amanda, Author at burnt toast life

Mar 22

Things that make me want to punch other things

Mar 22

Can I just say, I am loving ICLW so far? I love comments, they really are the new hug (and I’m not even a hugger, really). I have had this draft hanging out for a while so I thought it would be fun to do an interactive post. I even managed to keep it (mostly) free from typical infertility gripes.

I often enjoy reading People I Want to Punch in the Throat. With her blog in mind, I started a similar list. Without further ado, I bring you….

Things that make me want to punch other things

1. Anyone who says verbiage, bandwidth (incorrectly), plush, flesh, supposebly and “Let’s take this offline.”

2. People who buy too much food for events and then throw it away. Take whatever you were planning to order, cut it in half, and then order half of that. You’ll still have leftovers, I swear.

3. Anyone who has their shit together. This includes people with investment portfolios, stocks, robust retirement funds, and summer homes.

4. People with achingly beautiful, thoughtful blogs that I’ll never live up to. Just shut up already.

5. People who think animals are cuter than babies. They’re not.

6. Vegans

7. Danielle Steele

8. Anyone who complains about having thick hair. Trust me, the alternative is far worse.

9. Being wet. This includes showers, baths, swimming, rainstorms, kayaking, puddle stomping, sweating on summer days, and all other moist activities. Also, the word moist.

10. Tile floors in any room besides the kitchen and the bathroom

11. People with no sense of humor

12. The whole 50 Shades of Grey phenomenon. Oh, yeah, let’s glorify terrible writing just because it has graphic sex scenes. Tee hee, we’re soooo naughty!

13. Facebook status updates of inspirational quotes. They make me hate you. Honestly, I’d rather hear about what you had for breakfast.

14. Anyone who ignores simple grammar rules and punctuation in any format

15. Laugh tracks on shows

16. Any show on MTV

17. Crumbs on the counter

18. Broken turn signals on cars that blink too fast.

19. Windshield wipers turned to a setting that does not match how hard it was raining. Slight drizzle? No need for heavy downpour setting. If your wipers start skipping and making sounds because the windshield is too dry, you’re doing it wrong.

20. Arbitrary Capitalization In The Middle Of Sentences For No Apparent Reason. No, It Does Not Make Your Words More Important. It Makes You Look Like An Idiot.

21. Arbitrary “quotation marks.” I have been noticing this a lot lately. It seems that a lot of people need to research where and when to use them. When in doubt – don’t.

22. Anyone who gets pregnant accidentally

23. Being at Walmart

24. Dog poop in the house. If anyone had told me often it would happen, I seriously would have reconsidered the whole “dog owner” thing.

25. Sleeping on a couch

26. Soggy cereal/melted ice cream/mushy food in general

27. Eating a meal without a beverage (even watching someone do this makes me dehydrated).

Your turn – what am I missing?

Mar 21

and maybe two… is better than one

Mar 21

*cue Boys Like Girls featuring Taylor Swift lyrics*

If you’re here from ICLW, welcome to my little space! Quick recap: I just did my first round IVF in February and so far, it was successful. Fingers crossed that it stays that way.

So two days ago I had my paperwork appointment with my regular OB. I figured I would get it all out of the way and hopefully find out when/if they were planning on doing an ultrasound so I could figure out if I had to drag Eric to NYC or if we could just go right around the corner instead. The paperwork went well, I disclosed all my dirty family secrets of heart disease and diabetes and reassured them 14 times that I did not have a cat. At the end of the appointment the nurse said, “Ok, so let’s schedule your first ultrasound… how about Thursday at 10 am?”

Um… come again?

New Hope isn’t doing an ultrasound until next Saturday, and I just assumed this place wouldn’t care to see my insides until 9 weeks. I have no idea why they wanted to do one so early (because I’m IVF?) but I was also excited to finally get to see what was going on in there, so I didn’t question it.

As it turns out Eric did not want to waste a vacation day on this and I couldn’t really blame him… especially since I wasn’t sure if we would see anything anyway. So my sister came along instead, at her insistence. The doctor went over a lot of the things I had already covered two days prior, then got a little confused when I mentioned my transfer was on the 28th. She said, “Wait, then you’re not even a month along yet?” with a sort of accusatory tone. Um, hello, I’m not the one who scheduled this! She warned me that we might not be able to see anything at all and that I shouldn’t worry if we don’t. But then… there were 2 sacs.

