I'm still deciding if this should be considered a planned change or a change in plans, but I've done gone and got myself pregnant. While this is certainly a very exciting, planned development, I'm trying to think of when my mind changed from "don't need/want kids" to "bring it". Maybe it was when each year started to look the same - work, vacation, work, vacation, repeat, and it seemed like a new adventure was in order. Or maybe some kind of subconscious internal sleeper agent alarm was activated, telling me to procreate and making me believe it was a good idea. Either way, the reasons no longer matter because here we are, expecting a baby girl on or around August 13th, and I couldn't be more thrilled!
(the following paragraph is an extremely abridged account of events)
As with many not-in-their-20s women, conception did not actually happen in the same year we decided to "give her a go". While having two cycles per year is super awesome and convenient in so many ways, it is not so when trying to conceive. A confirmed PCOS diagnosis put me in touch with a reproductive endocrinologist at the local hospital (also a research and teaching facility) who happened to be conducting a study on the two leading ovulation-inducing drugs for which I was eligible. Not being one to shy away from free drugs and medical scrutiny, I thought this would be a perfect solution - mutually beneficial. Five months of mildly annoying probing, pricking, using, snogging, and journaling later, a five week pulsating embryo appeared on the ultrasound screen.
I had started to exhibit symptoms that this fifth cycle had not been successful. The night before I was to take my home pregnancy test to confirm my suspicion and begin another cycle, I had a dream that I took a positive test. In the morning, I peed on the stick and out popped the two lines. What? Shock. For real? Yep. And then in to the doctor for the magic confirmation ultrasound. Although this was the outcome we had hoped for, I guess I had stopped thinking that it was actually going to happen so I was really caught off guard. Eventually, the good news sank in and the excitement took hold and, my god, we're going to be parents. Yeah, parents.
I'm now enjoying my 26th week (or 6th-ish month) of creating life, and am feeling as good as I expected. Sleeping is no longer as comforting and restful as it once was, due to minor back-aches, heartburn, and the jimmy leg. Wearing clothes is also becoming a pain in the ass since everything is getting snug. And, believe it or not, I miss running. It's just become too uncomfortable to bounce. These are all minor inconveniences in the grand scheme of things, I suppose, but I feel like they need to be documented in the event I need some ammo against an ungrateful teen.
