Sex

When LL was just a few months old, we had a big playdate with several friends in the area who all have children around the same age (give or take 18 months or so), most of whom are girls. On the way home, S said, "Let's have a girl next." And I laughed, for many many reasons. LL was still so little, it seemed ridiculous to even be talking about the "next" one. Also, it's hard to ignore that we would be lucky to get pregnant again with any child, much less being picky about the sex. And even if we wanted to be picky, it's not like we had any control over it. But, S had made his point: he loves LL, but he also wanted the experience of raising a little girl.

In the months since then, S has mentioned several times that he thinks it would be fun to have a little girl. And while I agreed with him a bit, mostly just for the variety of it, it has never been as important to me as it obviously was to him.

When I got pregnant with the Frog, S admitted that he really wanted it to be a girl. And I started getting worried about dealing with his disappointment if it wasn't. I've spent the last two months playing up the advantages of having another boy. Brothers close in age are more likely to play together! Both me and S grew up in older-brother-younger-sister families and we didn't get along with our siblings at all; wouldn't brothers be fun?! If we had a girly-girl, neither one of us would have any idea how to relate to her! Boys are so much easier during the teen years! And we can reuse all of LL's infant clothes! If we were royalty, you'd be thrilled with having boys!

Meanwhile, I started to chat with friends who have multiple boys. (Statistically, half of our friends with 2+ kids should have boy-girl combos, but in reality, less than a third of them do. Almost every single one of our friends has either girl-girl or boy-boy children, leaning heavily towards boy-boy.) Most of them admitted that they had a mild preference for a girl the second time around, but their husbands were much more invested in the outcome. One of my friends put it this way: "When we found out our second was a boy, my husband was visibly disappointed. He came around by the time our son was born, but it took a month or two."

Today was our big fetal ultrasound. While we waited for the exam, I reminded S that the most important thing was that the baby be healthy. And he acted a little defensive and told me that of course that's most important, and he wasn't going to be upset no matter what the sex turned out to be. And besides, we'd always said that we might maybe possibly consider trying to have a third child, so it's not like this is our definitive last chance for a girl.

So, the results of our ultrasound: the Frog is healthy. Strong heartbeat, measuring one day ahead of the estimated due date. Scarily for me, this baby is measuring smaller than LL did in all measurements (length, weight, abdominal circumference, femur length) with the glaring exception of head circumference, which is noticeably bigger. (I ended up with a c-section with LL after 23 hours of labor because of a rare condition called CPD, in which his gigantic head was demonstrably too big to fit through my pelvic bone. We still have several months of growth ahead of us, and a lot can change, but an even larger head doesn't exactly support my odds of a successful VBAC.) I'm doing the ostrich head-in-the-sand thing about the head size, so ignoring that little tidbit, we can see that everything looks great.

And then S, who had been standing at the foot of the bed, stumbled a bit and had to sit down. Because he had seen the same thing that the ultrasound tech had seen: an unmistakable little penis. We're having a boy!

S was quiet for the rest of the exam. (Actually, first he held up three fingers and whispered, "Ready for number three?" with a small wry smile, but after that he stayed quiet.) He says that he just needs a few days to get used to the idea, which is fair. And I pulled out every gender stereotype I could think of in an attempt to get him excited. You know you would much rather go to football games than dance recitals -- we might have just dodged a bullet! But I should probably just give him time to get used to the fact that we're not going to have the boy-girl family that he grew up with, that I grew up with, that his cousins all grew up with, and that he had always pictured for us.

In the mean time, I have to go plan another bris!

Spiraling Further Downwards

I have family risk factors for gestational diabetes. (As in, most of my dad's side of the family seems to have type 2 diabetes.) I've never had any problems myself -- my brother was diagnosed with Type 2 when he was younger than I am now, so I make sure to get myself screened, and all of my readings have always come back normal. Because of the risk factors, though, Dr. M likes to test me earlier in my pregnancy, instead of waiting for the second trimester like is normally done for other pregnant women.

