sisters and brothers going baby crazy

My mother in law just told me a super story involving her other, non-Hubby son. Apparently he recently told her the best years of his life are over because his wife wants to have a baby. Now that is hilarious on so many levels. First of all, he can’t really think that. I know he is scared of babies and I can’t imagine him even holding one (let alone changing one at 2:30am), but he thinks children are funny and, honestly, we all have to start somewhere. Second of all, he knew this day was coming. Since she’s been in grad school and planning to have a baby as soon as she is done, he’s had a few years to plan for the assault he is going to undergo—aka he’s known it’s been coming for a long time and should, after three years, be prepared by now. Thirdly, why would you say that to your mother? I’m sorry, but when people tell me they want to make babies I immediately have to force myself not to envision what that entails. I’m not talking pornographic videos playing in my mind or anything, but you know what I mean: I do know where babies come from. So telling that to your mom? No thank you. And lastly, although I am sure there are many other reasons I find this funny and awful at the same time, he makes it sound as if he has no say in the situation. Let’s hope he actually does. He must, right? I mean, they’re not getting any younger, and he definitely doesn’t wear the pants in the family, 

but he does have to consent to play some very important roles, 

including dominant family breadwinner and sperm donor, 

among others. Although they are in their mid-thirties, it wouldn’t

 kill her to give him another few months.  I guess he just won’t 

be ready no matter when it happens and he’s just sharing his 

angst with his mama. (And actually, it would kill her to wait 

another few months. By the time she graduates she’ll have 

had a solid six months of prep-work under her belt—and 

lots of sessions asking me questions and telling me things 

I’m really not prepared to hear about). But I love ‘em! 

Tentative Update...

So, I know you’ve been on the edge of your seat, waiting for me to announce my late period. Oh, you haven’t? Well, let’s pretend you have been. Because then you can be excited when I make said announcement: said period is said late. Only two days. Enough to make me extremely nervous. Cautiously excited even. But not enough late to make me whip out a pregnancy test and go through that whole drama, nosiree. I know enough about pregnancy tests to know I can’t quite convince myself to do it. What if it’s too early and comes out negative but my period still doesn’t show up? What if it’s positive and then I get my period tomorrow? What if I can’t tell what the hell it says? What if it’s positive and I actually am pregnant and have to go through with this again? Holy moly people. Stress City.

Here’s the thing of it: I’m 99% sure I’m pregnant. I have the same symptoms as last time, such as: extreme, huge, bitchiness toward my husband occurring in completely random bursts; cramps in the baby-making region; crankiness (more than usual); the ever obvious late period. My mind plays tricks on me though, because I can explain away any and all of these symptoms. Watch me: Hubby is annoying; my period should be coming so I should be crampy; I’m tired and bored; I don’t really yet know my “cycle” well enough to call Auntie Flo tardy. But still…I know it’s true. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be brave enough.

a good feeling

No, I don’t have “a good feeling” about Take Two (I hope I don’t call the next baby Take Two, as I called Wyatt The Creature—I fear it is sticking though. It’s kind of cute, but in a sick way). I don’t think I would be brave enough to share that with you even if I did, so there. I have a good feeling called elation for my friend who just told me in secret that she is pregnant. Yippeee! Luckily, as I already mentioned, I am one of the world’s greatest secret keepers. Literally. I can’t even tell you some of the secrets I have kept because even if they are now known to the people who weren’t, at the time, allowed to know, I wouldn’t be good at keeping the secret of me keeping the secrets in the first place and that would not fly.

Now, I don’t want to share my friend’s secret with you, hence you will never hear her name, address, Twitter account or whatever cool things kids use for ID these days, but I do want to share that I was able to be happy—no ecstatic—for her. I got all jittery and hyper like Hubby on Christmas morning. This is a big deal for me because I really feared that my friends would all start getting pregnant and I would flip out from jealousy. I was supposed to have a baby first, you know? Be the expert on colic and cloth diapers and surviving on no sleep and all that stuff. My plans changed…but that doesn’t mean anyone else’s did, and that’s a hard pill to swallow (like my stupid B-complex ones that don’t have a coating and are HUGE). So anyway, my point is not to share dear friends’ secrets, even though I did, it is that I made it past a big hurdle and it felt like stepping over a staple instead of a steeplechase jump. Yay me!

Take Two

Well, I’ve told you how I want to make another baby. We don’t need to go into too much detail, but you know what that entails. Since I’ve boycotted sex for the past month (did I mention that I hate condoms-not something I noticed before, hmm) I’m pretty excited for obvious reasons. I don’t need to discuss Hubby’s elation, you can imagine it yourself. And I’m finally covered by “real” health insurance so I guess it’s okay to give it a whirl. (I say “real” in quotes because it is pretty crappy insurance and doesn’t cover maternity unless there are complications, and let’s face it the whole reason I need insurance is because I want a baby. If I—we—don’t succeed until January or later then all the health plans in Colorado have to cover maternity and my stress and worry will be for naught anyway; I’ll just have another kind of stress and worry but that’s not the point). The point is I am trying to dig up the courage to try again. And I still hate calling it that but that’s really what it is. Take Two. Attempt Two. Baby Two. I don’t know how I won’t be freaking out the whole “next time” but since I want a baby I’ve got to start somewhere. With some sex. I suppose that’s not a bad place to start.

wait a second...

