I am newly pregnant, my mother is undergoing chemo. We share the symptoms of nausea, metallic tastes, constipation and irritability. My belly protrudes by about 9 weeks, and I don't fight the maternity clothes this time.
I have at this point, decided to leave my job at the cancer center. It is by far the best, most rewarding and amazing position I have ever held. I finally understood why some people felt so fulfilled by their jobs, because I did too. The problem is, the people who you see the most, become the closest to, the people whose families you know and life stories you hear over and over, these are the sickest. The ones that lose long battles after years of friendship. The people who beat their cancers, they visit, send flowers and fruit baskets and Christmas cards, but as you should, you forget them over time and focus on your sicker patients. It distorts your reality, you begin to feel that everyone is doomed. It is an emotionally draining job at times, and I decided that cancer in my mom was enough cancer in my life. I returned to my "regular" hospital job. My safety job. It takes less of my brain, less of my emotions, and a lot more paperwork.
This helps a bit. I still regret and at the same time feel relieved about leaving the cancer center. I know how close we become with our patients, I know how close my mom is with her nurses and staff at her cancer center. I do feel like I abandoned my patients, like a mother, no one can take care of my kids the way I can. That is the same thing I felt, do feel, about my patients.
I like being distracted though. The baby growing in me helps tremendously. My mom does so well with her treatment, we shop for baby clothes and pick out the perfect shade of pink for the room I am convinced will belong to two girls. My mind won't even allow me to think I am having a boy. To this day, Mark and I can not find a boy name we like. We both believe we are likely destined to have all girls, which I would be ecstatic about.
This pregnancy is very different. No bleeding, similar salt and cheese cravings, less weight gain. I am busy helping my mom and family as much as possible, working, taking care of Dilena. The weeks are flying back faster than I can keep track. Our 12 week ultrasound, our bitty baby is bouncing off the walls (uterine walls, that is). My twin sister is convinced it is a boy, because my nephew apparently was very active in utero. No, I am convinced, she is a girl. I buy a silly pee test, it says girl. I stare at "nub" shots, it looks pretty boy. I am so anxious to see what is inside me.
Jada Evangeline is the name we pick out for our second girl, long before I was pregnant with her. During the early months of my pregnancy, I changed the middle name to Nadine, a little present for my mother, she loves word puzzles. I find myself absolutely obsessed with having another girl, as I did later in my pregnancy with Dilena. I hope this is a sign that I know, on some level, that she is a girl. My mother joins us for our gender scan. We like to keep our names a secret from everyone, until that baby is born. My mother loves to spoil surprises and she is terrible at waiting for a surprise, so she constantly quizzes me. Occasionally I offer her a very vague hint, but this only leads to more aggressive questioning, so mostly I shut her efforts down.
So here we are, in line to check in for my scan. My stomach is in knots. My mother, with her incredibly cute scarfed head, is prodding me for information about our name choices. She tells me she has a girl name for us. " I don't want to hear it, we have our name already", I tell her and look away, afraid I will cave.
"But it's a good one" she is insisting. I have a very weird feeling. We have not so much as breathed a whisper of as to what the name will be.
But, I can't stand my own curiosity. "Fine, tell me".
"Jada Rose".
"Why that name?"
"Jada because of you initials and your great great grandmother Ada, and Rose is an old family name".
CRAP! I can not freaking believe she guessed our name. I mean, "knowing" Dilena's gender at 9 weeks was a bit creepy, but guessing our baby girls name before our gender scan, FREAK-Y. I mean, she was off on the middle name, but Jada? I could barely keep a straight face. I simply told her that we had our name and weren't considering changing it (all true, I can't lie to my mom).
Our scan confirmed my suspicions and alleviated my all-consuming obsession. We are having another girl. She was jumping and flipping and dancing so much it took a long time to get a convincing shot. Our tech is young and pretty and 19 weeks pregnant with a boy, I am 18 weeks and bigger than her. In my fear of having another lazy, non-moving baby, I chugged a can of root beer before the ultrasound, which almost backfired as the baby was too active. Whoops. But healthy. Her profile was so cute, different from Dilena's. Her legs are long and lean, her arm shape looks like mine. I think she has my nose ( I hope). I am floating in my happiness and excitement. I buy my pink paint the next day.
I am very active this pregnancy, which is also very very different from my last. I chase Di and cook meals and garden my butt off. I make Mark dig a hundred holes for all my fruit and nut trees, I lug garbage cans full of fresh manure all over my yard and dig trenches for my asparagus beds. We relocate hydrangea, plant phlox and lilies and gladiolas and zinnias and dahlias. I prep my garden and buy my seeds. My goal is to plant it all in early May, a bit early, but it has been warm and I'm due May 11th, I figure I will be a week late, so I have time. Ha!
Easter Sunday. We hide eggs, we do the hunt, we eat our chocolate and color eggs that are overly hard-boiled. I do my thing and cook and clean and continue to nest my fingers to the bone, even at other people's houses. My baby girl is super active, always moving, always. Again, so very different from Dilena. I love feeling her so much, I love that she jumps at loud noises, and that she hiccups daily and stretches to the point where my body looks awkwardly distorted. Leah hennas my belly at 32 weeks, I plan to have her do it again soon, so I can have it for my delivery. I so look forward to my delivery, I picture it, pack for it, prepare for it. Not enough, so it would be.
We leave my parents house Monday evening and make the hour long drive back home. I am buzzing with energy. I talk Mark's ear off about all my plans before the baby comes. I am planning all my sister's pre-wedding festivities and helping her with all the details. I have much to do in the next few weeks while we are still newborn-free.
At one point over the weekend, I made a joke to my father about having the baby on their anniversary. Mark and I were married on my mother's birthday, so I thought it would be funny if our baby's birthday was their anniversary. Between my mother and I, we would have more psychic clients than Miss Cleo. Because just after midnight, on April 26th, the day of my parents' 31st wedding anniversary, my water broke.
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