burnt toast life

the accidental vegetarian

Thank you for your outpouring of love and support yesterday. I knew I could count on you to keep me excited and giddy. Truth is, doubt started creeping in moments after I published that post. Come on, you knew that kind of confidence wouldn’t last! It was just too much. My high from the ultrasound turned into nagging fears turned into an entire day spent talking myself into/out of calling my OB/GYN to see if she’d squeeze me in for an ultrasound this week.

No, I didn’t call her. But it’s only Tuesday.

Monday just seems sooo far away. I woke up at like 3 a.m. with some serious worry-induced insomnia. Here’s what I’ve been doing to keep myself calm in these past few days: I’ve been thinking about meat. I seriously do this every hour. I picture biting into a pork chop or a burger, and then gauge how I feel about it. As long as the mere thought makes me feel ill, I know I’m doing all right. So last night when I couldn’t sleep, I crept into the kitchen and stuck my face right up next to a leftover pork chop in the fridge. I didn’t gag. It freaked me out. I think I’m losing it.

Then as of this morning I was back to meat is yucky. Fish is just as bad. Actually, I’m simultaneously hungry and nauseated, which is a strange and frustrating phenomenon. I don’t just turn up my nose at meat (though that’s certainly the least appealing thing), but also at all foods. I just don’t want to eat, at all, ever. Where the heck was this diet when I was attempting to squeeze into my teeny tiny wedding gown?!

I’ve been trying to think of what I would want, diet aside, if I was free to choose anything in the whole world. I think that I want some bread. Thick, chewy bread. So maybe I’ll have to bump up the GF bread trial. I also bought a box of Rice Chex during my last supermarket run, and yes, that was my dinner this evening (with almond milk). So far, so good. They didn’t make me vom at all.

Ladies of nausea: any advice? Remember, no crackers, no toast, no normal nausea-calming things. I found some amazing GF rice crackers with only 3 ingredients that have been treating me well. In fact, that’s one of the few things that actually tastes good going down.

I’ve been working hard on visualization, picturing my uterus surrounded by an impenetrable steel wall that’s sealed up tight. Then I realize it’s a bit ridiculous since I’m essentially trying to protect a piece of me FROM me. But still, doing this helps me feel a little better.

One day down, 5 to go. Blah.

is there anything more beautiful…

…than the flicker of a fetal heartbeat? No sir, I do not think there is.

Absence of the f-bomb in the title should tell you that today went well. Today went perfectly! But here’s the part that may shock you: I knew it would.

Yes, Ms. Worrywart, Ms. Anxiety, Ms. Worst-Possible-Case Scenario was remarkably calm in the days leading up to this appointment. I even tried to worry, but was met with a resounding voice from the inside that said, “Everything is going to be OK.”

Seriously… I wasn’t even that nervous until I actually arrived at the appointment. The lab makes you arrive with a full bladder, which is stupid, because everyone knows that at 6 or 7 weeks they’ll end up doing an internal anyway. After exclaiming over just how WELL I filled it (I think he said, “Wow! It’s huge!”) the tech did some quick measurements and photos before – you guessed it – telling me that we’d need to do a transvaginal ultrasound. I love when they ask if I’m “familiar with that.” HA! Infertile girls could probably do them on themselves.

Anyway, when he was still using the external doppler thingy, I couldn’t really see anything in the sac, so I did have a brief moment of panic where I was afraid he’d say, “Uh oh, there’s nothing in there.” But really, it turned out to be my enormous bladder in the way, I guess (did I mention I’m up to 2 gallons of water a day?). I had already given a bit of background and pleaded that he tell me anything he saw, to the extent that he could. Two agonizing minutes later, the internal started. There was a baby, measuring exactly where I expected at 6 weeks 5 days (this information he volunteered with no prompting. Incredible!). Then there was the flicker. The beautiful, magical, intoxicating flicker that he pointed out and even complimented. Then there were the tears of relief. It felt so amazing to hear good news for once.

Something else that I got today that no one has ever given me before (officially): a due date. Based on measurements, it’s looking like June 18th. But because I’m banking on this kid being a girl, and because every girl in my entire family is born on a Sunday, I say June 15th. Which is…drum roll, please…Father’s Day. Is there anything more perfect than that? I can’t even express how badly I want to give Eric this gift on that day.