Two sacs! She actually used the words, “for now…” and did not seem as excited as my sister and me, so I keep saying “for now” every time I tell someone that there are two. I know all about the disappearing twin phenomenon. But you know what? I’m not really surprised that there are two. I was prepared for this. First of all, this whole IVF experience has revolved around the number two. Second, they transferred two embryos into a decently healthy uterus, so… it’s not some huge shock. I know there are more risks and I know it will be more work but you know what? I’m happy. I get a BOGO deal. I get to make up for a couple of years wasted on TTC that just wasn’t working. I get to raise two siblings who will always have that beautiful bond that only twins understand. This is a very good thing.

I’m looking forward to actually hearing the heartbeat(s), but I’m being patient. This couldn’t have come at a better time because on Wednesday morning I had some post-intercourse spotting that sent me into a freaking panic, but clearly everything is still OK and multiple friends/medical professionals have assured me it’s totally normal. Still, I think it’s best to wait for the second trimester to risk it again. Seeing blood at any time during this early time is just not worth the anxiety.

The other day I stumbled across this list of celebrity twins. I had no idea Ashton Kutcher and Giselle Bundchen were twins. Craziness!

Holy crap, I’m gonna get fat. Twins. Whew.

Mar 18

I finally have a symptom! BONUS POINTS: It’s a weird one…

Mar 18

So you know how I’ve been bitching and moaning about not feeling any different? I finally, finally felt something. It’s not pleasant, but at least it can be attributed to pregnancy.

Some background: my mom has severe food allergies. She’s allergic to nuts, any aged cheese, onions, peppers, strawberries and any spice that makes food taste delicious. I grew up eating a lot of bland chicken with sides of plain mashed potatoes. On the flip side, my father has a stomach of steel. I was lucky enough to inherit his lack of allergies with two minor exceptions. First, as I’ve mentioned, I’m lactose intolerant (but I still eat Greek yogurt every day because I freaking love it). Second, I have a weird but minor reaction to high fructose corn syrup, which is why I drink evil Diet Coke instead of evil regular Coke. I’m much more likely to have a reaction if it’s in a beverage than if it’s in a food. What happens is that my throat gets “itchy” and I can’t help but make a low guttural sound that sort of sounds like I’m trying to dislodge a hamster from my esophagus. The sound is not attractive. Just ask my husband. So I try to avoid corn syrup, but if it slips in somehow it’s really no big deal.

Fast forward to Tuesday. I went with coworkers to happy hour and drank whatever the special cocktail was, just sans liquor. So essentially I was drinking some fruity juice concoction. My throat started to tickle as the night went on, but not in a “corn syrup” way, more in a “I’m getting a sore throat” kind of way. By the time I went to bed I was completely miserable. Every time I swallowed it felt like a hundred tiny men were stabbing my throat with little daggers. I was convinced it was strep and made plans to see the doctor in the morning.

But in the morning, my throat was almost back to normal. I still worked from home assuming I was contagious (plus, I was exhausted from being up all night in pain). The next day when a coworker suggested it might be the corn syrup allergy, I brushed her off and said I had never had a reaction that strong before. I figured it was a cold that my immune system fought off in record time. Yay for daily vitamins!

…But then on Saturday night the same thing happened. I texted my mother in law to confirm that the soda I drank at her house did indeed have corn syrup, and lo and behold, it did. So apparently my big tell is intensified allergic reactions to food. Who knew? Has anyone ever heard of this before??

In other news, I went for my third beta on Saturday and got a 6476. Woo hoo! I got confirmation that I will have to go back every week (boo) but I will get to have an ultrasound in 2 weeks, which I did not realize would be happening (double woo hoo). So yeah, things are going pretty well. I’m slightly less angry (slightly…) and not feeling that whole utter exhaustion thing yet. My boobs hurt like crazy one day but then not really since. I keep getting little twinges down in the uterine area, but other than that and the crazy allergies, it’s just regular old me.

Mar 15

ten years ago today

Mar 15

Ten years ago today I was 18. I had just ended a three year relationship with the boy I was convinced I would marry. We had broken up many months before, but were still “hanging out,” and my heart gave him a March 1st deadline that I surprisingly managed to stick with. It’s like there was a before and after, and once the calendar struck March I shut off my feelings like a faucet. I wish I still had that kind of power over my emotions.