The one hour glucose screen is annoying, but manageable. It is even more annoying during the first trimester, when you're already nauseous most of the time. Still, it's better than the three hour tolerance test, which seems like the ultimate way to piss off a pregnant woman.

I took the one hour screening test when I was 8 weeks pregnant with LL, and I passed with flying colors. (Yay!) I took it again when I was 20-something weeks pregnant with LL, and I passed again. (Yay!) But this weekend, once again eight weeks pregnant, I failed it. (Booooooo!) But just barely. I failed it by the itty-bittiest amount possible. Still, a fail is a fail, so I was given the honor of taking the horrid three hour tolerance test this week. Why is this test a form of mild torture for pregnant women, particularly pregnant women with injured backs? Admittedly, a few of these were just my bad luck, but still:

1. You have to fast for at least 12 hours before the test.
2. While the 12-hour fast is already making your nauseous, you have to drink a big bottle of sugar syrup, really fast.
3. You now have to sit in a waiting room for three hours while they draw your blood once an hour. Still can't eat anything.
4. You're not allowed to move around much, because it throws off the readings. So you're restricted to remain sitting in the awkward waiting room chairs for the entire three hours, even if your back is killing you. The nurse will yell at you if you try to stand instead of sit.
5. There's probably free wifi at the clinic where you're getting your blood drawn, but don't think that you'll actually be able to work for those three hours. The wifi is nearly guaranteed to be out of order for all but 15 minutes of your three hour wait. You didn't have anything important to work on anyway, right?
6. Every single cigarette smoker and perfume wearer will decide to sit down next to you while you wait. What's that? You're in your first trimester and you're really sensitive to smells? And as previously mentioned, you're not allowed to get up and walk to somewhere less smelly? Awwww.
7. After the test, you'll realize that you're about to be late for an important meeting, so you don't have time to grab something to eat. All in all, you'll end up fasting for 17 hours. At least you had that yummy nauseating sugar syrup for breakfast at the clinic, right?
8. You made it to your meeting, and you finally got some food. You desperately want to go home and lie down. Unfortunately, you now have a pounding headache and feel lightheaded every time you stand up. Can't drive home like that!

And the final insult? The cherry on the top of a freaking fantastic week? You fail the test. But again, just barely. The glucose tolerance test has a total of four blood draws. I had always read that failing two of them means that you have GD, but failing just one of them means that you're fine, but they'll want to test you again several weeks later. Well... I only failed one of them. And again, just by the itty-bittiest amount. My other three blood draws were comfortably in the normal range, not even borderline. But this morning Dr. M called to tell me that they recently changed the guidelines, and now failing even one of them is considered enough to diagnose with GD.

So... I have to take a GD nutrition class next week, and then I have to start monitoring my glucose levels. I don't actually believe that I have GD, but I'm no medical expert, so I guess it's better to be safe than sorry. We'll see how it looks after a week or two of monitoring.

Did I mention that I was on my way to meet with my lawyer (yep, as of this week, I have a lawyer) when Dr. M called, because the other guy's auto insurance are being jerks about paying for my medical bills, even though they've already admitted liability for the accident? Did I mention that my in-laws and my entire extended family are all arriving from out of town in less than a week? Did I mention that I'm walking through my university's graduation ceremony in ten days, on the blind faith that I'll be finishing my PhD this summer? Did I mention that AdvisorA has been sitting on a draft chapter of my thesis for more than five weeks without communicating with me at all? Did I mention that I need a full draft of the entire thesis in one month in order to have any prayer of anyone on my committee reading it, and thanks to AdvisorA's neglect, I have to put it all together with zero feedback on how I'm planning to structure it?

Did I mention that glucose levels can be artificially elevated by stress?

