Chris and I went to our first prenatal appointment today, but unfortunately Dr. Goncalves had an emergency, so we had to wait an extra half-hour and got squeezed in in the 15-minute period before his 5:00 meeting. After making him late with our numerous questions, we guiltily left his office with still more questions, plans for an ultrasound appointment, and a prescription for Prometrium (to keep that potentially skittish embryo stuck safely to the walls of my uterus until such time as it understands English and has a well-developed sense of respect and obedience).
Now here’s the sticky part. Chris’ mom was likely to have this very medication on hand for much cheaper (read: free) than the local highway robbers pharmacy. However, she was also likely to wonder (and rightly so) why I’d need something to keep my uterine lining from heading for the nearest exit. So I made a concession. We would tell Chris’ mom about the baby. After all, personal superstition aside, lack of progesterone is much more likely to cause an embryo to detach from the uterus than is the act of telling one extra person. Right?
So, doing a few Kegels on the ride to the parents’, just to scare the baby away from even approaching the cervix, I agreed that telling Jan would probably not kill the wee one. (Now, whether I agreed to spread the good tidings to Chris’ brothers, accountant and a few additional friends is another story altogether. If I had it my way, the obstetrician would keep ME in the dark until we were out of the woods.)
So, the cat is out of the bag now. But at least the baby’s still in! And, thanks to my big bottle of Prometrium (which, hilariously, Jan didn’t have and also didn’t know was used to keep intractable embryos in their place), the baby is gonna stay right where it is.