Ten years ago today I had a horrific fight with my parents. I can’t remember exactly what I had to do – I think I was supposed to drive my sister somewhere and didn’t want to. I remember my mom screaming at me on the phone. I remember throwing the phone at my sister’s head (probably aiming for it) and slamming her bedroom door open so hard that it left a door handle-shaped impression in the drywall. My mom had taken away my car until further notice and I. was. PISSED.

So you see, Eric and I are a product of circumstance. He really was at the right place at the right time. I had met him about a year earlier when he started working at the (now out-of-business) Hollywood Video where I worked. That was my very first job. We only worked together for a few months before I left to become a barista at Wegmans, but I still stopped by to rent movies and hang out with my former coworkers. It just so happens that not long before this colossal fight, I had stopped in to find him red-eyed and delirious, working 14 hour shifts because someone had quit. Sympathetic, I brought him a double mocha from work and he gave me his number in case I “wanted to watch a movie or something sometime.”

I had his number handy on that night of rebellion. I was feeling young, I was feeling reckless. Screw my ex-boyfriend who stopped loving me! Screw my parents for taking away my car! Screw the whole messed up world for messing up my life! I dialed the number and asked if he would come pick me up and rescue me from my parents. It was so out of character for me; I knew him, but barely. I remember standing at the end of the driveway when he pulled up in his beat-up red pickup truck and took me back to his house. I remember feeling vindicated.

We watched a movie. We got drunk on rum and coke that we drank out of mason jars. I remember it was one of those nights that I never wanted to end. I remember when his hand kept creeping closer and closer to mine. I saw it coming, but I pretended to ignore it. I distinctly remember when he finally kissed me. I didn’t go home that night.

The next three months we were inseparable. I forgot what it felt like to not have him around. We hung out every day for every hour that we possibly could. I was smitten. I was falling hard.

But then there was drama… always drama! He stopped taking my calls. He started getting distant. We went back and forth for a while. I didn’t let him go without a fight.

It’s been ten years… I could write for days about all the things we went through. We were always extreme – so happy, so sad, so angry, so euphoric. We had no even keel, no happy medium. We were passionate in every moment.

The highlights: We got engaged in 2004, set a wedding date in 2005. Called it off. Got back together. We got engaged again in 2006, set a wedding date in 2007. Called it off. Got back together. We got engaged in 2009 with a triumphant rally of “third time’s the charm!” We wanted to be married, but the timing was never right. Too much crap kept getting in the way.

We actually, really, finally got married in 2010. Our relationship has changed so much since it’s rocky start. I trust him completely. I love him. It sounds so simple, but to me, it’s profound. Over the course of our break-ups I kept trying to love other people because it would be “easier.” I kept trying to take the easy road, but my heart kept sending me back to him. He’s the only person I could never get over.

My friends – and even me at my most self-righteous – would love to tell you it was all his fault. A lot of it was. He had the tendency to be immature, stand-offish, distant, mean and childish. But remember, he was a man in his early 20s. It would be stranger if he wasn’t acting that way. And for all my indignation, I was no angel either. He brought out my most needy, clingy, annoying, controlling, nagging and even obsessive tendencies. We were mutually flawed. What we really needed was time to grow up. Both of us.

It may sound alarming, all those break-ups. All that heartache. I wish I could explain how I “just know” that he’s the one for me. Let’s put it this way – I could have chosen someone more compatible. I could have chosen someone more stable, less dramatic and more even-tempered. I could have. But every single time I did choose that kind of person, Eric stayed in my heart and my heart never felt peaceful. If I let my mind wander, it landed on him.

He’s the one that got away… except I never let him get away.

my favorite picture of us

Mar 13

anger and (probably not even pregnancy related) cravings

Mar 13

Well, it’s 12dpt and I’m feeling fine. Mostly fine because (I think?) I’m still pregnant.

I kind of gave up on the signs and symptoms list (though maybe I will post it eventually) because I realized that it didn’t say much at all. The truth is that it’s just way too damn early for any “signs.” Every month that I got my hopes up for twinges, sore boobs and excessive bathroom trips was just a fluke. Really I should have been more excited to feel absolutely nothing at all, since apparently that’s what pregnant feels like.