Yes, my friends, I’ve gone from worrying about day-to-day viability to predicting a due date. Am I crazy? I can’t explain it, I just feel… calm. Zen. Like everything is going to work out. And yes, I have a lot of emotional attachment to this little ‘un. I don’t want to say, “This is our baby,” because that would imply that the previous ones weren’t. But I think this IS our time. It’s the right time. I just have a really good feeling about it; I can picture it happening. We still have a ways to go before I’m actually content and out of fear’s way, but today was a huge step in the right direction.

Symptoms, I have few, like pretty much nonstop nausea that’s not reached the point of actual puking yet, but is mildly uncomfortable. The thought of eating is quite repulsive. One particular problem is a sudden and intense aversion to all meat besides bacon. Which is a huuuuge problem because meat is one of my main sources of fuel on this crazy bland diet. But ugh…even the thought of meat of any kind makes me wanna hurl. Well, everything except bacon. Eggs are still tolerable, so at least I’ll have some protein, but I worry a little about proper nutrition here. After 12 weeks, I plan to experiment a teeny tiny bit with adding things back into my diet, like gluten-free snacks and stuff. I’ve never wanted brownies so badly in my life, but those I really can’t have. However, they do make a gluten-free version, so yay! Maybe gluten was my problem this whole time. That really blows my mind.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Technically, we haven’t made it any further than we did before, since my last “bad” ultrasound was at 7w1d, and today is earlier than that. BUT last time I had bad signs leading up to that. Last time at this point, I had the “heartbeat too slow” ultrasound. I know it’s so stupid to get my hopes up here, but I feel like this day is a milestone. Just like next week will be. The week after that? Huge.

One thing that I do know is that positive energy is helpful, so I’m just going with it. I hope I can keep this good attitude going. And survive a whole week until the next go ’round. Please let it go quickly….haha, yeah right.

DRAMAnda

No, not Dr. Amanda…Drama Amanda. Dramanda. Making mountains out of molehills since 1984.

As you may imagine, my beta was good today: 19,963. Not that it was an easy thing to get – I called the lab at 7:30 this morning and had them re-fax the results. Called New Hope at 9 to see if they got them…they didn’t. Called the lab back to re-fax ONCE AGAIN. Called New Hope. Alas, they had them! Not that they could tell me what they said. I begged the receptionist to hand-deliver them to a nurse and tell her to call me, “preferably before midnight.” I finally got an email at 1:30. Not bad. But by then my poor brain was about to explode. I was also experiencing cramps, which of course I talked myself into believing was the big M/C. But now that I have good news, I’ve managed to swing it around to “growing pains.” Hopefully.

So I live to see another day! But you know what this means…Ultrasound. Monday. And not at New Hope this time (because I don’t have any vacation time accrued yet). Instead, I’ll be going to a lab, where they won’t be able to give me results in real time. So I’ll have to wait for New Hope to call with the outcome (if they get the fax, of course). So I could potentially be sitting at my desk in an open cubicle and hear the “no heartbeat” news. What will I do? Get up and leave? Fall to the ground? No, none of these things. Because this baby will have a good, strong heartbeat and that phone call will be happy, happy, happy. Right?!

And in more overreacting for no reason news… I talked with HR this morning (or more accurately, pounced on the poor woman the moment she walked into the building) and confirmed that we do get maternity leave coverage separate from Aflac. So the whole 10 month thing doesn’t matter. Phew! Again, my overreacting caused a bunch of unnecessary freak outs last night. All over nothing. I still need to save up since obviously it won’t be my full salary (did you know that legally they’re not allowed to pay you full salary for maternity leave? That’s so ridiculous!) but at least I won’t have to save the entire amount. And I’ll get more than 2 weeks. Thank God.

I feel a little silly about yesterday. I think the stress of this is really getting to me. We’re reaching a critical juncture here – 7 weeks. Last time that’s when I found out it was over. So even making it past that date will be significant. 9 weeks will be SUPER significant. 12 weeks will allow me to start actually breathing again.

