Cats and Cradles

Observations and stray hairballs.

The more you know… November 6, 2013

Filed under: Ahhhhhh!,General life,Rants,Spawning — catsandcradles @ 11:48 am

Monday night I set my morning alarm for the first time since I woke to find my water had broken and that Teeny was on her way. No, I’m not headed back to work yet (fortunately). No, yesterday morning I had an appointment for an ultrasound.

Pregnancy is just the gift that keeps on giving for me. I mean that both sincerely, in that Teeny is wonderful and I am immensely grateful to have added her to our family, but I also mean it sarcastically, I must admit. I feel that there are things people just don’t tell you about pregnancy.

Things like “Maybe you’ll have to go on drugs to control the insane amounts of acid in your stomach that pregnancy can trigger”. I’d never heard of that one before, personally. Or “By the way, did you know that pregnancy, and also the postpartum period, can give you major gallbladder issues?”. I hadn’t really heard about that one either. Now I have. Guess why?

Two weeks ago I was struck suddenly with awful abdominal cramps and nausea. I made poor Partner B put Critter to bed while dealing with Teeny, because I was busy being curled up in pain and periodically vomiting. I also let her spend the night in the living room with the baby, and give her a bottle, because I couldn’t handle nursing. We thought it was food poisoning, though we couldn’t figure out what I had eaten that might have caused it.

Except that it’s recurred, although none of the times since has been as bad as the first. After another one Sunday night, I went to the doctor on Monday. She ordered some tests (blood work, ultrasound, etc.). Yesterday night, after waiting all day, I finally heard back. She confirmed the diagnosis that PB had reached in consultation with Dr. Google – namely, that the problem is my gallbladder. According to the ultrasound it’s full of tiny stones. Based on that and my blood work, it needs to come out. I’m currently waiting for the doctor’s office to get me a referral to a surgeon. (The doctor promised last night that they would do it this morning. She has half an hour left before we get to afternoon. For a place that’s supposed to be urgent care, their sense of urgency is a little different than mine. Then again, it’s not them sitting around wondering when the next bout of crippling pain is going to arrive, so they probably care a lot less than I do. But hey, the doctor made sure to remind me that if I do have an attack again and the pain is worse, or I start vomiting again, or spike a fever, I should probably just head into the ER. So there’s always that possibility to anticipate.)

I must admit, I’m not thrilled about the notion of surgery. PB’s parents, who are both medical professionals in related fields, say it will very likely be a laproscopic procedure, and that it shouldn’t be too bad. I should be able to pump and dump for about a day until the anesthesia is out of my system, and then go back to nursing. And I can take ibuprofen again, so there’s that. PB points out that the pain of recovery is likely to be a lot less than the pain of a gallbladder attack, which is very likely true. I don’t want more attacks, and I don’t want to damage my liver. Still.

At the moment, I just want the stupid doctor’s office to give me the referral so I can get the ball rolling on this whole thing. Waiting around is not doing me any favors.

 

Petechiae, revisited May 9, 2013

Filed under: Ahhhhhh!,Critter,Ding?,Maybe,Rants,Spawning — catsandcradles @ 9:23 pm

Author’s note: Sorry. Once again, this is overdue, and somewhat whiny. Sorry about that.

There’s a first time for everything, I suppose. Like full-on throwing up in the morning, instead of the evening. Or throwing up at work. (Thank goodness for that huge tub of disinfectant wipes…) Fortunately, it wasn’t that big of a problem. There was no one else in the (two-stall) bathroom at the time. My office mates didn’t even notice that I left, apparently, let alone that I left in kind of a rush. I did get petechiae around my eyes again, but you have to look fairly closely to see that it’s that, and not just reddish eyes from allergies or something. And the big lesson that I take from this is that, no, seriously, I need to eat more for breakfast. Even if I’m not that hungry, per se. Because otherwise, Bad Things Happen.

