It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?
Part of the reason is that there hasn’t been much news. The other part is that I’ve had a hard time feeling like it is ok to talk normal things about my pregnancy. Maybe I’m just a particularly sensitive person, but those posts by other bloggers usually got me right in the gut with the bright cheery discussions of nurseries, etc. that seemed to my wounded infertile mind as if they had forgotten the struggle to get there entirely and those who were still struggling.
Upon reflection, I understood that the part that bugged me was not the details (which frankly, I found interesting), but the posts that read as if they were written by a normal, happy, fertile pregnant lady. The change always seemed so abrupt as if to say, “I’m cured!” Meanwhile, I wasn’t. (Why yes – I do have a problem with envy.)
I’m not cured. I don’t think I ever will be. But, I do feel that it is ok for me to share some details. So, here goes.
If you are in a bad place right now, I’d strongly suggest that you move along. I understand – trust me. I really, really do. I won’t hold it against you. Feel free to come back later or block me entirely. Do whatever you need to do.
I am officially in the third trimester. That one is still sinking in. Totally shocking, although at the time, it seemed as if the second trimester dragged somewhat toward the end there. I look as if I have swallowed a basketball and it certainly feels like that when I bend over, which I am doing less and less. Mr. X is still amazed at how hard the belly feels. He continues to press his ear to it and I’ve warned him that one of these days, the kid is going to kick him. So far, he’s been lucky. Little B gave the OB’s doppler a nice karate chop a few weeks ago.
I did my glucose screening and passed. I studied very hard. It means no gestational diabetes and no three hour test (which if I had to do, I was totally going to make a song about to the tune of Gilligan’s Island).
And, lastly – but certainly not least – I think it is high time to share with you just what we’re having. I could make you guess – after all, you have a 50/50 chance of getting it right, but this is one of those times where I’d much rather just say it.
It’s a little Mr. X. Yep, a boy – and boy was he not shy about sharing. As if it wasn’t obvious enough, the amnio did confirm this. We were not all that surprised, frankly, because there has not been a female born of Mr. X’s patrilineal line since 1932. And, if it had been a girl, we would have been worried about Turner’s given our prior history. Yet another infertility parting gift.
So, there you have it. We’re still taking it one day at a time and that is suiting us just fine.