Being Dad: Day -46

I'll get you through to thirty-seven weeks

Our boy constantly bangs, crashes, and wallops around in his mum’s tummy. For someone anxious by nature, it’s been calming.

So consistent is his movement, I often push back against the angular bulges he creates on my partner’s abdomen - I like to think of it as us playing together. Even so, obstetrician appointments make me irrationally edgy. This time, I had my reasons.

Having tracked above average right the way through, much to his diminutive mother’s horror, today our lad’s tummy was measured in the bottom 10^th percentile.

Watching intently as our specialist relayed this information, I took on a heightened state of being. Locking in, listening harder, and watching keenly.

“I’ll get you through to thirty-seven weeks” he said.

Hang on. What?! I thought to myself, although I’m sure it was written in all caps on my face.

I shifted in my chair and leant forward as if looking for clues. His poker face better than mine.

Our baby’s heart rate is strong, and there is plenty of fluid around the baby – both good signs. Further monitoring would be required from here..

I remained coiled in my seat, as if preparing to spring into the ceiling. Thirty-seven weeks is only three weeks away. I thought we’d have at least five. Maybe six.

I’ve left all the big purchases and preparations until my partner was on maternity leave, which was still two weeks away.

Reconsidering, he added “I think I can get you to thirty-eight weeks.” He seemed more hopeful than convinced.

Our peak hour drive home took us through four school zones. My mind jumped ahead - school drop-offs, pick-ups. It felt a world away. Now, maybe just weeks sooner than expected.

Then, all of a sudden, the shock subsided and I went straight to pragmatism mode.

By the time we arrived home I had a mental note of everything we still needed, plus where and when we’d get it. There was a deadline and I like that. Urgency makes things happen.

Later that day, when the adrenaline died out, I felt a new fear tug at my chest. It dawned on me that this isn’t about my to do list, or a preferred timeline. What mattered was that our poor baby boy wasn’t growing. I was scared for him.

This small and innocent creature, that had largely been mythical until now, was in fact real, and was struggling.

Later that night he was banging and clanging around inside his mum, which was comforting. But this time I didn’t playfully push back against him, preferring to hold him and his mum.

We can’t wait to meet him, but every extra day in there is now precious.