5w and mounting excitement

So the rug has not been pulled out from underneath us yet. We still have a long way to go, but we’re starting to get more excited. We told our closest friends – the ones that have been rooting for us since the beginning of our journey – over the weekend. My plan was to wait to tell our parents until we hear the heartbeat, but Luffy was just too excited to hold it in when we saw his parents for lunch on Sunday. This has made me incredibly excited to tell my own parents, but I’m also still a little nervous about letting everyone down.

Even though my chances of miscarriage are still fairly high (relative to my odds during the later half of the pregnancy), we’re still choosing to tell our closest friends and family. Our decision is partly out of sheer excitement, but also because these people would be our support if something should happen. I would definitely turn to my mother, who’s been there before, and I don’t think it would hurt her any more or less to celebrate our pregnancy and then find out I’ve lost the baby later as opposed to just learning I’m pregnant with news of a miscarriage.

Also, despite my most Pinterest-worthy aspirations of cute ways to tell people, our excitement is getting the better of us. We’re just blurting out the news left and right. I had planned to travel to my hometown to tell my parents in person, but timing difficulties means I either have to do it now, like this weekend, or I have to put it off until late April, which boo. So I’ve downgraded to telling my parents via video chat, probably this weekend. BUT I’ve had several moments today where I envision, again, just blurting out the news to my mom tonight when I call her after exercise. All casual like. Weather’s good here and oh by the way I’m pregnant – NBD. Pros to that are that she knows now!! Cons are that I miss seeing her reaction, but I’m already not going to get to see her in person to receive a much needed hug, so I may not be as concerned with this.

Fatigue has hit me like a ton of bricks. Yesterday, Luffy and I went to lunch at his parents’ house and then went to see a movie (Deadpool – hilarious, I highly recommend for those of you who are cool with foul language and over-the-top fight scene carnage) with friends. I was absolutely exhausted by the time we made it home around 5:30. I perked up a bit to help with dinner but then was basically asleep on the couch by 9pm. Luffy sent me to bed shortly thereafter, but I slept fitfully with lots of dreams and wakefulness.

On the positive side though, it’s only taken me a full week to go ahead and say it: I’m pregnant.

(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! times infinity)


Letdown of the month

There’s no way I can top the subjects of my previous two posts. I keep trying to think of a topic that won’t be a letdown, but I honestly can’t think of anything that could top the news. So sorry to disappoint you, but we’re gonna talk about random stuff today (with a bonus Jas pic at the end!).

So let’s get one thing out of the way. I despise dry clean only tops. I don’t care about pants or blazers or even dresses, but I just can’t accept it for tops. For one reason, a dry clean only top needs to be cleaned much more often than say pants or a jacket, so the hassle of getting the garment cleaned is much greater. Another reason: I am, ahem, a fairly sweaty person. I don’t stink, but I definitely produce a lot of sweat (I’ve read that this is a sign of how healthy I am, that I can produce a sweat easily…… I keep this in mind only to make myself feel better). I have a hard time feeling like dry cleaning is as thorough a cleaning as washing in water. I don’t really know why; it’s just a feeling.

Yesterday, I went to the mall to exchange a top I got for Christmas. The store had their spring line out and had some adorable tops. I took three to try on and loved each one of them upon first glance. Two of the tops were blouses with a light, sheer fabric. They were both delicate with vibrant colors. I took care to check the laundry recommendations for those two since they seemed the most likely to have special care instructions. Both were machine washable. The other was a soft blend button down. I did not check the care instructions because, come on, why wouldn’t I be able to throw THAT in the washer?

Guess which one I bought. And guess what the care instructions called for.

In other non-news, I have caught up with the Serial podcasts and am sort of bummed that I now need to wait along with everyone else for the next episode. You see, I wasn’t really into podcasts, mainly because I still associated it with something that had to be downloaded through iTunes and then transferred to your iPod to listen to. But guess what! There’s an app for that!

I know, I know, I’m late to the party.

Anyway, I spent the past couple of weeks plowing through season one and then dove right into season two. Tbh, I haven’t been as big of a fan of season two as I was of season one. Not sure if it’s the story or the people or the place, but I’m just not as curious to hear the next episode as I was for the first season. I’m branching out though, looking for additional podcasts to fill my many commuting hours in the car.

You know who hasn’t gotten much love around here lately? Jas.

She would like me to remind you that she is the best and the prettiest and forever and always the baby. She says browr:


Your brain on infertility

I can’t quite wrap my head around it yet. I mean, it happened. The test was darker, “more” positive this morning (hey – I bought a pack of 50 from Amazon and I’m damn well testing every morning that I please). And, as my Mayo Clinic Guide to Pregnancy reminded me, any positive, no matter how faint, means that my body is producing HCG.