The number one thing I feel is… ready for it?… rage. Yes, I am angry about everything. Eric and I keep getting into fights and I call him mean, but then he says, “What are you talking about? You’re the one being mean.” I guess I do notice it. I’m not a total bitch normally, but I’m also not the nicest, sweetest person you’ll ever meet. I’m a bit snarky and sarcastic and I don’t easily forgive faults. Some might even call me judgmental. These things are just part of my nature.

But now…now I’m just so angry about everything. Then I get angry at myself for being so angry. Minor irritations put me over the edge. My dogs have been driving me absolutely nuts. I can’t even explain how frustrating it is to be pissed off for no good reason. It’s actually pissing me off trying to figure out how to explain it.

I really thought I would feel different. I know I’ve probably mentioned this before. I thought I would go about my day and just feel a sense of elation to exist, knowing that I was growing a baby inside of me. You know what? I feel exactly the same as before. I have to keep reminding myself that this is really happening.

As for cravings – obviously it’s way too early for those, but over the past few days I’ve felt a sense of wanting something (and it feels like I want a food or beverage) but I don’t know what it is. I want it very much, but I cannot for the life of me figure out what I want. Are you starting to see where some of this anger is coming from?

I’m also a little worried about work. I work for a dot com and the big joke is that “we’re
shutting down tomorrow,” but lately that’s starting to look more and more likely. There have been a few shake-ups that make me nervous, especially if this pregnancy really happens. I know people aren’t technically supposed to discriminate, but come on. I really doubt a waddling 6 months pregnant woman is going to get hired anywhere.

Ok done bitching and moaning for today. If anyone could clue me in to what I’m craving, that would be greeaaat.

Mar 09

Beta #2 – still PUPO

Mar 09

Beta #2 today was 475, 9dp5dFET. I’m still in the game, people!

Of all our acronyms, I think PUPO (pregnant until proven otherwise) is my favorite. First of all, I love what it entails (obviously). Second, it perfectly describes the fragility of our situations. On one hand, we’re so happy to finally be pregnant, but then we have to justify it so quickly with, “but it could be otherwise. Soon. Anything could change in any moment and Oh God I can’t just be happy and enjoy this I have to obsess over it every second of every day.” Third, I always think of “pupa” and it makes me laugh.

just hangin’ out like a pupa

I brought my mother-in-law and sister-in-law Katie with me to my blood test because my SIL had not been to the city since she was in first grade. I feel like that’s acceptable if you live in Idaho, but we are 90 minutes from Manhattan. I can’t even fathom going more than 6 months without going, present fertility drama notwithstanding.

Anyway, we had a good time. After the 15 minutes at NHF, we hopped the subway down to Ground Zero to see the 9/11 memorial, which is something I’ve been meaning to do but haven’t. It was beautiful and very moving. We had brunch at the Cornelia Street Cafe in the West Village and picked up some incredible cupcakes at Molly’s Cupcakes, winner of Cupcake Wars and 100 times better than Magnolia. Fun fact: our future daughter has been named Molly since approx. 2003, so that’s totally why we stopped in. They have adorable branded onesies but I refrained. I’m just a PUPO, right?

We also got macarons at Bisous Ciao because, well… macarons are like little pieces of heaven. We walked through Times Square, then hopped back in the car and swung by Apthorp Pharmacy real quick to pick up my refill of Progesterone. All in all it was a rewarding and delicious day.

I’m having a hard time figuring out what doubling is for betas and it doesn’t help that I’m an English major and I absolutely SUCK at math. I know betabase.info is the place to go for the chart and I’ve been there before, but the site has been down for a few days now and I’m unable to find anything else comparable. Grr! At this point I’m just trusting the clinic when they say “everything looks perfect” until I can figure something out for myself. But I’m curious – are these singleton or multiple numbers? Am I in range? What should it be next time? Help!

I thought that today’s beta would be my last one until the 9 week U/S but I’m not sure where that idea came from. I have to go back next Saturday for blood again, which is annoying but at least I won’t be left wondering if it’s all going to shit while I wait. Hopefully in the meantime betabase comes back so I can properly stalk it.

Mar 07

Beta #1 looks like a winner

Mar 07

So today was my first beta and I got a 155. Things are looking good!

