My friend Katie and I always laugh at how the day before I found out I was pregnant, we were doing this giant walk around the Charles River (followed by the last beer of my pre-pregnant life!), and I was griping about how I hated not knowing if I was pregnant or not--that it was fine if I wasn't, but it was the waiting and not knowing that was driving me crazy. I don't think I wrote about this at the start of my blog, but I'd been using this ovulation monitor in hopes of getting pregnant on some semblance of a schedule because, at the time, I was still planning on being in graduate school this year--I hadn't quite yet made my decision to stop the madness of commuting. This ovulation monitor was recommended to me by a fellow academic who shared my situation of living life on a schedule of semesters; she and her colleagues had used it in graduate school to try to have babies on a summer or semester plan. I figured if I was going to have a baby and take a semester off (the plan was to be off this current spring semester to avoid commuting from Boston to New Hampshire in another winter--for you folks in Virginia, winter lasts till April here, so it's almost the whole semester!), then I may as well try to maximize the time I would have with the actual baby if I was taking that whole semester anyway.
I feel the need to explain all of that because otherwise I wouldn't have been so set on trying to "plan" the whole pregnancy process--it's not really my style (because I know that making "plans" for something that can't be planned just leaves me stressed out, see above). There was another reason too though. Anil doesn't get any paternity leave from residency. He could get it legally, we assume, but it's not built into his program. Basically if one resident takes off two weeks for paternity leave or for any other reason, other residents would have to scramble and cover for him (and to our knowledge there's never been a pregnant female resident), so it just isn't done. He does get four weeks of vacation, but we had to schedule that vacation before we knew whether we were pregnant.
So we guessed and crossed our fingers. We estimated when we might start trying to get pregnant based on a hypothetical due date at the end of January, since that would put us past the holidays and into that spring semester, but it would maximize the time I had off with the baby and the time we had in Boston before we expected to move. Anil scheduled two weeks of vacation when we thought a "first try" due date would be, then we spaced out electives, which are low-stress work weeks, throughout the next month in case this mythical due date would be in February instead.
I then got this way overpriced ovulation monitor because I figured, if it helps us match up this pregnancy with Anil's vacation time, it's worth it, and if it doesn't work this time, then at least I'm not annoyed at myself for not trying it. It's been, well, nine months now, but from what I remember, you're supposed to pee on this stick that the monitor then reads every morning, and it tells you when you're at peak ovulation levels so you can maximize, um, productivity. I followed all the instructions, but I remained at "high ovulation" without "peak fertility" for like three weeks. There was supposed to be a three day peak, and I didn't see it until way later than expected. So I Googled "late ovulation" and got my first taste of "Thou Shalt Not Google During Pregnancy." There was all this chatter in message boards about late ovulation and how it makes it harder to get pregnant, or something along those lines. And I was afraid, based on peeing on this plastic device and stupid Google, that this was my fate, and we couldn't make any of it work, and I'd have to figure out this late ovulation business because, well, that big egg wasn't flashing on the screen! There could be no other explanation! I envisioned us being holed up in our apartment in late January, too cold to go out around town and too pregnant to take a real vacation, and in that space of waiting I began psyching myself out.
This was what I was griping about as Katie and I walked along the Charles. I was in that "waiting" period (um, no pun intended), between getting a physical clue that I might be pregnant and being far enough along to take a pregnancy test. I clearly remember saying, "It's not that I'm concerned about it not working this first time, it's just that it's the only way we can have this scheduled vacation time..."
And now, here I am, saying, "It's not that I'm worried about her not being born, it's just that we have this scheduled vacation time!" I mean, our timing ended up working out perfectly. I have absolutely nothing to complain about. Anil has had a great schedule for the past couple of weeks, we've been having so much fun together, we're as ready as we can be to bring a baby into our apartment and our lives, and baby and babymomma are as healthy as can be. But I hate waiting! I'm ready! I want to go with this momentum, this energy, so that I don't start to stress out.
I'm referring to the photo, but it's interesting to read the situational parallels too. Just yesterday my OB said that if I wanted to be induced next week on the 28th, she'd be fine with that (she called it a "social induction" since it's not medically necessary, but it's so close to my due date that if I'm just that tired of being pregnant and want to go for it, I can). That's the only day she'd be on call to deliver me, so it's enticing to think about for the comfort factor of having a doctor I've been with these past nine months, but I'm still hoping to let the cupcake come out of the oven on her own time, even if it's after the 28th. Even if it's after my due date of the 30th. Here's to hoping it's before though!!
On Tuesday I rubbed my belly with my friend's 9 week old baby, hoping that might send a message. She pushed her butt against him; I'm not sure how to interpret that but hopefully it means, "See you soon!"
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