So yeah, I understand that this is happening, at least right now, at this moment.

But I still can’t quite bring myself to say the words aloud. Because I’m not sure about tomorrow or next week. Even my thoughts don’t quite go there. I added salmon to my salad at lunch for the omega-3’s for the — …. and that’s where my brain pauses like, not gonna go any further.

I suppose part of this could be a way to insulate myself, so to speak. As I mentioned yesterday, I tested positive very early and while, according to LMP math, I am precisely 4w1d along, there’s also the fact that I ovulated on the later side of things. Which means, technically speaking, I’m really not even four weeks along. I know this time is a very tenuous time for pregnancies and their little embryos. If something is going to happen (argh, let’s be blunt about this) I have a miscarriage, it’s like to happen in the first trimester. However, it’s even more likely to happen very early in the pregnancy….. like in the next couple of weeks. My mom had a history of miscarriages, something like five before she successfully conceived me. All of this stews around in my brain and makes me hesitant to acknowledge my status. At what point do you stop worrying about making it to the next milestone? When you make it past six weeks? Or hear the heartbeat? Or see your fetus for the first time? Or make it through the first trimester?

Another large part of this hesitation to label myself stems from infertility. As we navigated through drugs and doctor’s appointments and temperature tracking and never-ending cycles, I researched more and more and more. I’m intimately familiar with all of the statistics and the worst-case scenarios. Plus, it took us a year and a half to conceive, as opposed to the general wisdom of three months/cycles*. Because of that, I’m more used to things going wrong. It’s that status quo thing again, except this time it’s in the form of bad luck. Even though there’s no indication, right now, that I’ll have any issues – my infertility stemmed from plain-old unexplained anovulation as opposed to a recognizable issue or defect with my reproductive system – that doesn’t mean my body will be able to successfully carry/support a baby.

And what bums me out a little is that all of these thoughts are clouding together so that I’m not jumping for joy or singing from the rooftops like I thought I would be. In actuality, I don’t quite believe it’s real.

Anyway – thoughts for the day! As I try to wrap my brain around ……. er, my status. Still not ready to commit.

*It always annoyed me, the conventional wisdom of three months because what they actually meant was three cycles. Seriously, if I hunt through my archives, I’m sure I ranted about it at some point because it was a legit pet peeve of mine. Flash forward to now and I realized that, ironically, it actually did take us three cycles. Albeit, three really, really spaced out cycles with a lot of infertile time in between. Oh bodies, you’re so weird and yet so normal.

And suddenly there were two

GUYS – come over here. Shhh – gather round for I have a secret to tell you.

Yesterday morning there were two lines on my pregnancy test.

SHHHHHH – don’t get too excited yet. The test line was fairly faint (dark enough that I saw it right away but faint enough that Luffy needed explanation as to what he was looking at).

So there’s a distinct possibility that I am …. that we are …. that I could be ….

I can’t even bring myself to say it. Out loud. I haven’t yet, even to myself. I’ve ordered prenatal vitamins and the Mayo Clinic’s guide to pregnancy (Amazon Prime FTW!), but I don’t yet feel confident enough to say it out loud.

Yesterday morning, when I saw those two lines, my first thought was OMG, but I didn’t weep with joy or clap or dance or anything like that. I honestly pondered whether I should tell Luffy or not. I felt like I would just be getting his hopes up. And that’s how I phrased it too, when I told him (who am I kidding, like I could keep that kind of thing to myself for the next four or five days). I said “I don’t want you to get too excited because it’s still super early and the test line is very faint, but there’s two lines on my pregnancy test.” We hugged that grasping, strangle-hold hug that you give your truly favorite people and I showed him the test and then we sort of didn’t mention it the rest of the day – like it was the pink elephant in the room.

I suppose that’s what a year and a half of infertility does to you. I’m not overjoyed right now, I’m suspicious. I am waiting for Wednesday to arrive (the day my period is technically due) and pull the rug out from under me. HA HA. JK. AS IF*. I told Luffy this morning that I’m not ready to say it out loud because I feel like my tests are jerking me around, playing some cruel joke. I mean, it can’t be that simple, can it? It can’t happen just like that, right?

So that’s where I am right now. Suspicious and highly dubious, but oh so hopeful. Today is CD 29 but also only day 13 after ovulation. In other words, it’s still really early. Super early. Perhaps not even four-weeks-along early. Maybe if I don’t get my period this week and I get a more pronounced positive** result, I’ll finally relax and breathe and admit that I’m preg-

Eep! I almost said it!

