Weighing in

No pun intended, but I figured it was about time I weighed in on this whole pregnancy thing. Since I'm the one that's preggers.

It started with a few frustrating rounds of at-home intra-uterine tries (did I mention that this post won't be for the squeamish?). And by a few, I mean 3. I am fully aware that I should just shut my pie-hole about only having 3 frustrating times and 1 successful time. The problem was that I, predictably, got in my head about the whole thing. I tested before it was time. Got frustrated with the negatives. Tried to find pink lines where there clearly were none. Went so far as to make the infertility appointment.

Then came the fourth try. I woke up our good in friend in a west-coast crunchy city at around 5am her time on a sunday morning in a panic: The million dollar fancy fertility monitor you made me buy went positive today unexpectedly! How many vials of the swim team should I try? 2? Ok. But when? This conversation was to be legendary, but I'm sure LSG was just glad to get off the phone and go back to sleep. T and I had debated whether or not to go for two vials this time, weighing in the fact that our donor (of which we had 4 vials left) had none left in the bank. Ultimately, we decided that having to change donors if we happened to run out was not the end of the world, and it was worth a try.

So we packed up the existing kid, raced to the storage facility and convinced the very nice lab tech to give us two vials out of deep freeze with 2 minutes notice. I'll skip the next 24 hours since it wouldn't even be appropriate for those who aren't already squeamish.

We went to Ohio after Christmas to visit my family. I brought all the supplies: pregnancy tests, the fertility monitor, and monitor sticks. And one night I had a moment of complete clarity. I woke up around 2am and in total darkness with my wife and baby quietly sleeping in the room thought, "We don't need anymore kids! One is perfect! We can just stop trying!". I should have known.

Tracy let me sleep in the following morning and before I went upstairs to see the fam, I decided it was the day. So I pulled out a stick, peed on it, and then ran away from it. The last three times I had stood there and stared at it. I couldn't bear to watch it come up negative again. So I organized (my default activity when I'm anxious).

And there it was. 2 pink lines. Uh oh. So much for clarity.

I walked up the stairs to where T was and said sternly, "I need to speak with you. Right now." Fully convinced that she had done something terribly wrong, she followed me. I showed her the stick, we rejoiced, and then looked at each other. "Damn that LSG." Always right, that one.

Anyway, that's a long drawn out version of how this adventure started. I spent 2 weeks feeling totally normal. Then the puking started. Again, details not necessary, but I spent a good portion of each evening either praying it wouldn't happen, or just getting it over with. T was unfortunately experiencing a higher than usual stress level at work, JB was getting teeth and discovering the word "no", and I was completely useless. Suffice it to say I would not have gotten through that first part without my amazing wife, very helpful in-laws, phone support from my parents, and co-workers who made sure work was as easy as possible during that time.

Now that the second trimester is here things are much better. My appetite is back full force and it feels fantastic. I've finally started putting on some pounds after losing a few in the beginning. I have a for-sure belly bump (not the pretend one I was "making up" the last couple of weeks). My clothes don't fit. My boobs are a whole new country. And while I have loved bread and butter pickles my whole life, they taste AMAZING right now. Which also means that my olfactory nerve is working overtime and I can smell a dirty JB diaper from a mile away.

The things we know: I'm due 9/10/09. I measure big enough for ONE BABY. I have ONE extra heartbeat in my abdomen. I will have an ultrasound on tax day that will tell us the gender (yes, we're finding out) as well as whether the baby has all its parts in all the right places. I think it's a boy. Or a girl. Everyone at work and all of my parents think it's a girl. I should be able to start feeling the baby move in the next month or so. I plan to eat everything in sight in celebration.

Stay tuned for updates over the next 25 weeks!