Quickie

Baby is very much alive with a wee beating heart and measuring 6w3d. Mommy, on the other hand, is The Walking Dead. I've been alternating between moaning, coughing, moaning and coughing, and retching-from-coughing since Tuesday evening. Virus. Big one. Mutant. Horrendous. I just broke the fever last night, finally, although I'm still running a low-grade fever around 99-100. I tossed and turned last night thinking that I was deep-frying the baby in my fever haze. But alas, baby is alive and kicking (limb buds). And I am sacking out on the sofa and drinking healing elixirs (Gatorade) until I feel better.

 

Yakkity Yak

Oh hello, Nausea. I remember you. You suck.

Funny, I don't remember inviting Constipation to this party, either. Someone must have leaked the password (fidelio).

Also, my ass is lumpy and sore from however-many-weeks-now of PIO shots. About 2 more weeks to go. And then I can sleep on my side in comfort again. Except for Nausea and Constipation, my loyal companions. Insomnia can't be far behind. (Teething toddler night time drama is helping hasten that.)

But I'm not really complaining, y'all. I got the baby. We get to see a heartbeat this week. Huzzah.

 

Uno

 

Meantime

What's a girl to do when she's knocked up (miracle! SCIENCE!) and has to wait for her first ultrasound? I guess there's work. Blah. I have projects that were supposed to be done weeks ago but (thanks to slow-as-turtles client teams) are still dragging on, and a couple of new projects that are suddenly looking much more complicated than when they were pitched and the contracts signed. Meh.

Mostly my time is spent eating and sitting. For I am HUNGRY. I haven't gained a pound but am eating for seven. The nausea is mild and intermittent, and a friendly (and mostly welcome) reminder that I am pregnant. The fatigue is just, I don't know, there. The suddenly beautiful weather over the weekend meant spending all day every day outdoors, and Jackson running around demanding I help ("halp?") him down the slide again. again! again! more! more! until we both needed a nap.

I just got the daycare paperwork to sign Jackson up for another year of school in the toddler room. He's moving on up. And I have to decide the following: half day or full day? full day ending at 3 or include aftercare? holiday coverage? He transitions to the Big Boy room in June, and by then my current spate of crazy work projects will be ending, so I could keep him in for half days or only regular full days until 3. It would be nice to cut back on work and spend more time with him before the baby comes (see how optimistic I am!). But I will also get more and more tired. So maybe the extra help would be nice, so I could take some naps. I have to talk it over with KB tonight and come up with the best plan. It can always be revised later, but they do have waitlists so you have be proactive with this stuff or risk losing your spot. Bah. Everyday Jen is a planner but Pregnant Jen doesn't want to decide things. It involves too much brain. Math is hard.

We're also redoing our only full bath starting this week, and fortunately much of it will happen while we are in Chicago over the weekend. I hate the idea of giving the contractor a key to our house, but the convenience of the demo and plumbing getting done while we're out of the house is too good to pass up. Also, right now there is a corner tub boxed up and on a palette sitting on my deck. We're like Sanford and Son up in here. Hopefully this project will be done by end of next week, so I can park my ass in my new ginormous tub and eat stuff or whatever. (Side note: I wanted a smaller tub, but since it's a corner bath it turned out that smaller ones were considered custom and cost twice as much; so I said, fuck it, we're getting the indoor pool! Family baths.)

So I'll certainly have my work cut out for me over the next several weeks in between ultrasounds (my RE, bless her heart, does ultrasounds every week until 8 weeks at which point you graduate; then my OB does them at 10 weeks and 12 weeks prior to the 20-week anatomy scan). In the meantime, I have a jar of salsa and some guacamole to consume. All of it. Shut up.

 

Three Hundred and Sixty-Two

Hal. Eh. Loo.

 

One Hundred and Sixteen

Beta is good. I am feeling good. Hungry. And tired. And a wee bit nauseous already (yikes). But good.

 

For the Love of Data

Beta is tomorrow.


 

This Really Doesn't Get Old (For Me)

 

I Can See Clearly Now

 

Rhetorical

Would it be weird if I peed on a pee-stick every single time I have to pee?

 

Hork

That is the sound most uttered by me this weekend. Natch, my relaxing transfer day (heeeeey, Valium, how you doing?) gave way quickly to a nasty-ass cold that had me violently sneezing all day yesterday and violently coughing all night last night. I had a dream that I killed the Three Amigos by coughing too hard. Yikes, y'all. It seriously feels like I've given myself a hernia.

So Operation Patience=Virtue continues until later this week. The trigger shot should be out of my system by Wednesday, so I may start peeing on stuff Thursday. But I don't know. Friday would be a safer bet, because a positive would be more likely to show up then. In the meantime, although it's probably psychological bullshit and/or the horking, I am feeling hungrier than usual and my uterus feels, I don't know, busy. Tight. A little cramped. (To be expected, with all those Republicans peering up in there.) (*rimshot*) My alternate realities are oscillating wildly between these possibilities: A) I am not pregnant (probably from all the horking) and must make my peace with that, B) I am pregnant and can start picking out nursery bedding (psych your mind, I've already picked it out), or C) I am pregnant with triplets and gawd help us (me and the Republicans clamoring to get in my ute).

Now, this birth control-loving slut is going to go to work to take my mind off of the triplets and horking.

 

Three Amigos: Part Dos

All 3 embryos were still hanging out, ready for transfer this afternoon. Given our history, and that it took 3 embryos to make 1 Jackson, we transferred all of them. Here are the triplets:

 

Now I must wait patiently (*snort*) until next Friday, when I shall begin peeing on sticks OCD-style.