How Am I?

I is good.

I have a new addiction. Despite my crack-ho frenemy's prediction that I would need to call someone crying when I couldn't find a heartbeat, I have managed to find that little ticker every single day for the last two weeks. Imagine my complete amazement and excitement that I no longer have to listen to my pubic hair to locate fetal heart tones. The uterus? It's movin' on up. That's right. At 12w4d, I can now actually listen to my belly to find my comfort.

While I used to enjoy a nightly glass of red to relax after a long or challenging day, I now snuggle up with a tube of water-based lubricant and....oh, wait, that doesn't sound right. I now snuggle up to my doppler. Hearing that little gallop is like a breath of fresh air.

Am I enjoying my pregnancy. Hell yez I'm enjoying my pregnancy. Did I vomit a few times? Hell yez I vomiked a few times. I also grinned with each vomit. I loved to vomit. I don't mean that in a bulimic freaky weight loss way. I mean that in a 'my-morning-sickness-wasn't-really-that-bad-at-all-and-it-merely-served-as-a-reassurance-to-the-pregnant-state-I'm-in' thing. I think I'm done with the vomiting. That's cool. Now I have a doppler, so it's all good.

Am I telling people? Yes. Now I'm telling. Well, truth be told I'd already told a lot of people, but now I'm telling general people. Well, other people are now telling general people...I just keep my mouth shut because it still feels strange and awkward. I met a new girl at work last week who is 6 months along and after a 30 minute conversation finally worked up the nerve to tell her I was pregnant. I felt like an impostor. I felt like a fake pregnant person trying to inch my way into the world of the preggos.

Then Tuesday, in a class at work, a co-worker shouted out "She's having a baby" for all the room to hear. I was surrounded by congratulations and felt a sudden urge to run down to the ER and grab the doppler. I was simply positive that such a public outcry of my pregnancy was the equivalent of putting a gun to my baby's head. Dare I be so bold as to accept the congratulatory mutterings of mere acquaintances? Ack! No worries. Baby was still alive at the end of the day. Apparently pregnancy announcements don't cause destruction and havoc.

Buying maternity clothes hasn't cursed things yet either. I'm in an awkward in-between stage. I'm too big for my regular clothes (my thighs are pregnant too)...and maternity clothes just look saggy and stupid. When I wear them I can see people looking at me like, 'dude, is she pregnant or just trying to cover her protuberant abdomen?'. I've decided I can wear scrubs and sweat pants for the majority of this bump-growing experience. I bought one or two 'going out in public' outfits...and we'll see where things grow from here.

Am I having a boy or a girl? Well I obviously don't know that yet. I will know in December, which is approaching quickly. I am preference-less. The heart rate is still 162 beats per minute. And I did pee into one of those gender predicting kit games that are probably a crock but are still another fun thing to pee on...and it said I was having a girl. Again. I am preference-less. I want a baby with arms and legs and a face to kiss. That is all.

Oh, and by the way, there will be no bump pictures on this blog. Maybe...maaayyyybe I'll put one up when I'm on the tail end of the third trimester. Till then, sorry. May I recommend you google.image 'baby bump' if you are craving pregnant belly photos. Nothing to see here. Nope. Nothing.

See. Nothing eventful. Just a plain old 'how am I' post...because someone asked. I am so glad there is nothing eventful here.

Hopefully there will be nothing eventful here until December.

Booorrrrring.

I'm Having A...

Skelator!

Do you see the resemblance?

The NT scan went great. I don't remember the measurements, but that's only because once I hear "looks perfect", "looks great", or "looks beautiful" in a doctor's office, I automatically morph from the studious healthcare professional I play in real life to a gushing, grinning, questionless goober who can only make "oooh" and "ahhhh" sounds at the ultrasound monitor.

The nuchal fold was itty bitty skinny minny...and I could tell that without the on screen calipers. There was a nasal bone present as well, though it was hard to find as the being affectionately known as 'Raisin' likes to keep his or her little hands up on his or her little skelator face and was perfectly content to leave them there throughout the entire exam. I was also pleased with the picture she probably thought I didn't care about (as she didn't print it)...it was the one of the brain hemispheres. I was really happy to see hemispheres. Brains are generally considered a good thing in a human.

At a certain point my little raisin (or raisinette) started kicking and moving and just generally rocking out. In that moment, and not up until that moment, I realized...I'm having a baby. This is happening. I'm not having a shrimp and a yolk sac, or a gummy bear, or a blob. I'm having a baby.

There are more pictures posted in 'Raisin Watch'. I would apologize for the quality, as they are photos of photos...but the originals are fairly poor as well. They don't all look Skelator-ish though, so that's cool. I loved loved loved this ultrasound. I don't even know if the smile has faded from my face yet.

Oh, and as for what I'm having. It's still a little early for that. The anatomy ultrasound has been scheduled though....December 16th. And yes...we will be finding out whether or not the raisin is sporting a pair of grapes. And yes, I will be happy no matter what is between those kicking little legs.

'The Friend' Strikes Again

You may recall this friend. She is the 'friend' who told me I was being over dramatic about infertility, jumping to conclusions about needing IVF, and that using donor sperm wouldn't be a big deal if we needed to anyway.

I did manage to avoid this 'friend' during all of our actual cycling, knowing that I couldn't deal with her flippant off comments about how 'practice makes perfect' or 'don't stress yourself out because that won't help things'. But she just keeps calling. I just keep picking up. I mean, is there really any easy way to say, "Dude, you're a donkey's behind with cherries on top."

