Which all basically comes down to the fact that I’m trying not to think about it.  Well, trying not to think about any of it.  The giddy has definitely left the room, replaced by the morbidly terrified, so I suppose it’s better not to dwell on it at all until I can figure out where giddy went and drag her, kicking and screaming, back into the building.  I’m thinking in another 4 weeks or so I might be ready to go on a giddy-hunt.  But til then, she can just have this head-start, because I’m in no shape to bag her.

And in the meantime, I have lots of work angst to distract me, and we also have tons of social engagements coming up – from hosting writer friends this next week, to dinners out in groups and with other couples, to big family dinners in, to LordOfTheRings marathons complete with hobbity feasts.  And I think I’m just going to try – try! – to take things one day at a time.

This is normal.  Normal for me, anyway.  Get through one more day without brain-leakage.  One more day.  One more day.

Lots of bleeding after my exam yesterday, so I think I’m just going to have to accept that my cervix is cranky – can’t blame her.  This is certainly more work than she’s ever been asked to do before.  And I’ll keep drinking a ton, and hoping it goes away soon so my brain doesn’t explode.  Because that would suck.  Seriously, I’m thinking it might be time to call up the therapist I saw over the summer.  Because the anxiety is kicking in again with a vengeance.  And for no reason – nothing has changed, and I had an US just yesterday, ferheavenssake.  I’m just paranoid.

I guess it’s because this week is the week of doom and so I’m feeling hypersensitive to anything & everything.  Tuesday cannot come soon enough (unless of course, he refuses to feed my crazy-pregnant-lady nerves & wand me.)  I just wanna get to 13 weeks.  And I rather wish I didn’t have to live through the next 4 weeks, but could just magically skip ahead in time.  Hell, it feels like I’ve been pregnant for 6 months already, I don’t see why a little more playing around with Time shouldn’t be allowed…

Off to work, where I’m going to try really hard not to obsess about the week and the day and my history.  Lalalalalalalalalalalallaaaaa!

Because, yes, everything’s looking fine, hearts beating, embryos measuring on target for 8w4d.

Normally, graduation day would be a day of tossing pills and syringes every which way, but given my history, my doc is keeping me on most meds for another three to four weeks.  Which reassures me.  Which is his point, I think.

I do get to discontinue the blue estrace pills immediately – YAY!  and since I think their scratchiness is exacerbating the bleeding issue, I’m happy.  APAs came back negative again, which is good, and means I get to taper off the prednisone – or taper way down anyway, starting next week.  I’ll be on PIO & prometrium through March, just to be safe.  I’ll probably come off Lovenox at the end of February, though, which makes me a bit nervous, but there really doesn’t seem to be a need for it, what with the normal APAs.

One step closer to normal.

He told me to quit worrying about the spotting.  He did a really thorough check to make sure there are no weird bleedy spots in utero, and it’s clear, so he said not to worry about my rh- status.  It’s my blood, not embryo blood, so no antibodies will be produced.  He told me not to worry about the fact that my Lovenox bruising is nearly gone.  Actually, he laughed at me and said, “You really are a crazy woman, aren’t you?  It’s a GOOD thing that the bruising is going away.”

Um, yeah.  Yeah to the crazy.  That’s me.

So next week is my first OB appointment, and I’m hoping I can have half as good a relationship with OB as I’ve developed with my RE.  Of course, the reason I’ve got such a close relationship with him is because of all of the incredible shit of the last 2 years, so I guess I wouldn’t mind not getting the chance to develop a similar one for similar reasons.  But I’m going to miss my doc.

Not going to miss the clinic, though.  Not going to miss the horrible feelings of desperation that I swear are trapped inside those walls.  Not going to miss reliving each and every bit of bad news I’ve received in there, every time I’m placed in a given exam room.  Not going to miss that part at all.

Not one little bit.

Now it’s time to start praying that my new OB is as ultrasound-happy as I hope he will be.  Countdown to Tuesday the 16th…

And there was no spotting.

I’m feeling hopeful that maybe – just maybe – I can keep this under control with ultra-hydration.  I mean, I guess it makes sense, and if this isn’t incentive for keeping my fluid levels up, I don’t know what is.

The Boy has started calling me Lady Pissalot.  Laugh it up, guy.  You aint seen nothing yet.

**

In other exciting, TMI news, the Blech is here pretty much up until the evening, now.  When I’m busy I can ignore it, sort of, except for the early afternoon, when I’m sort of a useless, moaning wretch.  No vomiting, but then again, I think the last time I actually vomited I was about 12 years old.  I’d be one of those people to die of food poisoning because I hate to yech so much.  And bulimia?  I can understand not eating (ok, not really, you know me!) but I’d rather weigh 400 pounds than force myself to yech.

Anyway, I’m feeling sick, but I’m still functional.  And I don’t mind feeling sick.  I figure sick = pregnant, and that’s a good thing.  I’m just grateful that I seem to have inherited my mother’s easy-pregnancy genes.  I realize this could be much more debilitating than it is, so I am grateful I’m getting off easy (but not so easy that I’d be worried!)

