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.

 

Waiting

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. 😉

Too Much to Say

Sometimes it’s hard to write a post because I feel like there’s really nothing going on. Unless I have a funny story or something like the DMB post, I just feel like there is nothing to type about. Other times, it’s hard to write a post because there’s too much going on. Usually a bunch of unrelated things that stretch out in all sorts of directions, and I have trouble trying to corral them all into one cohesive commentary. (Although, lets be honest here, I’m not the most “cohesive” writer to begin with.)

Lately, I’m been dealing with the latter. All columns across the board have been ticked off in the last couple of weeks. I could split them into different posts, but I’m thinking I’ll have even more to write about at that point, so I’m just going to soldier on and see where we end up.

I recently got my DNA done by 23andMe. Besides my own personal interest (can we call a bit of an obsession a hobby?) in molecular biology, I’ve always wanted to look into my gene markers for various diseases and ancestry. While your genes can’t tell you with 100% assurance that you will or will not end up with a particular disease or disorder, they can tell you if you’re more or less likely verses the average person.

A big one, for me, was my colorectal cancer markers. My biological father (whom I never spoke to after about 2 years of age), died a few years ago of this terrible cancer. He was only 54 years old. A genetic councilor advised me that I would be considered “high risk” and I should started getting colonoscopies about 10 years before everyone else.  That’s still my plan, but I was surpised to find my genetic risk fator isn’t as high as I expected. Yeah, I have all the “bad” markers, but I also have some “good” ones. It levels out to make my risk factor barely higher than the average person.

And this is why I would rather know than not. I understand that not everyone feels that way, but I can’t imagine not being armed with the knowledge. If it had come back that my risk factor was actually super high? Well, then I can talk to a genetic councilor again with the updated info and we can work out a game plan.

It also told me that I’m not a carrier for any recessive genetic diseases. High five to my parents for not passing on any potentially terrible genes. This also means that MFH doesn’t need to get tested, because he can only potentially pass on one copy of the gene and you need two to make a recessive trait manifest itself.

The other thing that’s neat about the DNA stuff, is finding other people online who are related to me. A woman contacted me after seeing our match online, and because of her, I got a whole slew of ancestry information about my own family tree. By far the coolest thing to me, was finding out that my grandmother’s line goes back to the Melanson Settlement of Acadians in New Brunswick in the 17th century. On my husband’s side, I found people coming off of the Mayflower as well as a family of really unfortunate Pennsylvanians who ran into angry Native Americans.

Melanson Settlement

Melanson Settlement © Parks Canada/K. Sollows

I’m not going to lie, it looks like ancestry is going to be a new time leacher for me. 🙂

The other big thing in my life at the moment? I’m still in the running for the job I first mentioned back in April. It’s a marketing and graphic design position, and man would I love to get it. I’ve got another interview on Friday, and this time with the owners. After tests, interviews, and material mock-ups, I feel like I’ve already been living this job. It would be amazing to do it for real.

In fact, I’m so hopeful that I’ll get it, I wasn’t even going to talk about it on here. Like by saying it out loud [read: online] I’m jinxing myself out of a job. And maybe I am. But I would rather say something about it now, and have it make sense later when I’m stoked for getting it, or bummed for not.

Hopefully, by this time next week, I’ll know for sure and the rest will be moot.

And finally, I rode my last roller coaster for awhile, and drank my last bit of caffeine (not to mention diet coke) as well. This finishes up my 90 days of preconception preparation.

Now I just have to get knocked up. 😉

Last Scheduled Stop

Okay, before we get started, I’m throwing out a TMI warning: there will be talk of periods. Lots of talk. Sometimes detailed talk. Read on at your own risk.

Still with me? Wonderful, on we go!

For most of my life, I’ve been super concerned with getting my period.

I started ridiculously early, and it came on hard and fast. I’ve mentioned before that my cycles can be crazy, but those first few years were trying. I felt like I needed a full-on sumo diaper, and even then, I couldn’t make it through the night.  To call it embarrassing is kind of obvious, but I remember crying to my mother just having no idea why four strategically placed overnight pads still left me with soggy, stained sheets. Gross.