Don’t worry, I’m still terrified for Saturday’s second beta. And then if that goes well I’m terrified for the wait until the 9 week U/S (for some reason I don’t get one at 7 weeks. I told you these people were sadists). Basically I’m equal parts excited and terrified, which is an awesome combination when you’re trying to cut stress and make your uterus a welcoming, anxiety-free environment.

I took my favorite 5:45 a.m. bus into the city and was back home by 10. I took the day off work because of aforementioned excessive PTO and because I just couldn’t imagine getting “the call” while sitting in an open area and at work. So where did I get the call? I can tell you exactly.

My mother-in-law and I were at Kohl’s. She was perusing 80% off snowsuits for the grandkids and I was looking at magnets. The phone rang. The caller said, “I have good news. It looks like you are pregnant.” I looked across the aisle to Cindy, gave a thumbs up and had to laugh when she started cheering and crying loudly while curious shoppers looked on. She told two people at Kohls, including a sales associate, that I just found out I was pregnant. It was perfect – telling strangers is fun because you get all the congrats without having to worry about giving them bad news later if it doesn’t work out. Oh, and right after I hung up the phone this song came on and it just felt so right.

Remember how worried I was about maternity clothing? My sister-in-law always got SO mad when I said I would need stuff. She said she had 7 boxes of maternity clothing from various previously pregnant family members and friends. It’s not that I didn’t believe her… it’s just that I couldn’t comprehend how much there really was. Our spare bedroom is now overflowing with maternity wear, which is helping this feel extra super surreal.

I’m trying to think of a witty wrap up but I got nothing. This day has stolen my capacity for clever writing.

Mar 06

…but I promised I would never take a picture of something I peed on

Mar 06

I am truly sorry that I’ve cringed at this before. Because once I saw the faintest hint of that second line, the camera came out. Immediately.

I took this test today, 6dp5dFET, for two reasons. 1) I wanted to be prepared for that phone call after my beta tomorrow, be it prepared with celebration or with a huge bottle of vodka and 2) I was 100% convinced that I was getting my period. No matter that the Progesterone delays it for most women, so even if I wasn’t pregnant I probably wouldn’t be getting it. I’ve been keeping a list of symptoms that I will post separately if this is really real, but let’s just say I have none of the good ones and all of the ones that match AF. Including a sense of dread like she was right around the corner.

I have been dreaming of the moment of telling Eric. I tried to plan it and make it special. What actually happened was that I ran into the living room, threw the test onto his lap and stood there grinning like an idiot. He picked it up, glanced at it, and said, “No, I don’t believe it. Why did you do this? This isn’t real.” Apparently he refuses to get excited or celebrate until the beta since I’m so “pumped up full of drugs.” Totally not the reaction or presentation I had planned. As for me, my hands are shaking so I need to stop typing.

This is effing unreal.

Mar 04

Progesterone is a big fat bully

Mar 04

So I’ve been giving some thought on how to handle the next steps. Either this works and I have a few weeks of walking around like I’m made of glass, or it’s negative and I’ll be crawling into a dark cave and waiting for death (kidding. I think). But the fact of the matter is that I’m supposed to wait 12 weeks to tell the public. And that public includes Facebook, I would think.

Here’s what I’m going to do: I will continue posting on the blog, including early pregnancy, negatives and whatever else life throws at me, but I won’t share the links on Facebook as I have been doing. All you FB followers are welcome to add my blog to your Google Reader or just click on it sporadically, but from now on you’re on your own to find me. Until my big obnoxious Facebook announcement, anyway. Sorry… I’ve suffered through so many of yours, I just have to do one (suffered may be too harsh. I endured them. Stoically. Big gulps of wine helped immensely).

Just one more quick thing. If you do choose to follow me and know what is going on, please do not share it with your friends (Yes, your friends totally care. The bump watch on me has been similar to the one on Kate Middleton and I don’t want paparazzi all up in my grill) or exclaim loudly if we should run into each other in the grocery store. Let’s just pretend it’s not happening, for now, or you can simply give me a slight wink and nod. I will start posting again in earnest once we get past the danger zone.

