Miscarriage-Free in the Windy City

It's been five months since my last Chicago trip. When I last arrived in Chicago I was 6 weeks pregnant, still getting use to the idea, still doubtful and hopeful and terrified and confused. And then the spotting began. It was really hard to be back and not remember what I was going through on that last trip, and to realize that yes, I still occasionally check the toilet paper for blood when I pee, although not every single time any more. Every twinge reminds me that this whole thing is still not guaranteed. Every pair of frilly socks I buy, every piece of furniture that arrives, I think, What if I never get to use this? My worries aren't so much about carrying a to-term baby now, but how I would deal with losing her during labor or after. Now that the furniture has all arrived (just waiting on the rocker/glider) and will hopefully be all assembled and sworn at and staged just-so this weekend, I think more and more about how each step brings her closer, makes her more real, makes me want to have and to hold even more, and that wanting scares me a bit.

The trip was fine, uneventful, just the way I like my business travel. I checked my little carry-on for the first time so I wouldn't have to heft it into the overhead. Everything was just a teensy bit tougher (the flight, being tired, lugging the laptop, peeing every five seconds), but I feel pretty good in general.

The coworker I hitched a ride with from the airport (man, am I ever a baby about not renting a car) is 40 years old and has just started IUI fertility treatments. Her hubby is 49 - they got married 3 years ago and have been trying to get pregnant since. They're going to try donor eggs after 6 months or so if they aren't successful. She is in that phase where she's hopeful still, and trying not to get excited, and I realized with a start that I had become one of those smug pregnant women. I was very friendly and as un-smug as I could be, but I could tell that a part of her was eyeballing me, a single crazy person who was still on a nursery-painting high. I looked at her and thought, 'That's why I did this now'.

Speaking of which, the nursery painting went really well. Lots of help from Cousin J, and lots of huffing and puffing from fatty me as I realized, Yes, this is why I'm not supposed to be up on a ladder when great with child. After much agonizing in Lowe's I put down the 'Cotton Candy' and went with 'Pink Stork' (really, how could I not?), which I am thrilled with - a nice soft color that should look good with both the furniture and the bedding. I cannot wait to put together everything this weekend. All the big pieces have arrived, which is awesome timing (even the little side table made it here about an hour ago).

Health Check: Swollen feet. SO swollen. Need new work shoes definitely. And two people in my workshop tried to touch the belly. They told me I was going to be a terrible mother when I violently lashed out at them. I'm hot all the time, and the constipation is killing me. I've never had this problem, and I'm eating Raisin Bran Crunch like crazy but it might as well be Bind Things Up More Painfully. The saving grace was a flat-screen TV built into the bathroom mirror in my hotel bathroom. What a freaking brilliant invention. My father would never leave the crapper if he had something like that.