weeks 0, 1, & 2

queens, ny

Feb 13:  I start a five-day cycle of Clomid which increases my chances of getting pregnant via IUI.  We'd heard there were side-effects, and Sheffield and I were equally concerned that I would get really moody.  That's not true.  He was way more worried.

Feb 14:  I show no signs of moodiness, but I get some head aches.  Or is that because I've given up wine?

Feb 15:  I show no signs of moodiness, but I get some head aches.  Or is that because I've given up wine?

Feb 16:  I show no signs of moodiness, but I get hot flashes.  Sheffield thought I was trying to bait him by being so often scantily clad, but it was, instead, that my body had become a sauna.  If you found yourself fully clothed in a sauna, you'd take off your pants too.

Feb 17:  I show no signs of moodiness, but I get some head aches, and hot flashes.

Feb 18:  I show no signs of moodiness, but I get some head aches, and hot flashes.

Feb 19:  My ultrasound reveals two follicles.  I am over the moon.  Then they tell me to shoot myself in the leg if I don't ovulate by Saturday.  Now I'm just looking at the moon like everyone else.

Feb 20:  Ovulation test is negative.  I convince Sheffield to give me the shot.

Feb 21:  Ovulation test is negative.  I mentally prepare for ovulation stimulator shot.  I am not successful.

Feb 22: After waiting and waiting to pee and see the signs of ovulation, I resign myself to take the shot that will induce it.  The pharmacy calls to tell me that the shot is not covered by my insurance and will cast $157.  This leads to a tearful exchange with a customer service representative at Cigna, who not only confirms this non-coverage, but when pressed, admits that my IUI procedure is not covered either.  That's impossible because I was told the exact opposite on October 28 and coverage was confirmed by my doctor.   She tracks down the confirmation of the call I made on Oct. 28 and encourages me to file a customer claim.  I pace around for a few minutes, then take the ovulation test again.  It's positive.  The positive sign on an ovulation test looks like this:

I don't have to take the shot.  I look like this:

We decide to follow through with the IUI even if it is not covered by insurance.

Feb 23:  IUI.  We get confirmation that the procedure will be covered by insurance (the girl I spoke to on the phone the day prior should be fired.)

I thought I'd be in the mood for pancakes after the procedure, but it seemed like too much of a fuss and I had oatmeal instead.  I am sure that this is indicative of parenthood, and as such, the rest of my life.

Feb 24:  Between an audition and a play-reading, Sheffield and I follow doctors orders and find a window of time to "expose the egg to more sperm."  The old fashioned way.  (I got the part and the play reading was a hit, and start hoping for a trifecta win.)

Feb 25:  Though I have no way of knowing if I am actually pregnant, I wonder if I should quit drinking and I try to hide my IUI secret from everyone.  I am successful.

Feb 26:  Though I have no way of knowing if I am actually pregnant, I wonder if I should quit drinking and I try to hide my IUI secret from everyone.  I am mostly successful.

Feb 27:  Though I have no way of knowing if I am actually pregnant, I wonder if I should quit drinking and I try to hide my IUI secret from everyone.  I am unsuccessful.

Feb 28: Though I have no way of knowing if I am actually pregnant, I wonder if I should quit drinking and I try to hide my IUI secret from everyone.  I am really bad at keeping secrets.

March 1:  Offered a role in Moon Over Buffalo.  Though I have now way of knowing if I am actually pregnant, I spend countless hours calculating the progression of a pregnancy from February to June.  And to July.  And to August.  And how big I expect I will be at three, four, and five months.

at my parents house in columbus, ohio

March 2:  Though I have now way of knowing if I am actually pregnant, I spend countless hours calculating the progression of a pregnancy from February to June.  And to July.  And to August.  And how big I expect I will be at three, four, and five months.

March 3:  Though I have now way of knowing if I am actually pregnant, I spend countless hours calculating the progression of a pregnancy from February to June.  And to July.  And to August.  And how big I expect I will be at three, four, and five months.

March 4:  Though I have now way of knowing if I am actually pregnant, I spend countless hours calculating the progression of a pregnancy from February to June.  And to July.  And to August.  And how big I expect I will be at three, four, and five months.

March 5:  I decide I will take an EPT the next morning.  I barely sleep all night.

March 6:  My Early Pregnancy Test reports "negative."  I get a fortune cookie that reads, "Be patient: in time, even an egg will walk."

March 7:  I wait a day, but am already assuming that I am not pregnant, and console myself that I'll look much cuter in my costumes this summer if I'm not pregnant.

March 8:  My Early Pregnancy Test, of a different brand, reports "positive."

  

I call Sheffield at 6:30 to tell him.  Because I know I'm going to ask someone to look at it and confirm and I didn't want to tell that person before telling him.  (That person is my mom.)

March 9:  My Early pregnancy Test, same brand I used three days prior, reports a negative.  I am thoroughly confused.  I notice that this brand of EPT, which was given to me by a friend when she found herself pregnant and had no more use for them, expired in 2012.  I am still thoroughly confused.