Close your eyes

The meditation night was very chill. No yoga, really, just breathing and being present. Knowing I was probably facing a week where I'd just have to throw expectations out the window, I went with it. Not to say that my mind never drifted toward making lists, but it did not settle there. It just settled pretty well.

So when I was handed a pretty sick boy in the morning, I didn't feel so terribly depleted. But I was surprised at how deeply I fell asleep with him for a nap from at least noon to two. We were on the short couch in the bright family room. At some point he even shifted his body so that it was mostly covering my head, and I didn't care. I just kept sleeping.

How different to have a kid who sleeps in the day, who will not whine, "I'm not tired!" and will just surrender to rest. How did I fuck up so bad that my son has not been able to drop into quiet for a full year without reaching a point of total exhaustion?

That's what I worry about when I think about #2. Can I help this one develop a healthy rhythm. We won't be able to just do whatever whenever because s/he will have a brother who needs rides to school. I'm hoping this helps me establish boundaries and that s/he accepts them instead of that we both are chronically underslept.

And I know I cannot go for seven months without ever handing a baby to a sitter, ever. I have a work identity I don't want to let languish, even if I'm happy to have a babymoon and not have some office I need to race back to. I don't love pumping and I will not do any replacement for breastmilk for a year unless something scary happens. But I cannot, will not get so lost I don't know where I start and the other being begins.

Not telling in public

Friday I hosted playgroup with my groovy mama friends. No one asked; I didn't tell.

I'm sure there were a few questions about my life lobbed my way, but mostly we were all busy keeping our kids from pissing each other off and trying to share whatever insights/thoughts/ideas came into our brain. And questions about known pregnancies and new babies are more interesting than general catch up.

I did note that my friend who once said it would have to be me or another mom to get pregnant before L had her baby said to the other L, "So you'll have to be pregnant before then" without referencing the other mom or me. The first time I'd kind of felt pressure, sort of a "don't put that on me; what if I miscarry tomorrow?" feeling. This time I felt left out like no one believes I will conceive.

I'm sure no one really gives a shit whether I do or not.

But then I went to a party of a former neighbor -- the people we bought our house from who were showing off their beautiful brand-new home with a fancy catered affair and two-year-old sent away to the grandparents. A bunch of our still/current neighbors came. One was talking about the sadness of giving away clothes now that her second child is a year old and her husband says that's all they can afford.

Then she asked me about our plans. I repeated what I've said before, that we would have tried this summer if it hadn't been for the move. I added that it was only recently that I started to feel like we could give it a shot. But I added something like, "I don't know what my body is up for, though."

There I stood, in a draping pink sweater drinking water at a party where it was the only non-alcoholic drink and I actually had to open up the fridge to find the Brita (there was no water out among the catered food or on the porch will all the non-punch drinks). Her eye almost made a twinkle sound as she said, "But it could happen right away. You never know."

"You never know," I agree. I think she knows.

Still going

I'm still pregnant. Temp back up. It's just cold out, I think.

Or maybe there is doubting that played a role. Yesterday saw one of my energy workers who is really into the work of Byron Katie and "is that true? what would you be without that belief?" stuff. I probably needed some of the clearing but was also a little annoyed at how she pushed. Seemed just as righteous as I am about my doubts.

Little boy did fine waiting for me. But he came up with emotional stuff that was about my anger. Funny since part of my "story" was that I am responsible for his suffering (c-section, etc.) and she was trying to get me to throw off that belief. So it's not true but yet it is?

What role do I have in my progeny's health and happiness based on my beliefs?

The beginning of the end?

My temp was 97.7 today. It should not go below 98.1 if I'm pregnant. Of course, it's 25 degrees outside and was probably about 60 in the bedroom. Maybe the thermometer cooled down my mouth.

I took it again: 97.9

And again: 97.7

I told hubby and mentioned that I would buy another pregnancy test later. "Is that going to tell you anything?" I offered that the line might be lighter if my body was losing its HCG. I don't really know, but I don't feel like being questioned.

Today I have a dentist appt. and an appt. with my energy worker, who can probably muscle-test and answer whatever question I have.

But if I'm about to go through a loss, I'd like any foreknowledge/assurance I can find.

First friend disclosure continued

Here is what I wrote in an email to my friend today, in response to her question about how I'd been feeling so far.

