The Beginning

Since the center of my universe is a nearly 9-month-old dictator with a penchant for pureed pears and teething cookies, we might as well start at HIS beginning.

You see dearling, when a mommy and a daddy love each other …. yeah. We’re not quite there yet. Let’s just say that when you decide you want to embark on the crazy (and long) adventure called parenthood, you should:

  1. Take a really great vacation. I’m talking Hawaii. A walking tour of Europe. A 30-day cruise to Antartica. Whatever you have on your list of “Place(s) I MUST see before I die”? Do that. Cause sweetie? It gets complicated.
  2. Go out for a ridiculously expensive dinner at a nice restaurant and order a killer glass of wine. I recommend the Silver Oak. It haunts my dreams.
  3. Go and do silly, romantic things with your partner/spouse. ENJOY each other’s company for awhile.

OK, done all that? Pretended to? Good. Something to note: Most doctors will tell you to ride the crimson wave at least once before getting pregnant. They will also tell you to be prepared for the whole babymaking biz to take a year.*

See that asterisk? See it? Do you hear me laughing?

I had the best of intentions. I bought (and read) a book detailing how to time conception. I bought a basal thermometer. Fuzzy handcuffs. Ovulation tests. Pregnancy tests. We — the hubby and I — were mentally prepared for this “to take awhile.” We had friends who had taken that year to get pregnant. Friends who were still giving it the college try. The hubbs was looking forward to that movie cliche: “I’m ovulating! Get over here NOW!”

But that asterisk. It mocked us. And I’m not complaining. Not at all. I’m actually amused by it all. Because what the doctors DON’T tell you (or forget to, or you forget they told you, or whatever) is that after you get off the pill you are MORE FERTILE than ever. After I got pregnant, a coworker told me that one of her friends, who was had problems conceiving, was put ON the pill by her doctor for one month just because of that side effect. And it worked for her. See where I’m going with this?

I used that basal thermometer for less than two months. Never opened an ovulation test. I was kidding about the fuzzy handcuffs. And I was FREAKING OUT after that first month because Scarlett hadn’t returned to Tara yet. She was still in Vegas with Rhett, working as a showgirl to pay off his gambling debts. And I wanted to follow the directions in that book (because I’m a geek) that say “day 1” begins on the day the crimson tide rolls into town.

So I’m freaking for about two weeks when the hubbs tells me to chill. It’ll happen eventually. And seriously? We just started this game and I’m being a total buzz kill.

So I take a chill pill. And I wait. And … I’m tired. As in, there are weights on my arms and legs all day and all I want to do is sleep. And about a week later? The girls start to ache. And I’m thinking, hot dawg! This means day 1 is coming up soon, right?! Well, a week and a half passes and Mother Nature is a no-show. That bitch stood me up.

So on a Sunday night about two minutes before going to bed, I decide to pop open the first pregnancy test. You know, for kicks, cause its gonna be negative. I’m totally positive on that point. (Besides, we bought the box at Costco and I need to start using them SOMETIME.) Three minutes later there’s a very, VERY faint + sign in the window. And I’m suddenly Uma Thurman in “Kill Bill” reading the instructions while holding the strip in my hand. Except, you know, some Japanese chick with a shotgun isn’t trying to kill me. And I’m not blonde.

And those “easy read” instructions say: “+ = pregnant”. No way. I’m misreading it, right? So I call the hubbs into the bathroom. And he’s all pokered up because whenever I call to him from the bathroom it usually means I’m either praying to the porcelin gods and/or we need to go to the hospital now. Poor man. So he comes trotting over, poker face firmly set, and I shove the directions in his face. “The plus sign means pregnant right?”

His eyes pop for a moment at me, and then he reads the instructions and looks at the test. Please note that he did not TOUCH the stick. He was totally grossed out that I had left it on the countertop. Anyhoo — he confirms that we are, indeed, pregnant. But the faintness on the stick means we’re probably BARELY pregnant (I know, I know) so I had better do a re-test in the morning.

In the meantime, we took a picture of us with the stick (I had to hold it) for posterity.

And in the morning? Still positive, yet faint. The hubbs demands a daily re-test until that plus sign is DARK. (And hello? Costco box!) In the meantime, we call the OB and make an appointment. But since I can’t remember when Scarlett last visited, instead of making me wait the customary three months, they get me in a week later.

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