Sometime around 13 or 14 the ol’ girl figured herself out and we normalized to the universal standard. Unfortunately the über cramps and fainting made the whole thing a bit of a toss up. My very angry ovaries could not handle the monthly rejection I dealt them, so passive-aggressively tried to end me by tossing me down stairs and such.

It was like this:

Angry Ovary

[If anyone knows the © for this, please advise me. It’s hilarious and I’d like to give proper credit.]

With the help of a great pediatrician (I loved her and saw her until I was 21 because she allowed me to) and a panicked mother, that got under control as well.

Of course, like a lot of women I eventually got to the point where seeing a late period was time for a celebration. No one I knew wanted to be a pregnant teen, no matter that MTV might suggest to the contrary.

Now I’m a bit weirded out, because I’m at a whole new phase. I’m really hoping that my current period is going to be my last for a while. Not only did it start late, but it’s my last planed cycle preparing for conception.

It’s like it knew I was waiting for it to show up, so it wanted to be fashionably late. Bitch. (Wow, now I’m the passive-aggressive one.)

As I mentioned before, I’m not getting any second thoughts. At this point, I’m more worried about getting support. Online boards seem to have very little patience for anyone just starting trying. If you’ve tried for less than a year, you really have to just keep your mouth (or keys) quiet.

I get it, in a way. I mean, I can be the world’s most empathetic person and still have no idea what it feels like to try and create new life and fail repeatedly.

But it’s just as new and scary for someone just starting out.

Sure my Mom had no real issues. Sure I’m about as well versed in ovulation as a person can be. None of that means that I’ll get pregnant right away. It may take me a month, but it may take me a lot longer as well. It would be nice to feel like I’m allowed to vent on conception boards the same way women who have been trying longer can. If for no other reason then to have someone who won’t make fun of me if I burst into tears if I see red next month.

Honestly, I have amazing friends who will be wonderful with whatever happens to me. But what about all the women out there who are basically doing this on their own? Who look online for advice and support because they can’t trust or don’t have anyone around them.

Ugh. I just need to make a soapbox, already don’t I? Here you go:

Soap Box

I reserve the right to trot this out again, as needed.

I’m not going to let it get me down, though. I’m excited, and I’m allowed to be excited without worrying about how it effects every other person out there. I’m trying to create a new little life, and I cannot allow my typical worrywart mentality to take over and ruin that.

It will happen as it should, and I’ll be hanging out on my soapbox happy with however it goes.

Won’t you join me?

Happly Little Blurp

Remember when I was all, “What if I don’t have my rubella immunity and I have to wait three more months…waaaaaah!” Remember that?

Today I finally got a call back about that blood work, and guess what?

Totally have my immunity! Super excited guys.

Have so much more to talk about, but I think I’m going to leave it at that, for now…

Mother’s Day Musings

Mother’s Day has been weird for me for quite awhile now.

I left home young, and while I originally got back to see mom, from about 21 on I haven’t really been able to see her for her day.

Living in TO means I have the chance to see my Grandmother, which makes things about as good as they can be in this situation. Between MFH and I, we only have one grandma left. Saying she’s amazing is like saying the world is big. It’s true, but it certainly doesn’t really encompass half of the story.

I’m named after her. (My middle name is her first.) When I was acting, I ended up using my middle name as my last. (My agent thought my actual surname made me sound like a porn star. She was not wrong.) Hence, Ms. Isabella was born.

Anyways, Mother’s Day has felt off for several years. I miss my Mom most days, and Mother’s Day just makes that worse.

This year, though? This year was all sorts of crazy.

I had my plan to spawn in place last Mother’s Day, so you think that I would have had the same feelings then. I didn’t. This was the first Mother’s Day that I actually thought about what it would be like to be a mother myself. And man, it was…strange.