* I watched part of Clueless this weekend and AS IF never fails to crack me up. I need to bring that back in 2016.

** For clarification purposes, the tests I have are doctor’s-office-quality, highly sensitive tests. The instructions actually warn users not to test too early because the tests are so sensitive that they can catch a chemical pregnancy. Combine that with the fact that I’m just too used to ovulation tests where the test lines need to be the same color for a positive result. Let’s just say I’d be a lot happier if my test line was the same color as the control line.


Fairy Tales and Mail Forwarding

A quick note first: Do you ever just want to jump into a story? Have you ever become so entranced in a story’s characters and world that you never want the story to end – for it to just continue on forever and ever? Maybe you could check in with them, those characters that you fell in love with, every few weeks or months to see how their lives are progressing. It’s a bittersweet feeling when you finish that last page or episode and know that the story, their story, is finished.

That’s exactly where I am right now. Over a fairy tale, no less, which makes me feel like a teenager again, fangirling all over the place when the main characters finally (FINALLY) got together in the last episode and love conquered all and even the evil guy found peace. Beautiful. Glorious. Perfection. But why does it have to end?!

I had a Monday off this week and, from the paragraphs above, you can probably tell what I spent my time doing. I think I watched a collective 20 hours of the show this past weekend and finished it up about 10pm Monday night. Besides watching way too much TV, I also cooked up a storm and baked. I rediscovered a fantastic stew I’d made a few years ago and made another batch of cookies that were well received over the holidays.

It was a good few days. I wish I could go back to them. I’ve had a hard time getting back into work this week. Possibly because of my aforementioned lingering fascination/obsession with the fairy tale, or maybe because of the long weekend (it’s always hard to come back to work after a vacation), or maybe because I’m sort of bored with work. I’ve hit my stride in my current position where I’m not really learning anything new. We hired on a new staff, whom I’ve been training and that’s been awesome, but with his arrival, I feel a bit out of place. He’s handling a lot of my typical “meaningful” work, which has been a huge relief and is also good for him and his training, but that leaves me to the boring, almost secretarial aspects of my job. Answering other people’s questions, gathering documents, forwarding mail, snooooooze. I haven’t picked up anything new or challenging from my superior yet, so I’m just caught in the middle, tying up loose ends. Just this morning, when I was waking up, I looked up at the ceiling and thought to myself – I really don’t want to go to work today…. I dread going to work today and slogging through nine hours of tasks and busy work. It was the first time I’d had that thought since I was an auditor with a Big 4 public accounting firm.

(Also, if I’m being honest, I really thought I would have left this job by now or at least have my situation so changed that it would be new and engaging. Because I thought we’d have a child by now and that I would be working part-time or from home or even not working.)

Some might say that it’s time to leave, if I feel this way, but I can’t bring myself to. I have a really awesome job, with people I actually enjoy working with and for. The benefits are great and my work/life balance is actually a real thing. I hate the commute, but I know that taking a job closer to home would likely result in a significant pay cut and the loss of some fringe benefits. I’d like to continue to work here, reaping the rewards, even if it means I’m bored and lacking motivation at times.


So wow, this post really took a turn. You can probably tell that sometimes I just sit down and start writing and see where it takes me – this is one of those times.

Seven Days and Counting

So my tracking app tells me I have seven days until I can take a pregnancy test. Seven days until I have a chance of finding out if I’m pregnant – of finding out if this cycle was the one or if we’ll have to try again. A quick google search results in several resources that say the absolute earliest you could possibly find out is about 10 days after ovulation (aka Friday), but to not trust a negative result until a week after a missed period (aka 21 days after ovulation, aaka freaking March).

I’m telling you all of this because the countdown is becoming intrusive and I’m hoping to purge my brain, so to speak.

I told Luffy this morning that I can’t wait to take the test. As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, I’m so ready for this to be our cycle. For the fertility drugs and the peeing on sticks every morning and the temperature tracking to finally, finally, yield a result. So I’m eagerly counting down the days until I can know. And yet. I’m also dreading it in a way. Right now, I can cling to the hope that this is it, this is the one. Once I take the test, I’ll know for sure and there will be no hope. I’ll either be ecstatic or despondent, but there will be no hope, at least not for this cycle.

