Thank you, thank you, thank you! everyone who commented on my last post and especially to the mystery person who posted it on LFCA. All of your words of encouragement helped me feel that everything is going to be okay, no matter where or how this baby enters the world. I am still researching my options and hope to make some phone calls during the time I have off next week. (Thank goodness Canadians celebrates Thanksgiving in October!)
But for today, I’m going to try not to stress about it too much and tell you all about my cat and all kinds of other miscellaneous nonsense instead.
Audrey is what I would call the quintessential cat. Finicky. Aloof. Really only cares about me when she’s hungry.
But she’s also oddly empathetic. She seems to know when I’m sick or upset. She’ll snuggle up to me at those times, usually climbing onto my chest and refusing to move.
I’m not sick. Or upset. But the past few weeks, Audrey can’t seem to get enough of me. And she wants to be right on top of Thumper. The other day she was sitting next to me with her head on my belly, and Thumper was kicking away in that exact spot.
I don’t know if she can smell it, or sense it, or what, but she knows I’m pregnant. I just hope she’s this crazy about Thumper once she’s actually here.
A Small Victory
On Tuesday there was a special election on a proposed abortion ban after 20 weeks. I spoke to Hubby that day, and he said,”I think we should vote.”
“Of course we should,” I said.
“We need to do it for Little Bunny,” he continued.
Well, yes, I thought. But also for all the women and men who have been or will be faced with the terrible choice of whether or not to terminate a pregnancy because something has gone catastrophically wrong. It is never a decision that is made lightly, as the proponents of the ban would have you believe. It’s heartbreaking. And horrifying. But I would never take that option away from anyone who decided it was best for their family.
The proposition was defeated, by much more than the two votes Hubby insisted could be the deciding factor. It was a proud moment for our city.
Weights and Measures
A few weeks ago, I had a mysterious stomach bug. I only threw up once, but I managed to lose 1.5-2 pounds. Since then, I’ve been concerned about not gaining enough of that weight back. The numbers on the scale have been yo-yo-ing more than I would like.
Part of that is because of the on-again/off-again constipation (yup, that again). Every time I think I come up with the right balance of stool softeners, supplements, and diet, something changes, and I get all backed up. Eventually, I start pooping again, and the progress I thought I was making starts dropping off, a few ounces at a time. I’m 21 weeks (as of yesterday), and I’ve only gained 8 pounds. (At one point, it was 9, but that last pound has vanished.) Still technically within the normal range, but the past few weeks, I haven’t been at the pound-a-week pace I should be maintaining. Guess it’s a good excuse to really start “eating for two.”
The numbers on the scale do not seem to be influencing the size of the belly, however, which is good news. I’ve had many comments this week regarding my growing bump, which you can take a peek at here.
Everyone Else Knows, Too
More and more people have noticed and/or heard about my pregnancy, and I’m finding that the more I talk about this pregnancy, the more I want to talk about it. Not only that, but it gives me yet another opportunity to reveal how it came about in the first place.
Last Friday, I had a fantastic and illuminating conversation with one of the moms I work with. She is a foster mother to three beautiful kids, with the intent to adopt. We were discussing the big move, and the subject of my pregnancy came up, and I admitted it was the result of two rounds of IVF. This is a woman I’ve been dying to ask for over a year whether she and her husband had/would pursue fertility treatments. It turns out they had, unsuccessfully, attempted IUI, but she had such an adverse and unusual response to the relatively small dose of hormones that she was terrified to attempt IVF. They’re not done, though. She and her husband want another child; it’s just not clear yet whether that child will come to them through foster adoption or ART.
It was one of only a handful of conversations I’ve had with a fellow infertile face-to-face. It’s a good thing I didn’t have another visit scheduled immediately after that one because I stayed in her living room discussing hormones and procedures and RE’s for nearly half an hour after the time our appointment should have ended. And I left feeling a connection with this woman the likes of which I have only ever felt with all of you.