The First Big Purchase

Today, I took the day off work for no other reason than I was craving a trip to Trader Joes and Ikea - both are quite a distance from our home, but were frequent stops after good visits with our RE clinic. You know, back in the day.

Hubby and I were reminiscing about our dwindling supply of TJs booty the other day and he suggested, well heck, let's just go. Today's his day off work. My schedule was clear. Got the green light for a "personal day" from the boss. And off we went.

Ikea was, I admit, underwhelming. I think I had in my mind that it was filled with things we wanted and we would come home ready to assemble the nursery with all that we had found.

No dice.

So, I suggested the unthinkable: "You know, ______ Mall is right here. Why don't we saunter around and take a look?"

And the unimaginable happened. Hubby said, "Good idea. Sure. Why not."

He must have seen my mouth drop and before I had a chance to say anything he warned me: "I've said yes. Do you really want me to doubt this decision?"

Um. No. So off we went.

And in the Pottery Barn Kids store, I finally found an item that spoke to me. That said, "Yes! Me! I need to be in the nursery!" And so, when we got home I promptly went online and got it.

Got two. One in pink. One in yellow (minus the calligraphy). Oh yes I did.

Now, this will make me rethink the painting of the room, but that's not a big deal. I actually purchased 3 cans of eco-friendly paint because I had an idea of where I wanted to go with the room, but no real plan. This (this, this, and this) gives me a plan.

And that plan, it seems, involves a lot of doodles and farm animals. Don't ask me how that came to be. I've been wanting this Blik graphic for a while but hadn't figured out where to stick it. Once we felt comfortable enough to actually begin thinking about where to stick the seedlings, their room felt like the obvious choice.

So here we are. No cribs yet, but darn it, I've got the bedding.

Me and My Areolas

[NOTE: This post could turn out to be a bit more graphic than most here. If that's not your thing, might I recommend closing your browser and stopping by later this week?]

I know that some women love being pregnant. I know that others are absolutely horrified by what becomes of their bodies as other bodies grow inside of them. Can I just say that I am absolutely fascinated by all of it?

Not that I look at my dark, DARK areolas that seem to be infesting my entire chest and go, "oh man, that's hot." But I think there is something about witnessing the changes that occurred to my body through cancer and chemo and radiation and then (thankfully) watching my body recuperate and, for the most part, recover, that gives me a little bit of appreciative distance to these current events. Dark areolas are not nearly as traumatic as unintentionally pulling out clumps of hair.

More observations:

For the first time in my life, my belly is a source of pride and wonder and not the "weakest link" of my physique. Gone are the days of clever wardrobe disguise and dressing so that eyes barely notice my midriff. Gone! Now, I will happily lift my shirt to any passerby. No, really.

Gone are the days when, "hey, you look like you've put on some weight," is worthy of a punch. I am still a little (just a little) concerned about the lack of my gut (shouldn't it be bigger by now?) so these words now get a heartfelt thank you.

I have no fear of stretch marks. I already have a ton from losing weight too quickly in the days of C. The addition of any more would be seen as things finally coming around full circle.

I should probably tone down my, "hey, have you seen my boobs lately? They're huge!" remarks. It seems that this causes some folks to blush and perhaps not everyone is as enamored with my new body shape as I am. (but they should be). I've noticed that the growth of my midriff and boobs finally put the rest of me into proportion. I rarely notice the flab on my upper arms that no amount of push ups took off or the fact that my butt is so, so flat. I have never been too obsessed with body image, but I can honestly say, for the first time ever, I love my body.


[week 21]

Muppets from Space

[Note: Dear Creme de la Creme readers, welcome! Please, please note that since this post, our little seedlings were born too early (21 wks), with us only a short while, and in that while changed our lives and our perspectives on a lot of things. Some things have ended, others started. Please stay tuned for an update.]

Contacted through my breakfast cereal and then confirmed to me by the cosmic fish...I am from outer space.

Sometimes I feel like Gonzo.

