Progesterone

You great white waxy
suppositories
that I have to stick up my hoohaa
twice a day
according to the orders of the RE
who I have not actually spoken with
or even seen
yet
regarding this pregnancy.
Moonfaced,
bloated,
can't tell if it's
morning sickness
or
the progesterone
making me slightly nauseous
but my boobs are sore
so that's a good thing,
right?
Waiting
for the other shoe to drop
the door to slam in my face
again.
But this time is different.
This time,
no matter what,
I'll be okay;
I'd be sad
and mourn the loss of possibilities
yet again,
but I'm in a better place
than the last miscarriage
and better than when we lost Jimmy,
so let what may be
be.

And God Laughed…

As Frank Romano (the dad on "Everybody Loves Raymond") says,

"Holy Crap!"

I can’t believe I’m posting this. On Father’s Day, I peed on a stick, a Home Pregnancy Test stick to be exact. I didn’t have to wait the three minutes – the double lines appeared right away.

HcG on CD32 was 373.

Today’s HcG (CD34) was 911.

We have doubling. More than doubling. I am pregnant. For the fifth time in twelve years…

No signs of bleeding, boobs are a little tender (but they’ve been through two breastfeeders and one engorgement due to my stillborn child’s delivery, so they’re stretched beyond belief).

According to all those lovely due date calculators available on the web, my due date would be Thursday, February 21, 2008. Knowing that my OB/GYN had told me after Jimmy’s death that, if I were to get pregnant again, he would induce me at 38 weeks if everything were okay with the baby (read lungs were mature), as the stress would be too much for either of us. Then I got pregnant with and miscarried Little One, so we never had the chance to find out.

So, if my OB/GYN holds to his word, this child would be induced at 38 weeks. Instead of Thursday, February 21st, I would have a due date of Thursday, February 7th. That was the day we buried Jimmy. My fifth pregnancy and hopefully third live birth would take place four years to the day that I buried my third child.

Because God has a wicked sense of humor.

I just can’t get excited about this pregnancy at this point. I know that sounds horrible, but I can’t. I had finally resolved myself that I wouldn’t have another child, and bam! I know too well what can go wrong. What if I miscarry again? What if there’s something very wrong with this pregnancy? What if it’s a perfectly healthy baby that chokes on its own cord twenty-eight weeks into this pregnancy?

For now, I am living blood test to blood test, waiting for the other shoe to drop, anticipating it, steeling myself for it. I know that these feelings aren’t unusual for the IF bloggers who have finally succeeded in having a successful pregnancy, but I am surprised that I can remain this unemotional, because I’m not, unemotional that is. I’m very emotional. I cry at Hallmark commercials and sad songs and sappy country music videos. So the lack of emotion is just not my norm.

Next bloodwork in a week. Holding on until then.