Exercise is for Losers

'That's it, just 1000 more to go!'

I’m tired of being tired. This insomnia thing is killing me. What the crap is the deal? This is one of the many things that just doesn’t make sense to be as a Potentially Pregnant Person. At the time when I most need sleep, I can’t have it? What the heck is going on inside my body or brain that is making me toss and turn and lie awake for hours? Other than, of course, the soul-gnawing worry that is my new constant companion.

Yesterday evening was my first AquaMoms class. I met;

Emily – Best chance for friendship. Nice smile, pretty hair, good bathing suit, possibly slightly competitive which I like.
Kathy – Sporty, skinny. Don’t like her for no good reason at all. Maybe the skinniness.
Christy – Snooty, fancy hair and bathing suit, possibly just very tired because of excessive pregnancy but seems unfriendly.
Dionne – Spacey, a little distant.
Someone whose name I didn’t catch – Nice, polite, very quiet.

I thought there would be more people. It’s kind of nice that it’s a smaller group, although there’s no way for me to hide or cheat. And the stuff we did was TOUGH!! Who was the cruel bitch who invented Pool Noodle Pushups? That is NOT fun use of a pool noodle. The fat on the outsides of my thighs was actually hurting. And I was dumb and wore my paddle boots, which hurt my feet. So I was sucking wind, with cramped feet, had to pee, my jiggling fat hurt, and I was already hot within like 15 minutes. I was like, ‘I am going to miscarry this poor little joggled baby because I am so embarrassingly out of shape, and this little tiny bit of exercise is going to be too much for it and it is going to spontaneously abort right here in the pool’. So on one hand, it was a surprisingly good workout. On the other, I still didn’t sleep and now I’m scared to go next week. I have got to hurry and see if there are any water shoes left anywhere. Plus, I am a winner in the four major categories;

Oldest

Fatest

Least pregnant

Most husband-free

The instructor was big on sharing little personal stories, so we'll see what happens when the non-married thing comes up. I'm not afraid to slap someone with a noodle if they get up in my bidness.

Cheeseburger in Paradise

Before everyone starts thinking I’m a saint for all my healthy eating efforts, I have to admit I have cracked. I can no longer cook dinner. I made a lovely German Oktoberfest-ish meal last night (grilled bratwurst, red cabbage ‘n apples, German potato salad) and ate approximately one piece of apple and one piece of potato. I lay on the couch playing the ‘What Sounds Good?’ game (where I run through every single imaginable edible item on the planet and gauge my gag reflex), and all I could come up with was a McDonald’s cheeseburger. So Quiet, patient and supportive as always, loaded me into the car and chauffeured me through the drive through. I didn’t even want the fries. Just the cheeseburger. I mean, two cheeseburgers. And an orange drink. And a caramel sundae. With nuts. So maybe I do want some protein after all.

Today I thought I was being smart and boiled some fresh ginger with a little honey, since the nausea started early (normally it doesn’t hit until after lunch, so I have time to get at least one healthy meal down). It didn’t work. I apparently wanted nothing but Taco Bell, for which I blame their latest commercial. I resignedly drove to the closest Taco Bell, only to find that it had burnt down or been blown up or something, as there were few walls, no roof, and positively no drive through. I decided that chicken was a decent compromise but forgot to ask my stomach. When I got home with Chick-Fil-A, I was a very unhappy girl. The lemonade was awesome (mmm, I wish I had more lemonade), but everything else was too greasy or too icky or too creamy or just gross to me. So now I’m sipping water and wondering what I am going to do in a few hours when I need to eat something before my AQUAMOMS CLASS!!!!! I am so excited. I can’t wait. Maybe I’ll try the egg-on-toast I’ve been craving, and just force it down. Omg, I hope I don’t barf in the pool, that would be a lousy first impression for all the moms-to-be I want to befriend. “Hi, my name is… hurghalahhrrffblrtgark!”.