In other news, Teeny is doing fine, despite occasional attempts to scare the pants off her/his moms. We went in for the ultrasound and OB appointment Wednesday before last (…sorry for being so slow to update), and everything looks fine. I do, definitely have a polyp, and at least to our relatively untrained eyes, a fairly sizable one at that, inside my cervix. Everyone assures us that it should not cause a problem. Dr. Rockstar made sure to point out that she sees a fair number of them, and she’s never had one cause a problem in a pregnancy. So that’s reassuring. The (different than the one we saw last time) doctor at Maternal Fetal Medicine said that we would check the polyp again at the anatomy scan, but unless something changed he recommended not doing anything, including more monitoring, after that.

The folks at MFM actually did more of a scan of Teeny than I was expecting, given that I thought we were primarily checking on my cervix. Teeny continues to measure a couple of days ahead, and everything that they could get a good look at looked fine. The tech said that if we wanted to know the sex, she could try to make a guess, but I said that we didn’t. (And that’s a post for another day, right there.) Apparently Teeny was in agreement with me, because s/he kept legs shut tight whenever the tech was looking in that direction. The tech said that she couldn’t guess the sex even if she wanted to, based on what she saw. (Ha!)

Critter enjoyed watching Teeny swim in the water some more, and charmed the ultrasound tech with his rendition of the Sessy Street theme song. He also compared notes on favorite episodes with Dr. Rockstar, who has a little boy about his age, and is apparently quite familiar with Sessy Street herself. We do have babysitting lined up for the next appointments, though, which I think will be helpful. It can be a little challenging to devote ones full attention to the doctors, while also trying to Pook-wrangle. Especially for poor PB.

So, all was well until the following Sunday evening, at which point I had spotting. Not a lot, really, but it was red, and it was blood. So I called the on-call doctor, who of course was Dr. Backup. (I swear, there are something like half a dozen doctors in this practice, and 98% of the time, if Dr. Rockstar is unavailable, we get Dr. Backup.) Anyway, she said that it was probably just the polyp, and not anything to really worry about (yeah, sure), but that I should go in on Monday just to check and make sure everything was okay (and probably so we could relax a little about it). So, I did. I saw a different doctor (turns out there are some other than Rockstar and Backup), who did the doppler, and after a moment found Teeny’s heartbeat, the whoosha-whoosha going as strong as ever.  She also agreed that it was probably just the polyp, and that while the polyp should not actually cause any problems with the pregnancy, it might just bleed a little sometimes. Fun.

I also discussed my sour-to-the-point-of-rancid stomach with the doctor, since I had meant to do so with Dr. Rockstar, but had been somewhat distracted by discussions of the cervical polyp and children’s television. Apparently, pregnancy hormones can make the acid-producing cells in one’s stomach go absolutely bonkers, so that they start making way more than you need to actually, you know, dissolve food. This is uncomfortable (no kidding), and can apparently cause long-term damage (oh, yay). So now I’m on a medication to help discourage this behavior, twice a day. Because, you know, I’d finished up the latest round of antibiotics, and finally been released from the nightly progesterone, so goodness knows I needed some new medication to have to remember. Still, it does seem to be helping. My stomach still gets sour if I do anything crazy, like eat food, or drink something other than water, but it’s definitely better than it was.

My ribs are (knock on wood!) finally doing a little better than they were, too. I mentioned the coughing-induced rib pain to Dr. Rockstar, and she decided to refer me to physical therapy. For one thing, she’s a fan of being proactive. For another, as she pointed out, my ribs are only going to get spread further as the pregnancy progresses, so it’s better to try to fix them now. The physical therapy did seem to be helping, until last Friday morning, when I coughed and something went “pop!” and all of a sudden my ribs hurt much worse again. I spent all day swearing under my breath, and taking a steady, if low, dose of acetaminophen. The physical therapist thinks maybe I’d actually dislocated a rib a little, and the “pop” was it snapping back into place, but whatever it was my ribs hurt. A lot.  But they’re doing better again, by which I mean they’re about back to point they were last Thursday. (I’m a little scared of tomorrow, honestly.) I can once again sneeze, and have it be only mildly painful, as opposed to feeling like someone just whalloped me in the side with a hot poker.

This is especially beneficial, as I have picked up another cold from Critter. Fortunately, this one seems to be fairly mild. I’m just hoping that it doesn’t turn into the third sinus infection of this pregnancy.