We went to Napa a couple of weekends ago (I think I mentioned the champagne – at least once or twice). Our friend was turning thirty. His wife is six months pregnant. We had heard, through the grapevine, that they had been trying for a while. Or, at least, the information was that she’d been off birth control for close to three years. Finally! A friend I could talk to. Granted, she’s not really a friend of mine and I don’t like her all that much, but still! Someone I could talk to, in person, and share experiences. I was eager to hear any and all stories she had, to commiserate infertility and celebrate her pregnancy. Luffy and I were talking to her when we first arrived and Luffy asked her how long it took them to get pregnant. One month, she said, they got pregnant on their first try. She shrugged off our wonderment, saying she had been tracking her cycle for years and they knew exactly when to have sex.

But, I wanted to tell her, that doesn’t mean anything. I’ve been tracking my cycle for a while too and all of that means absolutely nothing if there’s nothing to track. I felt like she wasn’t grateful enough. I mean, their first try! If we had gotten pregnant on our first try, we would have a six-month-old. I imagined what his dimples or her chubby cheeks or his dark hair would look like and I wanted to shout at her – DO YOU KNOW HOW LUCKY YOU ARE?!?!?!

Of course I didn’t. I understood that my frustration with her was misplaced. I’m frustrated with me, with my body and its failed attempts. In 16 months, I’ve ovulated five times, only three confirmed (the first two I’m assuming happened because I did get a period on my own but I wasn’t taking ovulation tests at the time). Three times we’ve diligently tracked my cycle and had sex exactly when we’re supposed to. Hopefully, third time’s the charm. We’ll know soon enough.



Ten Years

Speaking of high school classmates and trying to remember people, I was added to a new group on Facebook yesterday – my high school’s ten year reunion.


It’s one of those crazy things. Like, I know that logically, mathematically, it’s been ten years since I graduated high school. Class of ’06 means a ten year reunion in 2016. I get that. But still…. huh? How has it been ten years? It seems ages ago but also not that long. Scrolling through the member list is like browsing through a year book, except all of the pictures are current. Weird. Some classmates I instantly recognize; other pictures give me pause, as I try to search out the familiar in the face of a stranger.

Of course, people have already started posting on the group’s board. Most of the messages express the same feeling I have – ten years already!! holy cow we’re getting old – while others are asking about details of the reunion and a couple others are downright rude. (One guy I remember as being kind of a dick in high school made the comment that duh guys, 2006 plus ten is 2016 so the reunion being this year should surprise no one… are we all that idiotic?? And then someone else chimed in that it was even more amazing that most of the people attending would be the ones that didn’t have their shit together yet, even though they’ve had ten years….. pinches bridge of nose, remembers why I unfollowed these people in the first place)

I haven’t decided if I’ll go yet. I keep talking to (current) friends, asking if they went and why and what it was like. Luffy didn’t go to his, didn’t even consider going. He argued that he kept up with everyone he would want to talk to so he didn’t need to go back. One friend I spoke to says it’s just like high school and that she actually reverted back a bit to her high school self. Another friend said that she had a lot of fun and that it was interesting to see high school personas drop (for instance, to view the once popular kids as just regular people – level the playing field a bit – which is intriguing to me as I was definitely not part of the popular crowd). And yet another friend remarked that it wasn’t anything super fun or special, but that you also only get the chance to go once. I will never have another ten year reunion. Fair point.

In high school, as I mentioned above, I wasn’t part of the cool kids. My high school had a magnet program and an AP/IB program, which I was part of, which made it almost a school within a school. I graduated with a class of over 500, yet I regularly had class with maybe 150 of those people. I was part of a dance spirit team which sort of made me popular, I suppose, but more in the sense that people knew who I was and generally accepted me. I was still uber shy and reserved, plus I was, I’ll be honest, a goody-two-shoes in high school. I was not the person you would invite to join in on illicit things (drugs! alcohol! sex! oh noes!!). I never got invited to any parties or hangouts or anything like that – didn’t even know about them. I really honestly thought that whole side of high school was for fiction or TV, but, in hindsight, I’m sure it was happening and I just didn’t know about it. I didn’t spend a lot of time with anyone outside of class. Other than Liz, I wouldn’t say I was really close friends with anyone from high school. I was good friends with a few, good acquaintances, you could say, with many more, but not super close. There are definitely people I would enjoy saying hi to again, assuming they even decide to come in the first place.

In the ten years since I’ve graduated high school, I’ve gotten an advanced degree and my CPA license. I’ve seriously pursued fitness (and thus have gotten into better shape than I was then). I’ve moved away from the comfort of my hometown. I finally realized my own self-worth and broke up with an abusive boyfriend. I’ve tackled a high-pressure job. I left the high-pressure job and landed in a spot that I really enjoy. I met and married the love of my life and the smartest, most genuine person I know.

I’m doing really, really well. I’m not sure that I want to revisit the person I was back then.