I really, really need a hobby. I am making myself insane thinking about the Potential Person, plus I just plain need to get out of the house. I can’t do the Dive Club or the Cooking Club anymore. Maybe I’ll look at stupid Meetup this afternoon. It’s not like I can focus on doing work or anything. Thank god I’m still in that honeymoon new job phase, where I can delude my boss into believing I’m totally overwhelmed still with duties from my previous position.



Heading into 7 weeks. That means 8 weeks until I tell everyone. Because then that's just past the 'real' 12 weeks (this thing where docs measure from your LMP (last bloody event) is just ridiculous, I know exactly the moment I conceived so why can't I count from there?). Plus I love the idea of telling my mom in person, Thanksgiving weekend. Man, I still hope my parents are planning to be in Ohio.

I Just Might Mind About the Little Things

I love my dentist's office. I really do. It's all women, all the time. The receptionists are women, the hygienists are women, and the two dentists are women. Occasionally a stray male wanders in, but usually only the very young or very gay last long. The floors are hardwood, and the chairs in the waiting room are low and comfy and surround a fire place. There is a quiet and cheerful children's play area, and lots of plants. There is no towering meaty-handed ogre or smelly fish tank like when I was a kid.

I have, however, spent a LOT of time there recently. Since I started Project Invisalign, I have to go at least once a month, to pick up my next trays and check on progress. Since I was just there two weeks ago I freaked out when my Outlook reminder poppped up today, but I realized it was that happy time of year again when I was due for my stabbing, I mean cleaning. The whole reason I'm doing the Invisalign is because my bottom teeth are so crowded and angry and plaque-hungry, so it's always a bloody and traumatic event.

Today, however, my dentist (who is smoking hot) and I got into this weird conversation that she started about how my boss was going to think I was having an affair with her. It went from there, to how extra scandalous it would be because I would therefore also be found out as a lesbian. Let's face it, if I were gay she'd be way out of my league. But do I really give off that vibe? Do I need to start wearing makeup to the dentist's office? I can't wait til I go in when I'm like 11 months pregnant. Talk about scandalous.

I realized how sensitive I had become about my fertility when on the phone with my sister yesterday. Every innocent question rubs me the wrong way. No, I don't have some magic 'the oven is ready, get the bun in there!' timer. All I can do is play it by ear and 'listen to my body' like some damn new age hippie. A friend of mine asked last week if it was still ok to ask me how things were going; apparently, he had been slapped down one too many times by his other friends who were also trying. I told him I would rather know that people were thinking of me than have them afraid to talk to me about stuff, but I think I need to get better at saying, 'let's talk about something else, shall we?' at times. I'm actually worse when people ask about the house. It's off the market at the end of the month, don't ask me about it until next June, please don't make me think about it because I have to live it and it's exactly as crappy as you think it is. In a way it's oddly reassuing that my odds of having a baby are better than selling though. There's that silver lining again!

My dentist is not gay. I think she's divorced. It was all just in fun. But she really is totally hot, and single. She has a great body and likes to ski, has shoulder-length blonde hair, and obviously a really good job. Let me know if you know of any decent early-40's single guys who might be interested. But find a guy for me first, if you know what's good for you.

Things I Randomly Worried About Today

1. Where Quiet is going to sleep when my parents are here (he’s currently in their bed because Loud took the good bed when they broke up, and the only other bed he had was a crappy single)

2. Where I am going to sleep when I’m at my parents’ at Christmas (if I’m in the basement I get the upstairs-stomping-mice noise and I’ll have to hike deathly dangerous steps to use the bathroom a million times a night)


3. Where my coach and hopefully live-in-at-least-for-the-first-few-days caregiver-support-system cousin is going to sleep when I have Alastair (I think Loud and I fought this out adequately today, and it should only involve moving the heaviest and most awkward pieces of furniture in the house)


4. When I will next get a good night’s sleep


5. What will I do if I wait until I’m 12 weeks to tell everyone I’m pregnant, and I miscarry at 13 weeks?

As you can see, I’m mostly worried about sleep (who’s getting it, why aren’t I – very similar to my worries about sex). Every baby book says the same thing – that instead of typing right now I should be sleeping. I really dread this whole tired-all-the-time thing. I don’t function so well as no sleep when tired me.

