There's a pooter in my cooter. (now with a photo, per your request)

I have been really really struggling for the last week on how to post my news. And since I haven't come up with a good way to say it, I'll just get it out there. There is a pooter in my cooter, and that's a good thing. Let me explain...

Monday, AF still hadn't shown her ugly head, so I thought, "What the hell, might as well waste a stick." And because I have no patience, I interpret the results as soon as I see the urine do the capillary crawl into the test area. I know, I know, this is a big no, no. Of course, there was a brilliant control line, and apparently nothing in the test area. So I sat there contemplating my extended stay in Crazyville and then finished up. Right before I was about to throw it away, I looked at it again, and what do you know? If I squinted, I could see the faintest of lines. "Is THAT a line? Is that really a line? Is that what positive lines look like? Holy crap, I think that's a line." So I ran upstairs and stuck the urine soaked stick in Husband's face, and asked if he saw a line. He saw the line too. Then I ran downstairs and pulled out Friday's BFN stick from the trash, there were two lines on that one too. (Yeah, I know, that's another big no, no. But hey, I am past rational at this point.) Holy cow, I think I am pregnant.

Then I took a picture of it and sent it to 2 women friends for a second and third opinion. They saw the line too. Husband was still skeptical and tried to remain cautiously optimistic. In the meantime, I couldn't stop rolling the word line over and over in my head, all day long. I am sure it's the only day of this pregnancy that someone could say that I glowed. Not from the hormones, but from the shear excitement of it all. By the next day, I was sure I had imagined the whole thing and tried another stick. Another line, a bit darker than before, but not by much. As I repeated the test every 24 hours, the line got increasingly darker. By Thursday, I was convinced that I was pregnant.

By the way, with the first positive test, I started to freak out about the Ser0que1 I am still taking for sleep and sanity maintenance. I had successfully gone down from 300mg to 100mg, but any lower and I couldn't sleep at all. After consulting every possible drug and pregnancy database, I remained concerned about the drug's affect on my blastocyst. So, I made the unwise decision to go down to 25 mg on Wednesday night. I didn't sleep but maybe 2 fitful hours. Plus, the stress of being snowed-in, caused a flare up of my supposed interstitial cystitis, and then the nausea set in. On Thursday, I was a puddle of tears. A bawling, mess, who eventually threw a magazine across the room out of frustration.

Thursday night, I succumbed to exhaustion and insanity, and ramped my Ser0que1 back up to 50mg. That did the trick. I slept soundly and dreamed like crazy. I will skip the details of the main dream to get to the good part. In the dream, I am riding my bicycle while nursing my newborn. Oh, and my nipples were 4 inches long. My mother, on another bike, asks me what we named the baby boy. My response: Pooter. I named our child Pooter. I have no idea where in the world I came up with that name, but there it was. When I woke up, I thought, hey, there's a Pooter in my cooter. Husband does not find this nearly as funny as I do.





Ask and you shall receive...










As a side note, I am going to try to comment on the last post right before I write another post now. This way, I can respond to your comments. So, now you know, in case you feel like checking it out. Otherwise, just ignore me.