I’ve never once gotten cold feet, and that’s totally not what the strangeness was. It was more the realization that this plan I’ve had in place for over a year is all well and good, but I can’t actually force this thing to work. I’d really like to say this was my last Mother’s Day not being a mother. But who knows how the next few months are going to go?

So…I guess it’s sort of the opposite of cold feet. Not worrying that something’s going to happen, but worrying that something won’t.

And then I feel kinda stupid for worrying at all.

I need to find a balance between forcing this grand plan of mine, and just letting things happen. (I’d also like to get this job, get my sleep schedule back on track…and (really sorry for the TMI) would love to start my g-d period so that I am actually able to start trying to have a baby! *sigh* One step at a time.)

I’m making all this sound worse than it is though. There was a really great moment this Mother’s Day.

MFH and I got home and couched it while watching the Leafs play. MFH randomly asks me if I’m excited to be a Mom. I wait a couple of beats before answering, because it seems like the kind of question that deserves a serious consideration, right? Of course, I say yes. He nods and says, “Me too. I think you’re going to be a great mom.”

And Ms. I’s small heart grew three sizes that day…

3 size heart

Driving Me Bonkers – Part I

I’m not even pregnant yet, but I’m already finding myself really tired of hearing/seeing certain things. Right. So assuming things will continue on in this vein, I’m preemptively making this DMB Part I. No idea how many to follow.

I could be completely off-base here. I may have the most amazing, Zen pregnancy that leaves me as completely free from being antagonized and happy as a fat Buddha.

Fat Buddha

Me at 8 months?  [photo via Milei.vencel]

Somehow I doubt it, though. I’m just not the kind of person that can swallow the bitter pill without making a face or simply toe the company line. It seems like pregnancy makes that sort of thing worse, not better. Like getting old. Grandparents can say and do stuff we whippersnappers couldn’t dream of getting away with.

Keep Calm or Not

This message has been approved by Ms.I

What is rising my ire, you might ask? (Alternatively, maybe you’re just wondering when the heck – or if – I’m actually going to get to the bloody point. Patience, grasshopper.)

In a nutshell: preggo shaming and “how would you feel” ers.

Preggo Shaming
Preggo shaming seems to occur mostly on pregnancy and conception boards or comment sections of articles about the same. I get that breastfeeding (or not) and how a baby is diapered are two super hot button issues. What I don’t get is why any woman (or man) feels the need to tell another woman that her/his preferred method is the only way. As if there is no alternative. No single reason why you cannot exactly replicate their experience.

Have a medical reason why you cannot produce enough milk, so you’re feeding or supplementing with formula? TOO BAD! You’re POISONING your child!! You just aren’t TRYING hard enough! According the most extreme, you can’t even bottle feed with breast milk. You’re confusing your child and they won’t be able to properly breastfeed.

The debate between whether to use cloth or disposable diapers rival actual wars. And you know what? If it all came down to a hearty discussion, I’d be completely for it. It’s a great way to see different sides of an issue and really get an idea of what you might like to do.

But that’s not generally what happens. Preggo shaming is what happens. You know the dog shaming trend of late? It’s like that.

Preggo Shaming

No! Bad commenters! STOPIT!

How Would You Feel ers
These people crop up in the same places as the Shamers. They seem to be everywhere else as well. They, in my mind, are worse than the Shamers. While the Shamers seem to have an utter lack of empathy, the HWYFers mask their asshattery by confusing fear-mongering with sympathy. It comes in a million variations, but the just of the HWYFers is this question: “How would you feel if you did [insert random action here] and something happened to the baby?”

Are you kidding me? I would feel like a worthless mother. I would feel like God was pointing down at me shouting, “Epic Fail!” How the hell do you think I’d feel?

If you golden spiral that to try and get to the final conclusion, you cannot do anything. Move? “How would you feel if something happened to the baby?” Stand perfectly still? “How would you feel if something happened to the baby?” Oh dear god, I can’t make a decision and something is going to happen to my baby!