Steak Out

As a proud carnivore, I have in my time voraciously devoured many a slab of barely-cooked dripping-red roast, ribeye, and ribs. It is therefore with utter shock (and a bit of confusion) that I lay down my bloody gauntlet and claim defeat. The growth inside me has spoken, and it has said, ‘Red meat is for losers!’.

I’m surprised by this, because so far it has made some pretty good calls (I gag when I see/smell/discuss soft cheeses or hot dogs), and you would think that a nice beefy iron-laden burger would be just the thing. But no. I go to the fridge with semi-good intentions, and return with yogurt. I am worried that I have a hippie inside me. Chicken seems to still be tolerable, as long as I don’t have to cook it or smell it while it’s cooking. Pork is out. I think bacon might even be out, horror of all horrors. Fish is DEFINITELY out, although I’ve managed to still choke down canned tuna because I bury it in relish and mayo. Lamb, I just learned, is out, since my eyes welled up when Loud said the word to me. So what does that leave? Lentils are still good. I like beans, and split peas; thank god we’re coming into the soup season, because I’ll be able to do a lot with legumes. I still love dairy, and fruit and veggies have proven themselves to be on the high-crave list. Soy is so-so, but I don’t think it’s good for the preggers ladies anyhow. Eggs are also touch and go, depending on my mood and how they’re prepared (for example, I have had a recurring fantasy about a soft-boiled egg on toast, but when it comes to actually delivering I change my mind every time).



Mom, dad... it looks like I'm having a vegan! I just hope it doesn’t smell like patchouli.

Screw Confinement

I am so excited! I just signed up for fat mommy-to-be swim class! (they don’t call it that, though)

Ask me again when it’s the end of the day on Thursday and I’m dead-tired exhausted and nauseous, but right now I cannot WAIT until my first ‘Prenatal AquaMoms’. I found a class not too far from the house. I hope there aren’t pool noodles, since pool noodles get me kicked out of water classes*. The instructor was a little freaked out that I hadn’t been to see my OB yet, since they normally require a signed consent form. How am I suppose to explain that I like to self-diagnose, and that I refused to pay a $20 copay for my current doctor to basically do the exact same test I had done, three times, at home?

So the exercise plan so far is treadmill every other day, water aerobics once a week, and then I’ll pick up prenatal yoga in like the fifth or sixth month. I think that is reasonable – nothing too radical or shocking to my poor sedentary body.

Um, I hope I continue to fit in my most recent well-worn barely-decent bathing suit through December. That is NOT something I want to have to go try and buy during the off-season. My goal was to be pregnant in the winter specifically because I would be able to cover every inch of me. Plus I just think I would look really cute in a black turtleneck and denimn skirt with a big belly poking out. Omg, and I just realized I would meet other area preggers ladies. Maybe I'll make a new friend. Egh, I hate small talk. I hope they aren't all super lame and skinny and extremely well coordinated and in bathing suits that fit.


*I like the sound it makes when you slap a pool noodle on the pool surface. Really, I’m still that immature. I can’t stop doing it, even when asked.

I Am Slowly Going Crazy

Today my first thought upon waking was, ‘I refuse to make myself crazy thinking about this pregnancy today’. In reality it was more like, ‘Omg, I’m awake, what can I worry about?’, but that was closely followed by general feelings of irritation at how insane I’ve become with reading every single thing I can get my hands on.

I think it’s just such an all-encompassing thing, and you have no control over it, and you don’t know anything about it, and it’s not the same for any one person so the stories and advice can’t always help or don’t always apply, and we’re really just desperate to find that one little paragraph that simply says, ‘Everything is going to be fine. You will be healthy, the baby will be normal, labor will be complication-free, and you’ll make a terrific mother’. However, this book is not out there. I’ve looked.