But! In actually exciting news, I might or might not be feeling movement. I notice something, sometimes, when I’m sitting quietly and can pay attention (and how often does that happen?), that might be Teeny. I am not definite about anything. But it seems possible, and that’s kind of cool.

 

Nothing means anything… November 5, 2012

Filed under: Ahhhhhh!,Ding?,Rants — catsandcradles @ 3:11 pm

… except the damn negative pregnancy tests.

A warning to any readers who happen to be my wife: I’m still angry. I know it bothers you when I get angry and bitter, so you’re welcome to skip this. I won’t take offense. The rest of you are welcome to skip it too; I’m mostly just ranting and I can’t say as it’s all that clever.

As you might have guessed, as I should have predicted, this cycle is another bust. Well, technically I’ll pee on one more stick tomorrow before officially declaring it over, but let’s be honest here. Those stupid symptoms that I let myself get conned by, yet again, mean nothing. That triphasic chart means nothing. None of it carries any weight except that absent second line.

My internal state currently has less in common with Switzerland than Syria. Conflict and chaos, pain and anger, all right here. (And yes, I realize that comparing my failure to get, and stay, pregnant, to a bloody civil war is ridiculous to the point of offensiveness. I’m trying, and failing, to care. I just don’t have it in me right now.)

I’m angry at the universe, for sucker-punching us yet again. I’m even angrier at myself for thinking that somehow, this time would be different. We had the good ultrasound! I had symptoms! We were letting go of our attempts to control when we might have our next child, and surely the universe must reward that! I’m a damned fool! I have trouble learning from experience!

Seriously, if this were a relationship, my friends would be telling me to leave, that I’d just get beaten up again and again no matter how many apologies and promises to the contrary I got afterwards.

Partner B is trying to focus on the positives, that at least we know that everything is working okay, and that I don’t seem to have damaged my body with either the d&c or the drugs. And since we were planning to take the cycle off, we’re no worse off than we would have been anyway. (Except that we’re down yet another of our ever-dwindling number of vials.) Myself, I’m kind of wishing that I hadn’t let myself get talked out of taking that break we’d been planning. I think I really could have used a month of not thinking about this crap, not dealing with this roller coaster that leaves me feeling bruised and sobbing at the end of every ride. Still, what’s done is done, and now we’re in for another couple of cycles, until we use up the supply of vials here in town.

We could take a month off now, in theory, except the place that we’re storing vials here in town only has two storage options: three months and a year. So if we exceed the three months, we’ll be paying for a year, and I don’t want to spend a few hundred more dollars to not try. So that’s not really a good option.

Also, and this is probably stupid, but this coming cycle is the last one that would have a chance of me being pregnant before my birthday. And for some reason, I really wanted to at least be pregnant before I got to 33. Oh, but hey! I did get pregnant! High five, me! I’d kind of like to have a pregnancy that results in more than just blood-stained furniture and hefty medical bills, but that’s probably just greediness on my part.

Yesterday, we went shopping for sweaters to wear in our holiday photos for this year. It occurred to me that last year, we were thinking that there was at least some possibility that we’d have a second baby by Christmas this year. Now I’m doubtful that I’ll even be pregnant by then. I’ve thought all along that I would get pregnant, for keeps, eventually, even as I lost faith that any particular cycle would work. With each failure, though, that gets harder and harder to believe. I still want it, terribly, but I believe the Rolling Stones have a little wisdom to share on that point.

At any rate, on we go. After tomorrow’s negative, I’ll probably call the RE, yet again, for another prescription.  And then it’s on to another round of drugs and pee sticks and specula and idiocy. I can’t wait!

 

Calling it. September 13, 2012

Filed under: Ahhhhhh!,Ding?,Rants — catsandcradles @ 1:05 pm

I was 14 days past ovulation yesterday, and the pregnancy tests are still blindingly negative. I still haven’t gotten my period, but I think that’s just the progesterone. So, at the recommendation of the RE, I stopped it last night. I’m not bleeding yet, but my temperature was down this morning, so I think it’s just a matter of time.