Just STOPIT! I understand that the majority of people who say this literally think they’re helping, but it just adds to the overall fear. Especially for woman trying to become or newly pregnant. Some of the HWYFers even say it to contradict actual medical professionals. “Oh, your doctor said that was okay? But how would you feel if you did and something happened to the baby?” Thank you layperson who’s never even held a child, I’m sure the decades my doctor has studied and practiced taking care of pregnancies amounts to mere drivel at your feet.

In the end, the thing that bothers me the most about all of this boils down to one issue. Why can’t women love and support one another? Is it so hard to look at a woman who is growing another human – creating in almost a biblical sense – and just try to help her keep herself together? Must she be torn down and shamed if her best efforts do not aline with yours?

At the end of the day, I have to trust my own body and the person or persons I choose to put in charge of my care. My plan is to pull the people who help me closer and push the ones that don’t a bit further away. I have the wherewithal to traverse the online world and collect the gems while leaving the rest of the crap behind. That doesn’t mean it all leaves me untroubled on my journey…

Funemployment in Hawaii

For the first time since I started working (oh, about 15 years ago), I’m unemployed. Have been for months.

At first it was super fun! Like a vacation! I could get up whenever I wanted, instead of some time before 6am. I could stay up as late as I wanted without any worry about being a zombie the next day. I could watch movies, play on the internet, even do chores. Whatever I wanted to do I could!

It gets old fast, man.

I started my working career like a lot of kids, I think. I babysat and cut/edged the lawn for a little extra cash. When I turned thirteen, I took advantage of a work-to-ride program at my stable, and became a junior councilor. Things just sort of kept rolling from there.

The thing is, I actually like to work.

Hmm, well…I like working when I have value. I thrive on being busy. Boredom and I are mortal enemies. I would literally rather physical pain than boredom. At least if I stub my toe or sprain something, I have to attend to it. Clearly I’d rather be bored than lose a limb or something, but you get what I mean…

The worst thing about “funemployment” (a term coined by my MoH, LC) for me, is that it stopped being fun about two months ago. That, combined with my recent lifestyle changes and preexisting issues [read: OCD] have made me a little…wonky. My stutter is back. I try not to focus too much on it, because stressing about it only makes it worse and it really, really bothers me.

I also just feel generally bummed out. It sucks on two levels. The first being that it simply isn’t nice to feel blue, and the second being that it really doesn’t do any good to complain about it. Even writing it out here makes me uncomfortable. I really don’t like being a whiner, guys.

Today I met with a headhunter, so I’m hopeful that something will come out of this and make all the rest not even matter. In the grand scheme of things, four months off is nothing, right?

Still, I’d really rather have a job before I’m pregnant. I suppose being a month or so into it wouldn’t be terrible either, but I’d rather not be newly employed and a jerk who goes on mat leave after a few months in the bucket.

I suppose we’ll have to wait and see what happens…

In much more uplifting news, the annual combined birthday party at my in-laws was celebrated yesterday. It’s always themed, and this year we did Blue Hawaii. There were lots of leis and grass skirts, one particularly spectacular mustache via my SIL S in the style of Thomas Magnum, and a flowered coconut bra sported by my other SIL E. The breezy sunshine, great food, and fruity drinks all combined perfectly to make it feel like we all really were hanging out on the islands. It was a little weird not to have a cocktail, but I mixed a sparkling punch that worked almost as well with a little paper umbrella. (It’s difficult to find something that wouldn’t be improved by a little festive colour.)

As far as the food, I made a vegetable tian with green and yellow zucchini, beets, and leeks for my savory offering. (Mostly because I thought the colours would be pretty together.) For the sweet I did a Thai Banana Cake that I would highly recommend. Used some black bananas I had saved in the freezer months ago and it came together with no real fuss. Both just added to the overflowing cornucopia of food that any of these family events ends up being. All the food is so good, and there is so much of it, it’s really impossible to describe to anyone who hasn’t been to one.