The last few days I’ve been freaking out about the tests I’m going to take. Some of them are pretty standard and non-invasive, but others will potentially cause your unborn baby to die, which is totally uncool. How am I suppose to make that call? It’s just the first of many painful decisions that only I can make, and I don’t like the precedent it sets for parenthood. I would prefer to only have easy decisions with simple, no-death options. I am pretty sure I’ve settled on the triple-screen test and definitely the first trimester screen (which I think now includes the nuchal test if UNC does it), and then depending on those results do an amnio. Something about the CVS makes me nervous. Oh right, the big needles and the 1 in 100 chance of miscarriage, that's it.

The question, of course, is will you do anything differently if the test results aren’t great? For me, I think I would. I think as tough as single motherhood will be, raising a special-needs child would multiply that by a zillion. I struggle with the guilt, but it’s not like I’m shooting for a ‘perfect’ child for vanity’s sake or anything lame like that. I just don’t think I could devote the time, energy or finances that would be necessary when doing it on my own. Of course, ask me again once I’ve heard a heart beat or seen an ultrasound image, I might feel that I could accept and deal with any disabilities. Early testing can also help plan for early intervention and potential in-utero treatment. This is somewhere around #3 or 4 of my list of Things To Worry About That I Absolutely Cannot Control.

#2 on my list of Things To Worry About That I Totally Can control is my weight (following #1, my eating habits). To that effect I grudgingly and sluggishly donned workout apparel when I got dressed this morning, so that I can go back to my noon treadmill routine. There are just too many things that can affect me and Alastair (gestational diabetes, labor issues, big fat baby) by being so out-of-shape. I’ve made a commitment to eat better, why wouldn’t I go the next step? Oh, right, because I’m lazy. This whole thing blows. It finally dawned on me at some point this weekend that not only would I not be able to drink at the big Halloween party I’m going to, I won’t be able to drink at Thanksgiving (no fresh cranberry margaritas at my aunt’s!), and most critically, I WON’T BE ABLE TO DRINK AT CHRISTMAS. I will be spending a week with my family, sober. Every time I think about that trip I subtract a day’s visit in my head; I think I’m down to Christmas Eve and Christmas day now, and that’s a long way to drive for such a short time.

So here I am, heading into week 7, filled with unusual cravings (I had boiled beets for lunch yesterday) and filled with loathing for just about any smell (couldn’t touch the lasagna I made). I started a draft of my birth plan, and have still managed not to tell anyone although it’s TORTUOUS. I’m tired pretty much all the time, since I toss and turn all night and get nap-cravings in the afternoons. I feel like my jeans are getting tighter, but that’s probably in my head since it’s too early for that crap (and I’m eating less, what with the all-day morning sickness). I still don’t drink enough water, but I swear I’m trying. I have to work harder to focus on what I’m doing (like I have to stop typing every five seconds and re-read what I’ve written because I keep losing my train of thought, and this is the simple stuff – what the heck is going to happen with work?!). And I will NOT make myself crazy this week. I have to take the week off. A pregnancy worry holiday. Good luck with that.

This Is Halloween

This is my Halloween costume. Well, the idea behind it, anyhow. It might not look very scary, but if you had seen the Dr. Who episode 'Blink'*, you would be peeing your pants right now. What you can't see in the photo is that the angel has fangs (already ordered), and, uh, well, there really isn't anything else scary about the outfit, but I'm hoping the crowd at the nerd party I'm going to will get it. And if not, who cares? I get to paint my entire body in grey body paint. And I've ordered the best wings (I went with latex rather than feathers, since I'm suppose to be a statue and I could get 'demon wings' in stone color; costume realism won over angel realism). I'm very excited. I'm going to go find the right fabric tomorrow, and I've already drawn out the pattern I want to use (a cross between a Greek paplos and a Roman stola). In my head it's very cool. We'll see what actually happens. I also tortured myself by looking at baby costumes - there's a little monkey that is SO CUTE I almost bought the pattern, but don't worry, still not that crazy. I keep thinking, 'What if I'm a mom next Halloween?' I won't have time (or energy, or money) for self-indulgent stuff like this. I think that's why I almost had a breakdown trying to find something cool this year. That, and I don't usually have an event to go to, and this year I'm driving to Virginia. I need a great outfit to snag a baby daddy.

