It's so amazing how quickly things can change. Just a few weeks ago, I felt totally bereft, wondering what lay ahead, thinking of life as something grim and cheerless stretching out into nothingness. Today I am filled with joy and hope and contentment and true excitement for the months and years ahead.

Last week I thought I was getting sick, and I could tell I was depressed by how much I was eating. I would be finishing a meal, and thinking of what to eat next. I love my food but that rarely happens. I was also nodding off over my afternoon work--every afternoon, at 3PM on the dot, my eyes would close of their own accord. Since I stay up until 1 or 2 AM easily most nights, this was really unlike me.

I was also dreading an acquaintance's shower on Saturday afternoon. How could I get through it, I wondered, how could I be adequately happy for her when my own heart was breaking over the less than encouraging fertility news James and I had gotten? It was small of me, I know. But I could feel the beginnings of PMS: cramps, a TON of zits, bad mood, and I didn't want to go, I wanted to stay home and cry and feel sorry for myself. I was really unreasonable.

I thought about not going, about begging off. But I couldn't. I went to the bookstore and got the baby a selection of board books for his little library. I promised myself on the way to the shower that I would stay for just a little while, and then leave. So I went to the shower. When I showed up, everything was in disarray. My pregnant friend J. looked totally exhausted and the person throwing the shower had flaked out. Nothing was set up. The food wasn't out. The decorations weren't up. The cupcakes weren't iced. People were milling around, drinking and eating from under the plastic covering everything, but nobody was helping the poor mother to be, whose party we were attending!

So I put my feelings aside. I rolled up my sleeves and I spent the next hour decorating cupcakes, making little fondant blankets for little fondant baby heads to peek out of. And to my surprise, I enjoyed myself. I was having fun being useful. And even thought J and I have never been close, and even though I had been jealous of her happiness, I found that it didn't matter, because I was happy. I was happy for her, and I was happy to help. It felt good to help. And as I worked, I knew that my time would come, and I decided to look forward to it with anticipation, and to cherish the last few months of my carefree, childfree existence.

Well.

When I got home, just for laughs, I took a dollar store pregnancy test, and it was positive. At least: I thought it was. There was a line--wasn't there? Maybe? Or was it a shadow? I couldn't be sure. I took every pregnancy test I had in the house--I had bought a huge batch of them months ago, at the beginning of this--but they all were ambiguous. Finally, James and I ran across the street to get a digital test, the kind that says PREGNANT or NOT PREGNANT and faint little lines be damned!

I did the test--we waited--

PREGNANT. Definitively.

Based on my ovulation date, I am 4 weeks pregnant today. My baby, if we both manage to survive these long, long three seasons ahead of us, should be born around May 10, 2011. A springtime baby. My baby--mine and James's.

I feel like an entirely different person than the one I was days ago. I am so happy. I thought my hormones were supposed to be wreaking havoc? But they aren't, emotionally. I just feel great. I did have a sobbing fit earlier today when I read my baby was only as big as a poppy seed--it just seems so small, and it makes me worry. Something that small can get lost. I know the odds, and I want my baby to grow big and strong and be out of danger, and I want to be sure that it will stay, that it will be born. But that worry, though it's there, feels small next to the peace and wonder and joy I feel.

(And the hunger I feel. I'm SO HUNGRY. AND TIRED. And this weird heartburn--yeesh. But that might be because I am craving food with Tabasco in it. AND LOTS of it! And my boobs are aching--they feel like they've been punched, hard.)

So far we've told my mom and dad, and nobody else yet--save you ladies who read this blog. But I don't want to tell too many people--I'm afraid they'll make a fuss. My baby is so small right now, and a big fuss feels too big for him. I want to keep it a secret, but at the same time, I was bursting to tell someone. I really didn't feel right keeping it from you guys. I've noticed that I can't talk to anybody now because all I want to do is shout from the rooftops. I'M HAVING A BABY! And I definitely want to be able to keep talking to you. :) But this is TOP SECRET until October or so, and I'll probably take this journal entry down tomorrow in case snoopy-snoops should stumble across it and spread it around.

I have my first prenatal appointment on Thursday. I am equal parts excited and nervous about it. Basically, I am equal parts excited and nervous about everything right now. I am glad I turned to God before I got this news, because now I am able to pray with a sincere heart: Dear Lord, please let everything be OK. Please let my baby be healthy and normal and strong. And to trust in His wisdom, and put my life--and this new life inside of me--into His capable hands.

The persecutions of Job(ette?)

This past week has been a difficult one for me and though nobody has died or even been (too terribly) injured, I can't help but compare my tribulations to that of a certain man from the Bible who was tested by God. Because I love the drama like that, don'tcha know.

First of all, we had James's fertility thing, which was a huge blow and stress and has pretty much shaken my confidence in my future.

Secondly, and this is going to sound REALLY weird, but I made pesto for dinner a few nights ago and when I woke up the next morning there was a VERY strong bitter taste in my mouth. I brushed my teeth several times and gargled throughout the day but it persisted. It was the strangest thing; I kind of thought I had been poisoned. Later I found out that it was the pine nuts I used. I know, it sounds stupid! But apparently pine nuts that are being imported from China are genetically engineered somehow and the result is that they cause an allergy in some people! Or that they have been treated with something really nasty, or an additive that the Chinese use in processing the nuts. Nobody knows for sure. But: !!! The taste is worse after eating, especially something sweet, and we are going on three days and counting with the problem persisting (J has it, too). There is no cure but to wait for it to go away, and that can take WEEKS, sometimes! I am buying EVERYTHING from the organic market from now on.