I also have an appointment tomorrow afternoon to see the RE, to discuss being a little more aggressive. If we had an unlimited supply of sperm, if we weren’t trying to orchestrate major life changes, I think we would be more willing to just let things take their course. As it is… we’d like to encourage the process a long a little, if we can.

I’m actually feeling better now than I was a few days ago, because it’s over. (Well, pretty much.) It’s that stretch where the conclusion is looking foregone, but without the relief of just being done waiting, that’s hard. Well, the whole thing is hard, but that part is awful, at least for me. Thank you, everyone, for all the wonderfully supportive comments. They help.

 

Definitely not yes, but not definitely no, either. September 10, 2012

Filed under: Ahhhhhh!,Ding?,Rants,Spawning — catsandcradles @ 1:22 pm

Today I am 12 days post insemination/ovulation (hopefully), and I’m testing negative. My period is due today, but shows no signs of arriving. I am on progesterone suppositories, which can affect this. The RE said that pregnancy should be detectable by 12 dpo, but that I could keep taking the suppositories and testing to 14 days, if that would make me feel more comfortable. I will be doing so, but I’m not hopeful.

I just want this over. What I wanted was to believe in all those stories about people who got successfully pregnant the first try after a miscarriage, to believe that we would be one of those stories. I wanted to believe that so badly. I wanted to be pregnant again, to stay pregnant, to have another baby. Now I just want out of this awful in-between.

I’m trying not to be angry, and bitter. I’m  not doing very well at it today. I’m sorry.

 

Some days August 7, 2012

Filed under: Ahhhhhh!,Critter,Ding?,Pictures,Rants — catsandcradles @ 8:43 pm

Some days are better than others. This is true in general, but specifically lately.

This morning, I woke up on a mattress and box springs on the floor. Our bed, the bed that Partner B bought with her ex but which has been ours for a lot longer, so long I stopped thinking of it as PB’s bed and just thought of it as our bed, the bed on which we may well have conceived Critter and on which we definitely conceived Blanket, broke last night. Crack! The sideboard, which I noticed the night before was threatening to come loose, did so, and then split.

We were tired, and cranky (me more so than PB, because I blamed myself for not trying to fix the bed before it broke fully), and so PB just took the non-broken parts (headboard, footboard, and other sideboard) out to the corner for anyone who wanted them. Meanwhile, I moved all the storage bins that had been under the bed, and cleaned. By the time the mattress was on the floor and in a condition to be slept on again it was late, I was sweaty, and not in a good mood.

I didn’t wake up in the best of moods, either. Although even if I had, I doubt it would have lasted long. I was checking the book of faces on my phone before getting out of bed (I like to wake up a little slowly, when I have the chance), and noticed that PB’s sister-in-law was announcing her and PB’s brother’s impending second child. She posted a photo of their first child wearing a “Big Brother” t-shirt next to an ultrasound picture. (Which, by the way, I like as a form of announcement.) Have you ever been smacked hard in the chest? You know that feeling where it doesn’t exactly hurt, but for a minute you just can’t breathe? It was a little like that. The sudden remembrance that they’re still pregnant, and we’re not. (They, for whom the only thing getting pregnant required was stopping birth control and having sex, both times. And I try very hard not to be resentful, because it’s not their fault that they’re still pregnant, or that they’re straight and fertile and have things easy on that front, and they’re not just family, they’re nice people, but… But. ) And the sudden realization that we’d have been about at the point of telling everyone about Blanket, and instead we’re hoping my period shows up pretty soon, so we can go through the whole ordeal of trying to get pregnant again.

I didn’t have to worry about staring at the picture too long, though, because my phone started to ring. (Seven in the a. m., mind you.) It was a recording robot in the employ of the medical practice to which the ob/gyn we saw back east belongs. The robot wanted to remind me that according to their records, I’m due for my annual exam. (I’m not, in case you were wondering.) The robot did not even give me the opportunity to speak to a human and point out that the only reason I saw one of their doctors was because I was having a miscarriage while on vacation, and that if I am so lucky as to get pregnant again, I fully intend to stay put on this coast the whole damn time, so I can’t imagine ever needing to see them. And would they please look at my address, and take my name off their list, so I can stop getting phone calls at 7:00 in the morning. (This was the second such call, by the way. I made the mistake of ignoring the first.)

