Mini Muffin

The cat's out of the bag.

There's no way to write this keeping the dramatic moment for the end (not that anyone will be surprised at this point), so I'll just come out and say it- I'm pregnant. (Even though I've had time to get used to the idea it's still weird to say, er, type that!) It's been a long, bumpy road to get here. It started in January of 2009. Well, I guess really it started before then. When we got married, I didn't want to talk about it (I know, I know I always said I'd never get married and I wasn't having kids. Things change. We all knew I was lying anyway). So we made a deal. I'd finish grad school and then we'd discuss it. Well, in January of 2009- my graduation was looming mere months away. It seemed like a good time to casually start trying. Six months later, when my internship was dragging on and the job market not looking promising, we called it quits. Temporarily. I admit, I cried for two days...Meanwhile, it seemed the whole world was having babies.

Fast forward more than a year

. Things are looking up for us. The timing is good. Oh- job change, that's a nice monkey wrench. Well, let's go for it anyway. Months go by and nothing happens. I'm keeping track of everything (and I do mean everything, I think I even recorded every time I sneezed!) on my handy dandy little chart, it's really not as much fun as it sounds like.

I make the call, but I can't bring myself to use the "i" word. Dr. R (not her real name) says "Well, this is no problem, but I don't like what you told me about that. You should come in and have bloodwork done." At least I got the heads up- I really don't do well when they spring the needles on me. Results: "Your progesterone was low and your thyroid was abnormal. Let's repeat the test." Sigh. "Your progesterone was normal this time, no problem there. But your thyroid level was still abnormal. And it could be contributing to infertility." There it was. The "i" word. Next step: schedule an appointment with my primary care physician to discuss said abnormality of the thyroid. Dr. U (not his real name) is, of course, on vacation...

5 weeks: I'm not entirely sure why I felt I needed to take a test that day, but something inside me said, "Why not? Just get the no and move on." Only it wasn't a no. Wait, how did this happen? I wasn't prepared for this! In hushed voices (we had family crashing at our place- but that's another story entirely) the huz and I discussed it briefly before work. Our conversation went something like this:

"Is it for real?"

"I guess so"

"Can there be false positives?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Do you have any more tests?"

"No, I guess I'll stop on my way home and pick one up."

"Or a couple...Maybe it's an April Fool's joke. You know, it just gets wet and comes back positive."

"Do they make those?"

"I don't know."

Oh, did I forget to mention, it was April Fool's Day? Jynx congratulated us right away- by barfing on the carpet (Fritz was too busy cowering under the bed, hiding from the house guests to even be concerned with what else was happening.)

Good news! Looks like the offer on the house was accepted and we're moving forward. No, this isn't an April Fool's joke!

Wait, what? It's been a month and today of all days is the day we finally hear something?!

Test 2 comes back positive that night. And yet we still don't quite believe it. Five days pass. Ok, test 3. Positive. It must be for real. Guess I should call the doctor...

The huz asks:

"When can we tell people?"

"I'd like to wait, it's really early and I don't know what this whole thyroid thing means."

Two days later:

"So, I might have told my brother..."

"I might have told my supervisor- she wanted to move furniture..."

6 weeks: Dr. U tells me that the results from Dr. R's office indicate borderline hypothyroidism. He'd like to retest before making any decisions about medication. The next day Dr. U calls- "I've got your results back and I'm going to go ahead and get you started on medication. I'll fax the prescription to the pharmacy. I want to see you for a follow up appointment in 6 weeks." That's not what I wanted to hear. The doctor had assured me it was perfectly safe for the baby- I just hate the idea of taking medication. Any medication. Period.

Just ask the huz:

"I have a headache."

"Did you take anything for it?"

"No."

*Huz rolls eyes*

Pop the first pill. Guess I'm a druggie now...Off to Dr. R's office for my first appointment. "Everything looks good. Here is some information for you about what to expect for your upcoming appointments. I'll send the nurse in to draw your blood. And we'll see you back in about four weeks for your first ultrasound." Geez! I really am starting to feel like a pincushion...

"I feel funny."

"Funny how?"

"I don't know. Just funny. I'm sure it's normal."

"So when can we tell people?"

"After the ultrasound?"

"Sigh."

7 weeks: Wow. There it is. I wondered when you'd show up. Morning sickness. Yep. I feel awful. Let's hope this doesn't actually happen every day and this is just a fluke...

Nope. Not a fluke. How many more weeks until I feel better?

9 weeks: Feeling ever so slightly better. Actually managed to eat a whole meal at one sitting.

10 weeks: Mother's Day. The huz surprised me with flowers and a card. Stupid hormones making me cry. I didn't consider this to be my first mother's day, but he thought it counted. Started telling the family today- and news travels fast...

First ultrasound. A little nervous- not sure what to expect/think/feel. The huz keeps me giggling. Doc arrives in the freezing little room. Those papery sheets don't provide much warmth. There it is! Look! It's all wiggly!

Doc says "I only see one." (Sorry huz, maybe next time you'll get your twins.) "Heartbeat is nice and strong. Everything looks good."

*Sigh of relief*

Geez! Word really does travel fast! Is there anyone who doesn't know?

Let the nicknames begin. Peanut. Bean. Blob. Tadpole. Prune. Tory Walker. Tater Tot. Mini Muffin.

This kid is doomed!