*If you care, the terrifying 'crying angels' in the episode are really creatures who feed off potential energy (hard to explain) BUT they can only move when no one is looking at them. However, when unseen, they can move extremely fast (in the blink of an eye they will get you). I wasn't this scared watching 'Saw'.

Still Possibly Pregnant

The test was so instantaneously remarkably positive that it was a little bit embarassing. The colors barely had time to start to show before there was an enormous, blinking neon plus sign. It was at this moment that I realized, pregnancy tests are yet another thing designed purely for right-handed people. I was totally pissed by this, and then I realized that there were other more important things going on since I was obviously still Possibly Pregnant, according to the friendly test.

I must now go read online compulsively about taking a pregnancy test when you're like more than just a few days late, and whether the results do appear faster/darker/sexier.

Ok, I just got the answer I was looking for;

"hCG may be present in blood up to four weeks after an abortion or miscarriage"

Since it has been almost six weeks it looks like I'm off the hook there. I was really totally convinced that this was the case since I had none of the symptoms I had last time.

Oh-oh, but also,

"hCG may be released by trophoblastic tumors (molar pregnancies)--uncommon, benign tumors that usually develop in the placenta but may also occur when a piece of the placenta is left behind in the uterus after delivery, miscarriage, or abortion."

Um, ewwwwwwww. Since this is 'uncommon', I am voting 'no' on this.

The page I'm reading now says that most 'morning sickness' symptoms don't start until the fifth or sixth week, so maybe I'm just rushing things.

Baby Goes to Boston

Well, this week was Alistair's second plane ride. What a well-traveled little zygote/fetus/embryo/whatever the heck it is! I still have absolutely zero symptoms and am nervous as hell about it. I'm chugging my favorite 'I can't drink and I'm extremely bitter about it' cocktail, ginger ale and cranberry juice, so that I can do another pregnancy test.


Work functions are a lot less fun when you are Possibly Pregnant. I went to not one but two dinner parties in scenic MA; one at a coworker's home, where she made homemade mojitos and served a heady red wine (brought by a French friend) with steak at dinner; the other, a team building meal at an Irish pub, where everyone drank Guinness and Black & Tan and I silently wept. Luckily, Quiet came up with the BEST excuse ever; I kept telling people my doctor has me on a new migraine trial, so I have to temporarily avoid any caffeine and alcohol. What a great excuse for avoiding both those things! I don't think my boss bought it at ALL (or maybe she was just thinking, 'Oh great, I've got a new burden of an employee who gets stupid migraines'). So basically I just felt sorry for myself the whole week as I played the PP martyr and didn't even have a SINGLE PEPSI. It was torture during the meetings. Everyone else was running around cracked out on Diet Cokes and mini-chocolate bars, and I slumped heavy-lidded with my lame Invisalign braces sipping Sprite Zero. SO LAME.

This child better be extremely smart and well-formed. I am starting to get a sense of why moms are so crazed about kids taking care of themselves. If you're just going to become a teenager and eat junk food and smoke pot, well then, I might as well have a freakin' mojito or two.

Fear Factor

I know I’ve written about this before and will write about it again, but it’s just so constant, and so shocking in its prevalence, that I can’t let it go.

Fear.