Four Months

LL is four months old today. In honor of his 1/3 of a year milestone, he had his picture taken this weekend (he was all smiles for the photos, then gave in to the worst of his cold later that afternoon, so we got some good pictures in just under the wire). We also had his four month checkup with Dr. K today, who confirmed that he is still quite the little peanut. Despite his gigantic entrance into the world, he is now firmly at the 35th percentile for both weight and length. (Significantly higher for head size... some things don't change.) He screamed bloody murder at his shots, but I think the combination of getting over his cold and getting poked with a needle just seemed like too much, and he was fine once I picked him up and murmured to him a bit.

We're waiting until 6 months for any solid food, so most things are continuing as is. We do need to get him some more tummy time, though. His neck strength is really good, but the rest of his upper body is apparently a bit flabby. (He gets that from me.) And he shows no interest at all in rolling over. Dr. K predicted that he'll be sitting up before he rolls over, and I agree -- he loves the vantage point of sitting, but he's in no hurry to go anywhere or reach for anything that would require rolling.

We're home now (yep, I'm keeping him home with me again today, partially because of the shots, partially because of the cold, partially because of the crappy daycare situation... how many excuses do I need?) and he's fussy and clingy and whiny, but still gives me brave little smiles when I coax him enough. He's fitfully napping right now, which is good, because he was up constantly last night. He usually only eats once during the night, but last night he got up three times to nurse, which isn't exactly helping me to get over my cold, either.

On a more fun topic: one of my friends was trying to figure out what kind of music her baby prefers. She scanned slowly through the FM dial, looking for what stations made the baby happiest. It sounded like a fun experiment, so I gave it a try. What do you suppose I can read into the fact that LL is happiest when listening to NPR? (I tested the hypothesis that he just likes voices by switching to conservative talk radio, and he screamed his little head off.) Our little liberal politico baby is instantly calmed by almost anything NPR, and loves providing his own answers during interviews. S and I are happy to indulge him in his left-wing leanings, so we're both staying home tomorrow morning to watch the inauguration with him. Our friends predict that someday he'll be the first Japanese Jewish president. (Not a whole lot of Jewish Japanese-Americans out there, so really, who's gonna beat him to it?) You read it here first. LL for President in 2044!

He's Here!

Our son, LL*, was born Friday, September 19, at 3:00pm. He weighed a ridiculous 8 lbs 13 oz, he's 21" long, and he has a surprisingly gigantic head. (Thanks for that one, kid.) He's healthy, and extremely cute, so all is well.

Full birth story (or maybe partially full... I'm not sure yet) coming soon. A few "highlights" in the mean time: 23 hours of labor, an extremely surreal conversation with the anesthesiologist around hour 15, 2+ hours of pushing, disturbing signs of fetal distress, unmistakable cephalopelvic disproportion (CPD) that even had the hippy-dippy nurse-midwife apologizing, and ultimately a C-section.

We're home now, totally exhausted, dealing with the painful physical aftermath of both a long difficult labor and a C-section (me) and some jaundice and feeding issues (LL). At the same time, we couldn't be happier. More well-rested, yes, but not happier.


* Sorry, but I've decided not to actually include his name on the blog. Oddly enough, I don't want to type it here, but I'm okay dropping enough obvious hints that you can figure it out if you want to. It starts with an L, has only 4 letters, and is also the first name of the guy who invented blue jeans in San Francisco in the 1850s to sell to gold miners. Er... we didn't name him for the blue jeans guy, he's just the most famous person I can think of who shares the name, which is a good Hebrew name from the Torah. On the blog, I'll call him LL for "Little L___".

40w6d and Counting

Yep, I'm still gestating. I had an NST at the hospital today, and once we spurred Barack into action with some ice cubes and apple juice, he performed admirably. I've been having contractions since Saturday night, but nothing serious. The closest they ever get is 10 minutes apart, they're usually more like 30 minutes apart, and sometimes they disappear for hours at a time. They're uncomfortable, but not remotely painful. And they're short, usually only lasting 20 seconds at the most. In other words, other than being extremely annoying, they're not actually doing anything as far as bringing along the baby. We verified this analysis during the NST, when I got to point at the tape and say, "Those were contractions, right?" and the nurse responded with, "Those little blips there? Yeah, I suppose so." Then she confirmed that yeah, I'm probably not going to be in full-on labor anytime soon.

