One of the first things that happens when you find out you're pregnant is you have to start giving things up. We give up our beloved glass or two of wine (perhaps not as beloved to some as it is to me,, but I digress). We give up soft cheese and pate. We try and cut back on the junk food and eat more fruit and veg. We make sacrifices in order to have a healthy baby.
The purpose of this post is not to boo hoo about the fact that I can no longer enjoy a nice glass of wine or two with dinner. It's also not meant to debate what exactly pregnant women should or should not eat, drink, or do. I am by no means an expert, especially since my only pregnancy prior to this one resulted in a dead baby... so what do I know??
The purpose of writing this is to explore at what point are we making sacrifices, and at what point are we just being paranoid? I know of women who have given up all kinds of things; artificial sweeteners, caffeine, salad at restaurants (due to fear that the leaves aren't washed properly), processed foods, salad bars, buffet restaurants, tap water, etc. I have also known of women who won't go to places where there may be second hand smoke or won't ride any form of public transport for fear of germs.
On the flip side I have known women who didn't sacrifice anything. They drank wine, went snow skiing, smoked like chimneys, and ate all the brie and camembert they wanted to. Guess what? Their babies were absolutely fine.
I have been struggling with a bit of a dilemma lately. As most of you know, I do not work outside the home. I'm a stay at home wife who has been desperately trying to turn into a stay at home Mom for the past 9 years or so. I did work as a teacher before we moved to the UK, but when we moved here we decided to focus more on the whole baby making thing and as a result I've not been in paid work.
One of the things I do with my time is to volunteer at a local primary school (that's elementary school to my US readers). I go in once a week and read with kids who need extra help. It's something that I really enjoy and is the closest thing to a job that I've got. It makes me feel good to know that I'm helping children who struggle to read to get better. It makes me feel like I'm still contributing to society. I love my time each week at the school.
Working there has been a part of both my "old" normal and my "new" normal. Going back to work at the school was a huge part of my recovery after losing my son. As I shared
on this blog about a year ago, going back and reading with the kids was something that made me feel "normal" again.
So it seems odd to me that I am now going to be giving up my time with the students in order to keep my little Frosty safe. I can't figure out if it's reasonable caution, or pure paranoia?
As we all know, schools are a breeding ground for all kinds of viruses, illness, and germs. Kids go to school and wipe their snot and saliva all over everything. They are ever so generous with all the germs they are carrying.
When I was pregnant with my son I didn't worry about this. I have a fairly strong immune system due to all my years working with children. I wash my hands a lot and try not to touch my face when I'm at school.
But then my son died at 36 weeks. The reason?? An infection or virus that attacked his placenta. This virus or infection was of unknown origin. There was no trace of it left when they did the post mortem so I don't even know what it was for sure. I don't recall ever being sick during pregnancy either so it's all a big mystery.
I also have no way to know where it came from. I am not trying to say that it came from the children at school. I live in London, I take taxi's, and I ride public transport. I go to the shopping centre and I shop at the grocery store. There are a million places where I could have picked up this killer bug.
The teacher in me keeps saying, "You know, teachers have babies all the time. You're just being paranoid." But the Baby Loss Mom in me knows what it's like when it all goes horribly wrong. She knows what it's like to have to read a post mortem report for her baby. She knows what it's like to have to pick up her son's ashes from the crematorium. She knows what it's like to have to return all the baby shower gifts. Her voice keeps saying to me, "Why take any chances?"
I've been going back and forth with this since I found out I was pregnant. My mind has been battling this decision, not sure what exactly to do. But then this week I noticed a strange red rash on the face and hands of a little girl I was reading with.
And I totally freaked out!
There was a very real fear that I've never experienced before. Like I wanted to immediately run out of the room and shower in anti-bacterial gel. A visceral and primal instinct to protect Frosty. Of course I didn't run from the room because I didn't want to alarm the students.
Instead I waited until I got home and talked it over with The Hubby. He told me that he wanted it to be my decision and wouldn't share his opinion unless I really wanted him to. So I asked him and he said that he wanted me to stop going. His opinion is why take chances that you don't have to.
So I have decided not to go back. It's a big sacrifice because I love going and I know the students who I read with really need my help. But I can't get over my paranoia, or caution, or whatever it is,,, and this time I don't think I want to.
Maybe sometimes it's OK to be just a little bit paranoid??