Not always. But every once in a while I get that nudge, that reminder. That feeling like in a sea of genes, in a long line of dominant traits and bloodlines, I am a little blip. Seemingly dropped at the doorstep. Origins unknown. With no ability to pass those pieces of myself along either.

Sometimes that's humbling. Sometimes these thoughts feel like the worst kind of hubris. Hey, I'm a one in a million! I could exclaim.

But aren't we all.

Sometimes I wish for a grand reunion. An easy search. Puzzle pieces falling into place, all leading me to one or both of my birth parents. It's not as if I landed in a bad place. My parents love me. H*ll, they adore me. And the support they have shown us ever since we shared our journey to bear children has been amazing. Eager grandparents-to-be is a grand understatement.

But every once in a while there is that desire to look into my cereal bowl or up to the heavens for some answers.

I think about beginning a process. Recently, my brother asked if I was at least going to go in search of my medical records in case we would need then for the seedlings, forgetting that their origins are also a bit unknown. To be honest, I did too for a moment.

What can I do to ease this longing? Will the seedlings have these same feelings? If they do, I will need to remember that this particular kind of curiosity and longing does not go hand in hand with rejecting the life, or family, or love that you have. It really does coexist.

And I have to remember that in the end, Gonzo doesn't run into the spaceship, into the open arms of people who share his nose, his personality, his love of cannons, people just like him. He opts to stay right where he is.

My life is here. This is my home.

This Moment Right Here

A few days ago I was twittering and saw that Sassy Cupcakes twittered this: Man on tv just said it's nearly Christmas. I want to punch him in the face.

I teased, but sitting on my balcony this beautiful autumn morning sifting through the stacks of Xmas adverts that were stuffed in today's newspaper had me feeling the exact same way. It's not nearly Christmas. It's not even close! Can't I just enjoy these gorgeous colors and dark blue fall sky just a little bit before I have to start thinking about holiday obligations? What is wrong with this moment. This moment right here? I put the paper away, took a few deep breaths and tried to refocus on what I should have been focusing on in the first place - the quiet of a Sunday morning spent with my sweetie capturing that last few warm days of fall.

And as we are want to do with a few quiet moments, I had a little revelation.

For the last couple of weeks, I've been immensely disappointed with the size of my belly. Sad that no one can really tell that I'm pregnant. Bothered that the reason I am tired or not game to go out isn't obvious to anyone asking. Maybe I've even been prone to sticking my gut out a little bit on purpose after comments like, "my gosh, I can't believe you're carrying twins!" And maybe, just maybe, I've been secretly wishing that these weeks would move a little faster so I could justify my growing stash of maternity duds and secret stash of chocolate in my desk drawer.

But what is wrong with this moment. This moment right here?

I feel great. And while the changes in my body might not be readily apparent to many, they are to me. My boobs are huge! My belly is firm (a feat unparalleled in my non-pregnant life, teases hubby), a linea negra is beginning to appear and damn if my feet haven't grown a size which is challenging when you are wearing size 10 boots to begin with. Why is it, that once you reach the size 11 aisle in most shoe stores, they assume you are a tranny or cross-dresser and stock accordingly? Yes, I need size 11 shoes. No, they do not need to be clear-heeled platforms thank you.

I am thinking that this is probably the golden period of pregnancy. Besides an obligatory bathroom break, which almost always occurs at 3 am, I sleep through the night. My legs get tired, but by no means has my mobility been disrupted. I can still fit into most of my favorite things and, as previously mentioned, now have no shortage of clothes to fill in for the ones that have taken a back row in my closet for now.

I am thinking that these moments will not last forever.

I have been fascinated by this pregnancy from the moment the two sacs appeared on the monitor. Overjoyed and a little awed at the changes taking place in my body and within our marital relationship. But that doesn't mean that I haven't been nagged by this constant, "this is cool, but I wonder what happens next" mentality which is similar to the thought process behind peddling Xmas decorations before Thanksgiving. Meanwhile there is a perfectly wonderful pregnancy/autumn sky happening right in front of one's eyes.