As of tomorrow (just a few short hours away) I'll be a full week past my due date. This sucks sucks sucks sucks sucks. I desperately want to have this baby already, but I'm also growing increasingly nervous about being induced. And I still have two more full days to sit around the house thinking about it, which means my anxiety level is only going to go up.

The only bright spot of the last few days was that the Packers looked awesome in yesterday's football game. And it looks like we're going to win our fantasy football game this week. As I was watching highlights last night, S walked in and mocked me with this: "That's okay, dear -- you stay on the couch watching Sports Center while I do the dishes and clean the kitchen." I told him that if he wants to take over the pregnancy for the next few days, I'd be happy to trade places with him. Sadly, he said no deal.

Now that it's not Sunday anymore, I'm out of distractions. I'm bored and exhausted and bloated and uncomfortable and nervous. Sucks sucks sucks sucks sucks.

Heirloom Tomato

19 weeks. We had another appointment today, with a different doctor since Dr. M. was out. Things continue to be perfectly normal and boring, just like I like them. Uterus height is exactly where it should be (exactly up to my belly button). My weight gain is still below average, but for the first time, it was up a respectable amount from 4 weeks ago, so things are growing like they're supposed to. Blood pressure normal. Nothing bad in my urine. I'm good for another 4 weeks.

The only "glitch" was that I finally asked about those rolling balls of light in my peripheral vision, accompanying my increasingly numerous migraines, and totally stumped the doctor. She looked through my chart, ticking off possibilities. ("Blood pressure normal, so it's not that... gestational diabetes checks all came back negative... weight gain is low to normal... growth is perfect... all other tests normal..........") Then she left the room to consult someone else. She came back and said nobody knew what to say. She's concerned, but she has no idea what could be causing it, so she's not sure how concerned she should be. She finally called Dr. M. to see what he thought, and called me back an hour after our appointment. The official answer: nobody knows. I've been sent to see my normal primary care doctor (appointment next week, after all the family visitors are gone) to do some sort of neurological work-up. But now that all the known pregnancy complications have been ruled out, I'm back to assuming it's just really bad hormone-induced migraines. Which kinda sucks, but is better than all alternatives I've thought of.

Also in the news: yesterday was our big ultrasound. It didn't go exactly as I would have chosen, but you can't argue too much when you're getting good news. The ultrasound tech was incredibly brusk. She acted annoyed when asked if I would get to watch the images (and indeed, her answer was "no" -- gee, thanks). She had a sarcastic answer when S. asked if he could watch (though he happily ignored her, so at least one of us got to see what was going on). She sat in stony silence for the entire 30 minute scan, except for about 15 minutes in, when she happened upon the "money shot" revealing the gender, and suddenly just blurted out, "By the way, it's a ...." I know she probably does a bunch of these each day, but is it really too much to ask for a smile, a "congratulations!", or even just a tone of voice not dripping in acid? At the very end, she finally turned the monitor so that I could see it, but after showing me all of two things, someone else walked into the room to give her a personal message, after which she just snapped off the machine and announced that she didn't have time for more. The end.

The only additional info we got out of her: the baby's length is measuring a full 6 days ahead of the due date, which is 8 days further than just a month ago. More alarming to me: she estimated a current weight of 13.5 ounces, which is way above the website estimates for 19-20 weeks, which say that "normal" is 8-10 ounces. The doctor today told us that it's too early to conclude anything about birth size, and they tend to grow in "spurts" anyway, but I'm now having painful nightmares about giving birth to a giant baby.