I’m back to the Realm of Pain today, armed with candied ginger and lemonade mix.  Hoping for a not-too-stressful day, but not really planning on it – our first day open in 3 months, I’m thinking it’s going to be sort of nightmarish.

Ugh.

• My mom bled through her first trimester with both me & my little brother.
• I’ve had blood in my kleenex every time I blow my prednisone-stuffy nose from the day after transfer.  My mucosa membranes are obviously fucked up.
• Carrying twins makes bleeding much more likely according to everything I’ve read or heard.
• IVF makes bleeding much more likely.
• I’ve only had a couple of spots of fresh blood.  Most of it is old, and according to Dr. Google, “nothing to worry about”.
• I really haven’t had any cramping since week 6.
• The nausea is unmistakeable and growing more pronounced.
• The boobage is threatening to take over my entire front.  Internets, I’m stacked.
• I never bled with any of my previous miscarriages.  At the time, I hated that fact, it just seemed doubly cruel that I simply didn’t know.  Now I’m finding comfort in it.  Bleeding or not-bleeding apparently means something different to my body than to others’.
• I did have a MUCH fluffier uterine lining than I’ve ever managed to pull off before.  As witnessed by the fact that both sprogs managed to implant – something we’ve never managed, even when transferring 3+.
• I’ve been under some wicked stress – both physical & mental – in the last week & a half.  Thanks, Realm of Pain.   You suck!

But it’s this last one that I think just might be telling:

• I’ve been feeling sick enough in the afternoons & evenings that drinking my full allotment of water has taken second place to not-vomiting in my list of daily priorities.  I did run across a couple of references to dehydration making people more prone to spotting.  Which might make sense.  This started while we were traveling, when I certainly wasn’t drinking as much as I ought, and this last week, I’ve been feeling so green in the afternoons that I know I haven’t been drinking enough.  I mean, I’m still probably drinking more than I usually do, but not enough so that I don’t always feel thirsty.

So.

My solution?  I’m going to make a real effort to get more fluids into me in the next couple of days.  Buy some gatorade powder – a trick I used when I was working outside a lot – and dose my water enough to make it not taste like water, but not enough to be sweet (I really don’t like sweet drinks).  Maybe buy a bunch of limes.

And keep track.

This is obviously just an excuse to make a new Excel chart in order to distract myself.  And I’m ok with that…

*sniff*

They grow up so fast.

Seriously, I know many of you find the widget-gizmo disgusting and creepy, but I enjoy the hell out of it.  It’s the closest I can get to that demo-cow ideal of being able to actually look into my innards to see what’s happening.  And it’s one thing to read some pregnancy timetable and say, “hey, legs are lengthening” and it’s another to see actual growth day-by-day on the widget-gizmo baby.

Of course, on the “oh my god why did I ever think this could work for me” front, I woke up this morning convinced that the baby is dead.  Why? you ask.  Because the terrible pain in my chestal region is completely gone.  Nothing.  Zilch.  Nada.  

Nevermind that I went off Estrace this week, which has probably been contributing to the, er, hormonally-based changes in my body.  Nevermind that I went off prednisone this week, which drastically affects how much fluid is in my system.  Nevermind that I ate watermelon for breakfast these last two days running and so can be assumed to be retaining slightly less water than has become typical for me.  That evil part of my heart that gloats over and revels in every single pregnancy symptom is utterly convinced that it’s over.  At least I’ll probably get an ultrasound tomorrow to reassure me or confirm the worst.

Seriously, I don’t know how pregnant women get by with just an ultrasound to confirm the pregnancy and another one midway through.  Thank god I’m AMA with a history of loss and so can expect multiple checkups where young thangs might only get one.

Terror just sucks.  

So I’ll concentrate on limbs today, and how wiggly they look, and hope I get to see/feel them wiggling soon.  

Ugh.  Hate this.

The fatigue is definitely something I wasn’t counting on.  I mean, I’m a sleepy person anyway, I sort of figured “how much worse could pregnancy fatigue be?”

Hah.

Pregnancy fatigue is waking up in the morning, after 8 or 9 hours of sleep and having your eyes drift close in the shower because with a very little effort you could get comfortable enough leaning against the wall to fall back asleep.  

Pregnancy fatigue is taking a quick rest at noon and not waking up until after 3.

Pregnancy fatigue is closing your eyes on the subway to avoid uncomfortable eye contact with the creepy guy sitting opposite and waking up four stops past your house.

Pregnancy fatigue is deeply envying the whippet whose entire life consists of eat (a little bit), walk (a tiny bit), sleep (the rest of the day).  Sounds like heaven.

The nausea has been coming and going.  It’s never bad enough to make me yeccch, but it’s bad enough to make eating a chore instead of an opportunity for yumminess.  Spicy food remains appealing, even when I feel the crappiest, so at least I have a go-to-taste when nothing else is working.  (Although that avocado sandwich yesterday was sublime and there was nothing spicy about that!)  Seasick bands seem to help, as does putting my head down for a few minutes.  And I don’t truly mind the yecchy feeling.  It’s reassuring, in a totally disgusting sort of way.

