I
have a medical condition. Here are the parameters within which I'm
supposed to operate: I'm to eat two eggs a day, drink whole milk,
and give up my beloved Wild Turkey. Care to hazard a guess what
I've got? That's right, yours truly has gone and gotten herself
knocked up with an alien parasite taken root in my belly. (This
reminds me of an email one of our friends sent out six months ago
with the subject header "Parasite." He went on to say
how he and his wife had been at the doctor and the doctor said his
wife had a parasite growing inside her and how nine months from
now their lives would never be the same, and after this long, sort
of sarcastic-funny email, Gray goes, all concerned, "Is she
going to die?")
So
the last time I wrote about babymaking I think I was lamenting the
fact that we had or were about to have a blood test, the first step
towards investigating fertility treatment. Because when I deliver
in what is projected to be March, I will be of "advanced maternal
age," which let me tell you is a bit of an ego blow, but you
can't fool around with fertility because eggs just always dry up
the older you get and that's a fact. So we tried for nine or ten
months and decided not to waste any more time and were about to
go the fertility route when all of a sudden I woke up one morning
and said, "Dang, my boobs hurt."
So
I took a test and what do you know, success! Let me just interject
here that making a baby is so weird. You spend your whole young
adult life doing everything you can NOT to get pregnant, and then
one day you decide, "Okay, it's time," and you ditch the
myriad forms of protection, which is freaky enough, but then it
doesn't happen for awhile, so then you're like, What's up, body?
And from what I hear, we had it pretty easy with our nine months
of trying. It's hard to imagine that being "fast," but
I guess it kinda is. I have one friend with three kids and each
time it's been one shot, one kill so to speak, but she should be
in the Guinness Book of Records.
And
now, everywhere I go with anyone I talk to, it's babytalk all day
every day. And because I want my life to be about more than babies,
and also because at thirteen weeks/start of the second trimester
I'm considered to be pretty safe but I'm still freaked out that
something could happen, I'll try not to be obsessed here. It's hard
for a hypochondriac such as myself not to be worried with something
like this at stake, let me tell you. It'll all be a gigantic learning
experience and adventure.
