The moment you've all been waiting for...

Today, I had a blood test.

Oh my god, I'm pregnant.

Not sure what to say except this:

This is so cool.

Why Dave sucks.

Dave sucks.

It's not his fault. It's just that it rained alot this week, particulary in the basement of the government building where he works. This government building will remain nameless because I have a growing list of readers, and the Americans among them will desert me in a flash when they learn that my husband works for the evil empire.

Anyway, his building's closed. All week.

Every time I walk in the door, Dave reminds me of this fact in his usual gleeful style. I find him lying on the couch in his shorts and a tee shirt, watching the World Cup, pumping his arms in the air (alternating), singing "I don't have to go to work ALL WEEK! Ha!"

And this while I am traipsing around the entire metro area in the rain.

I hate him.

Happy 30th

Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday, dear Michael
Happy birthday to you

(And many more)
(But not too many more)
(Because you're already 30)
(And it's all downhill from here)
(Sorry)

Inferiority complex

Crazy neighbor lady:
I hear that: you're cleaning out your house.
I'll be that: the homeowners association is coming for me next.

Yep, she's still at it. There were - I'm not kidding - 20 boxes outside for paper recycling this morning. Our houses are not that big. I have no idea where all this stuff is coming from.

I am feeling the need to progress from watching Clean Sweep to performing Clean Sweep. Somebody want to nominate me for that show?

Actually, all I really need is a good maid.

Much needed rain

Well, we're finally getting some much needed rain. Dave will be pissed because he'll have to mow the grass.

We have about 10 square feet of grass. Most if it's under our deck. The neighbors hate us because we mow maybe twice a season. Our front "patch" is also overgrown, but it doesn't get too bad because I never rake the leaves out of it. I keep telling myself that this is a kind of natural weed surpressor. The real deal: we're renting, and we work too much to care.

Our next door neighbor is a doctor who's also in the National Guard. She lives by herself, except for a few weeks a year when her parents come to visit from Florida. She has 47 bird feeders on her deck, which she relentlessly fills with crappy birdseed so we only get crappy birds. For years she's had a crappier looking yard than ours - crazy tomato plants growing willy-nilly under her deck, a totally overgrown front lawn, and god help us, the birds.

(Unhappily, cheap birdseed also attracts rats, I found out).

Anyway, the woman's crazy, but because of her...um...idiosyncracies, we've been enjoying relative refuge from the fascist homeowners' association that rules our development with an iron fist. Sure, we can't get pool passes, but that pool is full of pee. I swear it is.

Anyway, she cleaned the place up.

It took her weeks to do it, and there were mounds and mounds of garbage in front of her house for three weeks in a row, but she did it. The front lawn is mulched, the back is cleaned out. Everything's great.

Fuck.

This is making us look bad. I just know it.

Dave! To the mower!!

Random stuff

The Start of a New Meme?

I just sent the following email to one of my coworkers at the j.o.b.:

Hi Diana,
I need to print a letter.
I hear that: you have the good paper.
I’ll bet that: you know how to load it into the copier.
Can you swing by and help me after lunch?
Thanks!
Ann

I'm thinking this "I hear that:, I'll bet that:" thing is totally going to catch on. Let's try an example:

Jen:
I hear that: you have a great ass.
I'll bet that: you're super in bed.

Andrew:
I hear that: you live in the Hereford Zone.
I'll bet that: you like sheep.

Michael:
I hear that: you are obsessed with all things Superman.
I'll bet that: you are Superman.

Isn't that fun? Try it!

Query

Why are there so many grapes in my fruit salad? It's not a grape salad.

On Working in Baltimore

I love:
- the money
- Maryland crab soup (it is ubiquitous here)
- the snowball stand in the parking lot

I hate:
- the commute
- no COPS breaks
- having to minimize my screen whenever someone walks by my office

Aside

I miss regular coffee.

Observation

I miss beer more.

Confirmed

Tylenol with codeine is totally safe, even if you're pregnant. So says my nurse at the fertility center. And even if it isn't, it's probably better than my blood pressure when I went to the doctor, which was an alarming 153 over 104.

Long time no post

Yeah yeah, I know. The facts are these: I've been at the j.o.b. everytime the urge to post struck, and I couldn't remember my username or password. That's lame isn't it? Oh well.

So I got this headache on Tuesday at about noon. I'm prone to migraines, so I know what a really bad day feels like. This wasn't quite that bad, but it was pretty bad. Maybe an 8 on the old 1-10 scale, with 10 being "I'm rolling around on my bed clutching my head in between bouts of vomiting, praying to god that my kids will turn off the TV downstairs because I'm afraid the muffled sounds of 'The Suite Life of Zack and Cody' will make my head explode."

Yes, my kids still watch that show.

