So, if I'm doing the math correctly, I could be pregnant in three weeks. Pregnant. In three weeks. I have to tell you, after trying for so long, that sounds about as realistic as saying, "I'm going to fly to Mars in three weeks."
For so many months (years), I was mentally prepared to get knocked up any given month. Calculating due dates, imagining what events would pass during my pregnancy, decorating the nursery a few times (eighty or so) in my head. Eventually that all faded away. Who was I to imagine a due date? What on earth would I do with one of those? And don't even get me started on the adorable Hawaiian baby quilts I was coveting. They're entirely too expensive to buy for the dog, so there's no reason for me to drool over them.
Now that science has taken over, the thought that I could actually be knocked up in a few weeks is kind of freaking me out. Not in a, "I changed my mind about getting pregnant" kind of way. Not at all. But actually having a child has taken on such mythical proportions in my head, it's overwhelming.
I know women turn up pregnant every day. Believe me, I see evidence of this everywhere I turn. But not me. You see, me turning up pregnant at this point would feel approximately the same as being told I now have a unicorn in my back yard. Weird, right?
I don't think I'm even nervous about this IVF cycle at this point. After all, trips to Mars don't happen, right? If this thing does actually work, one of you is gonna have to show up with a shovel to pick me up off the ground. Or just leave me there with the unicorn. That'll work, too.
1 week ago