Which I do plan to savor while I can.

[week 18]

My Reaction - Too Much or Not Enough?

Today I got a kind of shocking phone call at work that makes me think my boss (whom I shared information with in confidence) has been a little too free in sharing that confidence with others. Yes, we are a tight knit organization. Yes, I have know most of the members of the assoc. for a decade. But I'm thinking not only did my boss (if she did indeed spill the beans) show a serious lapse in judgment here, but on a personal note, shared medical details of mine that were mine to share.

Anyway, here was my email to her today (she's away on a business trip). Told hubby about the incident and of course he is furious and says I should threaten litigation. Come on now. Don't be daft. I am not going to threaten to sue someone who I know in her heart means well and for a decade now has been pretty d*mn supportive of everything I have wanted to do with my life - even when it made things seriously inconvenient for her. Ok, here's the message:

I really appreciate your enthusiasm and support around my pregnancy. It is wonderful to work in an environment where I feel I and my future family will be valued. But I just received some congratulations from an employee at ____ that was a little more detailed than I would have liked. She mentioned that _____ had shared some of the info you had shared with ____ and then went on to tell me about a family member of her own who had cancer, couldn’t have children, used artificial techniques and went on to have children. It was a heartfelt congratulations from this person, but I was very, very shocked and surprised to hear it in the way that I did.

While I’m neither shy nor ashamed of the path we’ve taken toward parenthood, I would like to keep such details as my story to tell and to be able to select the listeners. I am uncomfortable with some people, especially those whom I interact with professionally, knowing my very private details. IVF and related means are still frowned upon by some and I wouldn’t want those judgments to interfere with the work that I need to do.

Am I being too sensitive here? Not sensitive enough? Some of my own co-workers don't know the full extent of my story - at least they haven't heard it from me. I suppose I should assume it's all out of the bag now. Like I said, I'm not saying that I wouldn't have eventually told the people in question, but dammit, I wanted to be the one to make that decision, not have it come out like another piece of water cooler gossip. I think the fact that I even had to compose this email is ridiculous. Hubby thinks I was far too tame. What do you think? Where do I go from here?

Phew!

I have really been looking forward to this morning.

And now, I'm so happy and relieved with the news I received: 1.) Daisy has a BFP!!! This is just the coolest. Not like I've ever met Daisy in person, but our cycles have been cosmically connected ever since she and I both had canceled cycles followed by 2 rounds of BFNs. Daisy took some time off and now....well, now I am hoping she joins me in twinland. 2.) the seedlings are great. As you know, I've been needing some reassurance. And I got that this morning.

At the doc's this morning, I had my first experience with a doppler, which found one heartbeat right away. Strong, fast, loud! Maybe I got a little teary. But then we searched and searched and searched a little more and couldn't locate a second one. I think the nurse saw me getting anxious and said, "forget about this. Let's go get an ultrasound!" I could barely eek out, "yes. please. can we?"

The room was free and I went inside to fret just a bit before the NP came in. We gelled up, moved the wand around, and then saw two big headed bodies - one getting kicked in the head by its sibling.

But don't worry. Not for long. They were both moving like crazy! Flipping, spinning, and um, kicking. Each other. How can I not feel that? The nurse pointed out the arms, the legs, the spines, the heartbeats....no pee pees yet, but Nurse confided that she had decided the primary kicker was a boy.

But maybe she doesn't know how feisty us ladies can be.

But I Don't Feel Tardy

So, I suppose it had been a while since I posted. Sorry about that.

I'm cool. Hubby's cool. The seedlings are, for all I know, chillin'. We are 14 weeks today. My next appointment is Tuesday. And I am really, really looking forward to it.

Will I get an ultrasound? Will we get to see some heart beats? What guarantee will they give me to ensure that something's still going down down there? What's the protocol for these "normal" OB appointments?