Anyhoo, the headache went on for - I'm not kidding - 24 hours. Sometimes a little better, sometimes a little worse, but always there, like an icepick to the brain. It shook me out of a deep sleep at 3 in the morning, and that's never a good thing.

I was at Mullan yesterday at noon when I finally snapped and called the doctor. "All this could be solved by a little Tylenol, I told myself, but NO! Because Zed might be in there and I haven't had this conversation with my doctor." I say to the Kaiser appointment rep: "I've had a headache for 8 days and I don't know what I can take because I might be pregnant."

I'm so tempted to turn this into a Belligerent Intellectual-style quiz, but I'm not that patient, or that funny.

True to form, the appointment rep didn't know dick and put me on hold for the advice nurse. "All advice nurses are currently helping other Kaiser members. Your expected wait time is 47 years."

So I waited the requisite 47 years and finally got a nurse, who transferred me to another nurse, who had to check with a doctor. At each stage of my journey, I was asked, "Have you had a pregnancy test yet?" To which I am forced to respond, at length, beginning with "Well, I've been undergoing therapy at Shady Grove and..." and concluding with several acronyms your average Kaiser advice nurse wouldn't understand. The response I'm looking for: "It's safe to take Tylenol." The response I get: "Can you come in to see the doctor at 2:50?" Arg.

You can already see where this is going, can't you?

Left work early, drove home, changed clothes, drove to the doctor's office, got ushered right in to the exam room, waited for 45 minutes. On the table with the paper sheet on it. Under a blaring fluroescent bulb. Very good for migraines, by the way.

Finally Dr. Chuke makes his appearance. (Yes, that's his real name. He's African. It's pronouced "Shu-kay"). This is my first time on this particular pony on the Kaiser Permenente merry-go-round. Dr. Chuke is handsome and obviously concerned about my headache, which I've now had for 6 1/2 days, or so it seems. He asks me about my migraines. He asks me about my zygote. He hands me a prescription for codeine.

Now hang on. Did I not just say I might be pregnant? That I had an IUI 5 days ago? That it's very possible that there's a hard-fought tiny bundle of cells growing arm buds in my womb at this very moment? CODEINE?

"It's totally safe, even if you're pregnant," he says. "But if you prefer, you can just take regular Tylenol."

Rimshot.

Lucky for Dr. Chuke, he offered to get me some Tylenol on the spot. Otherwise, he might have become, at my hands, nothing more than a grease-spot on the highway of life.

PS: I feel different. I won't say how because it's embarrassing. But indications are positive.

Sick and tired? or, Random Stuff

Well, something is certainly going around. Just about everybody on my blog roll is either sick or totally worn out from either too much work or too much partying.

And me? I'm getting it together, I think. Or maybe "coming to terms" is a better way to put it. I still have too much work to do. I still have too many proposals to write and phone calls to return. And I have my contract job tomorrow, which means I'll be tied up all day.

Oh, that reminds me! I got a computer at the j.o.b. It has a 20" flat screen monitor. Heavens to mergatroid, it's nice! Now all I have to do is get all my kick ass Adobe software on there, and I'm set to jet.

Anyway, I had my guitar lesson yesterday, and I took the opportunity to run all this stuff by David because he's my guru. I'm pretty sure he doesn't realize he's my guru, and he'd probably deny that he's an appropriate guru if pressed on the subject, but he is wise and gives me advice whenever I ask for it.

David says that I have to learn to be flexible. That I may not get to do what I want to do precisely when I want to do it, but if I can learn to roll with the punches, everything will be fine.

He also says that everything we accomplish has an upside and a downside, so I shouldn't use up all my energy wishing I were doing something different. Just be in the moment. That's his advice.

See? I told you he was wise.

After my lesson, as I sat on the couch waiting for Dave to finish up his lesson, I made a decision. I'm not going to take on any new work until I get everything I've got completely finished.

Um, yeah.

That's a big deal for me. I am used to scrambling for dollars. But now I've got this cushy contract job, and I really can afford to say to people, "I'd love too, but I'm booked until August. Can you wait until then?" At least I think I can afford it.

Let's put it this way: the trajectory of my larger life can't afford to give in to the pressure to work all the time. The trajectory of my larger life includes Zed, and my family, and my friends (the real ones - not clients) and my life as a creative. My voice. I can't afford for it to get lost in the shuffle.

Speaking about my voice, saw an amazing concert on Friday. Pete Huttlinger and Tommy Emmanuel at Goucher College. People, it was like 3 1/2 hours of jaw dropping guitar-dom. Dave and I love Pete. He is fun, and Dave's played a few of his arrangements ("Josie," "Fields of Gold"). I've been working on a Tommy Emmanuel piece called "Angelina," which I now have renewed fervor for since seeing him play. The room was full of guitar players who were litterally gasping throughout his performance. Amazing.

