weeks 3, 4, & 5

at hermitage artist retreat in florida

March 10:  My boobs hurt, which I'm sure is a sign that I will start my period.  But I don't.

March 11:  My boobs hurt, which I'm sure is a sign that I will start my period.  But I don't.

March 12:  My boobs hurt, which I'm sure is a sign that I will start my period.  But I don't.

March 13:  The people at my Artist Retreat don't know me so well, so it's not weird to anybody that I'm declining wine.  Except me.  It's superbly weird to me.

March 14:  My period is a full week late.  This is the day that Sheffield is going to "call it."  Like it's the last three seconds of the fourth quarter.

Other men and women who have wanted a child for so long will understand that I am afraid of the great hope in my heart.  I walk the beach praying that my embryo hangs in and hangs on.  I ask for signs that everything is going to be okay.  This is what is delivered:

 

The hope in my heart is so great, so great, so great...

March 15:  I'm switching to decaf.  Okay, this is serious.

March 16 -18 Without caffeine I avoided all sources of light and slept for four days.  Nothing to report.

March 19:  I think I feel nauseous.  But it's probably part of withdrawal.  Or the shock of daylight.

March 20:  I think I feel nauseous.  But it's probably just the abrupt temperature change outside.

March 21:  I think I feel nauseous.  Or maybe it was the seafood...

March 22:  I think I feel nauseous.  Or was it just the pesto...?

teaching in lexington, kentucky

March 23: (One month since IUI.)  Definitely nauseous.  I shop for ginger ale and chocolate with sea salt.  Sheffield says he's definitely calling it.

March 24:  Is it still morning sickness if it wakes you up in the middle of the night?

March 25:  The poppy seed  is making me nauseous from morning, to night, to the next morning, but, on the bright side, he or she is also responsible for this gorgeous hair I'm having.  Got to give credit where credit is due...

March 26: (Louisville, KY) Doc confirms that I am indeed pregnant.  It is not a moment like the fantasy of the moment: crying, hugging, someone gives you a kleenex and a bouquet of flowers.  I was taking my shoes off to be weighed at the scale and as my head came up, in a whirl of nausea, the nurse tech says, in an attempted whisper, referring to the pee I left in a plastic cup, "oh, and it was positive, just so ya know."

March 27:  I have been so strong.  I was determined not to let emotion overwhelm the situation.  Everything is still so risky. But, the ultra-sound pictures make me cry.  Four small square indecipherable grainy black-and-whites.  Why this????  It's not the grainy grey photo itself.  It's that I never thought I'd get my own grainy little pictures of nothing.  And now, I have some.