Whoa Moments: Pivotal Points Early in Her Pregnancy

In about an hour, my wife has an appointment with the ultrasound technician. After four and a half months—really, since the second we starting thinking about having kids—we finally get to find out if our little IT is a girl or a boy. (That is, as my friends point out, if the baby cooperates for the camera.)

I am readying myself for this, the biggest “whoa” moment in a string of “whoa” moments.

“Whoa” moment 1: My wife telling me she was pregnant. We had been trying for a year and a half, so it was big news.

“Whoa” moment 2: Telling family and close friends. We got to relive the happy news over and over again. My wife was on the phone with her mom like 2 nanoseconds after we found out. No surprises there. I chose to wait a little longer to tell my folks. I knew they would be in town for a visit about a month after, so I told them then. For the rest, we adopted a “when it feels right” mentality. I knew it was OK to go viral when my wife posted something on Facebook.

“Whoa” moment 3: The first ultrasound appointment. We got to see our little “nublet,” to see the heartbeat going wild in the grainy moving picture. That little life starting to take shape—indescribable.

“Whoa” moment 4: The first doctor’s appointment. We heard the heartbeat on the doppler machine. It was like a game of Pac Man going on in my wife’s belly. Weechu, weechu, weechu, weechu, weechu.

Finding out whether IT is a boy or a girl will be a “whoa” moment for obvious reasons.

It will set in motion a chain of events that will change our lives forever. We’ll know which name to go with. We’ll know which color to paint the baby’s room. We’ll know which clothes to put on the baby registry.

But beyond that, I envision my life will fast-forward infinitely before my eyes in one direction or another.

  • Will I be playing army in the living room … OR dress-up?
  • Will I sign my kid up for soccer … OR, well, soccer? (OK, bad example.)
  • Will I be conducting “the talk” myself … OR will I say “Go ask your mother”?
  • When my child starts to drive, will I be paying an arm and a leg for insurance … OR just through the nose?
  • Will I get to tell my son my secret for throwing out a runner at second base?
  • OR, speaking of second base: When my daughter starts to date, will I need to buy a shotgun?
Our little “nublet” at 9.5 weeks.

“Honey. Guess what. I’m pregnant.”

My wife gently nudged my lifeless, bedridden body. “Honey. Honey,” she said. “Wake up.”


“Honey.” Nudge. “Guess what.” Nudge. “I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, hey,” I said all quiet, twilight-sleepy-like. “That’s great.”

And she was off.

There was the news we’d been waiting to share for a year and a half. We’re pregnant. WE’RE PREGNANT! Our first child. Although I didn’t exactly shout it in all caps at the time. I might have even dozed off again.

A few minutes later, after my mind had a chance to wake up and fully grasp what I’d been told, I joined my wife in the guest bedroom and gave her a hug and a kiss. She was already on the phone with her mom.

That day ended one journey, our journey to get pregnant. And it was a journey. I hesitate to call it “infertility,” but that’s what it was. We couldn’t get pregnant for trying. Eventually, after a year-plus, we started using over-the-counter ovulation kits, continued with doctor-advised tests and finally turned to prescription medication. The medication did the trick.

That day also began a new journey, the wonderful, miraculous and very mysterious world of pregnancy, and laid the foundation of a thousand more journeys to last the rest of our lives. I’ll do my best to journal those journeys.

My wife is 17 weeks along now. More than four months. We knew about the unwritten rules of telling friends, family and strangers and decided to just let people know when it felt right. It must feel right these days. My wife posted this on her Facebook page last week.

She feels great. She looks great. I can’t believe she’s already four months along. She’s thinking about maternity clothes, but she doesn’t need them yet if you ask me.

The baby sounds great, too, according to the doctor and the Doppler he used at our last appointment. Seeing our little “nublet” on the ultrasound at our first appointment and, later, hearing my baby’s heartbeat are moments I’ll never forget.

This is the best time of pregnancy, say our doctor and friends who have been pregnant recently, because she’s not tired all the time like she was in the first trimester and she’s not yet weighed down by a bowling ball strapped to her stomach like she will be in the third trimester.

This is also the time of pregnancy when we’re starting to realize that this is happening, and it’s a bit overwhelming thinking about everything we have ahead of us. Buy baby furniture. Buy baby clothes. Buy diapers. Buy a stroller. Buy a car seat. Buy a highchair. Buy a baby bottle and a baby pacifier and a baby rattle. Clear out the baby room. Find a place in the house for all the stuff that used to be in the baby room. Paint the baby room. Hire a professional artist to do the mural in the baby room. You get the idea. Oh heck, you’re probably nodding with approval because you’ve already been there.