Good morning!

Things got better as the day went on, especially after PB and I had a conversation about the bed. She’d found out that we might be able to attach the head- and foot- boards to a metal frame, and was kind of wishing she hadn’t put them out on the corner. I felt similarly, so I went home at lunch to see if they were still there. They were! So there’s the promise of, if not quite restoring the bed to its original state, than at least carrying something of it forward. And that feels good.

Also, after we all got home after work, we took a nice walk, which helped. It was a nice walk to the convenience store for beer (for PB and I, after Critter is in bed), and frozen treats (for everyone). Those helped improve the day too. And when we got home from our walk, Critter helped me water the plants on our front porch. He dragged the watering can around back to the hose, so that I could fill it. When I said “Let’s take the water around front for the plants” he replied “All right!”, and it was seriously one of the cutest things ever.

Speaking of the cute… here. I’ll give you a photo reward for putting up with my whining, and I won’t even make you try to remember the password:

Image

Critter gardening… au naturale

The picture is from yesterday, when we decided to treat Critter’s all-fruit-diet-induced diaper rash with some fresh air. He saw nothing at all unreasonable about gardening naked, which doesn’t really surprise either of us.

 

 

Did you know… August 6, 2012

Filed under: Ahhhhhh!,Ding?,General life,Rants,Spawning — catsandcradles @ 1:49 pm

… that it’s more expensive to have a miscarriage at 8 weeks in Partner B’s parents’ town than it was to have a three day stay and a live birth at our hospital? Because apparently it is.

We’re working on not being a little (or a lot) bitter about this. At least I’ve hit the out-of-pocket maximum on our insurance for this year. Right? Oy.

 

Hamster wheels April 9, 2012

Filed under: Ahhhhhh!,Cats,Critter,Ding?,Rants,Spawning — catsandcradles @ 7:49 pm

When I was a kid, I had a few hamsters over the years, and of course, every hamster cage is required to have one of those squeaky, rattly wheels. (I think there might be a law about it.) At night, when I wasn’t asleep, I could listen to the sound of the hamster, running running running and going nowhere.

We’re hamster-free at the moment, although probably in a few years, Critter will want one, and I’ll be hard pressed to say no. (Partner B may have other opinions on the matter, but that’s a discussion we can have when we get to it.) In the meantime, I feel like I’ve got one of those wheels  in my head, only instead of going “rattle rattle squeak rattle squeak rattle rattle rattle squeak rattle rattle” it goes more like this:

Emotional Brain: The tests are negative. You’re not pregnant. (We got suckered in by the holiday again, and decided to test on Sunday. In retrospect, probably not a great choice.)

Rational Brain: Nine and ten days post-ovulation are too early for a negative to prove anything conclusive.

EB: You’re spotting. You’re not pregnant.

RB: Not heavily. So that’s not conclusive either.

EB: You’re not pregnant, and you’re not going to be pregnant, because there’s something wrong with you.

RB: Even if I’m not pregnant now, there’s nothing that proves I can’t become pregnant. Three failed attempts could just be luck of the draw. I may well be fine.

EB: Prove it.

RB: Well, I can’t. The only way to conclusively prove I can get pregnant is to get pregnant.

EB: The tests are negative. You’re not pregnant.

And so it goes. Saturday night I dreamed that for some reason, all the remaining vials from our donor were put in a tupperware, and then left out until they thawed. In the dream, PB was trying to tell me that it was okay, but I was trying to make her understand that if I wasn’t pregnant right now, that was it. No more chances of another child with the same donor. Sound like anxiety much?

I’m tired of this game. I’m tired of trying to convince myself it’s not a done deal when I feel like it is. I’m tired of working so hard to feel hopeful. PB is doing her best to make me feel better, but I’m afraid I’ve not been terribly receptive. This is harder than I thought it would be, in more ways than one.