Thirdly, last Thursday I had a mishap with the straightening iron that I use to tame my curly hair. Because I am vain. The first two things might have been a persecution from the Man Above but this is my own damn fault. Vanity, thy name is Catherine. I accidentally turned the iron to its highest setting, and when I opened it, the entire left side of my hair fell to the floor from the nape of my neck down. The result has been somewhat dramatic. This is my new haircut:

I have to admit it's grown on me and that I am now finding it sort of flapperish and cute. But at first I couldn't help thinking that I looked like a prison warden. I am not skinny enough for the gamine look. And I miss my hair, though I cursed it when it was there. I guess, like Anne, I would have liked for this to be of my own choosing, and for a better reason. But I would be lying if I tell you that tears were not shed over this, most of all because I'm going to a wedding of my high school friends in two weeks and dammit, I haven't seen most of these people in 10 years! I want to look PRETTY, not like I cut my hair with a weedwhacker.

Fourthly (I know!) my shower developed a small leak that became a big leak when my asshole downstairs neighbor didn't report it to me, and now he wants us to pay for the damage, which we are not contractually obligated to do since he let it get worse before he told us. Legally, he is responsible for some of the damage. But of course (sigh) he swears it didn't start until the night he told us now that I've told him the law.

So yes. By Sunday night, I was worn out with anxiety and anger and frustration and fear and general upsetness.

But things are looking better today. The pine-nut taste is diminished somewhat. My homeowner's insurance will cover whatever we owe Downstairs Neighbor. And most importantly, I found a study on line put out by the World Health Organization that came out the day after James's fertility test. Apparently, they have changed the parameters of normal "little guy" count (as we're calling it because the other word is nasty) and now 8% normal is perfectly normal. It's only below 4% that is a problem, apparently. It seems like a lot, but hey, I'm not a doctor and I'm taking any good news I can get, here. He's still going to a doctor but we are a lot more optimistic about the baby thing happening--and happening sooner rather than later.

And hairwise, I'm feeling much better, too. Because I went out to Sally Beauty and I bought a WEAVE. Technically, I guess it's more of extensions because I can clip them in and out, but I like talking about my weave, so I call it that. Here is how I look wearing my fake (I guess it's real, because it's real hair, but fake to me...you get the picture) hair.

(It does creep me out, slightly, the idea of wearing someone else's hair, but when that happens I just raise it to my nose and inhale the plasticy scent, and then I make myself belief that it's just really good synthetic and that I got duped. That helps a lot.)

I am more than a little ashamed that I bought these, though, because 1) they were fairly expensive ($70 is super expensive for me) and 2) it was sheer vanity that made me do it. But then, I reckoned that I don't buy much for myself anymore and that it would be just as shameful to WANT them, even if I didn't have them. This might be sheer rationalization. Anyway, I'm so ashamed of them that I wouldn't dream of wearing them to Quaker meeting, which compounds my sin, I guess, because it is falseness...oh well. I'm not perfect.

But yes, I do have my long, lustrous, beautiful hair back! So I guess it's a wash.


Anyway, here's to hoping this week is better than the last. And for fortitude--!

Probably TMI, but I am sort of beyond caring.

I was going to wait and post on this topic when I had good news, but now it looks like we might never have it, so what the hell, why not?

James and I started trying for a baby last month, and because he has a varicocele, basically a varicose vein in an important part of his baby-making anatomy, we had his sperm tested to rule out defects, because the vein can overheat things, which prevents pregnancy. The results came back and they are really negative. His count is high, but only 8 percent of his swimmers were normally formed. The rest were abnormal, meaning that 92% of them would not be able to swim properly enough to fertilize an egg. The highest rate of abnormality that you need to conceive normally is 15 percent. So his is a little more than half that.

I have been a wreck all day, probably exacerbated by my monthly visitor. But this is just so depressing to me. He can have a minor operation to repair the vein, but there's no really strongly proven correlation with that operation and increased fertility. The next step would be IUI or IVF, but that is so expensive and it seems (from the internet) to work not really well, and even if it does, I never thought that I'd have to go through this and it's just shock and again, really, really depressing to me. I'm praying that his second analysis, requested by my doctor, is better, but I know in my heart that it won't be, because bad readings usually come from things that aren't clinically proven to exist, like his varicocele has been.

I can't help feeling like my hopes for a baby are over before they even started, and I know this makes me a bad person but I can't help but be kind of upset with James. I feel like if he had gotten this problem taken care of when it started, instead of waiting, because he is afraid of doctors, maybe things wouldn't have gotten this bad? And there is the fact that he continues to do things like drink and ride a bike, that can make his problem worse, even though we've both know that they do. I am trying hard not to let this slight resentment show because I really don't want J to feel badly. I really don't blame him for this, and I know it is not his fault. But basically I feel terrible, so terrible, and scared.

My aunt was never able to have children and I have always been petrified that, like her, I will never have a chance to be a mother. And here I am, faced with the very real chance of that thing I have feared happening.