Because maybe I haven't posted because I have yet to feel it. You know, feeeeel it.

The other weekend, I was indulging in an evening of total control over the remote control while hubby was working late (and I now understand why I rarely get that privilege when there is more than one person on the couch) and I found myself watching Velvet Goldmine, one of the worst movies ever made, but one of my favorite. Jonathan Rhys Myers, Ewan McGregor and Christian Bale? All tarting it up at 70s glam boys? Come on. What's not to love? Anyway, at one point, Ewan is writhing on stage in what is obviously his best Iggy Pop impersonation and is screaming, imploring,

can you feel it . . .
I got a feeling
I got a feeling
I wanna feeeeeeel it
oh, I wanna feeeeeel it . . . . . . .

And I knew exactly what he was talking about.

I'm feeling great. Energized, non-pukey. Looking fatter, but was I really all that svelte 14 weeks ago? Happy. Functional. Hubby mentioned the other morning, "Oh my god, somebody's got their funny back."

So, can someone please verify that I am indeed pregnant?

You Must Le-ea-rn

Do these little guys have ears yet?

I hope so. Because last night, me and the seedlings saw the best hip hop emcee ever. Ever.

A message on my phone yesterday afternoon asked me if I wanted to cover an event for the local alt newspaper that I write for. I knew the caller was connected with a local hip hop posse. (yes, I just said posse. In this particular situation, it fits and I couldn't really think of a better term to describe a tightly knit yet independent group of emcees, dj's, promoters, you know, a bunch of kids trying to make something cool happen in their hometown. So there you have it. Posse)

So, hubby and I pondered. hmm. What's going on tonight? What did we forget about? What show could he mean? And then it hit us both. Holy shit!

KRS-ONE.

At this point, I had to tamper down my excitement knowing that hubby would be leaving for work in just an hour or so and would most likely miss the entire show of his favorite hip hop artist. The person he claims changed his world view at first listen. The person he will, without hesitation, say is among the best and the brightest of the entire genre. Oh sweetie. He'd have to live vicariously through me and the twins, who would be getting their second dose of a live hip hop show in utero.

D*mn. These kids are spoiled.

So, I called my pal S., pulled out my press pass, had hubby set his camera to the most idiot-proof setting possible and switch out the new lens to an older one and off I went.

Here's a sampling of the conversations me and hubby's camera had:

"Hey, take a picture of me!"

"Sure."

"Ok. Now let me take a picture of you! It's cool. I'm in a photography class...."

"Hmm. I don't know about that."

"C'mon. It's only fair."

"Ok. But if you harm this camera, my life is in your hands. Know that."

"Cool. cool. [posing and ridiculous camera banter ensues] See! I told you I was good. Look. Here you are.....Damn! Your titties is huge!"

"Um, yeah, and believe me, it surprises me more than you. P.S. I'm pregnant so I think they're supposed to be like that."

"Right on, girl! you gotta feed those little ones!!"

And he gave me a hug, laughed and walked away. S. shook her head and asked, "did that guy really just say something about your "titties"? He did. He did. And somehow it was quite sweet.

S. perched herself on a stool towards the back of the club. I went to the stage to try to get some crowd shots and to get ready for the show. And oh my goodness, what a show. What a great frigging show. Maybe I doubted my hubby's claims. Maybe I thought to myself, ok, how good could this guy be?

He was amazing. And the vibe in the club was among the most positive I have ever experienced. Nearly ever person knew every word of his songs. Everyone laughed at the punchlines in his freestyles. The show went on and on.

And ended just as hubby came rushing through the doors as his shift ended. Damn. He caught a glimpse of his hero, but not in action. He was a great sport, promised that my excitement was enough for the both of us, then took me for some late night pizza. We hung out. I tried to relay the songs KRS did and didn't do - at one point, hubby ended up pulling out his mp3 player and just rolling down the album tracks with me going yes, yes, I think so, nope, not that one. Satisfied, we all went to bed.

