Some drawings inspired by the movie, The Red Shoes.

What You Expect

From the moment of your first positive test, you’re a mother. The moment that faint little line turns the minus to a plus, you are filled with a kaleidoscope of emotions - from glee to fear, and thousands in between.

You take your daily vitamin with orange or even prune juice plus fish oil pills because you’re a mother now. These after the soon-as-you-open-your-eyes saltine, of course, because the nausea kicks in like a sonofabitch if you skip it. Each morning you wake feeling hungover - nauseous, achy, and totally out of it. It would seem unfair, considering your clean living, but you're happy all the time. Maybe it's the hormones.

You will pull out your copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting, and read with new fervor.

What to expect at 5 weeks.

You tell family, but keep from sharing the news with friends. They say to wait for three months. So you wait.

You visit the midwives, and are thrilled to have them on board. They tell you take your vitamins and don't worry about the rest. Your body knows what it's doing.

What to expect at 6 weeks

You’re tired. All the time. Also, you worry about what kind of mother you’ll be. Will you be loving, no matter what? Will you remember to pick your kid up every day after school? And what will your daughter be like, or your son? Will she be healthy? Will he be autistic? Will she/he be gender-confused?

You begin talking to her inside your head, and in a journal. You’re bonding.

What to expect at 7 weeks

You go to the Bodies exhibit and spend half your time in the baby section – peering through the jars of tiny specimens. You point out the rice-sized baby to your husband, crying. Isn’t she beautiful? Maybe it’s the hormones.

You have two sips of wine in Montreal and feel guilty. What kind of a mother are you? You’ve already cut out deli meat, chevre, brie, hot dogs… how is it that every one of your favorite food or beverages is now outlawed? You eat spinach, kale, chard… and still those damn fish pills.

What to expect at 8 weeks

You go for a routine teeth cleaning and tell the dentist, hygeinist, even the secretary that you’re expecting. You pretend to have to tell them, in case they wanted x-rays. They smile. Pay special attention to your gums now, they say. You won’t have time to brush your teeth once the baby is here.

At work people are starting to stare at your chest, almost a full cup size larger. You know they suspect, and smile, giving nothing away. A few more weeks, and you’ll tell them. Not quite yet.

What to expect at 9 weeks

You have to drop out of photography class; you’re so tired these days. Work is about the most strenuous thing you can handle. But there are important things happening inside you. Cartilage is turning into bone, the book tells you. Fingers and toes are just beginning to form.

What to expect at 10 weeks

You have to set certain bras aside because suddenly your nipples are hard all day. This wasn’t in the book, but you find it wonderfully ridiculous.

You set an ultrasound appointment for the following week.

What to expect at 11 weeks

You start spotting. Nothing to worry about, nothing at all – this is totally expected at times. But you keep spotting, or no now it’s actually bleeding. You must look pale because your coworker offers to drive you home and you gratefully accept, strategically slipping your jacket between your bum and their seat cushion for the ride.

You get home just in time. The bleeding caries clots with it, and you’re starting to cramp. You call the clinic and – to the horror of the woman who answers – begin sobbing over the phone. She makes an appointment for the next day and tells you if it’s happening, it’s happening. There’s nothing to do about it now.

After hours of bleeding and cramping, you expel what could only be one thing. You place it gently in a jar to show the doctor – a tip from the chapter on miscarriages. You cry yourself to sleep.

What to expect the next day

The cramps are over, though some bleeding continues. You buck up and go to work. Nobody is the wiser, and it's a relief. Work is work.

The ultrasound confirms what you already know, but you still cry. The doctor waves away your jar of baby. These things happen he says. Nothing to worry about.

You bury the baby in the yard.

What to expect the next day

You inform the family, and everyone is is kind.

You cry during your morning shower, so hard you have to sit down in the tub. You used to talk-think to the baby in there, and now it feels so alone. You can expect this for the next 1 – 2 weeks.

What to expect in the months to come

You feel shame, guilt, fear - that you won’t get pregnant again. That you will.

You continue to grieve for the child you never met but already loved. You feel isolated from the friends you never told.

You begin to talk. You go in for a bikini wax and tell the waxer. Turns out – she’s had two miscarriages (and two healthy little girls). You tell friends over wine (wine again!) and one of them has had three.

You visit your family. Turns out your mother has had two as well. Your Grandmother doesn’t say, but her unexpected gentleness makes you wonder.

You eat lots of unpasteurized cheese, deli sandwiches, and sushi. You drink good wine.

You hike with your sister through the Point Reyes wilderness, eat too many mushrooms, and have your first bad trip since high school. You are afraid of everything.

You wrap yourself around a boulder and listen to the waves until you come down a little. You huddle with your sister under a gigantic eucalyptus tree and talk about the meaning of life. The inevitibility, and inevitible sadness, of death. The two of you drink brown rice tea on a cliff overlooking the Pacific; the stars are amazing, which you hadn’t expected, so close to the city. You should have skipped the shrooms earlier – this place is magical on its own.

You fly home on mother’s day, expecting to feel sad.

But you don’t. At least, not too much.

You are grateful. You write a final letter to your baby, thanking her for the lesson she left behind. That death and fear are inevitable; and living, talking, loving… these are your choice.

And time goes on.