I have never had such a plethora of worries all centered around one very basic, biological effort. I am afraid I will get pregnant, I’m afraid I won’t get pregnant, if I do get pregnant I am constantly afraid of spotting and then of another miscarriage, I’m afraid of making it to 12 weeks and something happening, I’m afraid of making it to 9 months and something happening, I’m afraid of not being able to breastfeed, I’m afraid of any type of childcare (ranging from abuse to bad snacks to Alistair likes the caregiver more than me). The list goes on and on, never ending, only changing as the imaginary baby in my head grows and changes and my projected worries grow and change along with it. I also read ‘A Thinking Woman’s Guide to a Better Birth’, which was a HUGE mistake – it was basically a collection of horror stories designed to scare the average mother away from drugs or medical intervention of any kind, written by a hippie new-age free-love midwife. It did say some things I agree with about induction and episiotomies, but still, I want the freaking drugs.

Biggest Fears Right Now:

1. The house will never sell.
2. Statistically, the chance of another miscarriage (should I find myself in a family way again) is now higher since I’ve had one already.
3. The house will never sell.

Girl - 3; Boy - 0

I can't remember if I mentioned that Quiet has had some pretty peculiar dreams lately about children. I think my favorite was one that was subconciously guilt-laden about the whole 'Daddy' thing, where he encountered these little kids playing in his car (that's the realistic part of the dream where children are destructive, irritating, and violate your personal space and possessions) and he yelled at them, and they asked if he would adopt them or something like that. He, of course, sensibly said 'No', and then later something something blah blah (it was his dream, sheesh), he felt he had to protect and care for the kids. Interesting, huh? Better than him dreaming he runs over them with his car.

He also has had a dream or two where my baby is there in some incarnation and it's definitely a girl. This is funny to us because, unlike a lot of single moms who worry about having boys, I am terrified of having a girl. Girls are CRAZY. And mean. And emotional. And I was all those things, plus more, growing up. I have no problems cleaning an uncircumsized penis, or roughhousing, or with any of the 'boy' stuff; however, I shudder at the thought of peer pressure, the birth control talk, cheerleading, and girl/daddy issues. I do love the idea of nicknaming my potential daughter 'Junior', though, I think that's freaking adorable. And the hand-me-downs from my niece, that would be cost-saving. It's strange because originally I always imagined a girl but somewhere along the line talked myself into a boy (no clue how/why). But still, a GIRL?! We already have a baby girl in the family, let's please have a boy next.

So Quiet's prediction is #1 for 'Girl'. Then this afternoon I did this lame Gender Predictor thingie at the BabyZone(link) website, and it said 'Girl'. So that's #2. Personally, that would be just my luck (and proof that there is a God - an angry, venegeful God), so my vote for Girl is #3. We'll see what other predictions turn up, especially when I start to tell people.

Yep, This Is It

I figured I should think positively and go ahead and find an OB/GYN (since I should have one anyhow), so called the UNC Women’s Health Center. That call was a perfect example of why I don’t like doctors; it’s not the doctors themselves necessarily, it’s all the bureaucratic crap we’ve had to create in order to just go see one. I called the main number and was told, as a new patient, I had to be assigned a Medical Records Number. So I called another number and did that. Then I had to call a separate number for scheduling. I was told I couldn’t just see a doctor, I had to have an initial 2-hour visit with a nurse. Meh. The best was when she was like, ‘Reason for visit?’ and I was like, ‘New patient appointment. And, uh, mumble mumble pregnancy blood test’. She caught on immediately. ‘Are you pregnant?’ she demanded. ‘Uh, uh-huh’, I muttered like a 15-year old. It was very embarrassing for both of us. Plus I was trying to keep it down because Loud was stalking around the house screaming into his phone as usual, and I was worried he would be able to hear. And I don’t want anyone else to know yet. I still don’t regret telling people last time, but I definitely learned my lesson.