"...So other than being tired at the moment, I feel eerily normal. I never got sick with #1, but I certainly felt queasy by this point, had to pee a million times a night, etc. I'm feeling a bit in disbelief, still taking my temp every morning, have taken 4 tests (well, two were old/expired in 2006, but I did them anyway. No, wait, that would make it 6 tests in two weeks. Can that be right? What a kook!) I'm feeling really cautious about believing...

So... physically I'm fine, emotionally, it's surreal. I have one friend who has now an 18-lb, 3- month old son but I watched her go through 3 losses in the past year & a half. I have another friend who is 17 weeks along after two miscarriages (and had started but didn't need to go through with fertility treatments). My one sister had one miscarriage between kids #2 and #2, and my other sister had several after having three kids. I've been in writing groups and workshopped/given feedback on at least 5 or 6 pieces on miscarriage in the past few years. And as I think I told you I didn't even get my period back after #1 until almost 2.5 yrs. So I am one skeptical little bunny!"

My first tell

Okay, I'd already told my guy acupuncturist (in person, the day of the first test) and my therapist (via email, while rescheduling). But today I told the woman acupuncturist who said six weeks ago she wanted ovulation closer to 14 days than 21 (and she got it!). She put needles in the points that are used for nausea, among other things, and we were both nearly zapped out of our skin by the charge of electricity. "Wow, your qi is high! I felt that!" I've had a lot of needles stuck in me but I've never had a zap and tingle like that.

Later, I emailed to a friend who recently had a miscarriage because I didn't want to go to yoga and lunch with her next week and later tell her I was/am or had been pregnant. I wasn't sure if she might want a rain check, but she was just so cheery and congratulatory. "How have you been feeling?" she asked.

That was a few hours ago. I've ignored some other emails, too, but I should have replied to this one. The thing is, I don't really want to say that I'm feeling totally normal in my body and totally in some kind of surreal denial in my head.

While I was not replying to emails tonight, I was watching the last episode of season one of "Mad Men." I knew from the "Making of 'Mad Men'" special feature that Peggy was indeed pregnant and that she would have the baby -- and turn away from him -- this season. When my husband said this was the last episode, I couldn't believe there would be no more lead-up. There it was: she just went to the hospital in the beginning stages of labor claiming she ate a bad sandwich.

I don't think my denial will rival Peggy's, but this feels so strange. "Maybe it's just a different pregnancy," the acupuncturist said when I told her that I wasn't noticing any of the symptoms I had at this point the first time around.

Indeed!

Where are the symptoms?

This doesn't feel real. I'm not queasy. My nipples are a little tender but nothing to wince at. No multiple trips to the potty all night long. I worked out the other day and felt good. I might be eating more but I ate a lot already.

Is this just my body going through the motions for something that's not got full potential?

Testing, 1,2,3 (or 4)

I took another test. The fourth one. I don't feel sick. My boobs maybe hurt, but not really. I'm getting fat but if it's not for a baby, I have got to cut down.

The pregnant line showed up before the control line.

I'm pregnant.

I'm getting more used to the idea being for real. My husband and I had some kind of conversation in which we both agreed we were getting girl vibes. I can't even remember what he said. Something like, "you're thinking sister?" with a mild question mark, almost a period. As though of course we'd come to the same conclusion. We did last time. We were right. Go figure.

My friend is having a girl, and she just turned 40 with a great party last night. At least twice our mutual friends referenced, "when you have another" as though there was no doubt it would happen. And as though it weren't already.

I sucked in my gut on the size 00P jeans I could hardly button and tried to deflect attention from the comments.

Even if I had wanted to tell, someone else's party is not the place, and even the same week of her party wasn't the right time.

They might come here to the house for writing group on Wednesday. I moved just a few months ago and they haven't seen the new digs. I think I can only share so much of myself at once.

Baby's avatar

I had no idea when I was newly pregnant with my son that he'd come out a redhead with charcoal eyes. I don't profess to have had any visions. But his energy seemed somehow so nuanced, from so early on. Maybe that has to do with his having an intense personality, being a sensitive and dramatic soul. Now three, he's not one to fade into the background.

That's why I've felt a little skeptical that this time around, I have no picture, no sense of this potential for a person that's supposedly growing inside me.

So last night, I lay in bed thinking about this blank frame. It had less of a sense of soul than a new Internet user identity with no picture uploaded. You, know, the default image on a blogging platform or on LinkedIn, or wherever -- that shadow with a silhouette or sometimes even a question mark. There was no substance.