Yesterday was supposed to be the start of my period. I had a preventative panty-liner all ready for some action, but action it did not receive. So…immediately I wonder. I’ve never had a late period in my life. Well, I can’t really remember the first few years, and then for awhile after that they were regulated by birth control so I guess I actually have no idea when my natural period is supposed to come, so nevermind.

All the books I’ve been reading say to chill out and give it some time, especially if you’ve been on any kind of internal contraceptive, but I can’t help and hope that it worked. I mean, how cool would we be if we did it? High fives all around. But really, let’s get to the important question: When can I pee on that stick? I only want to do it if it’s going to be positive. It's hard to aim.

The Waiting Game

As I have previously mentioned, it kinds of gets boring, wondering if you’re knocked up or not. This has led me to pretty much forget about the whole thing for days at a time. I know this isn’t a bad thing, I just always thought I would be more like Charlotte from Sex and the City or someone else baby-crazy. I don’t know why, actually, because I’m a very laid-back person, well, it could be that I’m super-competitive (even with myself), but I thought it would be more…I don’t know, dramatic or something. I don’t feel anything. Absolutely nothing is different. I guess I should relish that feeling; if all goes to plan it will be very different very fast. Yikes.

Patience

Well, now I’m just bored waiting to find out if this is working or not. I guess I could go Bachelorette-crazy on the pregnancy tests, but I already learned from my in-depth library research that those aren’t exactly reliable if you use them too early. Did you know, according to some book or other, that over half of pregnancies end before the woman even misses a period? It’s a “chemical pregnancy” or something, and it means the sperm made love to the egg and two became one but then the uterus was snobby and said “no thanks.” Well, that’s my approximation of it. It’s basically a conception that doesn’t stick. Isn’t that weird? If you watch Keeping up with the Kardashians, which I admit is embarrassing, so you don't have to tell anyone, you will observe Khloe possibly experiencing this phenomenon in the most recent season. Now you are so smart.

Mostly I’m just curious because once in a while I think “hmm, what’s going on in there?” and much more often I think “I could probably go out binge-drinking but maybe I shouldn’t just in case.”

Um, did it happen yet?

It’s pretty weird to think, for the first time, that some life could be forming in my midsection, somewhere behind my rock-hard abs. I spent the last ten or so* years trying to avoid this “situation,” so I imagine the next few months might be a bit anxiety-inducing. What if I was using birth control that whole time for no reason? What if it takes a long time, and I stress out because I’m so competitive and want to be the best and first?

While I don’t have high expectations for Attempt #1, it shouldn’t be that hard right? How many celebrities have you seen knocked up in UsWeekly? How many friends do you have who had a “surprise”? (Sorry, more than you think). Getting pregnant by accident is probably more acceptable in celebrity-land, but still, if all these people, including the glorious Catherine Zeta-Jones and Gwyneth Paltrow, didn’t even do it on purpose, then it can’t be as complicated as we might imagine. I can probably do it on purpose, right? I’m not trying to jinx myself here, so knock on wood for me, but I’m just sayin’.

*Dad, if you're reading this, it's actually only been a few months, you know, since I got married

TMI?

I’m trying to learn a thing or two, so I’m reading all these books about conception, pregnancy, childbirth, and all things related. Well, mostly I read a few pages, gag, and throw the book back in my library bag, but I’m trying. The one problem is: there seem to be more books in the library about adoption, infertility, and child behavior issues than any of the happy, rosy things I’m picturing. It’s gotten to the point where I know exactly which shelves I should stick to if I don’t want to leave depressed.

So far I’ve read contradicting information on several things, including when a woman is most likely to ovulate and how long semen can live in the vagina (eww, squirm-literally!). These seem like basic scientific facts to me but I guess they’re up for debate. And let me tell you how much I learned about hemorrhoids: a lot. Can one take back the baby-making one already tried? I’m not sure I’m ready for Preperation-H and donut-shaped seat cushions.

First comes love, then comes marriage...

We all know the rest, right? “…then comes the baby in the baby carriage.” First of all, how is this an insult? Really, even for grade school that doesn’t make any sense. I’m guessing the insult is that you would have a baby with someone else, possibly someone who ate his boogers on top of the slide or didn’t peg his jeans? Secondly, what could be more humiliating?! At this point in my life—yes, someone wound my biological clock and it is now ticking—I’m ready for that baby carriage. Time to toss the old contraception, believe it or not. The high co-pay for my prescription on my new health insurance was enough to tip our decision that way. Yes, we’re that poor. So, we’ll see how it goes…