OK, now with that out of the way, let’s talk about Progesterone. Oh…Progesterone. I’ve been creeping on so many other blogs lately and I can’t help but notice that mostly everyone gets this in the form of suppositories or even, (lucky bitches) gets it in pill form. Um… wtf? I get intramuscular (read: in the ass) shots of Progesterone in Oil every single day and those. mothereffers. hurt. The shot itself is fine, but afterwards? What can I compare it to? It’s kind of like willingly getting kicked in the ass by an elephant every day.

They started nine days ago and yes, I know, they are supposed to be “tricking” my body into thinking it’s pregnant. I figured I would have to keep doing them until maybe the second positive beta, then would get to stop because my body would be producing it naturally, right? WRONG. In the event of a BFP (that’s Big Fat Positive, FB), I have to keep doing this until the 9 week U/S. AND, as if that’s not awesome enough, this whole thing could be for naught if it’s a BFN (you guessed it – Big Fat Negative) and I get to start all over next month. Woo hoo!

We switch sides every night but it seriously hurts to sit down and even walk sometimes. My whole lower back/upper ass is so sore. Oh, and I’m not even allowed to take ibuprofen anymore (just Tylenol). I also can’t lift anything heavy, drink alcohol or eat unpasteurized cheese. I feel like at least some of these things could help dull the pain.

Yes, I know that we can switch out and do my upper thighs for this shot. But the thought of that creeps me out and then my legs AND my ass would hurt – double whammy. I asked the nurse why I was the only person on the planet doing injections when clearly suppository (while not pleasant, I’m assuming less cripplingly painful) is the way to go. She said that above any other method, the shots work the best. When the suppositories don’t work, they switch the patient to injections. So really I’m starting out with the mack daddy of Progesterone delivery methods and I should be grateful thankyouverymuch.

Assuming this will all be much easier to take once I get that BFP. Or I can stop if I get a BFN. Either way… Progesterone is a big jerk and I don’t like it.

In other news I have been in a TERRIBLE mood these past couple of days and that’s probably why I’m bitching so much. I hope that’s indication of crazy baby hormones working overtime but I’m just not convinced. My dear friend and coworker talked me off the ledge earlier so I’m doing much better now than I was a few hours ago. I just expected to feel something. All I feel is bitter and irritated and mad at Progesterone. Boo.

Mar 02

Deeda and Cindy take New York

Mar 02

(**I am Deeda. Cindy is my mother-in-law.)

On Monday night Eric and I sat down and discussed whether or not he would come to NYC with us. After making sure that I wouldn’t be secretly mad if he didn’t go, he pointed out that if the transfer worked this time, I would have the baby this year and he would much rather take time off once bambino was born. Despite my optimism with this cycle, I hadn’t even considered this. Couple that conversation with the fact that when I walked into the living room just prior, he was engrossed in a local health spot on breastfeeding and said, “I’m getting some really great advice for us,” you can see why my heart utterly melted. Yes, I picked the right man to make a baby with.

On this trip I finally figured out why New York makes me feel so unsettled. Let me preface this paragraph by saying something: I am in love with New York. I think it’s sexy, glamorous and impossibly cool. I only wish that I was worthy of it. I brag about the year that I worked in midtown Manhattan like it meant something, even though if I strolled through that company today not one person would recognize my face (and with their turnover rate, I probably wouldn’t recognize most of theirs. Thankfully). Anyway. I figured out the two words that best sum up my New York experience: sensory overload. I don’t mean the lights and the noise and the people; I mean the action. I am the type of person who always wants to be part of what’s going on. I think it’s probably one of my most annoying qualities (friends – correct me if I’m wrong). I am known to whine at my sisters-in-law for going to Target or trivia nights or anywhere without inviting me, even when I’m more likely to say no than yes. The other night my two friends mentioned going to a bar together recently. I blurted out, “Oh, was it that night I couldn’t come? Or some other time? Did you guys just plan your own thing, then?” like some jealous psycho girlfriend. In this post I mentioned reading “Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me (And Other Concerns),” a hilarious book that I would have loved for the title alone. That could have easily been my own memoir’s title. (Current working titles: “Have Progesterone, Will Travel,” “I Should Have Been a Fertile: Why I was Robbed of My One True Destiny,” and “Infertility, Student Loan Debt, and a Useless Liberal Arts Degree: How to Overcome Adversity and Win at Life!”)

