. I’m a bit vain, perhaps, but not entirely clueless. I know there are added risks at my age, so I’m mentally preparing myself for a battery of tests. At this stage, we still don’t even know if everything is okay!

As I left the appointment, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of adventure lies ahead. I should be hearing from the new doctor soon, I’m expecting an ultrasound appointment shortly, and have a requisition for blood work. The excitement is real!

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Jennnq

Writer, ranter, singer, weirdo. Enthusiastic about life in general and grammar specifically.

What say you?