And yet, as I started to think about this blank, this empty shell, the frame started to change. It got scalloped like a stamp -- those frilly edges you think of more with Valentines, but they're actually on every USPS standard-issue stamp.

And the interior seemed like it got more opaque and textured. No longer a sad fading gray, the landscape inside the frilly frame deepened to a black through which show ragged scratches of color, overlapping in every direction.

I think I actually started to believe.

And it seemed like she was a she.

Silence of omission

My friend came over today with her daughter and new baby. I knew about her pregnancies soon after they happened, and her miscarriages. We talked about her plans for trying to conceive and for waiting while she got acupuncture. Anything less -- if it wasn't just for not having the chance to chat -- wouldn't have felt right.

I didn't tell her.

Maybe it's because we didn't talk much about ourselves. We talked about mothering in general and some of our mutual friends. She shared some about herself via those conversations, and I did a little too, though much less than usual for someone who usually lays it all out there.

You might even say I lied. By saying nothing. "We're going to have to get things together for L's motherblessing this spring," she said. "And before she has her baby, someone else is going to have to get pregnant. So that's you or A."

If I weren't already pregnant -- if I were trying or still in flux about trying -- I don't think I could have taken that comment with the lighthearted tone in which it was intended. I mean, I've been talking for at least a year and a half about my doubts about being able to conceive after so long with no periods, and of course watching so many friends miscarry, it's for sure on my mind that nothing can be taken for granted. It's not as though I live in the land of believing you just oops have sex and wind up pregnant, heehee.

Except that I did. So maybe the reluctance is about making such a big deal over nothing. Isn't that always the case with me? Aren't I always being told by this same friend -- and others -- that I'm too hard on myself? Yes. And does that ever make me feel anything other than bad for being so hard? No.

So maybe I just want to keep the drama close to my chest. I really don't think I could take a round of "See, that wasn't so hard" from my friends. Certainly not during this early period when so much could still change.

And, as I was just writing in a piece I submitted the other day to Hip Mama, I'm not exactly used to feeling like it's safe to tell the truth. I always felt like I had to shield my mom from my sadness, lest I add to hers. My siblings were all so much older, I felt like nothing I experienced really counted. Theirs was the true reality. I was just acting things out, perpetually the preschooler playing grown up. Everything plastic, nothing bearing its real-world weight.

But I did grow up, and this is real. It is a life. And I have more friends - genuine and wonderful women - than I've ever had before, and sisters who are my friends now that nine and twelve years don't mean so much. But I still don't want to let them in. I'm afraid of accepting support, and I can't imagine happily going through a motherblessing like the ones I've helped organize. I don't think I believe I'm worth it.

A lot of people don't tell until later in pregnancy, and I respect that. Some people tell right away, and that makes a lot of sense to me.

I'm noticing that, although I think my physical reality may announce my condition within the next three weeks, I am not looking forward to telling. Anyone. Ever.

The Question of Clothes

My friend is having a 40th birthday party on Saturday. I don't have a whole lot of fancy duds to wear for a fall/winter gathering.

I also don't have a whole lot of nice fall/winter stuff that would mask a pooching belly.

So in the past few days I've purchased over $1000 of clothes. I don't expect to keep a whole lot of them. Most was online shopping. When I see anything in stock in XSP or 00P, and it's a reasonable color, I order it. I can hardly shop in stores anymore since their smallest sizes have gone online-only (or have just increased in size to make larger folks feel better). I did manage to score a few things at Ann Taylor Loft and Loehmanns, which I'll have to model for the one who pays most of the bills these days.

But how the hell do I know what to invest in? This extra flab could be gone tomorrow. Or it could keep getting bigger. I remember the first time around, I bought some nice, breezy tank blouses I hoped would cover my belly so I would not have to announce to a brand-new crop of students that September that I was pregnant until I'd at least heard a heartbeat. School started when I was 11 weeks, and it was already a challenge to keep things under wraps, I showed so early.

But one of those tanks I've never worn. Another has been on about twice. The following year, they were too tight and too nice to wear as a nursing mom. That was probably the same the following year, since I was still a frumpy mom who was nursing a one-year-old all the time. Ditto 2008 with a two-year-old.

I might have worn them this past summer, but they just were so obviously not in style. It's one thing to wear t-shirts that are half decade old, but nice shirts that screamed 2005 were just not something I reached for in 2009.

