So I headed to the airport and hopped on a plane to see my best friend. It just so happened that weekend there was a HUGE snowstorm blowing through that part of the country. Being pregnant, I took the wiggling baby as a sign that I should go as opposed to the weather reports’ warnings not to. It was now my 9th week, and I was actually starting to feel OK for several hours everyday.
It snowed nearly 12 inches the next day. The snow was absolutely BEAUTIFUL, I couldn’t think about whether or not I was actually going to be able to get on my plane and fly home in a few days without facing certain death via snowbank. I just knew the baby wiggled and I was supposed to be there.
My friend got me a massage with this very hippy dippy, spiritual-type guy. This is right up my alley, so I ate up all of his, “Let your body breathe,” and “Love your baby and your breasts,” comments. After the massage was over, he told me that my baby was very healthy and it was going to be a beautiful pregnancy. You had BETTER believe I called my husband and immediately told him we had nothing to worry about because the hippy dippy massage therapist told me everything was OK. There was just something about him that made me think he knew what he was talking about. Later, I read somewhere that massages so early in pregnancy meant inescapable destruction for the baby. Glad I read it AFTER.
We went out to several lovely meals while I visited. During one, I ate an entire pastrami on rye sandwich. I can’t explain this, because the thought of hot meat has always made me gag. But something about that warm, spiced beef, or pork, or…wait, what IS pastrami? Anyway, I coverd it in mustard and ate the whole thing. At another meal, I drank a huge glass of lemonade, ate only the colorful vegetables out of my salad, and ordered clam linguine. What? Yes, I said clam linguine. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I liked it that night. The next day it made me want to petition the government to have clams banned from the United States. Liking weird food one day and hating it the next day became a pattern my poor husband got used to.
On the day I was set to leave, I stood up from the couch and felt a pain so incredible in my lower abdomen that I was pretty sure my appendix ruptured or my baby was The Incredible Hulk. I didn’t want to alarm my friend’s husband, so I did the “Ooo!” noise and tried to hide my wincing by “looking out the window”. For a split second, I thought I was in deep trouble. And then, the pain went away. “Oook,” I thought, “Don’t Google this until you get home.” And I didn’t.
Google: Well, who cares how many points Google has? I have ONE.
Somehow, the snow cleared up for a single day. And that one day? The day I was flying home. Nothing delayed. Nothing cancelled. But the next day the same area of the country was hit so hard the airports actually shut down. Thank you, wiggling baby. Very good advice.
Baby's First Snow