First Doc Appointment

So, the doctor's appointment with Dr. Wonderful was fairly routine. I made the appointment initially because of the whole not-getting-pregnant thing but didn't call prior to the appointment to inform of the latest "development." This was due, at least in part, to my fear that things will change at any moment. Hence the six pregnancy tests.

When I went in, I said to the receptionist, "So, um, I made an appointment initially because um . . . "

"You made a consultation appointment."

"Right, a, um, consultation, um, there's been a change."

"What change?" the receptionist barked.

"Um, well, um, well."

There I was, standing in the middle of a waiting room, filled with hopeful ladies. Everything went dark and a bullhorn was thrust in front of my face.

"Speak into this!" she said. "We want everyone to be able to hear you!"

I finally stammered, "Well, I think I might be pregnant?" It echoed throughout the room. And she eyed me suspiciously.

"Did you take a pregnancy test?"

"No, actually, I laid a hot rock on my stomach and watched to see if it changed colors."

"Well, in that case, go to accounts to pay your co-pay and bring this back," Miss Too-Much-Black-Liquid-Eyeliner said curtly.

So, the normal: blood test to detect the amount of Beta hCG. Another on Thursday. First results should be back on Wednesday.

We discussed running--which I really miss and stopped doing immediately upon the first test. Last time he told me not to run. He was somewhat ambivalent this time--until I told him that I had trouble last time keeping my heart rate under 140. He suggested that I walk. I hate walking. Well, hate is a strong word, I don't hate it, but when you are used to flying down the hill, walking just seems underwhelming. Running feels good. I enjoy it. It's a great stress reliever. Perhaps I will be forced to do a nerdy race walk instead.

According to Dr. Wonderful, I am likely only THREE AND A HALF WEEKS PREGNANT. Which means detecting the hCG last Wednesday is fairly astonishing. What's next? Detecting it the moment you and your partner's buttocks hit the sheets? Or the second the catheter is threaded through the cervix? Or the the egg is fertilized in the dish? Or the moment when a single sperm is injected directly into the egg?
No more waiting for the cells to divide? It's insanity people. Insanity. This means that gestationally, the little bugger is only a week and a half.

Makes me realize even more how fragile this all is.

And thank you. Thank you for all your warm thoughts and well-wishes. It means a lot. Especially since no one else knows about this--except of course, the doctor, his staff and the seventy-five women in the waiting room.