Pelt

I don't know if it's hormones run amok or that I'm pregnant with another boy but I seem to be growing quite the pelt.

I have a five o'clock shadow now on my legs, where I otherwise could go for a week without shaving before anyone noticed. We won't even mention the underarm fiasco, the trail already sprouting on my belly or... no. We simply won't go there.

Let's just say that I am now single handedly supporting Gillette.

*shudder*

Don't mind me, I'll be sitting over here in a corner methodically cornrowing my leg hair. Handy, considering we're expecting 6 inches of snow by tomorrow.

nervous anticipation

At this point in pregnancy the doctor said she likes to see doubling every 3 1/2 days. Last check mine is 4,569 and doubling every 1.6 days, so the doctor said "I'm going to need you to come in for an early ultrasound" and hinted that there was a strong possibility of twins. I'll be brutally honest, that would be my worst nightmare right now. Since Patrick is going to be out of town all this week I asked if we could just keep our regularly scheduled ultrasound on the 8th so he could be with me. She said that was fine if we wanted to wait.

An HCG level that is rising rapidly is also a potential sign of Down Syndrome or a molar pregnancy.

They upped the progesterone to 2x a day. The odd thing is, I don't really feel pregnant at all. I've not had any morning sickness and don't feel pregnant at all.

I just want one. One, healthy baby.

Oh, and I had to break out the maternity jeans this weekend as I can no longer button anything in my closet.

On the pills again.

Progesterone was only at an 18, so I'm going to be popping the little coral pills again.

100 mg. once a day.

First ultrasound will be 12/8 at 8:00 a.m.

I'm so amazed that this is actually happening. I know a lot can go wrong from the point that I'm at now, but I just keep reminding myself that nothing bad has happened yet.

Seriously?

In the last two weeks, I finished packing all of my maternity clothes up in plastic tubs and sent them to live in the attic. I'd lost pretty much all of the 40+ pounds I'd gained with Julian, and was so happy to feel "myself" again - and able to fit into new clothes that I hadn't worn in over a year. My body is shaped differently, but I was actually thinner than I was prior to getting pregnant with Julian.

So maybe it's just bloating, but I swear I cannot buckle my pants now. Yesterday, my mom laughed at me while I was standing in the kitchen in a pair of low-rise pj bottoms and warned that "people are going to know soon." This morning I had to wear a pair of control top pantyhose in order to zip one of my biggest pair of pants. These same pants were too big two weeks ago.

Based on my HCG levels, I can't be that far along.

What gives?

Triple play.

Initial beta HCG = 79.

Follow up exactly 48 hours later = 265.

Beta hCG levels usually double approximately every 2 days for the first four weeks of pregnancy. As pregnancy progresses the doubling time increases. By 6 to 7 weeks gestation beta hCG levels may take as long as 3 1/2 days to double. The beta hCG may take more than 2 to 3 days to double in 15% of normal intrauterine pregnancies.

Instead of doubling, mine have more than tripled, with a doubling time of 1.14 days.

Definitely not any indication that this will work, but my heart is swelling with hope.

Wow.

Out damn'd spot.

Spotting.

Sigh.

I know, I know... it can be completely normal for this to happen.

I spotted for the first 14 or so weeks with J, with full on bleeding at times.

That doesn't make it any less nervewracking.

Follow up beta and progesterone tomorrow.

2-1-3-1-79

2 failed attempts at drawing blood.
+
1 collapsed vein (she shoved the needle straight through it, and still managed to not get any blood out. Then she restuck the same arm before giving up and going to the other side)

equals 3 total tries to draw

for one tiny vial.

With an HCG level of only 79.

I know, I know - it's hard to say what's "normal" as individual women's HCG levels vary substantially based on the length of their cycles, etc.