There’s a joke/story MFH likes to tell, about my first event with his family. (I believe it was Easter.) All together there ends up being about 15 of us. For desert alone there were four pies, a cake, and various cookies. I honestly can’t remember the main meal, but I feel like it was spread over three tables and would have please even the pickiest of eaters. I turned to MFH and asked, “Who else is coming?” He found that hilarious and could barely choke out that we were it.

The party also marked day 63 of my 90-day preconception plan. May has been my goal starting date since last May. It’s so surreal that the year has past so quickly. I’m really happy (and not going to lie, a little surprised) that I’m having no second thoughts about any of it. This was my plan from the beginning, and it’s almost time for fruition.

Now here’s hoping that the fates fall in line for me. 😉

A Bit of Cheer

I had Cheerios with sliced bananas this morning. It sort of came out of the blue, because I’m really trying not to eat processed foods…even if it is plan ol’ Cheerios.

It was alarmingly pleasant and nostalgic. Wait…can something alarming be pleasant? Well it was, so let’s say it was surprising rather than alarming.

I have no real recollection of eating any kind of cereal with any kind of fruit that wasn’t freeze-dried in the package in my adult life. There was something about it that made me think of my grandparents and summer holidays. A simpler time when my only real worry was whether or not some youthful drama was occurring in my circle of friends.

I’ve had memories brought on by sight or sound. (A flower, movie, or song.) I can’t really recall a memory brought on by taste, though. Surely it’s happened, I just can’t remember.

It makes me think I shall have to have another banana Cheerio bowl soon…

On the other side of reminiscent, I had a really strong instinctual positive response to my new Family Doctor.

(Sidebar: Family Doctors in Ontario are extremely hard to come by. Not even just Ontario…all of Canada really. I only had one when I moved here because everyone loves my g’rents and that includes their doctor. Even though he wasn’t taking any new patients, he took me because of them. My g’rents are amaze.)

My search for a new doc could have been terrible, but it wasn’t. It was actually rather easy,  considering I had criterion I wanted met. [read: female doctor]. I walked in today for what was actually supposed to be a look-see for both doctor and patient. It took about three sentences for us to find a rhythm. Then it was on. It literally felt like chatting with one of my girlfriends. (I have super smart girlfriends, yo.)

We talked pregnancy plans, my preconception routine, and she basically checked my work in regards to TTC.

(Another Sidebar: TTC means “Trying to Conceive” in the TTC community. To me? It means Toronto Transit Commission. On the TTC bus to work is therefore not as gross as it sounds. Weirdly, up there before the sidebar, I did actually mean trying to conceive. But I digress…)

In the end, I got another official okay to start. I’m definitely not too modest to repeat her exact words, “You know what you’re doing and you’re on top of everything.” Teehee. She also ordered me up a round of blood work.

Remember my thing about blood work?

Right, well, it actually didn’t go so bad this time. CR, the first great friend I made in my move up north, has her own long history of blood work. She recommends really trying to preempt the blood taking by squeezing her hands into tight fists over and over. Sure enough, the trick worked for me. (Thanks Lady!) It was the easiest, least disturbing blood taking ever. The orderly who took my blood said my veins were no problem, they are just deep. Good to know, on both accounts.

I’m a little concerned about one of the tests. It’s to make sure that my rubella immunity is still valid. If I’ve lost my immunity, I will have to get the shots again. That’s three months I’ll have to add to my waiting time, if I choose to get it before I conceive. If I don’t, then I put myself and the fetus at obvious risk…but for a decease that more or has been eliminated.

Women get pregnant without knowing their immunity, and they just wait until birth to get the shots. Still, if I know beforehand…isn’t it a little selfish of me to just say screw it and stick to my timing?

Sigh.

I suppose I will make the choice when I find out, right? Right!

Well, I have to say that immunities aside it was a great day. I think I needed this day. Between missing family and friends, and all this “funemployment” nonsense (more on that later), I’ve been a little blue of late. It was nice to have a day where I smiled a lot and just generally wasn’t bummed.

Take the good as it comes, as they say…