Inconceivable

Several weeks ago, I had my 20 week anatomy scan. As I was walking to the hospital, I had a flashback of going there last memorial day weekend for my laparoscopy. This coming memorial day weekend, I plan to be back at that hospital for my baby's birth. While the lap did nothing to further my ability to conceive, it seemed like a necessary step. As I got closer to the hospital, I started going through all of the other steps that got me here, on my way to literally peak inside my baby's heart. Whereas memorial day didn't come through, labor day did. I thought of that weekend and those two very long walks to my other hospital for my retrieval and transfer. They were both beautiful days full of promise. M turned to me at one point on our way and said, "I know I would be happy if it was just you and me." It was a wonderfully sweet thing to say, and we are very happy just the two of us, but I still wanted to cry a miserable tear or two because I couldn't say I woul...

In a last ditch attempt to get in some world traveling before we become teethered to a 7 (hopefully) pound meatloaf, M and I are on our way to somewhat sunny Bermuda. With the reasonably priced airfare, short and direct flight, off-season hotel rates and temperature that is at least above freezing, it seemed perfect. Beyond that, we have no plans or ideas of what we want to do when we get there. It's a long weekend, so we jumped on it last week. With the added bonus of it being Valentine's Day while we are there, so I am sure we will squeeze in something somewhat romatic. I am thinking a sunset or sunrise - maybe both; it may get crazy.

The last few weeks, it seems I have popped straight out. A mere two weeks ago people were telling me that I didn't look pregnant and now people are looking at my belly on the train and avoiding eye contact lest they are guilted into giving me their seat. The baby has also started really kicking and each day she is stronger. It was so cute at first; I had everyone touching my belly, but now it is starting to feel like someone is constantly poking at me. Despite the mild annoyance, I was still supremely freaked out when she finally laid off the jabbing one Saturday. I swore I wouldn't be that type of person who flipped over ever normal thing, but I was almost crying at lunch when she hadn't kicked at all that day. She finally resume her regular programming later that day and I resumed complaining about it. All was right with the world. In protest to my complaining she is kicking at me now. I have also recently diagnosed myself with pregnancy on-set morning claustrophobia. I n...

I have been offline for while with the multi-city Christmas extravaganza and haven't been updating, but there were a very cherished holidays moments that deserve to be recorded for posterity. 1. Being dismissively told at LGA that we didn't have seat assignments and that they might be able to get us out "sometime this week." 2. The blizzard that kept us huddled at my in-laws for what seemed like 2 weeks. 3. The Delta crew forgetting to de -ice our plane which caused us to miss our connection by 10 minutes, but then resulted in first class tickets for the next leg of the trip. 4. Birthday cake disasters and finally 5. Puking on the return flight. In the back galley of the plane ...everywhere. Notice how the worst ones involved air travel. That last one really endeared me to the flight attendants who, by the way, COULD NOT FIND A BARF BAG for me. I gave them ample warning and desperately tried to wait until the bathrooms were unoccupied. I think they thought I was st...

When we last left off, I was sitting on some important news, but because I know there is at least one person out there who still reads this, I kept it to myself until I could tell her in person. So now that she knows, here is the big scoop. At my dr's appt at my 17 week check up, I talked my dr into telling me the gender despite the fact that my husband couldn't be there and my dr's insistence that people from Brooklyn always want to be surprised. He asked me if I had a preference to which I of course replied: "I just want a healthy baby", and then told me it was a girl. I then squealed: "well I really wanted a girl." He advised me not to decorate the nursery until my 20 week anatomy scan, but he was pretty certain it was a girl. Fast forward 4 weeks later for the full anatomy scan (which was creepy awesome by the way), and I was slightly nervous that the ultrasound would reveal a developmental problem, but I was really nervous that they would be lik...

I think there is a concerted effort throughout the MTA to make me throw-up on the train. First it was the excessive cologne of passengers. (There is no need to use half a bottle of hugo boss or j.lo glow before 9:00 a.m.) And every offender seemed to be drawn to me like a magnet. Powdery old ladies, teenage romeos, accountants with obvious olfactory fatigue all want to sit next to me. Lately, the trains have also been more crowded and the mingling of smells combined with my recent inability to score a seat have twice made me have to exit the train in fear that I would faint. Now that I am further along, I can tolerate the odors and crowding a bit. So to ensure that I don't enjoy my commute too much, the City's health department has started running the most gag-inducing ads . It shows a soda being poured into a glass, but in the glass it turns into veiny blubber. It's the realistic kind you used to see in the old TLC surgery shows. (Do they still have those are is it all rea...

Last week, there was an article in the New York Times Sunday Magazine about fathers who find out that the children they are raising are not their own. It was heartbreaking to read their stories and about the upheaval it caused in their and their kids' lives. I sometimes joke with Matt about the baby not being his which leads to further joking that the baby might not be mine either. After reading that article, I am not sure if I want to kid about it anymore. Not that our situation would be one rife with betrayal and deceit like these father's, but what if there was a mix-up? How would I feel about it? Would I even want to know the truth? I try not to seriously consider the possibility, but it has happened and uncomfortably close to home. I reassure myself that my clinic is one of the best in the country and uses strictly enforced protocols to eliminate such errors, but just like those dads whose babies are born looking nothing like them, there is a creeping doubt.