So really, buying a pair of size 0P jeans because they are on sale and give a little room that 00Ps don't? Is that really wise?

Maybe not, but only if I'm going to keep getting bigger. If I don't, well, I could really use new jeans.

Last time I was almost my full size by Christmas, at the end of my second trimester. This time (insert requisite "if" here), I'll be just ... pause for counting ... eight and a half weeks. I should still be able to make it down the chimney, laughing like a bowl full of jelly at the pants I filled out four years earlier. I'll need something in between and up-to-date!

If I was an easy size or if I had any serious sense of fashion, this clothes issue might be a different question, but it just ain't my thing. And yet, I'm not so clueless that I don't know how bad I look when I've got the 90s goin' on.

(Well, most of the time. Sometimes my husband has to point it out).

I will have to make some purchase decisions and actually remove a few tags for Saturday's party. And if it gets super cold, I'll probably say I'm worth a new discounted-to-$25 sweater.

For the rest, I should probably wait and see if I'm going to be dropping a chunk of change back at Gap Maternity.

On not telling, Part II

I just learned on Facebook that a friend recently had a miscarriage. She wrote a poignant reflection on the culture of not telling until the first trimester is over, concluding that it's pretty dumb not to gather support at the time you need it most.

I agree, and I don't.

Part of me thought it would be silly to keep something so important from the people who are important to me. My friends and I share info about being tired because a child didn't sleep well, about husbands not being what we need on any given day, about our own grumpiness that gets in the way of appreciating our partners, about interactions with family, about sore nipples, the whole nine yards. So why, I thought for a while, would I withhold the truth of what is going on with me?

Because I'm scared. What's not so clear is exactly what I'm scared of. Part of me is, of course, concerned that something will go wrong, and then I'll have to tell everybody. If you never shared the news in the first place, you don't have to share the un-news. You can wait until the pain has passed and then offer some perspective.

But that doesn't fly if what you really want is support. I understand that. So why don't I want support?

Because I don't know what I want support for. I'm ambivalent. That's not very inspiring. No one signs up to be a cheerleader for a team that's not sure whether or not it wants to win.

Yes, of course I want to have a baby in my arms in, gulp, eight months. I wouldn't have had sex three times and waited until the middle of the night to pee if I didn't want it.

But I'm tepid. Timid. Unsure. It happened faster than I expected, and I am not ready to share any kind of excitement until I feel it's relatively safe to have some.

It seems to me that by this time in my first pregnancy, my son had already told me he was here to stay. (And that he was a boy, which freaked the hell out of me). I know it was in the 5th week (which starts today or tomorrow), because I was at a writing conference, and I can picture that Sarah Lawrence College dorm room where I felt like I heard the message (but still took my temperature every morning just in case. And by the way, I was peeing a thousand times a night already. I had to go across a linoleum tiled floor to a flourescent-lit bathroom).

Since I was a writing conference -- about writing the medical experience -- I wrote about my new experience as it was happening. We were tasked to produce a poem the morning after we got there, so I wrote something I'd been composing in my head on the train ride about shoots taking root or being washed away, like the tomatoes in my soggy yard. My pregnancy (and the fact that I wrote long poems) was the first thing people in my workshop learned about me. Other people -- the prose writers -- had no clue, of course. But I was thinking it, living it, feeling it.

I'd also told my mom by this time, because she was to have surgery while I was gone, and I wanted her to know, just in case. I might have told my sister right before I left, but I think I told her shortly after I got back. I couldn't ask my mom to keep it a secret for too long.

After all my health issues, we were all excited that I'd even gotten pregnant. "Oh, (name)," my sister said. "I hope this ends up with a baby in your arms" (hence the language used above), "but even if it doesn't, this is really exciting."

She miscarried at least once, my other sister more times than she cares to count, the last one ectopic and leading her to call for a tubal ligation. My mom, though, doesn't think she had any pregnancy losses, and she had five kids.

Which brings me to the next fear, one I don't even feel like addressing yet: the ability to have natural birth, at home, after having had a c-section.

I've been living with such doubt for so long: can I safely have a baby vaginally? Or nevermind that, can I even get my period back and ever get pregnant again? How about, Can my marriage take another child? Can I take it?

I've done some work on these questions with a therapist trained in Emotional Freedom Technique, and it got me away from gripping tears and toward a kind of distance.

I'm embracing that distance now. Like a parent unsure of a child's new boyfriend, I'm not going to get my panties in a bunch until I know he's sticking around. Why bother getting attached to something that might be gone tomorrow?

