Tues 19 Jun 2007
It’s now just over 2 days since I found out that Project Curbar was underway. I need to talk about it to someone, so to save my poor DH’s ears I thought I’d start a diary.
We’d not been trying to conceive; I’d only just managed to persuade The Boss that starting soon for #2 would be a good idea because I’m such an old bag (36 😉 ). Anyway, these last few months I’ve used a lot of pregnancy tests on my AF due date if we’d done the deed even *vaguely* around my usual ovulation day. However, last month for once I didn’t even consider the possibility. We’d just moved house due to my job-change and promotion, and the stress had brought on AF 10 days early. We’d only DTD twice because we were so bloomin’ knackered and that was absolutely nowhere near ov. When I discovered I was 3 days late I just assumed it was my hormones still going mental. I even teased DH that I was pg again.
So, whilst visiting family this weekend I asked him to pick me up a pg test kit. It went on the shop conveyor belt right next to a big bunch of flowers he bought my sister for babysitting our 14 month old daughter, The Minx. He said the assistant gave him a winning smile and asked if he was celebrating. “Nah, one’s for the sister-in-law, the other’s for the mistress”, he’d replied, leaving the woman to ponder which was which.
When we got home that night around midnight, I used the kit purely because I had a full bladder from such a long journey home. Something very unladylike escaped my lips when I saw the thick, dark blue line appear immediately in the square box, before the wee had even risen to the end of the square, never mind the control window. My previous 2 pregnancies never produced a BFP so strong.
I ran out to the car where DH was unloading and whispered loudly (waking the neighbours would have been a VERY bad move), “You’ve got to see this!” He took one look and his jaw dropped. It’s an understatement to say that neither of us was expecting it. He managed to give me a huge hug, I found my voice again and wished him a Happy Father’s Day (it was, by about 30 mins). So while he staggered around making goldfish faces, I read and reread the instructions of the pg test, convinced that an el-cheapo Sainsbury’s one was probably well-dodgy.
Two days later, it’s still not sunk in, really. I’m not as excited as I was with my first 2 pregnancies. The first one ended in miscarriage (on Mother’s Day 2005 – oh the irony) at 7 weeks, just as I’d started getting really excited. The second one resulted in a wonderful daughter, but the first half was spent utterly paranoid I’d lose that one, too. This time around, I know all the stats about miscarrying, know there’s nothing I can do to prevent it if it’s going to happen. So I’m determined to enjoy this pregnancy for however long it lasts – 9 days or 9 months. The main cloud on my horizon is the fact that I’ve only been doing this job for 2 weeks so my news will go down like a lead balloon. But no point telling anyone early – I’ll hold off just as long as I can. That’ll be particularly difficult. More on that another time… Still, on the bright side my in-laws will be delighted at the news of their possible second grandchild. I can’t wait to tell them when they visit in 3 weeks. My own family are a lot more sanguine, as this will be the 6th grandchild.
Anyway. Today I’m swinging back and forth between being optimistic because I’ve no pain or bleeding and paranoid because I’ve no nausea and am permanently tired so can’t tell if I’m particularly fatigued. “I’ve got no symptoms! I’m probably not pregnant! There’s been a horrible mistake!” I wailed at my long-suffering DH. He sighed, muttered something about Dear-God-Here-We-Go-Again, and gently pointed out that last time I whinged about not having symptoms barely 2 weeks before chucking my guts up day after day for the next 3 months. I think I’m losing it – I can’t wait…
Anyway, I see the doctor tomorrow, so let’s see what happens.