The American Pregnancy Association cites the following chart as normal ranges of hCG for the number of weeks after the woman’s last menstrual period:

* 3 weeks: 5 - 50 mIU/ml
* 4 weeks: 5 - 426 mIU/ml
* 5 weeks: 18 - 7,340 mIU/ml
* 6 weeks: 1,080 - 56,500 mIU/ml
* 7 - 8 weeks: 7, 650 - 229,000 mIU/ml
* 9 - 12 weeks: 25,700 - 288,000 mIU/ml
* 13 - 16 weeks: 13,300 - 254,000 mIU/ml
* 17 - 24 weeks: 4,060 - 165,400 mIU/ml
* 25 - 40 weeks: 3,640 - 117,000 mIU/ml
* Non-pregnant women: <5.0 mIU/ml
* Postmenopausal women: <9.5 mIU/ml

Because I'm still breastfeeding, I have no idea how long ago I ovulated. My last period was around October 12-13. When I used to monitor my cycles I know that I tended to ovulate late, around day 16-18 or so. Using those numbers, I would've ovulated right around Halloween or November 1st. No idea if this is accurate at all.

All I know is that right now, I'm pregnant.

Still cramping on and off, very similar to period cramps. No spotting to speak of though (which was fairly constant when I was pregnant with Julian).

Repeat blood draw Friday morning. I'll be holding my breath until then.

Well, shit fire and save matches!

For the last week, Patrick has been adamant that I'm pregnant. He offered me a beer last night and when I took a sip - my face screwed up into a contorted grimace. "Ha!" He exclaimed, "I KNEW it!" I gagged, and yelled "Oh that's FOUL!" and said he should taste it himself. He took a judicious swig and also gagged. We had mistakenly grabbed a bottle of Lindeman's Gueze which I might add is supposed to be served as an apertif with sugar cubes. Not swilled out of a pint glass.

It was c'est horrible. Ghastly stuff. Sour, vile.

*Shudder*

Julian refused to nurse again last night. He would take a drink of milk, look at me and spit it out while pouting. He's been doing that all week. I'd been up since 4:15 a.m. working. I was exhausted.

So when Patrick kept needling me about potentially being pregnant I snapped. I stomped upstairs to go to the bathroom, and rescued the last remaining test in the bathroom drawer where I stash the sparkly hair pins that I'll never wear and have no idea why I ever purchased them in the first place.

I thought to myself "I'll show him! And finally shut him up"

After washing my hands - I sat on the freezing edge of the tub, holding the HPT between my fingers. The control line came up right away, and I sighed with relief. Whew. Bullet avoided. The test window was just a smear of pink that was turning white.

While I'd love for us to expand our family next year, it's just not a good time right now. Julian's only 6 months old, we haven't even started on our attic renovaaaaaaaa

(this is the part where you'd hear a record scratching loudly)

What the hell is that? Is that an evaporation line? What is that? Can evaporation lines be faintly pink?

*stunned silence*

I stumbled back downstairs, where Patrick was laying in the floor with Julian watching Arianna Huffington butcher poor Rachel Maddow's show. I held it out to him, and said "can you see two lines?"

He squinted, held it sideways.

"Hmm. perhaps. I guess."

It was just like last time.

I clutched it tight in my hands for thirty minutes, took a picture of it, increased the contrast, flipped it to negative - everything I could think of to make it clearer one way or another.

Finally, I gave up. I tucked it into my briefcase and went upstairs to bed. This morning I obsessively contacted a select few people who I knew would be able to restrain (or add to) my OCD nature.

I've been cramping all day pretty badly, and thought that if I was that it was doomed. Finally at 2:30 I couldn't take it anymore. I went downstairs to Walgreens in my building, and as the nice lady was checking me out and triple bagging my purchase so it wouldn't show through their flimsy bags - one of the partners I work for got in line behind me. Of course he did.

I'm sure he saw.

Oh well. A good thing he didn't see the shock on my face when I went back upstairs to my floor and saw this 10 minutes later...



Beta tomorrow morning.

Patrick is over the moon with excitement. I am... well, right now I just am.

I am also keeping this quiet right now. No one at work knows (I hope). Our families don't know. If you comment on flickr or twitter, please don't mention it.

I don't have a good feeling about this, but for now I need this outlet to talk about it. Because I'm driving my poor friends crazy already after today, I'm afraid.

Twitter-rific

If you're on twitter, you can find me @ http://twitter.com/april_anita

I tend to update there more often than here - though I'm trying to remedy that.