As to the gender: I definitely don't have a gender preference (just please please please be healthy), so I knew that I'd be thrilled either way, but I've been feeling for several weeks (based on absolutely nothing) that it was going to be a girl. Well, it turns out that my mother's intuition sucks. It's a boy! Our families are all thrilled, as are we. :)

Our next challenge: hiring a mohel....

All systems (still) go

We finally got the full results of the NT scan today. Based on some mysterious calculation involving my age, my weight, my ethnicity, my bloodwork, and my ultrasound measurements, the risk of Barack having Downs or Trisomy 8/13 are each less than 1 in >10,000, which is the lowest possible risk that they calculate. Woo hoo! (By the way, why that calculation takes more than a week to do is still beyond me. They say that they need the time to "crunch the numbers" but I'm getting a PhD in computer science, so I can say with a bit of authority: the formula can't possibly be that complicated. Seriously.)

Our next appointment is this coming Tuesday, when I'll be at 15 weeks. I think that Dr. M. will try again to hear the heartbeat over Doppler, but other than that, this appointment should be pretty dull.

Did I mention that my lower back has been bothering me lately? Everyone recommended sleeping with an extra pillow between my knees. I tried that this week. I woke up in the middle of the night, unable to find the pillow. S had curled up with it in his arms on the other side of the bed. I couldn't wrestle it away from him to save my life. So now we have to go get even more pillows, so that he gets one, too.

We received our first baby gifts in the mail this week. S's parents and sister sent us a box with two "onesies," one outfit, a sleeper, a blanket, and a CD of lullabyes. Also, some homemade chocolate chip cookies, to help me "keep up my energy." It was all very sweet of them, and shows how excited they are, that they ran out immediately and bought stuff for us, but it affected me in a way that I didn't see coming. We had been trying to get pregnant for a very long time, and I'm more than 3 months into the pregnancy now, so I've had a fair amount of time to think about things and process what's happening. Already at several points in the pregnancy, I've had moments where I've said that things suddenly felt more real: when we first saw a heartbeat; when the ultrasound looked noticeably human; when we saw Barack moving around. But for some reason, holding the baby clothes brought everything to a new level. I think that all of those earlier moments made me truly realize that I was pregnant, but they didn't make me feel that we were really going to be bringing home a baby.

Of course, I understood that part on an intellectual level, but it still seemed much less real. And, of course, it's not like I'd never held baby clothes before. But until that box arrived, we didn't own a single thing baby-related. I'm not one of those people that bought baby stuff years ago for when this eventually happened. Before that box arrived, we literally owned nothing for a baby. But when I went through the gifts in that box, I just sat there holding one of the onesies in front of me, thinking, "Oh my G-d. These baby clothes belong to us, because we're going to need to clothe our baby. In 6 months, something we created is going to be wearing this." I actually turned to S. and incredulously asked, "Do you realize that we need to own baby clothes?" I'm pretty sure that he thought I was a little nutsy, but he understood what I meant. All that stuff that we've bought over the years for other people's children... we need to get all that stuff now. For our baby. Maybe I've just been incredibly slow in really internalizing things, but wow, holding that onesie brought the whole "feeling more real" thing to a different level entirely.

Fig

Hallelujah, everything is fine. We had our 11 week appointment this morning, and everything is proceeding exactly as it's supposed to be. We are "right on the cusp" of when people start to be able to hear a heartbeat through Doppler, but after trying for 30 seconds or so, Dr. M. just pulled out the ultrasound machine instead. Over ultrasound, we not only verified that the heartbeat is just fine (thank goodness) but we were also treated to images of the baby swimming around. We saw a great straight-on view of the baby looking back at us, kicking its little legs around, as well as a beautiful profile view where we could make out arms (in a "boxer" pose), moving legs and torso, and full facial profile that even I could recognize. (No Rorschach Test skills needed.) Crown-to-rump measurement came in at 11w1d, +/-4d, so we are perfectly on schedule.

As for me, I've gained exactly 0 pounds, and my blood pressure is exactly what it was a month ago, smack dab in the middle of the normal range. I've never felt so average in my entire life.

