As I wait for my ride...

Ridiculously quick update as I wait for my brother to come get me and dump me in the river (with my kayak, of course) cuz I got the doc's permission and it is glorious, last glimpse of summer kind of day:

• 10 wks and 6 days and all is well.
• Went to our first "real" ob appointment and was delighted that I forgot how much I loved my doctor. Before our foray into the world of REs, I had been seeing his wife (also an ace doc) simply because her schedule had coincided better with mine, but now I'm back with the man who always seems to be smiling and laughing. And I love that.
  
• Like Calliope, was completely underwhelmed (but still thankful, very thankful) with the grainy quality of the non-vah-jay-jay scan. Was enough to see two little hearts pump-pumping away. There were rumours of hand waving but d*mn if I could decipher it. I guess the HD version of the seedlings at the RE has us spoiled.
• Got all kinds of binders and booklets and pamphlets on pre-natal classes and free stuff (and hells yes, I signed up for it all. Bring on the free).

My thoughts on this: I know that many of us hold off on signing up for freebies, planning showers, thinking about the nursery even, because of previous disappointments and losses. Understanding that all, I have made the conscious decision to embrace my pregnancy and see it as completely normal and healthy until proven otherwise. My mantra: "If you can't imagine it, you can't create it." So I am busy imaging the little spitfire hellion revolutionaries that I cannot wait to bring into the world.

And I bought a hottie mommie t-shirt this week.

What!?!? It was on sale.

hubby is not so cavalier, but he is humoring me. I think once we finally hit 12 weeks and dispose of the needles and the gauze and the suppositories and pills it will feel a little safer to him to shout it to the world.

My entire office now knows and that's nice. Nice to not have to speak about things behind closed doors with one other co-worker. Nice to have a little (not a lot, mind you) of understanding if I work from home for an entire morning or need to sneak out of a meeting for food. (don't make me hungry. You won't. like. me. when I'm hungry.....)

That being said, work is still kicking my ass. One of my co-workers decided to "retire" just a few weeks before our largest event of the year (thanks, buddy). And even if I have found him to be for the most part not very helpful and perhaps wished for his departure more than once, I find the timing of this callous and selfish and it guarantees there will be even more work piled on those of us that remain and are already swamped. Sh*t.

But it means we are back to an all female office and right now, that feels right. I think in the midst of this economic craziness going on in the States and, in particular, our sector, our little non-profit office has embraced a kind of "what?? whaddya got? what makes you think we can't take it?" kind of attitude.

Oh wait, maybe that's just me.

Can It Be?

Holy writers' block.

How ironic. I once joked about the perceived notion that pregnant women's brains must turn to mush - and now it's happening to me.

It's not that I don't have anything to say. Believe me. The list of bloggable topics is piling as high as plates of leftovers in my fridge. But where to begin? How to start? After a bit of an absence, what would be the most appropriate post?

What if I've forgotten how to write? What if I am so caught up in the lingo of marketing a conference (which is what has had me going nuts all week at work) that I'm no longer funny, relevant, interesting even?

Adding to my hesitation is the fact that some of you have pumped out some simply stunning posts lately. I mean, gorgeous. Perfect combinations of words that have had me laughing and crying and going, "holy sh*t, that [your name here] is a great writer."

And now I see that I have several paragraphs down about how I haven't been able to push out a paragraph. Writing about not writing. A post about not being able to write a post. How Post Modern. How very meta...

Let me start by saying all is well.

We had our second ultrasound on Thursday and saw two pulsing kidney beans up in me. Measuring in at 8 weeks 4 days, at exactly eight weeks and four days. We could see the beginnings of placentas and little umbilical cords the size of dental floss.

It was stunning. And I don't think I've been the same since.

We had a teary goodbye at the clinic with our Nurse who has been with us since the day we started, through the canceled donor cycle, on to the new donor (who she helped pick out) past the first BFN, then the next BFN, on to the new doctor, the hysteroscopy and now here. Where we are now. Which is a pretty new place.