What a great night.

What? No Shot?

Are you sure?

Do you mean it?

Do you really mean I don't have to contort myself into unnatural positions propped on pillows to poke my own butt tonight since hubby is at work?

That is frigging awesome.

Calliope said that the first night sans shot is divine. She's right.

So what am I doing with all this free time? Well, first I stuck my saran wrap back in the kitchen where it belongs. how nice to use it for wrapping cheese and other leftovers instead of the numbing cream on my *ss.

Now, I'm having my own private, pregnancy-craving dictated tailgate by myself on my living room floor. Honeycrisp apples (have you had these yet? They are the bomb!), cheddar cheese, and a huge bowl of cold sauerkraut. Oh hells yes. Fight on State!

At halftime, I'll sift through my free goodies bag I got from Motherhood.

You bet. I went there. Technically, I can still fit into most of my clothes. Most of the time, it's less than flattering. But the main impetus for the mall trip was my annual conference that's coming up in the end of October. I know that by then, me being able to wear all of my suits and business attire will be but a memory. I also know that this is probably the last work-free weekend I can count on between now and then. Things get intense. In other words, it was now or never.

The last time I waited until the last minute to pick up a few new things for conference, I ended up dashing to Ann Taylor Loft and pretty much purchasing anything I laid eyes on, threw it in the car and figured I'd figure it out when I got there. Of course, I ended up wearing and keeping 2 items and returning all the rest. I'm not willing to gamble like that with a figure that I am assuming will be less than easy to grab-n-go for.

So, my MIL graciously agreed to meet me at the mall and help me suss out some duds that would be suitable for work. Can I say we both started giggling uncontrollably at the sight of me and the "fake belly" they have in the dressing rooms to make sure the clothes will fit into the next few months? Wow. What a visual.

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.

Not Quite a Post, More Like a Twitter

How absolutely F*cked up is it that watching Trainspotting just reminded me that it's time for my PIO shot?

In other news, more non-sequiters on the way. Including fun with boric acid and my journey into the 'hood in search of ranch dressing.

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.

Trying Out the "P" Word

Alright, y'all. I did it. It came out of my mouth. To strangers no less. It went kind of like this:

"Can you please help me with my bag? I usually wouldn't ask, but I'm p........"

And then I giggled and snickered a little and hoped no one heard me. And then I did it again,

"I'm sorry. Can I please have the aisle seat? I'm p......... and need to walk a bit on the flight. Oh thank you so much. I really appreciate it."

And then, and this one was kind of tough, yet again,

"Oh gosh, I'd love a free margarita, but I can't. I'm expecting." (because, above all, I have a deep and intense need to explain why anyone in their right mind would turn down a free drink.)

Wow. Wowy. Wow.

Where to begin. I guess with this little image.

And I thought when I saw something on screen, it would make things feel more, you know, real. Actual. Realized. But I still sauntered through the rest of the day in a state of shock. Even after my RE told me the next time she saw me (Sept 4) we'd be listening for heartbeats, warned me not to eat big fish and recommended I call my local ob/gyn now to start setting up appointments.

Um, ok. But first I should probably let her know that it seems that I have reason.

So, hubby has been giddy. Giddy as a schoolgirl. I have been, well, pretty tired and very crampy and beginning today, just a little nauseated in the morning.

Am I a sick f*ck if I tell you I am loving every minute? Every crampy minute.

This week has been a bit of an adventure. I'm actually clear over on the other coast attending a conference for work. An event I've been looking forward to for months, until hubby got uncharacteristically worried and cautious-sounding the evening before the plane: Just remember to walk around. Does L. know how to give you your shots? Will she be ok? Will you be ok? Are you going to have enough time to rest? Are you going to be ok on the plane? In the airports? Are you going to be OK?

And I laughed and hugged and reassured but damn it if I wasn't filled with a little bit of anxiety that wasn't there just a minute prior.