Oh, and finally, we watched the last disk of season 1 of Lost last night. Now we are desperate for season 2. Those bastards! The whole family is in an uproar.

Well, that was long. Time to squeeze in a few minutes of work before taking off to spend Father's Day with Dave and the boys. Happy FD, everyone!

Feeling...good?

This morning I woke to discover that I felt...good!

I checked myself. What is this strange new feeling?

Not to be overly dramatic, but the hormones were really whacking me out.

Last night, I took what I hope will be my final injection: a pre-filled syringe of Hcg, which is supposed to make me ovulate. All day I've been checking in with my left ovary, feeling around for any twitch that might indicate something is happening.

But mostly I just feel so damn GOOD!

I stopped by to see Michael today and took him out for coffee. The first thing that came out of his mouth: "Wow, you're in a good mood today." Mike is more than a friend - he's an emotional barometer. When we used to spend practically every day together at work, he usually knew what I was feeling before I did. So this confirmation is encouraging.

Thanks to my male readers for sticking with me through all this fertility stuff. I'll try to get back to my regular morose posts ASAP.

19mm!

Zed is 19mm as of this morning. It's go-time, people!

It took longer than expected, but we're finally ready to ovulate. I keep reminding myself that ovulating, while it's nice, is not the point. I just hope it works. This was hard. I'll do it again if I have to, but I won't like it.

At least, if it comes to that, I'll know what to expect next time.

Now the waiting game. I will have to schedule a blood test two weeks from Friday to see if I'm pregnant. No peeing on a stick for me. I'm so jacked up on hormones, a home pregnancy test just wouldn't be reliable.

Meanwhile, I've come to the conclusion that I just have to cut down on all this running around. Too many meetings, too many doctors appointments. I'm exhausted and the work is piling up. People are just going to have to get patient. Period.

Angelina

I just watched Angelina Jolie on Inside the Actor's Studio.

God in heaven, is she not the most beautiful person in the whole world?

I am dumbstruck.

And again

We're on our way now. Zed is at 15.6, which means only 2.5 more to go before it's go time. I have to take another shot and go back tomorrow. The doctor thinks we'll be ready to trigger this bad boy (girl? zygote!) tomorrow night, then we'll go back on Friday for Dave's (only) procedure.

Then we wait. 17 long days.

I hate to say it, but I'm a little aggravated because this has really taken a lot of time out of my life. I have absolutely no control over when I have to be at the doctor's office. They only do these tests between 7 and 10 in the morning, and I have to be there on the days they say, or we risk either getting too many ova or none at all. So if I have a meeting, (which I do tomorrow morning), I'm basically SOL.

It's so stupid that I feel that way. Nothing is more important than this. Nothing.

Plus there's this: just wait until the KID gets here. But at least if your kid is sick, you can say, "My kid is sick." I can't say, "Sorry I'm not going to make the big meeting tomorrow. I have to get my follicles checked." It's just annoying.

In other news, I haven't been able to get motivated to do any work at all. None. It's getting serious. People are starting to get pissed off. Why can't they understand that I've bitten off a good deal more than I can chew and my estrogen's off the chart to boot?

Thank god that Dave is making dinner.

Updated

I updated my links and added a little blog roll (down, down, down, no up, there, to the right, to the right, see it?)

I've lost count of how many needles I've stuck in my belly. They didn't really explain this process very well. I thought I'd take the pills, take one shot of FSH, and we'd be off to the races. Not true, sports fans, not true.

Off to the doctor for yet another close encounter of the entirely too personal kind.

More later.

Dave

Dave doesn't like that I've named my follicle.

I can understand not wanting to get attached to any particular follicle, since it's possible (maybe even likely) that this one won't be the one that actually turns into a baby, but I find it helpful in sending positive thoughts in that direction.

In any event, Dave has indicated that he does not wish to address Zed at this time. Nor does he want to be asked whether this Zed will be the Zed that turns into Baby Selig.

To each his own! If this one doesn't do it, I'll just name the next one Zed and go on my merry way.

It's all good - Dave made his wonderful lasagna last night. The whole family is stuffed to the gills.

Meanwhile, I am still addicted to "Lost" on DVD.

Z is for Zygote

Even though none of our possible name choices start with a Z (or maybe because of that), I have taken to calling my little follicle "Zed." As in, "Hey, Zed, get growing!" and "Only 6 more to go, Zed, and then you'll be big enough to come out and play with Daddy's friends!"

Okay, is that gross? Maybe a little.

Anyway, I am talking to my follicle, and its name is Zed. Nobody seems surprised by this, especially since I talk to myself all the time.

Why Zed? Because Baby X and Baby Y connote sexes, and since my little ovum is sexless (hey, it's biology!), I'm calling it Zed. Also because I really like that line from Shaun of the Dead: "Hey! Don't use the zed word!!"

