The less than prodigal blogger returns! Again! From yet another long absence!

Hi.

When I wrote my last post I had no plans to stop blogging. However, I fell into somewhat of a funk that week and blogging was the last thing on my mind.

We'd had a great break in Paris, but things were difficult. It was hard to get back into the swing of work, our second wedding anniversary was fast approaching and along with it, the harsh reality that we still hadn't managed to conceive. And it was coming up to our deadline to go back to the doctor to have more infertility investigations.

And so I retreated into myself. I wasn't a very happy person, and I wasn't feeling too good.

I had been feeling somewhat peculiar for days. Tired, nauseous, and emotional. At this time, I had a crash on the motorway - my tyre had burst, forcing me to "drive" into the road-works to avoid a more serious accident. I put down feeling ill to the shock of that.

However, when I nearly fainted at work mid afternoon, and after I wanted to throw up after eating a plain omelette, I was beginning to wonder if in fact I should test. It didn't seem possible that feeling that ill should be related to a car crash.

Testing has always been stressful. The disappointment, month after month, of seeing that one lonely line builds up and makes what should be an exciting time a mere chore. With that in mind, I wondered whether I should bother, despite the strangeness of the symptoms. After all, I had been disappointed enough.

I was pondering whether I should test all the way home from that visit, and decided I would leave it up to fate. If I saw a car registration plate with EPT (early pregnancy test), HPT (home pregnancy test) or BFP (big fat positive), I would test.

Of course, I didn’t see any of those. What did I see? BFN (big fat negative). The story of my life so far. However, it made me laugh and I decided I would test anyway.

And test I did. I performed the test, and went downstairs to deal with the cats. And I forgot about the test. That is just how confident I was that it would be negative.

The Baron came home late that night, and asked in passing whether I had tested yet. I said that I had but I’d forgotten about it. I said I assumed it was negative based on my gut feeling and that my period would start in the next few days. He was disappointed, but resigned. After all, we’d been here many times.

I went to bed, and just before I turned the lamp out, I had a quick peek. And there was a faint line. Now, most people would probably get excited at that point, but since I’ve had evaporation lines before it wasn’t as exciting as it might have been to someone newer to the process. So I put the test away and went to sleep. I really and truly did not think that it meant anything.

I woke up early the next morning. Whilst I hadn’t been temping for the last few cycles, I decided that in light of the line last night I’d just see whether I had a high temperature or not. I did.

So I went to the bathroom, test in hand. I didn’t plan on wasting that test if my period had already started (I believe that the mere thought of testing can in fact bring a period on) so I peed in my special testing glass. Once I realised that my period hadn’t in fact started, I dipped the test and waited.

And to my intense shock, a second line appeared almost immediately! Words cannot express what I felt at that moment. It was sheer shock combined with disbelief combined with amazement combined with joy. I started crying and ran into the bedroom. Poor Baron had only had four hours sleep at this point (the curse of middle shift) but I shook him awake and told him to look. He managed to pry his eyes open and glance at it. He was wide awake immediately.

Of course, everyone dreams that their partner will immediately be over the moon, but the Baron’s first reaction was shock. Given my own level of surprise, it wasn’t exactly unexpected.

We decided that I should take another just to make sure it wasn’t a defective test. To be sure, I took another two – different brands. Those lines came immediately and were clear. No squinting, bright lights, tilting or other optical tricks were needed. They were as clear as day, and were simply the most beautiful sight.

I was pregnant. 3 weeks and 6 days, to be precise.

The plan was to hold off telling people until Christmas. It seemed like a sensible idea, but in reality I lasted all of two hours. I just couldn’t hold the news in. I’d waited so long for this that I had to share it. Our parents were excited, as were our friends and other family members. This news had been long in coming,

I tested again at 4 weeks. 4 weeks and 1 day. 4 weeks and 2 days. 4 weeks and 3 days. That second line brings an incredible smile to my face even now. Of course I still have all my tests. They are so precious.

I won't bore you with the details of the intervening weeks. I kept a journal for myself, but the main theme was my terror that the pregnancy would end. I struggled a lot with that fear, and since I had the misfortune to be away from home quite a lot in the early weeks, I found it very difficult to think of anything else.

However, a very wise woman told me to enjoy the pregnancy, however scared I felt. That I wouldn't feel any differently if the pregnancy ended and I'd spent it in fear than if I'd enjoyed it. And I think she was right. Realising that did help.

This helped immensely:

This beautiful picture was taken at 12w4d, and Spawn (as the Boy has taken to calling the baby) was measuring right on target.

Today I'm 14w3d. I'm feeling more relaxed now, and I think I felt my first flutter yesterday!