Dear Ms. P,

Dear Ms. P,

I am assuming you have left for an unapproved, unscheduled holiday (to the Bahamas perhaps? I hope it's warmer there than it is here) as it has come to my attention that you have blatantly failed to come in at your regularly scheduled time - or at all - for the last eight days. While we did celebrate your extended leave last year, I thought it was made abundantly clear that in the future we will require advance written notice of any unscheduled time away. Was this unclear at all in our previous conversations? Your performance evaluation shows that in the last few months you have been increasingly difficult to work with, coming across too aggressive and temperamental. Once unfailingly reliable, you have shown up to duty earlier than planned, late, and at generally inconvenient times. Your promptness has been spotty at best.

While not every moment of our last 17 years together has been pleasant, we have found that we were able to work together with at least a modicum of respect. Future lateness will not be tolerated. To put it bluntly, if you don't get your act together soon, we may be forced to take legal action, including but not limited to disciplinary action or even termination of your employment.

You have 48 hours from the receipt of this letter to respond. As a matter of common courtesy, I hope you will issue a statement in your defense before the expiration of this time. I can be reached 24 hours a day should you have any questions or need additional clarification.

Kind regards,

A

----
In other news, my childhood best friend (who has PCOS and who has been trying for over a year) is pregnant, and due May 18th. I am over the moon happy for her.

What's your family's tradition?

Last Thanksgiving, we had lived in our house for less than a week. I had never used the vintage 1971 oven before that day. I was pregnant, and more absentminded than I care to admit. Our dining room table was literally delivered on Thanksgiving Day - at 12:30 p.m. Patrick's parents were coming to stay with us for the holiday and I was so stressed that I was breaking down in tears.

I made some horrible errors. First, I left the eggs out of the pecan pie - which left it runny. I forgot to take the giblets out of the turkey, so my mother in law still jokes that he brought his own lunch. I have a feeling I will never live that down.

My mom is now living with us, and acting as Julian's full-time nanny. Patrick's parents are heading back up to visit us this Thanksgiving. So we'll have a full house for Thanksgiving this year. I'm excited about planning the menus for the week, and was wondering - what's your family's signature meal? What would simply *not* be thanksgiving for you without a specific dish?

Also, 35 days from LMP. A HPT on Friday was negative, so I guess I'm just running late this cycle. Still breastfeeding (though much less than I was), but I've been fairly regular since he was about 2 months old. Hate this "what's going on" feeling.

We did it for him.

Picture taken this morning by my husband.


And for ourselves.

And for the man who delivered my documents this morning.

For my mom.

For my great-grandmother who passed away this fall and voted in every single election.

For my sisters.

For our nieces and nephews.

For everyone. For people that I don't agree with, people I admire, people that I love.

Please. Get out the vote today.

Vote with your heart, vote your convictions - even if your political predilections aren't the same as mine.

Home Sweet Home

When we moved into our home last fall, we got a letter from a local pastor who had found some old pictures of our home in the church records. He enclosed them with a little note that he hoped we would enjoy them. The odd thing is, aside from the old streetcar line, the old car out front and the difference in landscaping, our home looks nearly identical to what it did in these shots (from approximately 1928).



There used to be an electric streetcar that ran in the median in front of our home, but that was discontinued sometime in the 1940s. While built in 1925, surprisingly we are only the third owners. The first owner was the town pharmacist. During the great depression he rented out rooms in the house to boarders. A young woman rented out the master bedroom and en suite bathroom during that time, and she later married. After her marriage, the home came up for sale in the 1950s, and she and her husband scraped together every penny they had to buy the house. They lived in it and raised their four children. The father of the family was a prominent local musician, and taught music at the high school. His wife taught piano lessons in what is now Patrick's office. One of their sons is now an opera singer for the Met in New York. When the husband passed away, and the wife went to an assisted living center the house sat vacant for over a year.

When we first saw it - it was gorgeous, but it needed a LOT of updating. I had just found out that I was pregnant with Julian and we were swimming in unbridled hope.

We closed on it the friday before Thanksgiving, and moved in that weekend.

In some ways I can hardly believe that we've been here that long - and in others - it feels like it's always been our home.