…my blog! And my mom!
I won’t say how old my mother is. She looks almost as young as me and her spirit is that of a twenty-year-old while I still sometimes trip over into worried grandma mode. So happy happy, My Mama.
My blog is one year old today. I thought I’d do what I’ve seen some folks do before. I’ll give you my favorite posts by month.
One year ago I was getting impatient with trying to get pregnant at home. I was a lot younger, I feel, than I am today. Not in a good or bad way. I just feel like a lot has happened in a year. I decided to blog about it. I think it was a good decision. This blog and the folks who read it have become an important part of my life. Though I’ve managed to pis$ some people off (including myself) with the blog, overall I’m glad I decided to show what I own.
In May I went to my first appointment with Dr. Mug– the man who eventually knocked me up, so to speak. One post that comes up a lot from May was about how my neighbor and I were both on Clomid, so we called ourselves the WonderTwins. For some reason beyond my ken, there are folks–lots of them– who want to know if Clomid will give them twins, or more nuttily, how they can get twins by taking Clomid. So they google “Clomid Twins” and come up with that blog entry. But my favorite post from May was about Biology. I had run out of my Cakie donor sperm. I mused about why biology seems so important to so many of us.
In June I wrote my most popular post ever. It gives me an ego boost, my dears. And it really makes me happy that I’m writing my book finally.
In July I found my babydaddy…er — donor.
August found me driving back and forth from Wildwood, NJ to Manhattan several times while on “vacation” to get my blood-tests and an IUI. Then, I soon found out that just because I act like a martyr, does not mean I get to be a pregnant martyr. You guys cheered me up. Thanks for that.
September was a little crazy. I did my first round of injectionables. The timing was off, so I only had one good egg. In other words, I gave myself an injection in the stomach every day for two weeks for no reason at all. Then I got even crazier and became conVINCED I was pregnant because my b0obs hurt. I mean, they hurt just like a pregnant lady’s b00bs hurt. Now I know. So I was walking around as though I were pregnant, touching my belly, talking to the “embryo,” etc. Of course when the blood came that month it was a really bad scene. I was cheered up, however by the arrival of a certain blessed star.
October was a very lucky month indeed. Egg met sperm at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. How cool is that?
I didn’t find out about the eggy/spermy rendezvous until November. It was weird. I didn’t really want to tell people, once I knew for sure and I had gotten the pink ghost and the beta. But you all were checking and checking and checking, so I had to let you know. That’s when I pissed myself off. I’d blogged myself into a corner, so to speak.
This post is taking about a year to write. I need to go lie down. I’ve covered the TTC portion of the year. Tomorrow I’ll write part II about my pregnancy.
Thanks for reading. Have some cake.