First Ultra Sound

Our first check up was a success. We have a March 21st due date and our little lentil is in there, with a nice strong heart beat. I know Allia is putting on a brave face and that each time we go in for a doctor’s appointment she is waiting for bad news.

We are taking it one step at a time and so far, we are heading in the right direction.

Two weeks from now we will have our next appointment and we’ll get a photo!


Heart A Flutter

Baby Center sends updates. This week, our sixth, we’re told:

This week, your baby’s brain, muscles and bones are beginning to take shape. His hands and feet resemble little paddles and his tiny heart is beating — twice as fast as yours.

Except now. My heart is thrilled.

Success: Now We Can Join the Ranks of Asshole Parents

Allia is a bit of an overachiever. She is REALLY pretty. She is REALLY smart-alecky. She is a REALLY good friend. She is REALLY generous. And now she’s REALLY pregnant. The clinic said they’d call someone in for levels anywhere over 80. She’s at 2000.

So, yes. We are pregnant. My mom is going to lose her mind. 🙂

Now, like so many others, we can do our best as parents-to-be, and join the ranks of ‘Asshole Parents’.  There is a website dedicated to this phenomenon, alongside the one about ‘why my kid is crying’ – with pictures of sobbing children and full-blown temper tantrums.

We can look forward to: Wouldn’t let him run with a pen in his mouth #assholeparent
Took my daughter on an African safari but I won’t let her play on her iPad so I’m an asshole.
Took my daughter on an African safari but I won’t let her play on her iPad so I’m an asshole.
He wanted “a lot of them” (lollipops). I only gave him one. #assholeparent

But seriously. So excited.

Five Weeks: Maybe.

Wow; that’s a clinical looking illustration.

We are still waiting to hear back from the doctor about the blood work. Allia has shy veins and has to be referred to the CML blood clinic to get anything taken (this, after being stuck in both arms and trying one of her hands). We have to wait now to get the blood work sent back to the clinic to get a definite yes. Then we have to wait to see if the levels are going up.

We told Al’s sister yesterday, and were mildly interrogated at the bar two nights ago  – by Liron, Megan and Jess; the first two were told willingly, but I tried to keep a tight-lipped lid on it when Jess tried to buy US a drink and ended up, eyebrows raised, buying me one and excitedly demanding a denial about whether we were pregnant. It’s so hard to keep it to ourselves. The count of definite people who know are:

The two of us, Allia’s co-worker (also pregnant), our two friends (Meg and Liron), and Allia’s sister.

I’ve started up my Baby Center App  again. According to the 5 week update, the baby is

“enjoying her first huge growth spurt. This week the heart — no bigger than a poppy seed — begins to beat though at this point the embryo still looks more like a tadpole than a human. She’s sprouting tiny buds that eventually will become arms and legs. Already her vital organs, including the heart, kidneys, and liver, are in place and growing.”

Hello, Sesame.

Baby is the size of a sesame seed with a poppy seed heart.
Baby is the size of a sesame seed with a poppy seed heart.

I cannot keep my big mouth shut

We inseminated before taking off (literally) for Greece. Our baby MIGHT have been conceived in International Air Space, over the Atlantic Ocean.

We are (we = Allia) a week late with her period. That makes it 4 weeks from our last try. We took a cheapie test a week and a bit ago… results: not pregnant.

She doesn’t feel pregnant, either. But today I woke up/was woken up when she said, “k, get up, I gotta go pee on this”. Puzzled, I wondered why I was being included/informed of her need to pee. Then I remembered. I stumbled into the bathroom.

Slight delay.

Two lines appeared. We appear to be pregnant. 4 weeks pregnant. I am ecstatic, she is reserved – understandably.

We called the clinic. Went for blood work. We should hear back tomorrow. We have agreed to tell no one, except the friend from work who went with her to buy the test, because obviously she knows we are going to get some news. She’s also pregnant, a month further along than we are.

Last time, we told people, figuring it wouldn’t change our outcome. The small circle of tells rapidly expanded as Allia had A LOT of trouble remembering that we’d agreed to keep it mostly under wraps.

This time, I’m the idiot. Less than an hour after our clinic appointment, I’m at the gym and the instructor, Paul, who we know from a salsa school where we took lessons, said hi and long-time-no-see, etc. The second he asked where my other half was, instead of saying ‘not here’ or even that her membership has expired (which is true), I replied: “pregnant.”

If that’s my one slip. I will take it. I’m excited. And you know how the rest of that song goes.

Showers Showers Showers

I love baby showers. It has been hard though, attending showers for bursting bellies, when our own are so empty. Today my cousin, Leah, celebrated her coming baby – and her due date is Labour Day. Our due date was Labour Day.

But replacing sadness with joy is always a good way to move forward. I loved seeing her sincere reactions to each gift as it was opened. And she has that glow you hear so much about.

We waited three months after our miscarriage to start trying again. Two cycles, one of which we squeezed in half-accurately, as we prepared to leave the country for Greece. So far, no baby.

Fingers crossed for the future. We are diverting ourselves with other challenges. We started the Fit Girl Challenge and are planning, together, to undertake a great lifestyle shift – replacing healthy eating (in copious amounts) with healthy eating in well-thought-out proportions.

Send positive stories and strategies for staying motivated and optimistic my way.

How motherhood changes you

I know it’s too soon to say I feel these things. I know that everyone I know, who is a parent, secretly, or not so secretly, sucks their teeth at those of us who pretend to know the level of emotion, investment and worry that accompanies being a parent. But one of the reasons, the only one really, that ever made me truly question whether I could be a parent was that I know myself; I know that I cry, unprovoked, when I see anything hurting. That my hearstrings snap, so easily. My nightmares have always been about a lack of control – the inability to protect things I care about. A recurring one was watching our dog fall over the side of the ferry boat and helplessly witnessing that dog get pulled under the boat.

How can any parent who has seen a disaster movie ever agree to create life, to care about a life more than their own? Every horror movie or end-of-the-world film has a scene where some parent watches helplessly, unable to save their offspring, as aliens, robots, dinosaurs, tsunamis or zombies terrify and then finish off their child, who is inevitably calling for their help.

That is my idea of a nightmare. I am anxious by nature. So the article, below, really spoke to me. It sums up the feelings I intuitively knew would be amplified on this journey towards parenthood. I’ve already looked under that dark stone. Knowing what’s there might be the better part of getting my head prepared for what will happen to my heart when a baby enters our lives.

Mom Gives Best Explanation Ever How Life Changes After Pregnancy. This Is Perfect.


Do you know how life changes when a young couple decides to become young parents? Do they think it boils down to adding more commitments and costs? Or do you already know about the emotional toll and everything it entails? Here’s a story that elucidates it all.

“We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of “starting a family.” “We’re taking a survey,” she says half-joking. “Do you think I should have a baby?”

“It will change your life,” I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

“I know,” she says, “no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations.”

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.

I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, “What if that had been MY child?” That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.

That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of “Mom!” will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moments hesitation.

I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby’s sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy’s desire to go to the men’s room rather than the women’s at McDonald’s will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.

That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.

My daughter’s relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks.

I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child.

I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.

I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time.

I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.

My daughter’s quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. “You’ll never regret it,” I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter’s hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.

Please share this with a Mom that you know or all of your girlfriends who may someday be Moms. May you always have in your arms the one who is in your heart.”