When I was in my twenties a close friend died suddenly.  I calmly called friends all over the country to relay the news, then calmly sat down to watch the “Thirtysomething” episode where Gary dies in a car accident.  Then I lost it.

When I got my first beta for this pregnancy, I calmly sat down and watched “Juno.”  Then I cried.  Not for my joy, but for Vanessa’s, or for her perfect cheekbones, or whatever.

Displacement.  Now that I’m almost ten weeks, I still am only taking sips of the emotions this pregnancy brings, and I seem only to take them when no one is looking.  When I am not looking.  This is understandable.  It’s too much to take in, and it’s definitely too much to trust.  I don’t feel as fearful as I did because I can’t imagine what a loss at this stage would feel like, and so I don’t try. 

But there is so much about this whole deal that I can’t quite “get,” just yet.  I’m sure this is normal for most people.  There is this gigantic lag between the beginning of pregnancy and a baby, and the sickness I have felt is so overwhelming that I can only take it one day at a time.  I’m starting to read more of the pregnant-after-infertility blogs I used to skip, but I get scared when I read about the babies that won’t sleep and the poop and the breastfeeding troubles.  When I was at a party and somebody handed me a one-month-old, I heard somebody else say that he weighed “only ten pounds.”  I was completely freaked out.  Something only a few pounds smaller than that is supposedly coming out of me in February. 

All normal, I know.  I will get used to the idea of everything by the time everything starts happening.  I will be “ready” in that not-ready-at-all kind of way that is all we get.  Nine months is not one minute too long.  And I’m not freaking out too often.  I love my sips of joy when they come.  I saw a picture in a pregnancy magazine of a baby at 10 weeks and cried.  That’s almost what my baby looks like.  Mine is way prettier though. 

I still see pregnant women everywhere I go, but now I have a little smile – when I’m not jealous that they have a cute body with a bump and I’m just…fatter.  And even that… eh, it is what it is.

It’s just funny that something only about as big as my thumb is too huge for my heart to grasp.  I guess my heart has to grow some too.