The upcoming medical milestones include a nuchal translucency scan in about 2 weeks (I need to call to schedule that...) and a normal prenatal visit at 15 weeks. Other "milestones" between now and then: a trip to visit my family, which will allow us to tell my parents about the pregnancy in person, and my birthday (31) which moves me from being "thirty" to being "in my thirties" (I'm told that some of my friends stressed about that particular transition, though I think that I stressed enough last year about turning 30 that I'm all out of age stress, at least until 40).

I told Dr. M. about my brief panic a few weeks ago when I started feeling "too good," and he said that was totally normal. He informed me that, from here on out, if I felt good, it was normal, and if I felt crappy, that was normal, too. No worries either way. Which sounds good to me.

All clear, genetically

The results of S's blood test are in, and he is not a carrier for the genetic mutation that I carry, so we have been cleared of worries on the genetic front. With that hurdle behind us, we can focus on the next goal: hearing a heartbeat through Doppler at Tuesday's appointment. Given the return of my nausea this week, though, I'm less concerned than I was a week ago that something has gone wrong. It's nice to feel hopeful again.

My job between now and Tuesday: to stay busy. I have several work-related tasks that I'd like to finish, and even more house-related tasks to get through. (Wow this place turns into a pigsty awfully fast when I'm too sick to clean!) We have no big plans for this weekend, other than bringing some big loads of stuff to the recycling center and to Good Will. Once we start to accumulate baby stuff, I'd like to (at worst) keep the house junk-neutral. Actually, I have a dream where we get rid of so much crap over the next few months that, even with the addition of baby gear, there ultimately is less stuff in the house in October than there is now, but that's probably just a fantasy.

I passed!

Results from the various blood tests are in, and I passed (almost) everything. Blood counts, etc., etc. all look good, no problems. I'm not excreting protein, I'm not anemic, I don't have TB, I'm immune to German measles... everything you could hope for in a first trimester blood panel.

Most relieving to me, I don't have gestational diabetes, which was my biggest concern. I have a solid family history of Type 2 diabetes (eg, my brother was diagnosed with it at the ripe old age of 30) to the point that, several years ago, my father started asking me "Do you have it yet?" as if it's inevitable that eventually I will. (My protest that, unlike my brother and my father, I have never had a 5-donut breakfast habit doesn't seem to phase him.) Yet somehow, I (rather stupidly, I would guess) have never even been tested for it. Thus, I approached the glucose screening not just as a test to see whether I might have gestational diabetes, but also whether I actually also might have pre-existing undiagnosed Type 2. Thankfully, my sugar levels were nice and low and normal, not even in the borderline range. It doesn't rule out developing gestational diabetes later in my pregnancy (I have a hunch they'll want to test me again next trimester, since my family history still puts me at high risk) but it does basically rule out a pre-existing condition. It also means that I don't have to regulate the saltine crackers that are my anti-nausea mainstay. So things are good.

The only flaw in my otherwise brilliant blood test performance: my genetic carrier screening shows that I actually am a carrier for one of the Ashkenazi genetic concerns. Who knew? The odds are still heavily in our favor that this won't matter at all, since S. is in the lowest possible risk group for this one, but he'll be doing a blood test this week just to be sure.

Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker ...

All systems go. We had the first prenatal appointment today, at 7 weeks exactly, and were rewarded with a beautiful ultrasound. One little embryo, one little yolk sack, both measuring exactly what they're supposed to, positioned exactly where they're supposed to be in the uterus. And, most exciting of all, a little fluttering heartbeat, right on schedule, that we couldn't take our eyes off of.