New York City makes me feel like I’m being left out. There are so many restaurants, bars and stores that I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something (which I definitely am, but how can anyone avoid that?) So I walk around and instead of enjoying myself, I just peek in windows thinking, “Is that place cool? Is this place happening? Are those people having a great time? Oh gosh, look at that brownstone. What if I lived there? How amazing would my life be? I bet I’d have a chaise lounge.” I cannot keep a handle on my excited thoughts and wind up not enjoying anything. New York is like my way-too-cool-for anyone, inaccessible and intoxicating lover. It gives me just enough to keep me coming back but never keeps me satisfied.

That said – we had such a fabulous time. We ate at Bangkok House the first night and got a prix fixe meal including soup, an appetizer, a salad, an entree and dessert for $16.95 per person. And it was phenomenal. Leave it to my mother-in-law to find an incredible discount, even in one of the most expensive cities in the world.

For breakfast the next morning we went to Le Pain Quotidien, a delightful French bakery within sight of Central Park. It’s the kind of place where you’ll always find Europeans, particularly French people engrossed in lyrical conversation, which I believe is a very good mark of authenticity.

Right, so we didn’t go to New York just to eat. We were there for this greater purpose that had my phone blowing up with texts and my Facebook blowing up with love. As if I wasn’t overwhelmed enough! I felt like a hero headed off to war (or how I imagine one might feel). My brain told me not to be nervous, but the night before I suffered some serious insomnia. I got up at 2 a.m. and stared out to the city streets forlornly, feeling like I was auditioning for a Lifetime movie. I should expand my vocabulary here, but really “overwhelmed” is the best I can come up with. It was finally happening.

in Central Park, right before my big moment

My appointment was at 11 a.m. They called me back to the procedure area about 15 minutes prior, I got all capped and gowned, and then I had to wait in that waiting area. And wait. And wait. Thank goodness I had the foresight to keep my iPhone handy, because I ended up waiting for 45 friggin minutes. I did talk to a very nice woman who was there for her second transfer, her first being two years ago and successful the first time. AND she only transferred one. She also confided that Martha Stewart’s daughter goes to the same doctor as ours and that he specializes in tough cases. Overall, she calmed me down immensely.

The procedure itself was underwhelming. They did not let me watch the screen or record it. No one made a big deal about it. The whole thing felt just like a gynecological exam; uncomfortable but not painful. I watched the clock for lack of something better to look at and I can say with confidence that I “got pregnant” at 11:45 a.m. on Thursday, February 28th. Of course I was terrified to stand up afterwards, like they were going to fall out (which they assured me was not going to happen). Wanna hear something funny? The doctor kept saying “Just relax” the whole time I was laying there (possibly the only two words of English that he knows). Like, I literally had to just relax so I could get pregnant. Irony, right?

Cindy requested an “after” picture, so I got silly on the subway

Afterwards we headed down to Union Square because I had my heart set on checking out Forever 21’s maternity line, which is only offered at certain locations. Or was offered, I should say. Apparently the line was discontinued last summer and according to the flippant and annoyed sales girl, it “didn’t sell.” It’s probably for the best. In case anyone was keeping score, I have yet to buy one piece of maternity clothing. Maybe I should wait for the beta. Yeah.

My MIL had looked up a couple of places to visit, including an eatery called The Redhead that sells homemade bacon peanut brittle (yup, that exists). We walked to it from Union Square, which was no small feat. I tried desperately to slow down my normal speed walker pace. We walked and walked and walked… only to find the place closed until dinnertime. Ugh. We splurged and took a cab back and ate at Gazala’s Place, as seen on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. Again, inexpensive and delicious.

By nightfall we were exhausted and decided to forgo our plans of seeing a comedy show. We did make a stop at Magnolia Bakery before coming back to the room, so we spent the evening vegging out and working ourselves into a sugar coma. Pretty sure I fell asleep at 9 p.m.

So that’s it – I’m home and happy to be back. I’ve been trying to figure out if I feel different… so far, no. Just calmer. I have that sense of peace that comes from finishing a job interview or turning in a final exam. I have literally done everything that I can do. Now it’s out of my hands… and into my uterus. My first beta is on Thursday, which means I have to skip a ski trip to Massachusetts with my family next weekend since the second could potentially be on Saturday (God-willing).

And now… we wait.

the face of utter exhaustion.. heading home