Butter On My Sweet Potato

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Posted by Gin on March 3, 2008

Thank the Lord above, my fertile period (or as J calls it, “Smash Week” [for some reason, he likes to come up with random euphemisms for sex; I’ve agreed to let him call it Smash Week, so long as he never, ever, EVER refers to the sex act as “boning”. Ugh.]) is over for this cycle. After our last go-round on Thursday night, probably the most unromantic and mechanical sex we’ve ever had, as I lay in bed with a pillow under my butt (Gravity! To help the swimmers! Go Sperm, Go!), I looked over at J and tenderly said, “Baby, I love you so much. Let’s not have sex for, like, a week.” And his warm, sincere reply was, “I love you too. And that sounds awesome.”

And now we wait! I have 2 meetings on Wednesday afternoon, and will still need to leave work early enough to make it to the doctor’s office for a blood test before they close. I’ll go in a few days later for a pregnancy test, to see if our efforts have paid off, or if I will need to start another round of Everything again, including even higher doses of Clomid this time. I hate to say it, but I have gotten a little more used to the hormone surges and their unpleasant side effects – this time, my face managed to emerge fairly unscathed by zits, though my back is not as fortunate. (I know; cute, right? Picture a 13 year-old boy in drag with huge knockers, and you’ve got me pegged.) I know the indignities I suffer now will pale in comparison to what I will go through if/when I get pregnant, but since I’m not there (yet?), I can still bitch.

Over dinner on Saturday night, I laid out for J how, if I got pregnant this time around, it would be perfect timing: a Christmas (-ish) baby, so my family would have time off to fawn; my third trimester during holiday parties and gatherings, so I would have a great excuse to either a) eat like a pig, or b) bow out gracefully; my third trimester would occur during the cooler months of the year, rather than having to haul around an extra 30+ pounds during the miserable Southeast Texas summer; maternity leave during the yucky, gray part of the year that I only want to hole up in my house; getting back to work just before things hit a good, quick, eventful stride at work, when it will still be cool enough outside that I can cover up my still baby-chubby self without feeling like a nun. Perfect! Because life always turns out that way. Right.

So. Keeping my fingers crossed, and Wishing and Hoping and Thinking and Praying, Planning and Dreaming…


2 Responses to “”

  1. Allie Bear said

    I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.

  2. Funny–I had no idea you were trying to get pregnant but when I read that first post about smelling pee everywhere I thought to myself “hm, wonder if those woman is knocked up?” So good luck to you–hope you’re smelling pee because of some strange hormonal pregnant lady thing and not because people are peeing their pants all around you!

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