Posts Tagged ‘pregnancy test’

Happy 11 week birthday, babies.

October 27, 2009

Am rereading my blog entries from the point of egg collection onwards. (IVF talk, for those of you who joined our little programme late in the day.) It’s making me nostalgic. So some memory lane walking….courtesy of the numbers 8 and 3.

8 days past a 3 day transfer

The one where we all find out I’m knocked up!!

8 weeks 3 days pregnant

At this point I have been run over by a motorcycle and thrown up more times than the average person would do in twenty lifetimes.  I am also a crabby bitch, as evidenced by this entry.

8 months 3 days pregnant

Well, okay, this is written the day AFTER, but the pictures of my bump on here are my 32 week + 3 days pic.

You know what’s next??? 8 months 3 days old. UM. Is that possible? What will they look like, sound like, move like?


(A final sidenote: I realised whilst reading these entries that I had the goal of making TMD throw up from watching/hearing me throw up. That never happened. The best I got out of her was some serious gagging. I guess that settles it. We’ll have to have more babies.)



December 14, 2008

Pregnancy testing early: to do or not to do, that is the question. Right now, scores of you are probably thinking, ‘Don’t do it! What if you get a false negative and it makes you feel all desperate and depressed?’

As I said to TMD last night, I know I am pregnant – I just want confirmation.

So before we went to bed we put out a cup for me to pee in this morning, an expensive pregnancy test, and a lot of discussion. I said that I would have to approach this calmly.





What? How can this be so? Are you sure you see the line? You see the line, right? Why aren’t I more happy? Do you definitely see the line? Let’s take the test back into bed with us and see if the line is still visible in dim lighting. I see it. I really fucking see the line? Do you? You knew you were pregnant, so maybe this is anti-climactic? Is the line fading? Do you still see it?

My pal Pregnancy Line appeared almost instantly. It’s quite faint as, let’s face it, this is very early days. If I tested again in a few days, it would likely be much darker. But in the meantime, as the people on the pregnancy message boards say, A LINE IS A LINE.





(What happens on existere stays on existere, please. No facebook messages or banners outside the house. You are literally the first people to know. I tried to call my sister and she’s apparently out on the town, so I want my family to know by my mouth, not by facebook’s…um, face. Thanks!)


 Feeling quite shaky and carrying the pregnancy test around with me wherever I go. Also carrying around a baby or two with me wherever I go. So freaky!

All I want for Christmas…

October 5, 2008

I’m ready for Christmas. I’ve been ready for a couple of months now. I’ve got carols in my head, imaginary snow covering the ground, remembering holidays past. We’re not going home for Christmas this year, which has been the plan all along, because we’re going to be too busy trying to get knocked up. Preggers. Bun in the oven. Etc etc.

Everything seems to be just a giant waiting game until we can get this baby party started.  I want to be doing something, anything, that will help. My meager offerings of (mostly) giving up caffeine and getting enough sleep doesn’t make me feel like a fertile myrtle. I am eager to pop those pills, ready to shoot up until my tummy looks like a car crash, ….

I think I have been fake pregnant for a couple of months now. I keep looking at my stomach; I’ve found myself touching my stomach furtively on the train. One day while carrying a shitload of bags, I almost exploded with happiness at the idea of walking with a waddle – for a reason better than the uneveness of handbags. I plan which purse I will use once I enter the time of not being able to lift anything over ten pounds. Every time I roll over in bed at night, I wonder what it will be like to be heavy and full.

Watching an embrassing amount of E.R. today, I kept thinking about what position I will hang out in after the embryos are put back in.

There are a lot of hurdles to get over, but the biggest hurdle for me (in any area of my life, in fact) is the waiting. Endless. Frustrating.

So, roll on Christmas. Back home, there is a buffer holiday between now and Christmas. Here, they barely celebrate Halloween, let alone The Buffer Holiday That Features Turkey.  I dream of Christmas trees and pregnancy tests.

From writing to pregnancy tests, in one smooth step.

July 29, 2008

Out of curiousity, I just googled ‘writing exercises.’ I found a site that has a five minute exercise per day for every day of the year. The first one I read is something like… George has high blood pressure. His wife has just come home from the grocery store; she has bought things that are not good for George. Write with dialogue.

I read it and could almost picture my brain yawning.

I don’t usually like other people’s exercises, with a few notable exceptions. Birdwatcher lent me a book called Wild Mind or something, and it was chock full of delicious ideas that I was delighted with. Most of them were more vague, though. Such as writing for fifteen minutes, continuing with the statement ‘I remember.’ This is what I like – my own choice of ideas, words, paths to explore. I don’t really give a fuck about George’s high blood pressure (he couldn’t even have an interesting name, could he) or the massive fight he and Georgina are about to get into.

I can picture some Spaghetti Os spattering against the walls, but this is shortly followed by my metaphorically brain as the gunshot rips through my head.

(Ooh, this reminded me of the bit in The Shining where the dead guy’s brains show up on the wall in the Presidential Suite. Sweet!)

I was writing in my paper journal this morning about how my problem isn’t with characters, it’s with story. This is perhaps the opposite of when I am verbally storytelling, and also perhaps the opposite of the way I’d like to be. That being said, those godawful Dan Brown books. He may be able to plot a fast-paced story, but his character description is worse than in romance novels written for housewives. Actually, he’s probably one of the worst (albeit famous) writers ever.

Whereas Stephen King is all about the characters (and also ends up with pretty solid plots, as well), and his stories seem driven more by the people in them than the events. I think that’s not a bad way to write, and maybe it makes sense for me seeing as I’m all up in other people’s psychological spheres all day long.

The key is managing to start writing without stopping because it’s going no-no-nowhere.

In other news, when I went to the hospital they asked about 65362575 times if I was pregnant and finally bullied me into taking a test. This sort of heterosexist thinking really got me angry, and it was surprising that TMD had such a wildly different take on things, saying I should just go ahead and take the test. Let’s think about when I last had sex with a man – probably 1998 or 1999. Unless he had some long-life sperm, I don’t think that’s going to do the trick.

I fully accept they had legal reasons to ask. I also accept that theoretically I could be cheating on TMD and fucking men. But surely they should have asked her to step out of the room and to speak to me alone if that was an issue?

I finally caved because the lovely surgeon (the only one who was not completely – and I hate this word – retarded about us being a lesbian couple) begged me to so she wouldn’t get in trouble with her boss.

Grr. Argh.

I think it also probably annoyed me because I would like nothing more to be pregnant, and having to tell 50 different people 100 different times that I was not pregnant was fairly harsh.