Eric is ready to strangle me. I think it’s because he’s usually the “freak-outer” and I’m usually the “let’s calm-downer.” When I freak out, he freaks out on top of that, and the result it two crazy people yelling at each other over nothing. That pretty much sums up my night last night. What I really needed was for someone to tell me, “Calm down, everything will be OK.” But that’s not his style. He probably fancies himself a pragmatist, but I say he’s more of a pessimist. Always anticipating the worst possible scenario. That is great for managing expectations and not getting hopes up (therefore avoiding disappointment), but not when you have a wife one step away from a nervous breakdown. My neuroses that I work so hard on maintaining manifest themselves as extreme “bitchiness,” as he calls it. I do; I definitely do take it out on him. Because he’s there. But I can’t help it. I just need to make it to December and I swear things will be so much better.

OK, I said the cramps were no longer worrisome but I totally lied. They’re freaking me out. Anyone else cramp up
around 6 weeks?

If anyone needs me, I’ll be hiding out under the covers for about a week. See ya.

no good very bad day

It’s not the worst day, so don’t worry yet. But my head is pounding and I’m feeling like shit and I just want today to end, already!

First, I had my fourth and final beta today. I know, my clinic is all weird and does four. Truthfully, it’s nice to have that peace of mind at the six week mark rather than waiting for the ultrasound at 7 weeks. Well, you know, it would be nice… if I got any answers.

I went to the outside lab I usually go to. I kept my phone on hand – even on bathroom trips – all day long. No call. At 5, I sent an email to the nurses, hoping to get a prompt response. They wrote back at 8:30. The email started off in a negative way, “We are sorry but we only have…” and my heart sank. Thought it was over. But no! After frantically reading it 5 times in a row, I stopped my panic attack in its tracks and figured out that it ACTUALLY said they only have my Progesterone level, not my beta. I’m to continue all medications and call my lab in the morning to have them fax the rest of the results.

Seriously, lab? You had to screw it up? And why couldn’t they have JUST reported the HCG, and not the Progesterone? Who gives a shit about Progesterone? Yes, gross suppositories twice a day. Gotcha. Covered.

Soooo that means I get to wait a whole ‘nother day to get the results. And probably the whooooole day, because God knows they never call in a timely manner. Stress levels are through the roof, which is stupid, because I’m supposed to be calm and serene. But I have more bad news.

Let’s back it up a minute.

Prior to my freak-out email to the nurses, I got to sit in on a benefits meeting at work. I’m eligible for benefits next month, and of course, I was especially interested in their maternity leave details. They offer short term disability through Aflac. OK, cool, sign me up. Except… coverage for maternity leave doesn’t kick in until 10 months after your eligibility date. So… that’s September. Kid is due in June. Shit.

It never occurred to me that I wouldn’t get maternity leave! I’m not an independent contractor; I work for regular companies that should (and always have) had coverage for something simple like having a baby. Right? It’s not like I’m having the kid tomorrow. This is seven months away! What the freaking hell! I couldn’t express my outrage during the meeting because it was a group meeting, but I have a one-on-one with the overly perky and frankly obnoxious Aflac lady on Wednesday to confirm what plan to choose. So I’ll be able to figure out if I was reading it correctly. But can they DO that?

I was already fretting over how to live on 60% of my salary… ain’t no way we can live on 0%. So I called my mom and she was like, “Oh, you only need two weeks to recover. If that.” And then… I started bawling. Two weeks? Three and a half years, two miscarriages, and countless breakdowns over this damn kid, and I can’t even stay home with him/her for longer than two weeks? That’s just not fair.

Well, that’s if I’m even still pregnant. But who knows! Here I am, borrowing problems from the future once again. Freaking out over actually bringing home a child when I’m so far from that point. If that’s my stipulation…that I can only have this baby if I go back to work 2 weeks later…then FINE. BRING IT. I will do that. But I’m not gonna be happy about it.

I have a while to figure it out. Step one: maintain healthy pregnancy. Step two: ramp up the freelance stuff and save up 2 or 3 month’s salary over the course of aforementioned healthy pregnancy. Step three: Have a baby, and stop complaining, because it will all work out.

But seriously. Shitty, shitty day. I’ll let you know about the beta tomorrow (if anyone bothers to tell me the results).

the longest weeks

For some reason, this month is dragging. I mean, obviously I know the reason. It’s because I’m dreading/anticipating my 7 week ultrasound at the end of the month. But seriously… for both other pregnancies, I feel like this time just flew by. For this one it feels like a lifetime. Right now, I’m 5 weeks along (beta today came back at 2,924, which is pretty close to what it was last time at this point). 5 weeks! Wasn’t it eons ago that I got my BFP? Shouldn’t I be, like, delivering this kid by now?

