Happy to report…

that it looks like we still don’t have consensus for how a pregnancy week works.  Which is rather reassuring – at least I’m not the only one.

However, the majority seemed to think that zero-days begins a pregnancy week, putting me today, theoretically, at…. 5w3d!  So that’s what we’re going with (also because I like the sound of it more than 5w2d, to be honest.)

I know you were all holding your breath on that one.  Thank you for responding.  Damn math…

In other news, my upper-level girl-goods are finally starting to feel like the bosoms of a sprogged-up lady.  Definite soreness (and not just from me jabbing them unobtrusively when no one’s looking.)  I’m feeling a bit more hopeful that everything’s proceeding apace in there.  (Though what I’d really like is to toss my cookies, or at least come close!  Maybe I’ll go to Fairway today and lurk in the butcher’s section…)

It’s my first of nine days off, and I’m practically dancing in little circles, trying to contain my happiness.  Going to cultivate me some serious kitchen zen.  Maybe in the form of pie.  Going to go to the farmer’s market – maybe the one in Manhattan that has everything from flour to wine.  Going to get some writing done, and going to get my new website up & running (finally)!  Going to walk the dog a lot, (starting soon, because she keeps putting her head in my lap) and going to baby the boy as much as he’ll let me.  Going to not go to work.  Yipppeeee!

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Ok, this is officially

driving me batshit.  

I hate uncertainty (which is why it’s a miracle that I ever survived this far in the IVF process.)  I hate ambiguity (ditto above comment regarding miraculous survival.)  Not knowing how far along I am, not knowing what’s happening in there (please god, there’s lots happening!) is making me nuts.  

I hate this open-ended waiting.

Shouldn’t I be feeling something by now?  Seriously, I’ve got no breast changes, no nausea, no super-sniffer-sense, no extra pee-trips in the night, no nothin’.

I’m scared to death.  I mean, by my only measure of this sort of thing, a miscarriage doesn’t necessarily announce itself with blood and pain right away.  Everything just sort of stops & you don’t even know about it for weeks.  And it’s not for weeks after that before the blood & pain starts up.  

I know there’s nothing I can do – or rather, that I’m doing everything I can do.  No caffeine, no raw stuff, no rare stuff, no sit-ups, no pistachios (at least until the current salmonella scare is over.)  I know I should just buck up and deal with the uncertainty and fear.  I know everyone goes through this to one extent or another.  I know I’m not special.  I know that according to many websites, pg symptoms often don’t even start until week 6 or 7 (and by my best estimates, I’m in the middle of adjusted week 5).  I know all these things, and yet I’m still completely out-of-my-mind terrified.

Not sure I’m going to make it til Wednesday.  Maybe I’ll go in on Monday and beg for an hCG test, thereby confirming my status as craziest IF-lady ever.  (“You want we should take unnecessary blood from you???”)

Oi.

Basically, I need a new hobby to get me through the next 5 days.  Something not baby/pregnancy related.  I need to develop an overwhelming urge to collect china or samovars or something.  (actually, that said, maybe I’ll go to one of the big antique flea markets this weekend and look for, er, china.)  Oh god, this sucks.

A friend told me that, yeah, this is what “normal” people go through when they learn they’re pregnant, and that, in essence, I’ve been spoiled by being able to calculate a precise due date without any hemming & hawing in the past.  Which is totally true and I have much more sympathy now than ever before for this “i dunno when I’m due” state of being.  But I also think I’m a little more fragile than most newly pregnant ladies.  This year’s pregnancy related events have taken just about all of my giddy optimism from me, current miraculous sprogged-uppedness notwithstanding.  Seriously, what I want more than anything right now?  I want ugly, retching, ohmyfuckinggod morning sickness as a sign that this pregnancy is progressing, and I want it bad.  I want it NOW!  Come on, nausea —  I’m ready for you.  Do your worst & try to make me yech!  Come to Mama!

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