I know some people talk about feelings of maternal warmth and excitement and utter amazement upon seeing the first fuzzy ultrasound images. I guess I felt those things, too, but mainly, I felt overwhelming relief. I've been feeling sick enough that I knew I wasn't just imagining that I was pregnant, but still... a blood test showing elevated hormone levels seems so abstract, even if it is accompanied by very real nausea and food aversions. Seeing a little heartbeat, though... that seemed to show me something much more concrete. Proof that I'm actually building something in there. (S. and I have been joking for weeks that all my energy is going towards "creating infrastructure," but it's a whole other thing to actually see the infrastructure in black and white.) And for the record, it seems that S. felt many of the same feelings that I felt, in his own muted sort of way, but was mainly fascinated on a technical level. I suppose that's probably normal; people have told us that a woman starts to be a mother the moment she gets a positive pregnancy test, but a man doesn't start to be a father until he actually sees the baby after delivery.

Dr. M. used his little spinny wheel thing to calculate a due date, and came up with September 11. (I had calculated September 9 myself....) I cringed and asked him if he really needed to record the date as 9/11. He offered to write down the 10th instead, but S. actually took the opposite side and asked to keep it as the 11th. ("It's an easy date to remember!" Yeah, but for the wrong reasons....) The ultrasound computer calculated it to be the 8th, plus or minus 2 days, so I think that I'm just going to stick with the 9th. So there it is. 9/9. Our next appointment is in 4 weeks, when I'll be at 11 weeks even.

Also, because of my family history of diabetes, Dr. M. wants me to take the gestational diabetes glucose tolerance test early, as in sometime this week, as opposed to week 24 or so when normal people do it. I'm a bit nervous, because I don't want to give up my beloved anti-nausea saltines.... But overall, I'm just thrilled that things look good. Now, S. and I are actually moving on to a discussion of how long we want to wait before we tell our families!

Official!

Results of the blood test are in, and I am really truly officially pregnant. Still in shock, but holy cow I'm happy.

Happy New Year!

Positive!?!?!

Oh my goodness, we may have done it!

I spent Friday and Saturday feeling totally wiped out, and unnaturally hungry. I attributed the exhaustion to our recent travel, and the hunger seemed unusual only because I was actually not nauseous for the first time in weeks. But Sunday morning, the HPT was positive. I stared at it in disbelief for a few minutes, then woke up S. (at 7:30 on a Sunday morning, way earlier than his usual 10am wake-up time). He mumbled something along the lines of "That's nice," then pulled the covers back up over his head. When he woke up a few hours later, he had to ask me whether he had dreamed it.

I spent the day in a bit of a dream state, really happy, but also in a bit of disbelief. I'm trying not to get my hopes up until everything has been confirmed (I had a blood test on Monday, but with the New Year's holiday today, I won't get the results until tomorrow), and I'm leery of doing anything to "jinx" it during the first trimester, particularly since it is still so unbelievably early, but I couldn't resist running out and buying 2 pregnancy books. And peeing on yet another stick yesterday, to make sure that it wasn't a fluke.

Pointing towards this being the real thing: I took an hour-long nap yesterday afternoon, but still could barely stay awake until midnight for New Year's Eve. I slept for another 2 hours this afternoon, and I'm still feeling exhausted. And I never (I mean, never) normally nap.

So... I leave for a business trip next Friday. After I get back, we have the first prenatal appointment, on January 22, when I'll be at 7 weeks. My due date is September 9. Not that I'm getting ahead of myself at all at this stage....

Definitely Not

It is now official - my period started this morning, the cycle failed, I'm (still) not pregnant. I start the next round of Clomid on Thursday, this time at the maximum dosage. We're going to be cutting it very close as to whether we will be able to do an IUI this cycle before we leave for Christmas. If the timing is the same as last cycle, we'll be doing the procedure on our way to the airport; if I ovulate any later than that, we'll be trying the old-fashioned way (though still with pharmaceutical assistance), very quietly, in the guest room at S's parents' house. Woopee.

The stats thus far:
IUI#1 - Oct'07 - 50mg Clomid - canceled
IUI#2 - Nov'07 - 100mg Clomid - failed
IUI#3 - Dec'07 - 150mg Clomid - underway....