Anyhow, that little chore being checked off my list went a long way towards admitting I might actually have a baby this time. Although it was still surprisingly hard just to type those words, so I’ve still got a ways to go. So October 15th is the first Official Baby Appointment. And right now I’ve got to head to the airport, of course, because apparently the way I like to celebrate a positive pregnancy test is to immediately fly somewhere. Alistair’s first visit to Salt Lake City, Utah, coming right up!

Fat Content of Guilt

The first thing I did when I got back from my business trip was check the test again. Yep, still positive (like it was going to change while I was gone?). Then I spent a few hours convincing myself that it meant nothing because the test still showed as pregnant after I'd had the miscarriage, so tests lie. Then I did some work, and went to the dentist, and tried to ignore stupid Loud and his idiot friend rehearse for Rocky yet again. Loudly.

I have good days, and I have bad. On the way to Salt Lake I had a layover in Chicago and couldn't resist an authentic Windy City hot dog - bad. But delicious! Every morning at the hotel I had the lame 'Good Start' breakfast (Cheerios, skim milk, fresh fruit, whole wheat toast) - good. Every morning I had a Pepsi with breakfast - bad (but, in my defense, Pepsi has like 1/4 the caffeine of a cup of coffee, and it's not like I'm going to kill the baby if I have a teensy bit of caffeine once in a while because otherwise I'll fall over sound asleep in the middle of a client meeting). Today for lunch I had tuna on low-fat Triscuits - good (the lemon-pepper tuna is freaking AWESOME although it's still stinky and I worried about eating tuna); tonight for dinner I want wings and cheese frieds - bad.

I know that I've read stuff about pregnant women 'breaking the rules occasionally', but I would really like to know what the reality is - is it a once-in-a-while splurge thing that happens, or is it a daily oh-my-god-I-don't-care-anymore type of thing? I really can't see going nine months totally monitoring every single thing that goes into my mouth (it's hard enough avoiding alcohol and crystal meth and Pepto Bismol, which are all apparently Baby Forming Evils or BFE). I shouldn't have soft cheeses, or aged cheeses, which means I'm limited to like Kraft Slices. I'm also starting to get really super crazy concerned about my weight. I did a good job of saving money and paying off my debt to get prepared, something I started 5 years ago (I even bought a car seat friendly car purposefully). But I didn't ever manage to stick to shedding the pounds, and now I'm paranoid about falling or overheating while on the treadmill, and the flip side is I'm also worried about gestational diabetes and PCOS (which is TOTALLY irrational, since I'm already pregnant).

It's hard to do what's best for baby when you spend most of your waking hours trying to convince yourself that you're not really pregnant, because you can't tell people yet and you don't want to go through another heartbreak if something happens. I stared in horror at my coworker's story of a 14th-week miscarriage, because 14 is two more weeks than 12, which is when I was planning on telling everyone (roughly Thanksgiving weekend). I don't think there is every any 'right' time, which is just stupid and inefficient, much like the rest of this process.

p.s. Some celebrity (someone old and rockin', like Sting or Rod Stewart) has a baby named Alastair. I was never crazy about that spelling, but I definitely think it would help with pronunciation (Al-ah-stir or Ah-lah-stare instead of Al-iss-stir; there's a difference, I swear). But don't be fooled, it's still not my real baby name, I'll never give it away.

The Joy Sorrow Un-Luck-y Club

I was on client site this week in Salt Lake City (so damn beautiful!) with a coworker of mine, doing some shadowing for the new job. We were talking about going back in December so that we could ski (we’re very devoted to our jobs), and she mentioned that it would be nice because the last time she was there in winter she was pregnant and couldn’t. Then we were talking about things you can’t do when you’re pregnant (I was trying not to seem overly interested in the conversation, because god knows no one at work can know I’m trying), and she mentioned that she blamed her 14th-week miscarriage on a riding lawnmower incident. I was shocked because I’d forgotten that she’d has a miscarriage between her two kids, and then instantly, horribly depressed as it hit me how truly awful that must have been for her. New perspective hurts sometimes.

