JamRocking in Paris VII- My new companions

I woke up this morning, hand on my belly, and for the first time, I felt bébé move across my skin. This wasn’t just one of those thumps or quick fluttering I’ve been feeling for the past month or so. No, this was a distinct touch, lasting maybe 5 to 6 seconds, under my palm; a distinct movement felt from my thumb to my index finger.

I’ve been lying day in and out eyes pierced to my round belly, watching it jump and shake here and there as bébé moves and turns. Today, this felt like a real connection, as our limbs touched despite my skin. The wonder of life! I am still having a hard time conceiving the idea of a little being growing inside of me: eating, sleeping, sucking its thumb, kicking and frolicking! Yes, the evidence is there. Several of them actually! From the moment I took the pregnancy test in our little bathroom and observed the pink line appear in the window. I had sat for what seemed like hours, staring at the test, disbelief, anxiety, excitement and happiness seeping through my pores. I remember getting up finally and calling out to Gee who was in the living room with a friend of ours. I’d pushed him into our bedroom, and given him the test. Poor thing didn’t know what was happening. And of course, men are always so slow!

Taking the test into his hands, he’d asked me what it was. I asked him to tell me what he saw in the little window. He replied simply that there was a red line, “’Y’a une ligne rouge, non?”

I nodded staring deep into his eyes. A smile twitching at the corner of my mouth, uncertainty and excitement had made my voice tremble, “It’s positive.”

He sat on the bed. “Positive?” Disbelief and confusion.

“Yes, je suis enceinte.” I sat beside him as his mouth gaped open. “I am pregnant.”

Neither of us knew how to react really. Too many emotions encircled us as we fell into each other’s arms. We smiled. We were pregnant.

It took Guillaume a couple days, maybe even weeks, for the verdict from the test to sink into his brain; for it to go from, ‘it’s a pink line’, to this means that ‘it’s positive’, to ‘Tessa is pregnant’ and finally to the fact that he was going to be a daddy. Men’s brain work that way. It’s why they are better at Maths. One plus one equals two. And a pink line plus a ‘plus sign’ equals baby. But like him, this was all still so surreal. A baby is far from a simple mathematical equation. It throws everything out of array and transforms thoughts, spaces, humours, appetites and not to mention bodies.

Our first OB trip at the Clinique Jeanne d’Arc would be the second confirming moment for us. After taking the test that night, the next day I’d hidden in a corridor at work, not wanting my office mates to overhear my conversation; I had to call my gynaecologist to inform her that I thought I was pregnant, knocked up, I had a bun in the oven, Guillaume had a little one that hit the jackpot! The assistant at the other end of the line finally understood what I was trying to say (often times when I am angry or excited my French becomes very poor) and started talking a mile a minute asking me if I had registered at a hospital, how far along was I, if I had taken a blood test, if I had a nursery in mind, health insurance, what was my blood group, etc., etc…

Stress rising in my shoes, I felt speckles of perspiration form under my shirt and sweater. “No, I haven’t done anything. I don’t know anything! I just took a test at home last night!”

“Would you like me to give you a list of hospitals near you?” She offers, hearing the distress in my voice. “You have to register at a hospital immediately if not you are going to have trouble finding somewhere to deliver.”

“WHAT?” My mind screams. I wanted to tell her, “Lady, I just took a test, I need some to time for this to sink in and you are already talking to me about delivery?” Instead I thanked her and scribbled down the 5 or ­ 6 hospitals she gave me, telling me that one had to register early in Paris and that normally I would have to choose a gynaecologist/obstetrician at the hospital where I’ll register. She ended the conversation telling me that I should go to a medical centre and do a blood test in order to confirm the pregnancy and find out how far along I was.

Legs shaking, I had walked back to my desk, gathered my things and told my colleague that I was taking an early lunch. There was a medical centre right by my work place, so I decided to go right away. On the way, I phoned Gee to tell him that we had to find a clinic or hospital right away and that I was on my way to take a blood test. He assured me that he would see what he could do. That I shouldn’t worry. Worrying, voila a new companion affiliated with being pregnant and this would the first of my many new companions.

That evening when I got home, Gee had managed to find a list of hospitals on internet (how ever did we manage before without internet?) and that night we studied hospitals and clinics on www.topdesmaternites.com (Top Maternities dot com) and found the comments and suggestions from other moms and dads quite useful. We made an appointment at two or three of them. The first one listed as number one in Paris on the site was already full for November and with a waiting list from here to Jamaica! We made an appointment at the number two.

We arrived at our appointment at the Clinique Jeanne d'Arc ,number two place to deliver in Paris according to Top Maternity, expecting to meet the OB/GYN and visit the place. To our surprise and pleasure, this would be our first gift: pregnancy also brings a lot of unexpected gifts: people offering seats on the crowded metro and bus, free smiles, pleasant and easy conversation...

We’d walked into a clean well-lit clinic with rather pleasant nurses who ushered us to sit outside Dr. Arfi’s office. I remember feeling a little strange as Gee and I sat beside 2 or 3 other awaiting women who were clearly pregnant, bellies protruding. When it was finally our turn to see the Doc - at about midday instead of 11am (this is another very present pregnant companion - waiting for an hour or more at my OB/GYN) - we were met by a jovial dishevelled haired doctor who we immediately warmed up to, (our third companion to be consulted at least once a month for 9 months). This was a relief because we thought we would actually have to meet several doctors before finding the ‘perfect’ one. Immediately, he told us that he would have to examine me as if he were my gynaecologist and at the end of the consultation, we would all decide whether we wanted to continue together. A little bit shocked, but ready to face the realities of pregnancy (I’d never been to a male gynaecologist before and this would be my third companion - lack of any shame or pride in shredding my clothes in front of complete strangers and opening myself to be examined) - I skimmed away my pride and settled a little uncomfortably onto the table. I am not sure whether it made it better or worse that Gee settled comfortably into a chair directly in front of my open legs, however I didn’t have the time to think as in one swift movement the Doc, thanks to his transducer, produced a beating dot on his monitor. And what a moment! He proudly presented to us our heart-throbbing 10mm baby.

This moment is hard to describe in words: a human-being was forming inside of me and it already had a heartbeat! This would be our first ‘real’ (scientific and visible) evidence, another confirmation that we were about to have a little one. This would be our first gift!

Of course the morning sickness, fickle emotions and appetite, slight, but present pains at the bottom of the abdomen and eventually the debut of a small bulge at my waist all fell in line. These all successively confirmed that I was with child, but how does one fully comprehend all the mechanics of creating, harbouring and delivering a baby? I have read many books, seen many pictures, held several newborns, however this all still remains surreal.

Not even the mighty kicks I receive all day long succeed in pulling me out of this dreamlike wonder of having a baby; they keep coming, accompanied by bulges here and there representing the head or the arms or the feet – yes there is a baby in there! I can feel it. Guillaume can feel it. It is confirmed, yet we remain in awe at every kick, every movement, every time we see our ultrasound images.

Disbelief and wonder remain our greatest companions.