Why I Think I’m Pregnant

This is probably the last thing I write before I test. (Just as a side note, to friends and family who also read this blog: I will tell you before I tell the interwebs. Honestly, I’m not a Kardashian.) I’m going to take a break after that, because, if I’m pregnant, I have some calls to make. If I’m not…well, I think I’ll probably still have some calls to make. Give me a week, we’ll go from there…

Fertility Friend gives me about 63% odds at this point. So, with approximately the same odds that I am preggo as I’m about to start my girl stuff, here’s my two cents.

I’m not going to bother with any symptoms that would also indicate an impending period. Yes to all of them. I can’t tell if they are better or worse than my normal cycles, so it seems silly to hash over them a million times. Here are a few weird things that seem to be abnormal, that I’m not sure are even actually symptoms, but that are definitely in high action.

I Cannot Stop Drinking Fluids
Seriously. Water, tea, juice, flavored beverages, it doesn’t seem to matter. I feel like I’m thirsty the second I swallow my mouthful of drink. The cup is not even out of my hand and I’m bringing it back up to my mouth. I go through three trays of ice cubes in as many hours.

I understand that Summer’s on its way and it’s getting hotter outside, but it’s not like I’m running in it. It’s weird, and I’m blaming it on pregnancy. So there.

All I Want is Bitter/Sour
This may be a false alarm entirely. After all, ever since meeting MFH my tastes have expanded and changed. He caught me eating raw red onions out of the fridge a couple months ago.

But here’s the thing, the last two weeks I cannot get enough vinegar, citrus, and anything else super sharp or sour tasting.

Want an example? I cut up rhubarb for pie yesterday. And started eating it. Raw. Without sugar. Honestly considered not making the pie and just eating the rhubarb pieces like Jujubes.

My Hair isn’t Falling Out
Wait, let me back up a bit for this one.

I have amazing hair. I’m not being a dick, it’s just a fact. Even when I felt terrible, awful things about myself and my body, I usually got along with my hair. It’s thick and I have a ton of it. Usually wear it to mid-back. Hairdressers swoon. I need a full sized bath towel to dry it.

Having said all this, it shocks me that I’m not bald. The amount of hair that comes off of my head with every brushing, washing, or styling is insane. I shed worse than my dog, and that’s saying something.

Piper's Sheddings

Piper glaring at me after a brushing. (She’s blowing her winter coat.)

But right now? A strand or two, maybe.

I asked my cousin (with a child) about the whole pregnancy makes your hair awesome thing, because her hair is identical to mine, except red. I expressed my concern that having hair any thicker would be unfathomable. You know what she told me?

It just stopped falling out.

So maybe I am, and maybe I’m not. But either way I’m testing tomorrow at 14 days past ovulation. I suppose if it’s negative (and I don’t get my period in a few days) I’ll test again later.

Still, fingers crossed.
See you on the flip side…


Pulling Daisy Petals

As a very little girl, I remember standing around with a group of other youngsters pulling petals off a flower and chanting, “He loves me. He loves me not,” along with everyone else. It was this sort of adult thing that we could do as little kids without any real reprimanded. Because clearly adults pulled petals off of flowers to determine the state of their relationships. Not that a single one of us really understood what we were doing in the first place.

Pulling petals doesn’t have to be about love, though. I remember in Shrek when Fiona uses the same method to decide whether or not to share her deep dark secret. It worked for her, and was a cute little scene.

I feel like pulling petals now.

I could very well be pregnant right as I’m typing this. I could also very well not be.

Could. Maybe. Might be. Possible.

I feel like a character in a cartoon walking around with a big thought bubble over my head, who’s only contents is ????


Am I or Aren’t I?

I totally get why women go a bit crazy during the 2WW. (Not that I’m crazy right now. I’m always crazy. Things just get exasperated when I don’t have entire control over myself in a situation.) Waiting for anything usually sucks. The anticipation is just…terrible.

Nearly every early pregnancy symptom is also an incoming period symptom. The ones that are maybe a bit more questionable, like my overwhelming exhaustion at the moment, could very easily just be my body’s reaction to my first full work week in ages. It’s tiring and would be whether or not I was germinating. It’s work.

Which was great, as a side note. I was merrily working away on a flyer Friday when it occurred to me that I was getting paid for having fun. My smile was so big it almost hurt.

But I digress…

Technically speaking, you can’t [read: shouldn’t] actually test for pregnancy before the expected date of your period. Depending on what internet program I reference, that day is anywhere between 30 to 33 days since my last one. 30 days is tomorrow…er later today since I’m typing this past midnight.

So it seems like I could actually clear this all up soon, right?

Well…no. Because false negatives are more likely the earlier I test, it really would make sense to wait a couple days at least.

Then there’s Fertility Friend, the site I’ve been using to track my bbt and what not. It doesn’t like the fact that my last cycle was actually 42 days. (Look, I didn’t like it either.) They want me to wait until 42 days have past before testing.

Apparently they’d also like to drive me to drink. (Quite a feat, as I’m rounding out 4 months of sobriety as is.)

So what to do…?

Well, as the thousands of women before me have done, I think I’ll probably break down and test before the recommended 42 days. I might be able to hold out, but this is my first test of my first month trying, so…yeah…

Who knows, maybe by this time next week, I’ll have some news. Maybe I won’t.

Either way, I don’t think I can dare to put my faith in flowers.



It’s interesting how, once you’re trying to conceive, everything kind of ties into babies somehow.

Trust me, I know how crazy that sounds. Lemme explain…

Our book club pick for June is Aldous Huxley‘s Brave New World. You know what Brave New World is about? IVF to the extreme. No one has parents, everyone belongs to everyone, and babies are grown in bottles. Promiscuity is encouraged, and birth control is the armor of smart and stupid women alike. [more on my review here on my book blog]

With all the conception/pregnancy books/forums/blogs I read, IVF and genetic modification is often in my mind. Reading this book felt like more of the same.

But that’s not the only thing…

The world of trying to conceive is full of it’s own acronyms and terminology. (More on that next time.) Some of it’s ridiculous, but it all serves a purpose. Something that’s been hitting particularly close to home of late? 2WW, or the “two-week wait.”

This is the time between ovulation and the expected date of your next period. For some the 2WW is actually closer to a few days. For others, 2WW is more like 3.

Long story short, you’re sitting around [read: obsessing about] waiting for your period to start…or not so you can take a test and see, once and for all, if you’re preggo or not.

It’s waiting for something to start. Waiting for your life to change. Driving yourself up the wall waiting.

Sort of like waiting for the call to say I did or (even worse) didn’t get the job.

After over six solid weeks, I finally got the call. Oh, and the job. *blows on knuckles and rubs them on shirt*

I found out on Tuesday, but I wanted to hold out until the ink was dry before I made the public announcement to the interwebs. Thursday I got my official offer, and I start tomorrow.

Honestly, I’m a bit nervous. I want to go in and be awesome, but it’s a new job and a new role so I’m not sure how quickly I’ll fold into it.

Oh…and I’m also in the 2WW. 😉