Is this what being a parent feels like? No really, I'm serious. Just a little tinge of nervous for all those things out of your control not because you give a shit about yourself but for how said uncontrollable factors may impact your loved ones?

I can honestly say, I have never in my life had these feelings before. Ever. And I have placed myself amidst far too many uncontrollable factors and in situations beyond my control.

But fear not. All went well. Very well. The flight was smooth and included the following highlights:

• a phone call from a wrong number that turned into a lovely and uplifting conversation ending with a heartfelt wish for me a safe flight;
• a phone call from my boss assuring me I could stay an extra night or try to grab a non-redeye flight home if I wasn't feeling up to it;
  
• an early arrival in California due to scoring the last empty seat on an flight that left DC 3 hours earlier than mine;
• a free upgrade to Economy Plus since it was the seat I scored - that's new airplanese for "a seat that doesn't suck;"
• a free meal on flight since I volunteered to switch seats with a little one that was too little to be in the emergency exit row (but didn't need to switch after all).
  

So, hey, it wasn't bad.

Now, I'm resting in the commuter terminal getting ready to begin the first leg of my long and (alas, redeye) series of flights home. An earlier trip to the airport didn't produce the previous luck I had with standbys and upgrades. But it did give me the following conversation with my Somalian cab driver:

"Where are you going?"
"Home."
"Do you have children?"
"No. not yet."
"Oh. Well, when you do I hope you have twins. You should have twins. I really, really hope you do. they are the best. I have twin girls and they are a joy. But for you, I hope you have a boy and a girl because then you will be happy and your husband can be happy."

Well how about that.

It's been a lovely trip.

(footnote: as of today, I have been knocked up for six weeks and 2 days)

Springtime and Renewal

You guys should see the view from my window right now. It's gorgeous. The sun keeps peeking out of the clouds leftover from last night. The ground is still a little soggy after an evening of rain. Chilly, but warm enough that we've dared to crack open a few windows. It smells like spring. I know the sidewalks will be filled with walkers, joggers, strollers by midday. I wish I were one of them!

But I'll be taking it easy for another day. Transfer was Thursday and it went seamlessly. Besides my full bladder, I didn't even feel it (but I do have the ultrasound to prove that they're there). Four embryos thawed, two survived and cleaved nicely. They're chillin' up in my ute.

How to describe this time around? I'm feeling calm. Really calm. Bolstered by my lining "score" and this wonderful sense of support. Timing feels right. My in laws hung out with us Thursday night. My parents (in town for a funeral) paid a visit last night - both sets eager, excited, I could almost feel them willing it so.

I'm feeling thankful. And lucky. And sure, I'll say it, blessed.

Beta is on the 27th.

(Almost) The Strangest Dream Ever

While not nearly as disconcerting as this one, I had an incredibly bizarre, yet relevant dream earlier this week.

From what I can recall, it started out in a hospital changing room. I was disrobing and changing into the standard paper gown. "Open in the back, please." Someone escorted me to a waiting room, which was much nicer than the usual variety. There were cushioned benches along the walls and in the corners, there were actually bed-type lounges. It was nicely lit. I was pleasantly surprised.

Almost as soon as I got comfortable, a nurse brought in another woman who looked like she had just had some trauma/bad news/icky procedure. There was definitely distress and the nurse suggested that she should take one of the bed-lounges to relax. Of course. Of course! I even helped the woman go lay down and pulled a curtain across the lounge to give her some privacy.

Next another nurse came in with another woman. Not as distressed, but also in need of a bed. Sure. Go ahead. But then I went to sit down on one of the comfy benches and saw that they weren't there anymore. And that this waiting room that had been spacious and accomodating, now only had the two beds (now taken) and some crappy plastic chairs wedged under bright lights. No way! I started to protest when the nurse started urging me to the chair. Then I looked at my watch and was shocked to realize I had actually been in this nether-room for four hours!

