And I’m not going in to the RE’s today.  Why? you ask.  Because I want to have two extra days under my belt (ahem) when I do go under the wand, so that I have a better chance of seeing something encouraging.

Besides, I think Dr. Bigshot is in today and tomorrow, whereas I know my doc is in on Wednesday.  If I have to hear bad news, I want to hear it from someone human.  

It’s all about hedging your bets, see.

At this point, I have no idea what to attribute to the PIO & what to credit the pregnancy with, but my bosoms are swollen.  Make that SWOLLEN!

And tender.  Tender like I was wishing for, symptom-wise a few days ago.  Can I take that back now, please?  I was just foolin’…  Ouch.

A bit of intestinal distress last night had me convinced for about three minutes that I was in the middle of miscarrying, the cramps were so bad.  Then I calmed down enough to realize that a) there was no blood anywhere, and b) wrong kind of cramps.  All appears to be well, or at least that’s what I’m going with until I’m forced to believe otherwise.  Of course, that didn’t stop my unconscious from playing out different miscarriage scenes at least 5 different ways last night.  

It was a rough night in general.  One of our carbon monoxide alarm (we have several since we sleep in the basement with the heater, furnace, and other monoxide-producing gadgets) went off at 5am and we spent several befuddled minutes trying to figure out which one it was so we could see if it just needed new batteries.  Sure enough.  Still too tightly wound (and cold from the window we opened just.in.case) to get back to sleep for another hour, my brain entertained me by insisting that I was miscarrying right then & there.  

I was so dopey from interrupted sleep that I got up and checked, um, 4 or 5 times.

All is well.  This morning I’m sleepy, but fine.  

Looking forward to (and simultaneously dreading) Wednesday’s appointment.  Oh please, let everything be going ok in there!