I haven’t been posting much because honestly, there’s not much going on. That, and the fact that I’ve been uber-busy lately. I picked up a side project freelance writing gig to make a little extra cash, so that’s sucking up some time. Then my friend unexpectedly dropped by on Saturday and stayed the night (our first time having a guest in the guest room…ahem…nursery), which was very fun. We watched a Disney movie and drank seltzer. Because that’s how I like to party, mmmhmmmmm.

Sunday I got up super early for church and then had a few hours to kill before going on a pumpkin patch excursion with the family. I thought twice about setting my alarm before lying down for a quick nap… usually I nap for 60 minutes on the button, no alarm needed. I’ve always been that way. Well, good thing I set that alarm, because 2 hours and 15 minutes later that’s precisely what woke me up. This is what happened during my last pregnancy, too, so I’m taking it as a good sign.

Other signs – and tell me if any of you experience this one – sometimes when I’m lying on my stomach and stretch (in yoga speak, do sort of a cobra type thing) it feels like my lower abdomen is somehow shorter and more tense than it usually is. It’s hard to describe. It’s kind of like a pulling sensation, and it only happens in this early, early stage (which, let’s face it, is as far as I’ve ever been). Besides that and the super-long naps, I got nothin’.

Diet is going well. My unexpected houseguest and I went to the local grocery store and raided the gluten-free section, picking up yummy-licious rice noodles and making a coconut curry stir fry. It was so good, and best of all, it didn’t bother my throat one bit! Woo hoo! Rice noodles are officially my new favorite thing. They make life better when I’m at my grandmother’s house watching everyone else scarf down homemade stuffed shells as I confirm for the third time that there’s nothing but parsley on the turkey. No pie for me. No chocolate eclairs. Just a cup of herbal tea, plain, for dessert. I told my mom that in June, in the hospital, I fully expect a delivery of a dozen bagels slathered in cream cheese and a gigantic chocolate cake. And some cookies, and maybe a loaf of bread. I’m sure it’ll make me puke everywhere, but it will be so worth it.

So the more I do this diet, the more I’m thinking…maybe it was the gluten. That’s the one thing here that I didn’t give up before, and that has been linked to miscarriage in the mainstream. At least, I’m hoping that’s it, because I’m sure as heck not eating it. My digestive seems calm (but hella jealous of everyone eating pumpkin pie). Please let that be it…

I’m sorry. I feel like I’m getting really boring lately, always talking about food and boring crap. I wish I had better stuff going on, but for right now I’m just playing the waiting game. I’m at once praying for the ultrasound and terrified of the ultrasound. I have a good feeling, and a healthy dose of fear. I’m all over the place. I just want it to be December already so I can breathe a huge sigh of relief and be a normal person again.

betas

Hi there. Sorry to leave you hanging.

Here’s what happened: first off, I was legit busy all weekend. I was all go, go, go for two solid days, and you know what, it was wonderfully distracting. Saturday Eric dragged me on a ten mile bike ride with my brand new bike (I know, weird purchase for this juncture of my life, but whatever). It was hard, but when we were done I felt strong and accomplished. Then I came home and fell into an intense sleep for about an hour. I woke up, called my mom, met up with her and my little sibbies and went for a hike. Oh yeah, most active day EVER! Then we all went over to my parent’s house for steak and a campfire. And then…finally… New Hope called at 7:30.

My first beta was 69.

So that was great, but then my old friend worry started creepin’ in. You see, my throat was being all kinds of weird this week, and then this weekend it started leveling off. It started feeling normal. An optimistic person would think, oh, I must have managed to fine-tune my diet to just where it needed to be. But what I thought was, “It got better because something went wrong. This is definitely going to be a chemical pregnancy.”

Sunday, after doing some serious praying at church, I went to a Renaissance Faire with my best friends. It was seriously so much fun, and again, just the right amount of distraction. Plus they had plenty of foods that worked well for me (um, hello, Steak on a Stake). We even got to do grape stomping! I was able to stay in good spirits all day.