I made the assumption that pregnancy would at least ease up some of the inappropriate infertility comments, and this is true. Unfortunately, there is a whole new brand of comments and judgements from this Veteran Labor and Delivery nurse and Women's Health Nurse Practitioner.

First of all, the day I told her I was pregnant she responded with genuine happiness, followed by a statement that I was not so fond of...."I am laboring you, you know. I will come in and be your nurse no matter what time of the day or night." Granted, I am sure this comes from a good place in her heart. Okay, that's a lie. I am sure it comes partially from the place in her that must be in control of everything.

I can think of nothing worse than having this overbearing woman hovering over me during what I imagine will be a challenging, personal, and painful time. The last thing I will need on that day is someone rolling their proverbial eyes at me. Further, no matter how professional she may be while wearing scrubs...is there ever a time you want your friend's hand to be in your vagina? Really? I would prefer that a stranger's fingers caress my cervix during labor, that's all.

Not to worry. I will nip this in the bud the next time the topic comes up. I was considering it in the beginning, until she made her latest comment.

You see, I got a doppler. A doppler all of my very own. I wanted a doppler. I needed a doppler. I wanted to know I wasn't imagining this pregnancy. I know it sounds nuts, but at nearly 12 weeks, I am still pinching myself. I still catch myself with wandering thoughts like, "when is my next RE appointment" or "will I ever have a baby?" Then I remember...wait, I am pregnant.

But at 11w2d, I'm not yet showing and it's too early to feel any movement, and I am the kind of girl that likes proof. Pregnancy proof. A fetal heartbeat is evidence, proof, of my dream coming one step closer to true.

I made the unfortunate mistake of telling 'the friend' that I had ordered a doppler. I could actually feel her eyes rolling through the telephone it was so pronounced.

"And what is that going to tell you?" (laughs)

Um. Actually it will tell me a lot. It will tell my my baby has a heartbeat. That's pretty significant in my mind anyway.

"And what is a heartbeat going to tell you?"

Um. Well. That there is a living thing inside my uterus. What kind of question is this?

"Well, don't call me up crying when you can't find one..."

What?

Whaaaaaat?

Who says this? And the horrid thing is I know she didn't mean, "don't call me up when you can't find one because your baby is dead". Oh no. She meant, "don't call me up crying when you can't find the heartbeat because you're not nearly as much of an expert as me and now you want me to come do it for you."

I don't care what she meant or how she meant it. This.pissed.me.off. Who says that?

My response?

'I will never ever call you crying. Ever. You are the last person I would cry to about anything. I am a big girl. I know what I am doing and I can make any purchase I want without approval from you. You may recall I've had a tad bit of medical training myself. If I'm not able to locate fetal heart tones by 12 weeks gestation on anyone, you should probably revoke both of my licenses to practice, because that's just ridiculous....but thanks for the vote of confidence. I have to go now."

My doppler arrived the next day. I was 10w5d at the time. And yes, it can be difficult to find heart tones that early, especially on a woman of my stature. But. After a short time of hunting. I found a perfect little heartbeat tapping away at 165 beats per minute. I beamed. I floated. I cried. I'm still pregnant, and every day is a miracle.

A perfect heartbeat.

Kiss my jellied doppler, ho-bag fake friend. Not only will I not share my tears with you, I won't share my joy, either.

(NT scan tomorrow)

Keyword Salad (I Can See It In My...)

Pragnet...or not. The search terms keep on coming. In fact, they just seem to get better and better. See for yourself. If you are interested in finding your own, visit a site like Google.Analytics and you can peruse search keywords for your own blog.


i can see the salad in my poop.....and hence, the namesake for this post. If you can see the salad in your poop, I would venture to say you are eating plenty of fiber. I could learn from your solid example. Your veggie stool puts me to shame.

Sperm "on the ground" pregnant...See, some people can have it land "on the ground" (in quotes) and still manage to get pregnant. If my husband's sperm lands anywhere but in a sterile specimen cup, there is no hope.

pregnetsie bringe babie...sadly, for you, I am sure pregnetsie will bringe babie. Sex probably brought you the pregnetsie too, didn't it? Figures.

pregnancy havarti cheese...mmmmmmh. Havarti cheese. I love this stuff. Oh, and YES you can eat havarti cheese while you are pregnant. Though if you are pregnet I would refrain.

pill injested into vagina...Gnam Gnam. Mine just ate them all up. I don't know that ingested is really the right word though, as that generally pertains to things that enter the orifice known as the mouth, as opposed to the vagina, which doesn't actually eat things.

ok to have oral sex while on endometrin...seriously? Who would want to? Oh wait, it made me feel so sexy to have to wear pads all day long due to the constant drip of progesterone drainage. Hot.

my vagina in a box...Mine didn't come in a box. Where did you get yours? I hope it was at least a pretty box.

more i eat more i poop...yeah, this is generally how it works for the most part. You see, it's all connected, first you ingest....oh, never mind.

ingesting endometrin suppository by accident...you accidentally swallowed a pill that is large enough to choke you to death? Because, it looked like the kind of pill you put in your mouth? Whatever. I just hope you didn't use the applicator.

if girls boobs touch another girls boobs can they get preagnet...bwahahahahaha. Ahahahahahaha. So that's what I was missing this whole time. Hurry up ladies...it's not too late to save your $20,000!