Ta-tas are sore-ish, sometimes feeling just mildly unhappy, like right before a period.  Sometimes, though, they feel like I’ve been repeatedly kicked in the chest by a pissed off mule.  Haven’t determined any rhyme or reason why they’re sometimes not so bad.  Maybe to do with how much water I’m retaining?  

Ah, water retention!  My weight hasn’t moved more than a pound up or down, but it really doesn’t seem to matter if I ate like a horse the day before or could barely stomach anything.  Kind of odd.  Pants are tight, though.  In the waist, where my pants are never tight.  A strange feeling, actually.  

Only 2 sleeps left until my midwife appointment, and I think the boy will accompany me, so that will be fun all around, I hope.  I’m hoping for an ultrasound, and really hoping that everything looks on target, but mostly feeling complacent about this.  Enjoying.  Trying to be relaxed about it all.  

I’ll let you know how that works out for me.

Besides, ‘Poppy Seed’ is just a cooler mental image than ‘Grape’.  

But Sprog is obviously no longer a very hungry poppy seed, but rather a spice-cravin’ big-head-alien.  So something had to change.  

Fortunately, last night’s Dandan noodle of a dinner came complete with a fortune cookie so perfect that it might have finished off my IF fortune cookie collection.  Standing in the kitchen with a noodle hanging out of my mouth like a mouse tail dangling from an owl’s beak I started crying great big fat tears of happiness.  

Your dearest dream is coming true.

Well, yeah.  It does seem to be.  

Which got me to thinking of all the fortune cookie fortunes I’ve amassed over the last two years.  Granted, there were an awful lot of “Happy is better than wise” level fortunes that I tossed as soon as I finished the almond cookie, but here, in order, are the keepers that have been tacked to my bulletin board since we started this TTC journey:

• You are filled up with a sense of urgency.  Be patient or you may end up confused.
• Your present plans are going to succeed.
• One must know that there is a path at the end of the road.
• You need to live authentically, and you can’t ignore that.
• Your secret desire to completely change your life will manifest.
• Good news of a long-awaited event will arrive soon.
• A golden egg of opportunity falls into your lap this month.
• Your dearest dream is coming true.

So I pass that baked-goods wisdom along to you with my own wish: May all your dearest dreams come true.  (And may I recommend the dandan noodles?  Really spicydelicious.)

Sprog, meet the World.  World, Sprog.

I’m still rather floating around over the moon somewhere.  Figure I should enjoy my bliss while it lasts since I’m due for more “I know my baby’s going to die” thoughts in another 2.5 days.  

But for the mo?  Everything baby-related is perfect.  

Actually had a fairly stressful day yesterday at work.  Some manager/employee (not me) stress that’s putting the whole branch on edge.  Plus, duties were reallocated, and as a result of being competent, I find myself completely overwhelmed with everyone else’s jobs to do on top of my own.  

Is it wrong to be looking forward to maternity leave already?  

The Boy is going out of town for another convention, and I will be here, watching movies like Coraline, giving myself PIO (which I get to stop on the 4th!) and admiring the baby clothes I bought.  Because I am that much of a geek.  

Bosoms have been tender, though that is probably less hormonal than the fact that they get in the way of the dogs feet more than they used to.  Nothing like a dog using your tender bits to push off of every time she stretches at night.  Urg.  Aversion to rich, sweet food continues, which is just whacked.  For me to be unable to finish a donut is damned close to blasphemy.  Um, been having a few uterine cramps, which I’ve officially decided to quit worrying about since I know some women have them all through pregnancy.  Not much else going on, except that I’m officially looking forward to all sorts of scary tests in August, and shall transfer my desperate hopes to hoping for good test results, given my terrifyingly advanced maternal age.

Oh, and among other good things yesterday, my doc gave me the schedule for getting off the meds:

I’m off estrace as of yesterday.  
I started weaning myself off prednisone yesterday – should be off it in a week
I stop taking PIO on August 4
I stop using prometrium on August 18

I can’t wait to be normal!

Yesterday wasn’t as bad as I’d feared.  I imagine I was just so busy that I didn’t have time to obsess over my sour stomach as I do when I’m at home.  Still tired like a hibernating bear, though.  What I want more than anything right now is to be allowed to go back to bed.  Grrrrr.

A few GI cramps – thanks, prune juice! – sent me running to the bathroom, terrified that a miscarriage was underway.  *sigh*  Don’t think I’ll ever be over that fear.  At 38 weeks I’ll feel my first contractions and be convinced I’m losing the baby.  Funny, but not funny, really.  Boobs are sore, skin is clear, self is exhausted beyond the mortal capacity to bear exhaustion, nausea is livable but present.  

And tomorrow is an ultrasound that will ease my mind for at least 4 days (I find I’m ok with believing baby is not dead for at least 3.5 days post-ultrasound.  So much faith I have!) Which, of course, leaves the next 3.5 days to get through.  I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next 8 weeks with only an odd testing ultrasound or two to get me through the weeks of fear.

That’s about all from here.  Oh yeah, except that Brenda at Hope Springs Infertile delivered her twins yesterday, and Emily at IF this Works goes in for her scheduled c-section today.  Go over & wish them happy baby-days if you get the chance.