This morning, not so much. I woke up miserable and dreading the beta. It all came to a head when I actually got the blood draw. The kind tech had soft, warm hands and could tell I was shaken up. She asked if I was nervous about getting stuck with a needle, and I laughed and said I was a pro at that. When I admitted that I was terrified of the results, she kind of patted my arm and explained in broken English (this is a theme with me, it appears) that her daughter just had a miscarriage and was devastated. She was very compassionate, which really set me over the edge. By the time I left I was openly crying…from nerves, from fear, from the whole stress of this pregnancy in general. I am not calm. I am not peaceful.

Then I got to wait allllll dammnnnnn dayyyyy for my phone call. I finally broke down at 4 and emailed them, asking nicely for the results. No reply. I came home from work, changed into yoga pants, and pulled the covers over my head (I told you that was my coping mechanism). I woke up around 6:30 and heard my email “ding!” It was New Hope.

Second beta is 188.

Instantly, relief washed over me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this freaked out over betas, so now I’m really dreading ultrasounds. Here’s the worst part. At my old job I was able to work from home, so on ultrasound days I just worked from the road. At my clinic they make you do ultrasounds after 10 a.m., so there’s no possible way I can be back in town and working by noon. Working from home is not an option. And I’m not taking 3 (unpaid) days off work. So. I’m going to have to do outside monitoring for ultrasounds, which is fine, but it means I won’t get the results until they call me since the techs aren’t allowed to tell you. THOSE days are going to be absolute torture. Plus, if I do get that call at work? Sorry, no heartbeat? Ugh. I can’t imagine. I guess I’ll just deal with it when I get there.

I hate the guessing game. I hate not knowing. It’s funny how everyone says to me, “Oh that diet sounds so difficult! How do you do it?” It’s really not hard. The truth is that I’d gladly eat nothing but turnips and motor oil for nine months if it guaranteed a baby, and I’d do it with a huge smile. The hard part is not even knowing if what I’m doing is working. The hard part is being so terrified to lose something I want so much…again. The hard part is getting my hopes up all over again. The diet? Easy. Not having any semblance of control? Nope, not easy.

Have to go now. My covers are beckoning.

three for three

Well… I’m pregnant.

I know, what’s up with that? No exclamation marks? No joy? Nope. Not for this girl. Pure, unadulterated terror over at my house. Eric barely glanced up from what he was doing when I told him this morning. “Not a shock. Now let’s get to twelve weeks so we can really celebrate,” was his reply. I don’t blame him. I feel the same way.

I’m grateful that I can get pregnant easily. It would seem that I am my mother’s daughter in that respect. But unfortunately, I also follow her pattern of RPL. Now I just need to find a way to make it stop, once and for all. After that I’ll study up on how to be less of a control freak, which I so clearly am.

I got back the results of the clotting disorder tests: all normal. Just as I figured they would be. I’m going to keep taking the Lovenox as an added precaution, because I already bought it, and because I’m a glutton for punishment? I don’t know. I just can’t bear to do everything the same this time around and then wonder why it goes wrong. I have to try something.

So much thanks to everyone who offered advice on making the shot more bearable, especially Ashley who gave me a whole paragraph on what to do differently. It went sooo much better last night (except that Eric kept making me giggle as he said, “sloooowwly, oh so slooooowly” and it’s very nerve wracking to giggle while you have a needle inside of you). Below is my bruise pic. The big one is from the first night, the tiny little dot below it is from last night. For some reason the other side didn’t bruise one bit.

evil, evil LOVENOX

evil, evil LOVENOX

So what’s different this time? Let’s see, I knew I was probably pregnant because my throat is being funny already. It’s nothing like last time… not even close, but I couldn’t help but panic a little. It got that “weird feeling” after drinking my water with lemon, so I nixed lemons from my ever dwindling list of things that are OK to eat. It also happened after a salad, so avocados got cut from the list, too. One of the great things about an elimination diet is that you are so, so sensitive to what’s bothering you that it’s easy to figure out what the culprit is within hours. It’s also one of the crappy things about it. Bake sale today at work = no fun for me at all.

