The slow reveal and the reactions

Today I'm having a fetal echocardiogram, as per recommendations for IVF pregnancies.

We saw all of the biggies you want to see on the anatomy scan, but being me, well, I am still a little anxious going into this.

I've started telling people - friends and co-workers as I see them - though based on their surprised reactions and the very obvious stare they give my admittedly small midsection, I could probably have kept this pregnancy hidden a few more weeks with the right clothes.  Some days I wonder, should I be waiting until viability?  Maybe 24 weeks?  What is the date that someone like me can stop worrying?  Beats the fuck out of me. 

This weekend Nibble and I found a surprising amount of stuff in the attic.  Bouncy chair, crib sheets and mattress pads, a million baby books, some toys, an umbrella stroller.... Our house is a complete shambles, as we are literally moving everything  - musical chairs like - around to different floors and it all is somehow sitting in the hallways.

The responses I've had to the reveal have been universally lovely and supportive and blessedly free of judgment about my fucking age.  With one notable exception:  My MIL.

Oh yes, when we first told my MIL and FIL at the beach, the smiled, hugged us, gave congratulations.

But then things got a little weird.

MIL: "I thought you couldn't have any more babies.  Didn't you go to Boston to see a surgeon because of that?  Weren't you no longer trying to have another baby?"

Me: "Umm, I saw a surgeon five years ago after my first miscarriage to repair damage to my uterus.  I had, like, 7 more pregnancy losses after that.  I thought you knew about them."

MIL: "Oh, I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

I then look at Viking pleadingly for help.... didn't you tell your parents? You once assured me your parents knew about all of it.

Viking:  "What's going on?"

Me:  "Oh, well, your mom says she didn't know about the losses, I thought you told me she was told."

Viking: "Yes, I did."

FIL:  "Yes, we knew."

So here's the deal:  MIL has a "terrible memory" - she does see a neurologist about it.  But, that said, MIL is also terribly passive aggressive, and has a uniquely selective memory.

The following day:

(Standing in a GAP outlet store waiting at the checkout line).

MIL:  "Do you want me to stand in line for you?  Given your condition?"

Me:  "(DEEP BREATH.  SMILE) Seriously?  I'm a fitness instructor. Ha, you know I took a zumba class yesterday morning.  Nope, I'm fine. just stay put with Nibble."

MIL:  "OK, just asking, because you know you are older."

Later that day:

MIL:   "Aren't you concerned about taking on so much?  You work so much, and [the Nibble's] schedule?"

Me:  "(DEEP BREATH) Nope.  Of course it's work. We have been trying to bring this baby into the world for five years.  I'd say, concern is pretty low on the list right now."

So I tell Viking all of this when they leave.  His take:  They are "getting older" and are much less spry than my side of the family.  They moved into a senior retirement community that can transition to assisted living.  Frankly, they're probably worried we are going to hit them up for baby-sitting when we need help.  "Honestly, they're preparing themselves for their final years, which may involve the assisted living."

You know, being in a state of geriatric pregnancy, you can't help but think about your own mortality.  But, I always go back to the fact that I feel like I have so much more life in me than someone would give me credit for.  Will I age?  Undoubtedly.  Do I have some genetics on my side?  Fuck yes.  My 71 year old mother takes two or three ballet classes a week.  My 69 year old father teaches tai chi and takes a weekly combat class with cops (Yes, I said combat).

I'm not gonna recite some platitude about "age being just a number" because it isn't.  Cancer could hit you when that number increases.  But the truth is, I could also get hit by a bus tomorrow at age 43.  There's no telling.  Viking is hedging his bets as well.  He's been hitting the gym about 4 days a week, eating his veggies, and seeing his doctors regularly.  But interestingly, he's got family that's as spry as mine.  His one uncle (MIL's brother) is about 75, and hell, he just painted the entire exterior of my cousin's house.

I don't have a crystal ball.  All I can do is stay healthy and thank the lord for the few good genes I've been dealt, the ones that don't cause me to lose babies. I do actually believe though, that taking care of little people will be good for our health.