I know I’m being whiny. I fully admit that. I don’t like it, but I recognize it as the truth. I know that in the grand scheme of things, three failed tries is nothing. I know that some people try a lot longer; I know people who’ve tried a lot longer. I know that we got ridiculously lucky with Critter, and I know how ridiculously lucky we all are to have each other. I even recognize that we don’t know for sure that this try is a failure yet. Those crampy feelings I’m having right now could totally be an early pregnancy symptom. (To be honest, I don’t think it’s pregnancy, I think it’s pms, but I intellectually recognize that it’s inconclusive.)

Mostly, I’m just exhausted. Between the cats and the damned mental hamsters, I haven’t gotten a decent sleep in days. Last night was particularly bad. (Does it show much?)

I want to be done with this, so I can go back to living my life and enjoying my family and our friends and the suddenly gorgeous spring. I want to tell you about how terribly cute Critter was at Easter, even if he wouldn’t leave the bunny ears on for more than half a second. I want to maybe even get around to uploading some pictures again. As soon as I can stop this endless running nowhere.

 

Getting a “D” on a pass/fail test February 17, 2012

Filed under: Ahhhhhh!,Ding?,Rants,Spawning — catsandcradles @ 8:55 pm

You know how yesterday I said we were going to see if I got my period today, and that would be our proof one way or the other? Ha ha ha ha ha. Last night I started spotting a little bit (which is not unusual for me, right before starting my period), and figured that was it. The game was up. Today, however… I’m still spotting. So, let’s review. Pee sticks? Still negative. Temperature? Still at post-ovulation levels, but hasn’t had more than a brief rise since an immediately post-ovulation spike. Didn’t drop today like I would have expected for getting my period, but hasn’t risen like I would expect with pregnancy either. Period? Well… not exactly… but not not bleeding, either. I am a little period-crampy, but that could go either way. I’ve spent the day peeing like it was going out of style, but… I tend to pee a lot, in general. (Sorry for the vast amounts of TMI tossed at everyone as of late.) I feel like I’m getting a “D” on a pass-fail test. I haven’t conclusively failed, but I’m clearly not passing with flying colors, either.

We speculate, Partner B and I. It’s what we do, in general, but right now there’s not much else we can do (aside from wait). Maybe my period is late because the Magical Chinese Herbs are doing their magic, and lengthening my luteal phase. Maybe it’s not late at all, ovulation was just later than we think (although I find this option highly unlikely). Maybe I’m pregnant, and just don’t have enough hcg to register on the tests yet. It is, after all, only twelve days after ovulation. Maybe I was briefly pregnant, but something went awry before there was ever enough hcg to show up on the tests. (I don’t know for sure that this would cause a late period, but it seems like it might.) Maybe I am pregnant, and am having progesterone issues, causing the spotting. (This possibility concerns me a bit, because it could indicate more of a long-term problem.) Maybe it’s something to do with that ovarian cyst. Who knows?

When I saw the blood last night, I assumed things were pretty much over, which provoked a bit more emotion than I would have expected beforehand. I was sad that I wasn’t pregnant, and a little bit humbled by the whole experience of the two-week wait. I’ll confess something here that isn’t terribly flattering, but is at least honest. I’ve been reading blogs and forums about trying to get pregnant for quite awhile now, since before we were trying for Critter. And over the years, I’ve read people talking about possible “symptoms” of pregnancy, and thought some of them were… a little over-zealous, shall we say. Not everyone, certainly, but some of the “I had the hiccups for an hour today so I must be pregnant” type logic seemed a little… out there. And I generally try not to judge, but I did raise my eyebrows sometimes. I understand it now. I thought it would be different, somehow, for me. Because I try to be logical. Because I keep my skepticism handy. It wasn’t different; I wasn’t different. I kept my skepticism handy, and had alternate explanations for everything I noticed, but… I still got caught up in the noticing. And I had a much harder time than I expected trying to behave as though I were pregnant without falling into thinking of myself as “(maybebutstatisticallyprobablynot) pregnant“. I wanted to be special, somehow, exempt from the human-ness of it, and that’s just hubris. I apologize for it.

PB is wonderful, by the way. I love her more than I can tell you all for so many reasons, but one of them is her ability to help pull me out when I’ve fallen into myself. And among the very good points she made last night was this: that if you aren’t caught up in the idea, if it isn’t something that’s very exciting to you, then maybe you shouldn’t be trying to have a baby in the first place. So I’m trying to be more charitable towards myself, as well as everyone else, in that respect.