I’ve also been chugging water. Because I got up so many times to fill my cup at work, I brought in a half gallon pitcher to keep track of how much I really was drinking every day. Yeah… I’ve been drinking more than a gallon. Almost two, probably (I don’t measure at home). Is that even healthy? I can’t figure out if I’m really that thirsty, or if I’m just desperate to stave off “weird throat feeling” because I’m so terrified of it. All I know is I hit the bathroom upwards of 10 times a day and it’s terribly distracting. This should not be the case when you’re only 3 weeks pregnant.

I’m trying my best to remain calm. Beta tomorrow. Important beta Monday.

But for today, I’m pregnant.

ermahgerd – bergels!

It’s official – I have food aversions and serious cravings.

ermahgerdYesterday at work someone was toasting a bagel in the break room. Guys… I’ve never done hard drugs but I can only imagine that I felt like a heroin fiend jonesing for a fix. I have never wanted anything so badly in my life as I wanted that bagel. I came so close to asking this guy if I could have it (awkward much?) Bagels. I thought about them for the rest of the day. I had already eaten breakfast and wasn’t the least bit hungry, but I physically needed a bagel.

When some of the girls went out for lunch I had them stop and pick me up a bagel. And yes… eating it was a soul altering experience. It was the most delicious thing I have ever eaten in my life (that’s no exaggeration).

So of course this morning I stopped and got half a dozen bagels to tide me over for the week (day?) These past few days I’ve been craving bread/carbs/pasta in a serious way. Things that make me wanna puke? Eggs. The thought of an omelette turns my stomach. This really pisses me off because I love eggs and omelettes. I raise chickens, for heaven’s sake.

I don’t know where all of you live and shop, but I can say with certainty that if you don’t live near a Wegmans…I’m sorry. There’s just something about that place that makes me happy the moment I set foot in the door. Are some things more expensive there? Yes. Is the pleasant shopping environment worth it? Oh, hell yes. And Wegmans at 8:30 on a weekday morning is downright inviting. There’s hardly anyone there, it smells amazing, you can pick up a fresh cup of coffee (salted caramel flavored – YUM), a half dozen freshly baked bagels and the creamer that your husband goes through like it’s going out of style. It’s all employees buying each other coffee, chatting and warmly greeting you. It’s just so… familiar. Pleasant. Lovely. Hey, I love Bottom Dollar for a bargain, but when it comes to enjoyable shopping experiences there’s really no place like Wegmans.

Sorry that this post is all over the place. I go from bagel love to grocery store love in one sentence flat. Now on to the next topic – this blog.

A lot of infertility bloggers have voiced concerns over transitioning to a week-by-week pregnancy blog/eventual parenting blog or whether they should just start a new blog altogether. Just to clarify my position – BBToast is and always will be a blog about my life. It started out focusing on all of our animals before taking a wild turn to IVF and eventually landing here at the terrifying world of early pregnancy. I will continue to use it as a platform to document what’s going on in my life – be it pregnancy, parenting or going off the wall crazy. I am sorry to lose any readers who might not feel emotionally able to follow along (though I do not blame you AT ALL), but I wanted to at least give an overview for the future. This blog will change along with my life and circumstances, and for the foreseeable future I promise to keep updating as much as possible. I would also never abandon it completely without a proper goodbye.

You guys aren’t getting rid of me that easily.

heartbeats, Easter chicks and Grand Cayman

What do these things have to do with each other, you ask? Nothing, nothing at all except that they are part of what’s been making my life a little more interesting these past few days.

Eric and I “officially” announced the impending arrival of our twins at our respective Easter gatherings over the weekend. The whole thing was pretty underwhelming since literally every single person in attendance knew anyway. I am still blown away at how many people in my life follow my blog and care what I have to say. It’s quite humbling. Anyway, it was very cool to finally be the ones doing the announcing, but as I said… underwhelming since it wasn’t a surprise. I might as well have said, “Attention, everyone: the sky is blue and chocolate makes me happy. Also, I’m getting fatter by the day.”

We also got six new chicks to replace the ones we so carelessly allowed to be slaughtered last year (if you missed or forgot that incident, catch up here). They’re very cute. They help me remember that despite the shitty cold temperatures, spring is technically here and pretty soon we can spend time outside again. Just no free range chicken wandering this time.