But I'm also not drinking even decaf coffee or eating any non-nutritious food, (except some coconut milk ice cream, which has good fat). I might be staying up late, but I'm generally trying to be a good maybe-mama.

I'm just doing it quietly for now.

Timing

Originally I thought we'd go for three years apart. But that would have meant getting pregnant when I hadn't even gotten my period back yet. Not ready!

For a while I was stuck on spring as the only legitimate time to have a baby. I was born in March, my mom was born in March, my son was born in March. Babies are supposed to come in the springtime. Renewal and all that.

But there are a lot of people walking around this earth who came out of their mother's wombs at other times of the year, hot and cold instead of just on the border the way I like it. There are, after all, 11 other months and (since I considered April and May as runners-up), three other seasons.

Shooting for an even four years apart was not an option because we were in the middle of a move. The anniversary of my first conception fell on the 50th anniversary party of my parents. We started tearing down walls and picking paint the next day. I was in no position to take care of myself, let alone my son and a zygote, to boot.

Then the hot summer with no preschool dragged on. I signed the boy up for two weeks of tot camp and thought to myself (and myself only): it would suck to have a baby in the middle of the summer.

One day I took a walk with a friend who was thinking about the possibility of #3. She'd done the math, too, and she wasn't shy. "No, we're not trying yet. That would ruin the whole summer. You could never go to the pool. I'd go crazy."

I agreed, but less because of a fondness for chlorine and more about the travel we'd miss. After the fast party weekend in Michigan, we did only a short trip to Maine late this summer because of the move. I want to spend a week there in 2010, dammit.

Vacation notwithstanding, I shuddered at the idea of having a would-be-four-year-old out of school and it possibly being so thick with steam outside that we'd crank up the A/C and run around the couch all afternoon. Seriously, tot camp only goes until noon. The sun is up until 9. Those are some awfully long days even without a baby trying to figure out how to nurse against your sweaty skin.

So, I was not going to try in October to yield a July offspring (even if that might be better later for school cutoff age considerations). I waited to give myself a month of summer before a due date, but I also figured it was more likely that we would have to shoot a few rounds of blanks before seeing my uterus to a Presto!

So November was the first shot. As I've already written, I did not calculate correctly to figure out that a last menstrual period of October 27 would put me due at the very beginning of August. Damn that acupuncturist for successfully making my cycles shorter!

Today I asked a woman at my son's school if she her daughter was her only child. "I'm pregnant right now!" she chirped. Due in June. Already telling and out there. Really a blip in time, this two months between the possible births of our potential babies. Summer babies, one and all.

But right now, when nothing is certain and I wake every morning wondering if my temperature will still be raised (and I will probably take my fourth pregnancy test in another three days if I don't start to feel any queasiness), that two months is like a gulf.

On not telling

I spoke on the phone to a friend today who told me she was pregnant at about the same place I am right now -- probably about 5-6 days further along. She was surprised because she was planning to do some pre-IVF fertility treatment. And then what she thought was a period -- even blogged about it -- was, in fact, just a sign that something was nuzzling into her flesh good and deep. She's now 17 weeks along, a trimester ahead of me.

I didn't say anything.

So far the only people who know are my acupuncturist, an Emotional Freedom Technique practitioner I was supposed to meet with tomorrow but allowed me to reschedule, and the receptionist at the acupuncturist's office who ordered a prenatal vitamin for me. When she called today to tell me it was in, I asked about seeing the doctor on staff for some baseline bloodwork. She wasn't sure, so she put the doctor on the phone. Non-spouse person #4 who knows!

She asked if I was going to do a homebirth and if so, with whom. Uh, I don't know yet. It's, like I said, really, really early. I just wanted to make sure my thyroid is okay and buy myself some time while we interviewed people. That's something I thought would wait for a while, like until we were a little less stunned and more certain this was for real.

She didn't want to draw my blood, said the midwife would do all the labs. Well, okay. I won't come see you, then!

And I don't want to let my friends in just yet. I've been so wishy-washy for so long, not believing it would happen or should happen. I'd like to be a little more clear on the prognosis before I make any pronouncements.

We'll see if my already changing waistline will let that happen.

Show thyself

The thing about being 5’0” and small-boned (normally hovering around 100-106 lbs) is that I start showing almost immediately. At least I did last time, and I swear it can’t be only the pumpkin pie this time around that's making me look so plump and juicy.

