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)

This is Normal, Right?

Sunday afternoon saw me at my local CVS. The reason? I'll be traveling soon and due to the security restrictions that accompany flights these days, I had to go purchase my requisite 3 0z. or smaller see-through containers (that will all fit neatly into a quart-sized ziploc bag) to hold any gels and liquids I plan on taking with me.

I was already out of sorts since travel-sized anything goes against the thrifty shopper in me, not to mention the wanna-be earth momma.

But once I was there, I noticed that if you purchased $10 worth of certain candy/chocolate, you could earn an additional $5 in CVS bucks. Well hey! I thought, "gosh, I have been getting chocolate cravings at work lately..." and "a bag of werther's originals sure would be nice to have..." and within minutes I had made my selections and taken my basket up to the checkout.

Only to find that one of the bags I had chosen wasn't the "right" kind of candy to get my my CVS bucks. WTF?!? I demanded to see a manager.

Yes. I did.

And told her that I had made my selections using the "free CVS bucks!" as my guide. Surely I couldn't be wrong. And then she pointed out I grabbed the right candy; wrong sized bag. But she assured me we could just cancel out the previous bag and go grab 2 of the smaller bags. But then I would still need another small purchase to make my $10.

And that is when I realized I was staring (almost) $10 worth of candy. Candy! Ridiculous.

So I said, as sweetly as I could. You know what, let's just return it all. I really don't need any of it. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm sorry for the trouble."

What was I thinking???

This is normal, right?

In better news, my automated voice message reminding me of Thursday's ultrasound came from the "ob/gyn care" dept of my hospital.

I listened to it twice.

Nice.

A Sigh of Relief

Is in order this morning.

Beta #2 (16 days post transfer).......1631.

An ultrasound is scheduled for the 14th.

Happy, elated, shocked, joyous, cautious, optimistic, stunned. I'm not quite sure how I am supposed to feel this morning because I have never been in this situation before. Where the future is full of possibilities. Plural.

I personally think the clincher, what convinced these dude(s) to stick around, was our field trips to go see pro-wrestling, The Hieroglyphics in concert and another great band during the two week wait, the whole time rubbing my belly and saying, "see little guys! This is what you have in store! Good times, man! Good times!"

And maybe the removed polyp and readjustment of progesterone and alterations to my meds helped a little too.

I'm not saying I'm going to post a baby widget on this here blog anytime soon. But I can tell you I have one bookmarked and have been sneaking peeks at it for the last few days.

Oh wow. This is crazy.

Oh the Suspense...

It's awful, isn't it?

Of course, the barren b*tch in me can't decide whether my high beta yesterday is FABULOUS, or cause for concern.

So, I spent 2 am to 4 am last night perched in my recliner reading since sleep was obviously not coming and I didn't want to give hubby another sleepless night.

And now, I am watching the clock and waiting for the phone to ring. Hoping that I can close out FN with a positive post about the future to come.

Please be 1000+. Please.

BTW, thanks so much to all who commented (de-lurkers: nice! mommies of multiples sharing numbers: oh my stars... familiar names and beloved friends: great goddess, I love you!) What a blessing to be able to come here and know that I am not alone.

Oh My Heart...

...Can't take much more of this.

Nurse called this morning. And screamed, "congratulations!"

hCG level: 537. (Note: last time, it was 2)

I think that means that things are looking good. Pretty darn good. 2nd Beta is tomorrow. Don't worry. I'll be going to a different lab.

Oh I wish I could get my brain to function and punch out something witty, clever, funny this morning. But I am too busy being happy.

Apparently Quest Diagnostics Has Never Heard of HIPAA

8:00 pm UPDATE: Nurse called. No results from the lab. As I expected. Looks like the two week wait extends one more day. And now, back to the story...

Or else the technician this morning would never be yelling across the waiting room to a patient already settled in a room: "Who was your doctor again? Oh, Dr. _____. Is that with a G?"

Holy f*cking shit. Are you kidding me?

Now I know I am in a strip mall. I understand that these services are being done by one and only one technician faced with a full waiting room and I do I do feel for her. In fact, I feel for her so much it is the only reason I haven't reported their *sses already.

So, there I sit, in room #2, for, oh, 30 minutes at least. Finally, technician comes in and asks if I think my doctor's office would be open yet.

"Um, why?"

"Because I can't tell if they want a qualitative or a quantitative test and there's a big difference. Hang on, I am going to call them..."

And then I hear her dial by speaker phone.

Oh yes, and then because she is so busy, she obviously doesn't pick up on time and I hear that familiar answering message that loudly announces the NAME of my FERTILITY clinic across the (did I mention crowded) waiting room.

I am livid.

But I can't piss her off yet, can I? She is the ONLY person here and I need my blood drawn. She has the sharp objects in her possession. I need to keep my sh*t together for just a bit longer.

15 minutes later, we finally have resolution and she goes on to stab the sh*t out of my arm after lecturing me about how my clinic should have said this and this on my slip. "Next time, make sure they...." I cut her off and let her know I am hoping there won't be a next time.

There absolutely will not be a next time at this particular lab or location.

So then, unlike other skilled phlebotomists who maneuver until they find blood, she pulls out to try again. She goes for my other arm. And looks like she has been punched in the face when I ask,

"Um, sorry, but are you using the same needle???"

Because I never saw her discard the other one. She is indignant and gives me a lesson on how the needles seal off and can only be used once and how this one has a green cap and the other one had a black cap and actually said, "What would make you think that I would use the same needle."

At which point I should have said, "because I never would have thought that you would announce identifiable healthcare information across a crowded room of strangers which FYI, IS AGAINST THE LAW but you did, didn't you?"

But I didn't (see paragraph above re: her as only person here).

So I walked out to my car, texting furiously to my pal (and compliance officer extraordinaire) L to send me a link or number or whatever about where to file a HIPAA complaint. I am so disoriented, I don't realize I am standing in front of a car with a baby seat in back for minutes. I am so flustered that my first thought isn't, "oh, this isn't my car," it's "oh, why is there a baby seat in my car??"

Ok. So then I place myself in the correct car (sans baby seat) and drive to the grocery store because I don't want to go home and I don't want to go to work. I spend the next 2 hours at said grocery store. I bought bagels. Something I haven't purchased in years. Not 1. A half dozen. Don't even ask me why. I also felt a need to pick up 3 chocolate marshmallow concoctions from the bulk candy bins to eat in the car.

I f*cking hate marshmallows.

But I ate them. And then I took the long way home, stopping at any nick nack shop or bargain outlet that drew my attention. That actually worked out since I came home with 3 groovy journals, 2 new knitting books and a book that I decided a friend would really like. All on clearance.

And then I drove up on the sidewalk to deposit my bags one by one from car to elevator because I knew hubby would kill me if he saw new groceries in the kitchen and made the assumption that I had lifted more than 10 lbs. So I didn't. Friends and family reading this: please assure hubby that no heavy lifting was done.

So now I am home. Don't be mad if I don't answer the phone. Deciding what would make the day go faster - trying to get some work done, knitting, sitting and staring, a nap?

Oh and FYI, I am spotting. Just started. Not a lot. More like a little brown tint when I wipe. This has never happened before. I am not quite sure what to think. L. says it could be a good thing. A little voice is saying, "this has never worked before. Why would it work now?" I think in preparation for the worst possible scenario. It's like 14 days is the absolute max. that a body can maintain optimism.

Mine is starting to fade as the clock ticks and the call has yet to come.

Obviously, will let you know as soon as it does.