Allie + chick

Allie + chick

the cuteness

the cuteness

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grand Cayman. Ok, so I hate the word “babymoon” and everything it stands for, but I do believe I will be going on one. My aunt goes on a business trip every year to Grand Cayman and has invited me numerous times. Finally this year I said, “You know what? I’ll probably never have this opportunity ever again.” Ok, I guess babymoons make sense.  Kind of. (It’s still a stupid word).

actual photo of where my fat ass will be sitting in 3 weeks

actual photo of where my fat ass will be sitting in 3 weeks

Anyway, she has graciously agreed to let both Eric and me come along (since if I went alone he would be way too jealous to function) and since it’s a business trip, the room is totally covered. And when I say “room” I mean the $1,500/night suite at The Ritz-Carlton, Grand Cayman. So yeah… kind of hard to turn down. I’m pretty sure this is not something we would ever get to do otherwise. Our flight leaves April 20th, so I have to find myself a fat person bathing suit, STAT.

And I saved the best for last – heartbeats! I had my ultrasound today at New Hope and everything looks perfect. Still two babies and best of all, I got to hear both little heartbeats.  I must admit I got a little teary eyed hearing them – they sounded very strong and clear (though no one has given me numbers, which is annoying). I’m measuring 7 weeks 1 day, which is right where I’m supposed to be. Unfortunately, I had to refill my dwindling supply of Progesterone and I am not allowed to stop taking it as I had hoped. I cannot wait to transition to a regular doctor that’s not 90 miles away. But who’s complaining? Not me! Hearing those heartbeats helped me turn the corner from, “Is this happening?” to “Shit… this is happening.”

Guys… this is happening.

 

“I take as much care as ever”

Every Monday I have to fill out a survey as part of my clinical trial experience at New Hope. I’ve memorized the questions by now and can zip through it pretty quickly, but it’s still annoying sometimes. The questions are all based on physical and emotional health, and I guess it’s supposed to follow your progression of elation/depression as you go through each stage of the process. There are gems such as:

Do you ever feel so blue that nothing can cheer you up? (um, no)
Do you feel anxious and stressed? (HAHAHAHA always)
Are you in control of your problems? (I like to pretend that I am)
Are you still able to enjoy music and television shows as much as before (…yes?)

The one that really gets me lately is the “Do you take care in your appearance?” One of the responses is, “I take as much care as ever” which inevitably leads to me humming “same as it ever was… same as it ever was” and having Talking Heads stuck in my head for a few hours.

As much as I bitch about my weight gain, I’m not vain. I’m relatively grounded when it comes to appearance. I wear minimal makeup, I never color my hair and most of my wardrobe comes from a clearance rack. However. I’ve been feeling impossibly frumpy as of late. I’m super bloated and it’s just not attractive. Everyone warned me that the first trimester is incredibly unglamorous. Mostly you’re nauseated, exhausted, bloated, grouchy and not even cute looking pregnant. When we were TTC I yearned for this; now I’m just feeling so blah and then feeling guilty for not embracing every nuance of being pregnant. I mean, part of it is the whole “not feeling pregnant” thing. Then a part of it is how I get dressed every morning, check myself out in the mirror, give myself a B- or C+ and go to work. But somehow over the course of the day I deteriorate and I’m not sure how it’s happening. By the time I leave my hair is frightful (either limp and dead or up in a ponytail), my pants have crumbs/dribbles, my shirt clings oh-so-unattractively to my stomach fat, my T-zone is oily and I feel like a total slob. I just don’t understand. It’s not like I’m trying to impress people at work, but I don’t want to be regarded as the “hot mess” of the office either. I’m just getting sick of looking like shit for no apparent reason. OK, I promise this is the last time I mention it because any ladies who are currently TTC are probably like, “Shut up bitch, at least you’re pregnant,” which is exactly what I would be saying to me three months ago.

In other news, I’m still sans-symptoms except for a weird yet intense craving for tuna. Is it because I know I can’t (shouldn’t?) have it very often? Maybe. But I could legit eat tuna for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I just had tuna for dinner. It was glorious.

Well friends, I’m off to book club. We read Life After Death by Damien Echols, which was interesting because this month’s host promised a “light, beach-y read” and then chose something absolutely opposite of that. It was pretty nuts… not very well organized and had no flow, but I guess he’s an OK writer. It was also about 200 pages longer than it needed to be. I may have missed my calling as an editor.