I don’t even know if I’m really still pregnant, but it’s like my organs have gotten orders to march north. And since there’s not a whole lot of room to travel, they start sticking out.

Granted, I was not in my most svelt shape before I got knocked up, but I was not one of those people with a gut that you look at and wonder if they’re pregnant… all the time. But now, if I let my back do its natural over-sway, I could easily pass for being halfway along.

I can also stand up straight and suck it in and look okay. But let’s remember; I’m not even five weeks yet.

I think that if this sticks, it’s going to announce itself before I will.

Reflections on not yet knowing

So I knew it was a possibility. Of course I did. I was clear about being fertile when I said, after my mother-in-law left from her weekend visit, "I'm not convinced about this or about our relationship, but if we're going to try, this is the time." So we did. Three times that week (and none since?).

I'd started to feel like someday I would look back at me being grumpy - complaining about the stress of moving, of my volunteer work, of trying to work for pay - and look back and say, "But you were together and relatively mostly happy, and you wanted a sibling for your son. Why didn't you just try before your ovaries got crusty?"

I disagree with my sister-in-law, who once said, "But don't you think there's never a good time to have a baby? Do you seriously think you would have had a kid if you knew then what you know now?" Of course I would. I don't think life sucks that bad. I knew parenthood was a challenge. I've watched my sisters have and start raising six kids. This is not a complete surprise.

I just didn't want to do it depleted of energy, tired, stressed out and seriously questioning my marriage. But I think seriously questioning my marriage was in fact a way to push off this thing I worried I'd fail at -- conceiving, growing a healthy baby, and, dun-dun-duhn... being able to have a VBAC (preferably at home - an HBAC).

So I figured we should give it a shot. Maybe it will take a long time. We'd waited until we were past a busy October, which meant not having an on-time baby in the middle of the summer (something I kind of wanted to avoid - push it closer to fall so we can still go on trips). I'd done a decent bit of detox. I was eating pretty healthy and not facing a major big deadline of any kind. My son was in school three days a week -- still not enough time, but not bad.

It did occur to me that we'd given in a good shot. And when I got an email noting that BlogHer was in early August, I gasped. "What a bummer to miss that by a few weeks," I worried if by some chance we'd gotten pregnant.

Of course I hadn't yet done the math and thought the conference would be after my due date. "Maybe I could go up there and if I went into labor, drive the hour to my sister's house and deliver there like I saw her do 12 years ago. Maybe I'd have a better chance of getting my own head out of the way if I stayed busy until the very end," I thought.

I told my husband last night about the BlogHer date, and he gave a sympathetic, "Aww..." like he actually got why I wanted to go to this thing and how crazy it would be if we'd actually gotten me seriously knocked up for the long haul such that I couldn't go). That reaction is the best thing to come of this yet!

It also did occur to me about 7-9 days after ovulation when someone at a meeting I was leading told me I looked great, that I was glowing. I kinda thought so, to tell the truth. For one thing, I felt warm. But I also felt good about what I was doing. I'd had another event the previous night at my house that was great, too. I felt pretty in the zone, working toward establishing a career & niche I felt proud of.

The next Monday I got surprisingly busy with a writing project and ate chocolate and drank decaf. I'm normally a pretty healthy mama, but I do make my exceptions when the cortisol is already flying.

I still managed to eat a full healthy lunch, but it was hurried and while on the phone. It was a nutty day, and I was almost 10 minutes late to pick up my son at school.

That night, I had monkey mind, but I wanted to sleep. So I imagined tucking in all my thoughts -- emails to reply to, work to edit, work to write, cleaning to do for Thanksgiving guests, food to purchase. They each got a pillow and blanket, and I told them to take a rest.

And then we all did.

Until the next morning, when I ushered my manic son out of the bedroom so my husband could sleep a while longer and I could pee on a stick without an adult audience.

And the rest is history.

Due Date Reality

Okay, so I knew it would be August, but I wasn't quite thinking the very beginning of the month. I just used a calendar at Discovery Health and came up with a due date of August 3. Holy shit!

If this is for real -- the pregnancy, I guess I should probably not register for BlogHer (Aug. 6-7). It's not too far away this year. Why can't it be in July again?

First trimester ends January 19.

Second trimester ends May 4.

I was thinking of doing a sub job in April-May. I guess that is still doable.

August 3.

There's a whole month of summer left after that. Ayayay.