Thursday, April 21, 2011

I'm also scheduled for a fasting cholesterol test. I cannot possibly be old enough for that.

Tomorrow is the Big Day.

Gray and I are returning, not triumphantly, but at least happily, to the OBGYN where we went for our first lost pregnancy, this time to do a preconception check-up and catch up with the very best vag doc in the entire world, who Gray loves (in a strictly-hetero way) because of their mutual love of vintage Metallica.

Do you understand what I'm saying? Because I don't think you do. You don't seem nearly excited enough.


I've literally run out of preconception topics to google. There is nothing left to learn, aside from the scheduled post-brain injury implications during pregnancy, labor and delivery. Otherwise, I've been taking a prenatal vitamin since January, I stopped birth control at the same time, I've been off the dangerous seizure medication for three of the neurologist-advised "two-and-a-half to three" months. I'm cutting back on coffee. I'm getting more exercise. Gray is eating better and losing some weight to prepare for chasing around toddlers. And, you know, SEX.

Aside from stocking up on lube, there isn't much left to do now but wait for my ovulation window to slide itself right on open so we can shove our spawn through the crack.

I AM NOT A PATIENT PERSON (yes, the implications of impatience for motherhood have been brought to my attention, thank you for reminding me, asshole) and yet I've been waiting. Nay, WE have been waiting. We've been waiting for three years, both by chance and by choice, and I can assure you that we are both capital-R ready.

Now that we're closing in on the prospect of having children, I must begin the process of trying to calm the fuck down, for the love of god talk about something besides cervical mucus already, stop wasting all the pregnancy tests because we just had sex 30 MINUTES AGO, and I should probably stop buying newborn onesies with adult slangs on them, but that's mostly because of child protective services and stuff.

We're also terrified about losing another pregnancy, but as per our ::totally calm and coherent:: discussions last time, we wanted to wait to try again until I was prepared to face the idea that another miscarriage is possible. It's not likely, it's not a given, it's not even a particularly high risk, but it's possible.

I wasn't prepared for that idea the first time, but now I hope I am.

I think I am.


I hope this blog will soon return to its original purpose, which was to chronicle the ooey and the gooey parts my of pregnancy.

Don't worry - I'll still be a fucking badass.

I'll just have bigger tits.