Memories . . .

One day last week I said to G, "Isn't it weird how we know, practically down to the minute, when P & E were conceived, but with this one we have no clue? Don't you think there should've been some magic in the air that night that we would've noticed? I mean, it's not every day a formerly infertile couple with a firm, unfortunate reason for their diagnosis spontaneously conceives."

G said, "What are you talking about? I have a picture from that night! I know exactly when it was."

Me: "WHAT?"

G: "Look what happens when our home number calls my cell." *Hands over cell phone*

Me: Sees that, in fact, when our home phone number comes up on his caller i.d., a picture of my chest in one of the only low-cut shirts I own flashes on his display screen. Not a picture of all of me, mind you, only my cleavage. Such as it is.

G: "I took that the night we were out with [your friend] P for her birthday. That was September 12, right? And you told me, way back when you found out you were pregnant, that some online calculator you'd used said that based on your June 6th due date, you must've conceived sometime around Sept. 12. So, see? We may not have embryo pictures, but we have a momento!"

Me: Remembers the night in question and the many drinks involved. Realizes that, yes, G and I did have a very good time after we got home that night.

So it turns out that, in fact, we do have a momento from the night Baby Boy was conceived. But I don't think we'll ever be showing it to him.

Progress

I had another doctor appointment today, this one being the last of my monthly visits. I go again in three weeks (well, aside from a "quick" 45 minute drive over there next week to do the glucose screen someone forgot to schedule for today's appointment -- grrr), and after that I will be seen bi-weekly for a while. You know what that means? It means I am getting closer to having this baby! WOOOHOOO! I am so over being pregnant it's not even funny. Don't get me wrong, I do love feeling my little man bouncing around in there, and I do love having big boobs for this brief stretch in my otherwise B-cup life, but aside from that? Blech. I know two women who say, with straight faces, that being pregnant was the best time of their lives. WTF? I don't know if they were just incredibly lucky for nine months and escaped a lot of the crap that comes the way of most pregnant women, or if they were just smoking some really good stuff at the time (it was the 70s, you know), but I can't identify. I'm thinking of doing a "Why I Hate Being Pregnant: Third Trimester Edition" post, but it has come to my attention that there may be a small number of active infertiles reading this, and because they've already had to put up with one bitching, moaning pg post, I will hold off on doing another for the time being. I think, though, that I will have to do the post eventually, for this reason: G and I are sure, at this point, that three children is the perfect number for us, and we have no intention of ever having another. For lots of very good reasons. But I know the time will come, probably a year or two from now, when it will occur to me that I'll never feel a baby kicking inside me again, never again feel the warm weight of my own newborn snuggled against my chest, never again have a reason to buy those tiny, tissue sized diapers. And I will be sad. I may even start entertaining the notion of trying for an even bigger family and contemplating sneaking some OPKs into the house just for kicks. It is then that I will need the "Why I Hate Being Pregnant" posts. They may save me from myself.

Ok, tangent over. The appointment today went well. I mean, aside from the fact that I am a complete nutjob. See, last month Baby Boy was measuring about five days behind schedule. His head was measuring behind by about eight days. This worried me enormously, despite the fact that the tech and the nurse practitioner both reassured me that they allow two weeks leeway either direction at that point, and hence, he was just fine. Nonetheless, I have spent the nearly five weeks since that appointment hoping and praying that he might at least catch up, if not start measuring a little on the big side. So what happens today? Baby looks great. I am 27 weeks, 5 days, and he clocked in at 28 weeks, 4 days. Fantastic, right? Just what I wanted! But alas -- no. Today I became worried that he had grown too quickly, particularly his head, which measured 29 weeks even. I know, I know. Ridiculous. After much reassurance that all of his measurements fell within the normal range, coupled with additional reassurance that, because of his position, getting an accurate head measurement was somewhat challenging, I am feeling better. But still. Can you even believe that? I get exactly what I've been praying for, and I let it scare the hell out of me. Anyway, everything looked great, and he now tips the scales at 2 lbs., 10 oz. Only 5 oz. less than little E was at birth. Amazing.

Since January, when I saw the peri, I've been taking one baby aspirin per day. Apparently there is some evidence that this can decrease the recurrence rate of preeclampsia. Today the peri told me to continue doing so until I hit 36 weeks and then to stop because if I develop hypertension at that point, they'll just go ahead and deliver the little guy. I did the math, and that means B-Day could potentially be as early as May 9. Yikes! I can't even think about how much there is to do between now and then. Maybe less than two months until I'm a mom of three???

Getting There

It's official: I am now 26 weeks, 2 days pregnant, and since my doctor intends to schedule the C-section somewhere around the 39 week mark, I have made it to my third trimester! Time has moved very, very slowly up to this point, but I think things may start to speed up now. For one thing, the nesting instinct is starting to creep in, so I think we'll finally start making some real preparations for this little one's arrival. For another, it's March -- WOOHOO! I know winter is officially here for a few more weeks, and even beyond that we're likely to have a few cold patches, but November - February is over, and those, to me, are the most brutal months. Now it's time to think Spring.

To my complete disbelief, things are still looking ok on the b/p front. It's not fantastic, but it's not meds-worthy either, and it seems to be holding steady rather than creeping up like I'd feared. I'm already five weeks farther in than I was last time when I had to start meds. I guess, even though I've felt very much like I did while expecting P & E, it really is easier to carry a singleton than it is to carry two. Hope I didn't just jinx myself by saying that.

P & E's second birthday is fast approaching, too. Now that I can't believe. Seems like just yesterday I was trying to figure out where to hold their first birthday party, and now it's nearly time to do it all again? Yikes. I wonder how many years of co-parties I can get away with before they start demanding separate, gender specific festivities?

I worry about them a little bit because they just aren't saying much yet. I remember last year, at their party, I was thinking how they'd probably be little chatterboxes by the next year's event. Um. . . . not so much. P is saying *maybe* 20 words, including animal noises she knows, and E isn't even to that point yet. I'm hoping they're just late bloomers, especially since they are on target or maybe even ahead of schedule in their physical development, but I don't know when it's time to really be concerned. As of their 18 month appt., their doctor wasn't. He said twins tend to talk a bit later, and some singletons talk late anyway, and he figured they'd start talking when they were damn good and ready. Well, maybe he didn't say that in so many words, but that was the gist. So I guess I'll keep taking the wait and see approach for now.

Let's see, what else . . . oh! Names. Names, people. I know there aren't many of you reading this, but seriously, if you have any boy name suggestions, they would be most greatly appreciated. We've got NOTHING. Help!