We have officially "graduated" from the university hospital where our donor egg adventure began (which is kind of funny, since I almost did go there for college.) All week I've been exclaiming, "I graduated from ____!" Really? I thought you went to ____? I did. I'm making a funny.

Hubby's level of excitement has reached an unprecedented level. Seeing the heartbeats has made it real. He's giddy, hopeful, still kind of shocked.

Me? I'm caught between these desires to clean (which room will be theirs?), to nest, to plan (how many sick days do I have left? what are our benefits?), to prepare (where do we start?) and the need to just sit down and stare into space, trying to take this all in. Add to that the occasional, "Hey, wait a minute. What the F*CK have I done?" moment. Which I have been told by my trusted co-worker and confidant L. is totally normal.

I feel as if I've been plaguing L. with my need to be reassured that things are "totally normal." We've discovered the wonderfulness of skype and now her days are filled with these lovely lines from me:

"Hey L, I feel like I'm gonna puke but I never puke."

-totally normal.

"L. is it normal to be hungry and nauseous at the same time?"

-yep.

"L., my pee smells."

-dude. TMI, but don't sweat it. Totally normal.

It's funny. L and I have about the same level of patience - which is none. And that is why I love her. but she has been unwaveringly patient with me. I feel doubly blessed with a BFF who has just had a beautiful baby boy and does not mind talking me through the ups and downs of their first weeks together. Add to that a SIL who has helped her little one transition from a preemie who cried and cried and cried to a funny and fun-loving, curious and thoughtful one year old. And I don't think I could ask for a stronger circle of support or set of women to help me through this strange new world.

And I know that circle will grow as we continue to share the news. Which we will. In waves. As it feels appropriate and my belly starts to show.

Nine weeks, as of tomorrow.

Hottie Mommies and Such

This holiday weekend will officially be remembered as the weekend of deep and indulgent sleep.

After a pretty intense work week bookended by trips to the clinic for stripe checks (7.2 on Monday; 7.8 on Friday. Not bad, but not great. We can talk about that later), each and every morning was spent under the covers, dozing until well past 9 am. Because I could.

Most mornings, I would wake and contemplate all the things I could be doing with the early part of my day before coming to the conclusion that lounging in bed was exactly what I wanted to be doing. S0 that's what I did.

When I wasn't sleeping, I was repotting, cleaning, browsing the ArtsFest that graces our riverfront every Memorial Day weekend and generally enjoying a computer-free long weekend. Remember what that feels like? I didn't.

While at the ArtsFest, we made sure to check out one of our favorite local bands - a band which I've already decided should sing the soundtrack of that movie that should be made based on our lives. (I'm not the only person that does this, right? we all have soundtracks in mind, right?) So, I was already feeling a little melancholy halfway through their set - it's not like their songs address infertility at all. But they do, like most good country-rock balladiers, sing a lot about love, longing, wanting, journeys to better places, and the process (and the sometimes pain) of the trip.

I might have been projecting.

The group also has what seems to be a disproportionate amount of hottie mommies amongst their fans. And they were all out. With their adorable young 'uns. Dancing. Frolicking. Loving the music and the day. One of our single friends (a hottie himself) was near the stage and he kept getting bombarded with kids running off the dance floor and into his arms where he would toss them around and nudge them back out onto the concrete to dance some more. Of course, once one kiddie saw the treatment, they all wanted some roughhousing and love. So he had his hands full for at least 3 songs.

This guy, hot as h*ll already, was even hotter in the context of his affection to the kids, who may have been offspring of other friends, a sister, a relative. Who knows. All I know is, I was thinking, d*mn, I don't think I remember ____ being that hot.

And then I started thinking about my own hottie sitting right next to me and wondering what it would be like to see hubby in that same context, only with kids that were ours.

And I was suddenly regretting forgetting my sunglasses at home. Because I really needed them.

I don't usually get caught up in the longing so this caught me a little off guard. I wondered if hubby was feeling the same. But I didn't ask. Because I didn't want to know. Because I think I do.

And d*mmit. I want to be a hottie mommy, too.