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Friday morning, I woke up to a sunny Florida day, the golf course sparkling outside my in-laws’ patio. Friday evening, I was back in Los Alamos, finally, after one of the most stressful periods of waiting I’ve ever experienced.
It began while I was admiring the sixth hole of the short, crane-filled golf course at The Groves in Land O’ Lakes, when I felt a new pregnancy symptom that didn’t seem right.
I decided to ignore it.
During the first several weeks of pregnancy, I was too tired to even notice what was going on. But before long, every new symptom alarmed me. A stuffy nose, a sore calf muscle, even disinterest in reading a Murakami novel seemed ominous. The biggest question was always, Is this normal? And the answer, every time, was, every pregnant woman is a complete freak.
So by Friday, by 16 weeks into this, I had evolved enough to relax as my husband’s parents drove us to the airport. But the symptom persisted. By the time Michael and I made our way to the terminal, I was worried.
I told Michael a few minutes before we boarded and he reminded me that it was probably nothing serious and that even if it did signal a complication, most likely the doctor could do something to help us.
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