Let the games begin...

Awww, you all just warm my heart with your well wishes and happy dances for me. I was very worried about posting about our news because I didn't know how it would affect my readers, especially those who are still fighting the good fight against infertility. I desperately worried that I would alienate some of my readers with my news and you would hate me and be bitter towards me, in the same awful way I am bitter toward my pregnant sister. I eventually decided that everyone is entitled to their bitterness and anger and if it helps to be angry with me then so be it. And so I trust that if I say anything lame or insensitive in the coming months, that you will all call me on it and I will be a slightly better person for having learned a lesson. Just promise me that you will call me on it, OK?

That said, I will give you a few details on how the whole thing is progressing at this point. I am at the 5 week mark. Pooter is the size of a sesame seed and already causing me problems. Apparently I didn't inherit the non-nausea gene from my mother (she claims she never experienced morning sickness with any of her 4 pregnancies). So, if being green is equivalent to glowing, then I glow like a mo-fo. Or if being bright red from a recent trip to the bathroom and an attempt to squeeze out the tiniest poop qualifies as glowing then I am practically nuclear. My dreams seem to illustrate my anxiety through all of this. Last night, I had a dream that I gave birth to a 1 year old boy, and after a good amount of unsuccessful nursing attempts, my left nipple fell off. That's right, it fell right off and didn't even bleed. Nice, huh?

I should also mention that the fabulous doctor that I found a few months ago will no longer be delivering babies as of July because as a small 2 doctor practice they can't afford the insurance any longer. So I am going to stick with them for a little while until I can make an educated decision on who will birth it if I make it that far. I am considering going out of town for two reasons. First, the other single practitioner doctor is addicted to episiotomies and doesn't appreciate input from the mom on how things will be run. Second, the big practice that births almost everyone's babies in this town has been labelled by my G.P., my pdoc, and a number of nurses I have talked to as a "Baby Factory". Now, I have at least a couple of friends here who went through their system and were quite satisfied. I, however, am a self proclaimed difficult patient, and they don't deal well with people like me. I have tried them for routine GYN stuff, and walked out in tears or in a fit of rage. I don't need either while I am pregnant. My friends think i am a bit crazy, I think, because of my view point. So, I am looking into the neighboring areas for good docs and my current doc will have some info for me about what they think of the other doctors.

I have mixed feelings about midwives. Some seem fabulous, while others seem like old battle axes. And I don't really feel like leaving it up to the luck of the draw. Plus, all the local midwives are in cahoots with the baby factory. It's like a monopoly around here.

Then, there is the idea of a doula, added into the mix. Sounds like a particularly attractive option for someone like me who has a very high chance of postpartum psychosis, according to my pdoc. Given those odds, I think Husband and I may need a little help and coddling, especially after the birth. I am a bit concerned that Husband will feel like the doula is usurping his position as my supporter, but perhaps the doula will be a good person for him to talk to if and when he has concerns about me, especially once he becomes comfortable with her. We will be talking to my doula choice next week sometime. I will let you know.

In the meantime, I have an incredible craving for turkey, mashed potatoes, and gravy. Trying to convince my vegetarian husband to incorporate gravy into all of our meals has been a bit of a stretch. Although, he is really trying hard. Mushroom gravy seems to do the trick, but it still doesn't go well with pizza or salad. It's incredible how I can be so nauseous and so ravenously hungry at the same time.