Seemed appropriate. It was only later that I realized that Z also stands for zygote. And if you don't know what a zygote is, allow me to usher you back to 8th grade sex ed.

So even though I've been blathering about it on my blog, surprisingly few people actually know about all this baby stuff. It's not something I've wanted to talk to client-friends about because I have this idea that they'll freak out when it occurs to them that I might actually go on maternity leave and be unavailable for, like, more than 5 seconds. But somehow, people seem to know. Maybe more people are reading my blog than I think.

For example, my guitar teacher, David, grinned at me throughout my entire lesson, and kept saying things like, "I know why you can't play that scale today," and "That's so cool." (He wasn't talking about my playing. My playing and "that's so cool" never go in the same sentence). If I didn't already think he could read my mind, I'd think that now, because it was just too weird. Dave swears he didn't tell him.

Must be giving off that new mommy smell.

The other side of stress

My sister is a psychologist. She knows about the brain and stuff. She says there is another side of stress past the part where you feel stressed. When you get there, you don't care anymore. That's where I am.

I can't believe everything that's happened in the last few months. Exhilarating, no? Makes me wonder why I say things like, "God, I wish something would HAPPEN!"

Maybe I'll make a list, in no particular order:

• I went totally broke and thought I might have to file for bankruptcy
• I had to lay off my best friend, and, for a week and half, cried my eyes out every time I found myself alone.
• My other two employees resigned and neither went quietly.
• My kid Danny asked if he could intern for me, and I discovered that he is unbelievably competent, even though he's only 18.
• Andrew enters, stage right. He continues to demonstrate that he's the nicest, most generous person I've ever known, and when their powers combine, he and Jen become some kind of super-couple. I love them.
• I decided not to renew my office lease.
• I had to borrow money from my little sister to make payroll.
• My mom had a health-scare of the super-scary variety, but seems to have bounced back...for now.
• I managed to get caught up on my personal bills and avoided having my car repossessed.
• One of my long time clients told me that he wants everything they do for marketing to cross my desk. He then awarded me the first $11,000 of what may turn out to be a $25,000 database development project.
• I've fallen in love my husband all over again at least twice a week for the past 12 weeks.
• I (and Andrew and Danny) moved all my stuff into my basement, then Dave and I organized it (mostly).
• My mother bought a convertible and announced that she may give me her Durango, but she'll probably make me wait until September before she lets me know for sure.
• Finally got ballsy about making a baby and have had needles stuck in my arm AND an ultrasound wand (with condom - safety first!) stuck up my you-know-what four times in the past two weeks.
• Did I mention the needles to the belly? Twice so far - three more to go, I hope.
• I totally neglected my guitar.
• I got addicted to "Lost" on DVD.
• I realized that I'll never be able to ask my parents for money as long as they live. Because if I could ask them, this would have been the time, and I couldn't do it. That makes me sad.
• I learned that fertility treatments are a kind of trial by fire and I think everyone should have to go through them to prove that they are worthy of a baby.
• I continue to hope that I'll turn out to be worthy, thereby perpetuating my theory.
• I sold the phone system, the server and (just today) the extra laptop.
• On a whim, I mentioned to an old friend that what he needs is a strong marketing admin, at least part time. He said, "Are you free?" I'm now working for him 20 hours per week, in Lutherville. It's obscene how much they're paying me. Luckily, I'm worth it.
• I found out that a bad guy from my past is eligible for parole five years earlier than I expected.
• I decided I don't give a shit about it because he has no power over me.
• I have been awarded half a dozen other projects in the past two weeks and I'm not sure how I'm going to finish everything.
• No, there's nothing you can do, unless you know ASP and you want to work for free. Thanks for offering.
• I got a huge tax refund. (Losing money ROCKS!)
• I have spontaneously started eating better - not because I want to look better - but because it will be better for the baby, which is weird, because I've been on the weight-loss merry-go-round my entire life.
• Just today, I made payments (or partial payments) on most of my other outstanding vendor invoices, and it felt really good to prove that I keep my word, even though it sometimes takes longer than everybody would like. See!? I told you so, you bastards.

So that's it. Not so bad, huh? Roller coaster ride from hell! The good news is, I feel like I'm finally coming out of it. Things are starting to make sense again. Maybe life will be normal for a few months. Here's hoping.

Saturday

Huge shout out to Dave, Andrew, Jen and Mike for helping to remove the last few items from the office and clean up. And to Kath and Chris for letting me park most of those things in their garage and for providing pizza and beer to the masses. I'm so relieved to be done with all that.

I was highly emotional today. Could have been the drama of giving up the office. Could have been four double doses of Clomid. I am feeling rather emotional. Estrogen anyone?