So last night I was sad, and humbled, and we talked through it. And then we talked about the good parts of my not being pregnant right now, like having our own mini wine and cheese party this weekend. And this will put us closer to the point where my company is likely to hold my job for me, and we should be covered the whole time by health insurance (two weeks till we can get sick/injured!) the whole time, and all of that good stuff.

Today, I was totally ready to be conclusively not pregnant. On to the next cycle. The first one was a trial run anyway, right? So that’s fine. And the wine. Did I mention the wine? I’ve been threatening to spend the entire follicular phase of this cycle in a drunken, caffeinated haze. Okay, maybe not really, but I would enjoy the opportunity to become somewhat inebriated this weekend.

What I was not prepared for was another freaking day of  “who knows?”. I want a positive pregnancy test or a glass of wine, and it seems entirely unreasonable that I can’t get either. Maybe tomorrow we’ll get an answer, one way or the other. Maybe.

 

Bowling and beer February 13, 2012

Filed under: Ahhhhhh!,Critter,Ding?,General life,Rants,Spawning — catsandcradles @ 8:50 pm

Or, “I Would Really Like an Effing Latte”

On Friday, my new employer took all the employees (and families!) out bowling. I am not a good bowler, but I had fun. Partner B and Critter came for a little while, and Critter desperately wanted to chase the bowling balls down the lanes. He was also fascinated by the ball return set up, and so I spent a lot of time quickly interceding to avoid crushed fingers. All of this was quite nice.

But. There was beer. There was even good beer. There was good beer that my employer paid for. And I? I drank none of it. This presents a few problems.

Firstly, I missed the opportunity to get somewhat inebriated on the company dime. My last employer… was not so generous, shall we say. (For our big Christmas luncheon, the company allotted about $2 per person.) So it was quite nice to feel like I’m actually working for a company that values our hard work, and while I certainly had an enjoyable time, I feel like I didn’t get to fully appreciate the experience.

Secondly, I had to lie to my co-workers every time one of them offered me a glass. I am, by nature, a fairly private person (which does seems a bit of an odd thing for someone who keeps a blog, I’ll admit), but I don’t like to lie. Of course, I liked the idea of saying “No thanks! There’s some possibility I could be knocked up!” even less. I had to tell them that I was avoiding alcohol and caffeine for the sake of more quickly getting over my on-going cold. (Which I would happily accept as a side-effect, but was not exactly my real reason.) Everyone was very nice about it, but I still didn’t like the lying.

Thirdly, it is very difficult to not think about whether or not you’re pregnant when you’re trying to behave as though you were all of the time. I don’t think I fully appreciated the annoyance of being on this side of the feared and dreaded two week wait until I was actually here. Last time around, I could forget about it (at least mostly), for hours at a time. Now, it’s constantly a matter of “I’m feeling rather run down. I bet if I got a latte on my lunch hour, that would help. Oh. Wait. Never mind. Herbal tea it is, then.”  I would like to say for the record that I’m not a big drinker, so we’re not talking about getting sober here or anything, but on an evening out when I’d like to partake in the beer, I’d like to partake in the beer. I am constantly aware of things being forbidden to me at the moment.

If I knew for sure that I was pregnant, I could at least justify it to myself as “I’m doing this to protect my developing embryo/fetus”, but as it is, it’s more like “I’m depriving myself of that poached pear and Gorgonzola salad for the sake of my idea of a developing embryo/fetus”, which is just not the same. It seems more like humoring myself than anything else.

Still, we’re going to test tomorrow (nine days post ovulation, for those keeping score), even though we know that a negative at this point doesn’t mean anything. (PB wanted to hold out a little longer, but want to know my winning logic? “It’s Valentine’s Day. What’s more romantic than staring at a urine-drenched stick together?”) A positive, though, would mean that I was right not to drink the company-bought beer, and not just depriving myself needlessly.

Also, that we’d most likely be  having another baby, but let’s not lose sight of the important bit.

 

 

 

 
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