I did what my non-dreaming self would have probably done - I freaked the f*ck out. I busted out of the room in my gown and started wandering the halls demanding to talk to somebody. Demanding an explanation for why I was kept in this wierdness for so long.

At this point, I am navigating halls in an office chair, using it as a vehicle for my half-naked self. I find myself in a honeycomb of cubicles which are apparently home to financial advisors and pencil pushers and hospital admin types who are none too happy to see me. "What's she doing in here?" "Why is there a patient here?" They are so bothered! I am screaming at the top of my lungs - "I need to talk to someone RIGHT NOW!" [I must have let out a sob because I wake up briefly here and hubby is holding me. ]

Back asleep, I'm in a conversation with a Nurse Ratched MF who's soothing me the way you're taught to soothe a hysterical woman. Obviously, this makes me madder.

My pleas must eventually be heard because I am finally in what seems to be a place where appointments are actually taking place. It bears an uncanny resemblance to the dressing room at TJ Maxx or another discount department store. But there's a big therapeutic tub at the far end of it.

For some reason, I decide that I absolutely must bathe in this tub.

So I do. And as I am getting out of it, I realize that this dressing room/examination place is now filled with geriatric old men in dressing gowns. (They must have been given the instruction to have them open in the front.) Oh hell yes, there was octogenarian phallus everywhere. It was grosser than gross.

So, I'm bothered. I start making my way to my examination room, which I'm told by a suave gray-haired male doctor is the one all the way to the right, at the end of the row. I enter and it looks more like a den or a library. Nothing sterile. No stirrups here. I start putting my normal clothes back on, which are somehow here waiting for me.

The doctor comes in an says bluntly, "they told me you're pregnant, but you don't really believe that, do you?" I'm stunned so I don't say anything. I may eventually mumble, "no, I guess not." And then he says, "good, because there's simply no way of knowing and its not like there's a heartbeat or anything." And then he lights his cigar.

A fucking cigar.

I wake up absolutely committed to go in search of a midwife, a doula, some good old fashioned female wisdom to guide me through pregnancy and beyond.

As soon as we hear what's what.

I'm pleased to report no home pregnancy test has been purchased yet. We've decided to enjoy the weekend and maybe take one on Monday, which would be 13 days after fertilization. The blood test is scheduled for 2 days later.

So, to Recap....

2 embies successfully transferred Friday morning.
12 in the freezer. (!!!!)
24+ hours bedrest (which is frigging harder than it sounds).

So now, I'm counting the minutes until I can POAS.

Tell me, when can I pee on the darn stick??

For the most part, everything still feels pretty unreal. Did it really happen? Are there really things inside of me? I mean, we're chatting to the seedlings nightly and you know, begging them to stick around. I definitely subscribe to the "I'm pregnant until proven otherwise" school of thought.

Part of me wants to make that feeling last. The other part, of course, just wants to know.

I had my first flutter of "holy sh*t this is real" this evening when I was coming home from the office. I was thinking to myself, I really shouldn't work so late; I am pregnant.....

!!!

Oh, just let me enjoy it.

And take my poll.

Word.

So this is what happens

When I go away for a few days. You're all pregnant!

Ok, I've known about Kami for a while, but Rae's announcement took my by complete surprise. This morning's perusal of some of my favorite blogs has left me smiling. Looks like you are all A-ok. Pam and Dmitri are days away from retrieval. Sweet Daisy is counting the days until her transfer, which coincides with Thanksgiving. WifeThereOf is transferring TODAY. Drowned Girl, Peep and StacyB are full of baby goodness. And H at Mi Historia is ready to pop any day now.

I've followed H's pregnancy so intently because her experiences seem to mirror mine. Childhood cancer survivor, never ever assumed that pregnancy was something that she could experience, until the concept and practice of egg donation matured and became a viable option. After a few scary moments in the beginning (in which I swear I cried as if it were happening to me), she and her mate are eagerly awaiting the arrival of their baby girl. I can only hope that our paths continue to parallel (minus the scary moments in the beginning).