Quick update- still just fat

I had a routine OB appointment on Friday. All was fine and I scheduled my anatomy ultrasound for August 1. DH is still being stubborn, so it looks like team green will continue.

Yesterday, I was wearing a maternity dress that I feel makes me look particularly pregnant (that's not why I was wearing it- it happened to be clean). One of my coworkers who had been out for a few weeks asked me how things were going and when I was going to start wearing maternity clothes. Yeah, thanks. So, I guess, I am still just looking fat. I don't wear really fitted clothing because I am just not one of those types that buys into the baring my bump theory. I buy my maternity clothes in a size bigger than I would normally wear b/c I am not some skinny, twenty-year-old who wants to prance around with my belly hanging out.

We are going to the ILs this weekend, so I am curious to see how crazy they drive me about baby stuff.

Prayers, thoughts, etc.

My real-life infertile friend, who had such a wonderful response to my pregnancy, is going for a beta today. She is 15 DPO, not on progesterone, following a femara/trigger cycle. So far, no period in sight. Please pray or send positive thoughts her way.

Edited for update- she was told that her "progesterone is really high, which is indicative of pregnancy, but hcg is negative." She goes in for another blood test on Friday. I am so very disappointed for her.

If

IF I wasn't 17 weeks pregnant, I would be starting stims for ivf right about now. I have been pondering this all week. We purposely planned to be home for the month of July and didn't plan anything big for this very reason. It is so humbling to be in the place that I am and not the one that I had imagined. Instead of poking myself with needles, I am picking out a nursery. I know how blessed I am and I constantly remind myself that I am not "supposed to be" in this position. And I make sure everyone knows it. I don't allow the comments that "it was because we stopped trying" to fly without correction. I still feel the divide between the "normal" and the infertile worlds.

The irony of the IF abbreviation for infertility is not lost on me and has been commented on by others, I am sure. Infertility is all about "if"- if only I could get pregnant, if only there were more sperm, if only the embryos had implanted, if only I could stay pregnant, if only there was insurance coverage, if only we could afford treatment, if, if, if . . . . And the ifs also lead to the "what ifs"- what if we tried a different protocol, what if my husband tries clomid or has surgery, what if we did ivf, what if we tried a different clinic, what if we did it just one more time, what if . . . .

But the biggest IF of infertility is the foundation of hope implicit in even asking the question. If is more than just the desperate wanting, it is the hope creeping in, the wanting to believe in the non-zero chance.


IF.

Crutch

I finally got my doppler in the mail yesterday (don't get me started on the USPS) and ripped that puppy open to check the baby's heartbeat right away. It was a reassuring 154-160. I repeated the magic for DH when he got home. He wasn't nearly as impressed as I was.

But now I have my fallback when the anxiety level starts to rise.

Thoughts on a nursery

In an effort to be optimistic (ha), I am trying to focus on more baby things.

DH and I are torn between two different nursery schemes, so I decided to put it up for a vote. We are going for gender neutral and the room is already painted a pale green and is staying that way. Both of these patterns have the same green, but it is not readily apparent in the pictures below. The furniture is dark cherry. I have put a poll on the sidebar.

Here they are:

The Barnyard Choice (Countryside by Kidsline)


or
Moon and Stars (Goodnight Star by Lambs & Ivy)

Stumble

Last night, I had a bit of a scare when I fell as we were walking on the sidewalk after dinner. There was a chunk of sidewalk missing (apparently, people here are not nearly litigious enough so that the sidewalks are kept up) and I didn't see it and stepped in it and lost my footing. I landed pretty hard on my rear. I have enough padding on that end, but I was ab it freaked out. I ended up calling the OB who didn't think much of it. I really wished I'd had that doppler now (still waiting to receive it).



In her comment to my last post, fiddle suggests reading The Red Tent. I second her recommendation if you haven't read it yet.

Shock And Awe

At the women's group I am facilitating at church on Friday mornings, we discussed the Binding of Isaac from the Old Testament. For those unfamiliar with the Biblical account, God orders Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac. Isaac is the son of Abraham and Sarah's old age- the child promised during their barrenness. I won't go into all of the theological debate behind this story, however, I started our discussion by sharing how when I learned I was pregnant, my mind immediately went to this Biblical event and has returned there many times. [These women are aware of our infertility struggles.] I fear so much what God could call me to sacrifice after granting us this miracle.

They were shocked, to say the least. How could I even think that way? My response to them was, "What God has given, God can take away." The terrible tragedies of loss in the blogosphere alone is proof of that.

I am trying so very hard to believe that December or thereabouts will bring us a real baby. I bought some furniture for the nursery because I got an amazing deal on it. And I almost hyperventilated when I got home from the anxiety of what would I do if there was not a baby to put in it.

I even broke down and bought a doppler this week (still waiting on it to arrive). I had been trying for so long to act like a "normal" unworried pregnant woman that I had resisted buying one. I couldn't take the worry anymore and DH has almost barred me from the internet to prevent me from stumbling across stories of terrible loss. This maddening dichotomy of believing in this baby and the crushing fear of how could I possibly cope with a loss is paralyzing.