I realized I was yet another silent uncounted member of a not-so-exclusive Women Only club, one where potential mothers of all ages and races and backgrounds are bonded together in the united grief and guilt of an inexplicable loss that can not ever be fully understood by non-members. As my coworker went on, casually keeping the conversation light with the usual clichés that you hear and repeat (‘It was for the best anyhow, there were probably chromosomal abnormalities, and the kids really would’ve been too close together’), all I wanted to do was put my hand on her arm and very quietly say, ‘I am so deeply sorry for your loss. I understand’. Of course, I would never do that because a.) A miscarriage is a very private and personal thing, and I know I could never understand, and b.) Duh, I can’t let anyone, ANYONE at work know that I am trying to have a baby! Stop calling my boss!

Anyhow, I just thought that was sad. She did end up having another baby (a very precocious daughter), which is nice. Hopefully I will also someday be a member of that other club, The Zealous New Mommies, which has much happier talkative members although you pay slightly more in dues.

p.s. Did I mention Salt Lake City is very, very pretty? I’m still surprised there were mountains. I didn’t look at a map before I went. I’m very geography-dumb.

p.p.s. I forgot that part of my job is to talk to nurses. Nurses work in hospitals. Hospitals have sick babies. I don't want to be in a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) again for a long time. University of Utah however has a very cool preemie program where they send a card to the parents 'from the baby' with the little tiny foot prints and a little poem about coming home soon that made me cry in the bathroom.

Vegas Odds

See, I told you I had weird luck. Just that one little off-hand try, a teensy little vial of magic, and unbeatable timing. I swear, if anyone is every looking for conception advice – test strips, test strips, test strips!

I had told myself I wasn’t allowed to do any more pregnancy tests until I was at least one week late. I waited two whole days, which I think for me is some kind of record. Plus I’m not racing to the doctor for confirmation – I know they’re just going to do almost exactly the same test, and why pay a $20 copay for that? I’ll wait another month, see how things are going, and go in for the blood test. It’s the blood test that’s the real deal, since it gives you an exact reading of some sort of important number, which in my case last time was really low and was an indicator of the problem ahead (or, possibly, the problem that had already occurred).

So how do I feel? It’s weird because this time I have ZERO symptoms. No tenderness, I didn’t feel the implantation, I’m not crazy (meaning, crazier than usual) or having weird cravings or oppositions to certain smells or any of that stuff. I of course have some guilt about a couple drinks I had, but that is to be expected.

Mostly I’m just still waiting. I’m a little bit excited because, hey, it worked! I finally caught on, and did it TWICE IN A ROW!! I’m worried, because, hmm, I hope everything was all fixed up and ready to go so soon again. I’m freaking out a bit because the same old work and house worries are back. But mostly I’m just thinking about when I’m going to let myself believe it’s for real this time. What’s the magic date where I’ll wake up and think, ‘Yep, this is it!’?

Service Warranties Invalidated Here

Since Quiet says that Fridays are for posting, I figured I'd share with everyone my exciting adventure in taking apart my laptop(s). See, since I'm starting a new job but at the same company, I was sent a secondhand laptop that was the exact same make and model as my current friend, except that the previous owner wasn't as meticulous as I was (ok, we can say 'compulsive'). My (old) laptop was in better shape on the outside, and inside they run about the same. I would've liked to just send the new/used one back in place of my current/old one, but there are little things like tags and stickers and mysterious identification codes that would give me away.

So I took them both apart and swapped out all the stuff that was nicer and cleaner. Monitor, keyboard, and casing were stripped from the 'new' machine and put onto my 'old' machine to be sent back. I then put the stuff from my current-soon-to-be-old onto the 'new', and voila! My 'new' system looks just like my 'old' system; uh, new.

I had two screws left over, but I wasn't too worried. And I didn't electrocute myself! (even though I realized I had one machine still plugged in and, um, running, when I was removing the monitor).