I've mentioned the three part series on the journey of having a baby a few times, but have kept kicking the can down the road because I wanted to write something insightful or inspirational or some bullshit. That requires more thought than I'm willing to put into it, so I'll instead cover those three parts from a personal historical narrative angle.

I've been around pregnenacy a lot in my years on this earth, being the oldest of eight children. And, while there's a fair amount of mechanical similarities, when it's your wife carrying your child, the game's a bit different. First of all, this is the person you've chosen to commit your life to, sickness health and all that; the emotional ties are on another level. Secondly, every woman is going to pregnant different from every other, so I really didn't know what to expect with Kayla. Would she be one of those that has nightmarish pregnancies, being bedridden and unable to help herself? Would she morning sickness all over the place? Would she skate through mostly unscathed, just getting larger and feeling the ill effects of her guts getting shoved out of the way of the child growing inside her?

Yeah, it was really that last one. No morning sickness, a shocking amount of mobility even towards the end, and no real major side effects. If you were to ask her (and I'm going to do so right after I write this sentence), the worst part of the whole pregnancy was the heartburn, which started off bad during "morning pregnancy", kind of went away for a bit, and then came back with a vengeance in the later months. (I just asked, and I was correct. Go me.) She also added that generally feeling drained was a close second.

This left me in a perpetial state of waiting to be waiting on her hand and foot. Sure, I took up some extra slack as her body got larger and she tired more easily. Covering extra chores, cooking, blah and etcetera. That and emotional support, which is definitely not in my wheelhouse. I did the best I could where I could, but in the end, I don't think I ever had to bend over to pick things up for her.

One thing emotionally I guess I could say I did well on was being invested and involved. I accomponied her to every doctor visit and even got called back to see the ultrasound or listen to his heartbeat most times. Speaking of, the "big" twenty week ultrasound was a little nerve wracking. There were a couple of markers that, taken together, could've been a marker of genetic issues. In retrospect, that was the beginning of the proxy hypochondria I've developed for this kid. However, early on, Kayla had an NIPT done, which is a mother's blood test that checks for genetic markers coming from the baby, things like downs syndrome but also the baby's sex (not to be confused with gender). The kid's so healthy now, I'd actually forgotten about this brief bout of worry until retrospecting for this post.

But, that wasn't where the worry stopped. There were a few occasions where I kind of mentally freaked out on Kayla's behalf. There was a this kid growing in her and only two potential ways for the kid to get out, neither of which are exactly a picnic walk. Dwelling upon that notion gave me mild anxiety, and that kind of morphed into a perpetual background anticipation as the time grew nearer. See, while I knew how to pamper a pregnant lady good, my knowledge of things like "signs a woman is going into labor", "what really happens when the water breaks", and "when and how should contractions be timed" was brand new territory to me.

But covering that is for part two of my three part series: Partum.