Gain 30 Pounds AND Give Up Sam Adams, Rollercoasters and Seeing My Feet...Sign Me Up!

   Ah, the great debate that most women will face at some point in their lives...to conceive or not to conceive, that is the question.  If only it was just that easy.  You can make the decision to conceive, that's all well and good.  You can do all the right things like track your basal body temperature every morning, take pre-natal vitamins, have sex on all the right days, drink your weight in decaffeinated green tea, do headstands after the deed to plant the seed, and have the nastiest break up with coffee ever (farewell, my love).  But if the stars don't align just right, you've missed that window of opportunity and you end up having to brace yourself for yet another period before you can start doing those headstands again.

   I'm currently in my second month of trying.  Let me fill you in on the whole story.  I got married in September of 2006.  Coincidentally, I also stopped the birth control pill after 8 years of being on it.  I was diagnosed with ovarian cysts when I was 15 and to shrink them, I was put on birth control (my Mom was none too pleased).  My gynecologist then told me that because of these cysts, I would need fertility treatments when the time came for me to start my family.  So, one month after my wedding, to the world's surprise, I conceived.  We welcomed my son in July of 2007 (yes, he is currently a rambunctious toddler who brings joy, slobber, and wet, open mouth kisses to my life).  After falling madly in love with parenthood, my husband and I decided that we wanted to fill the world with our offspring.  I was breastfeeding and knew that nursing acted as birth control but I also heard the other side of the story where women who were fertile beyond fertile got pregnant anyway.  I was not one of them.  When my son weaned himself off the boob, I went to my doctor to get a complete check up and make sure my equipment was in good shape to do it all over again.  After a clean bill of health, the doc told me that by my next appointment, I would probably be pregnant.  She was right.  Unfortunately, that pregnancy ended in heartbreak.  I miscarried 6 and a half weeks in.  It didn't discourage me or my husband since it's sadly, more common than I thought.  So here we are, trying again. 

   At first I thought, why would I willingly accept the nausea, the vomitting, the headaches, the stretchmarks, the dreaded Group B Strep test swab to the rear, swelling to blimpe-like proportions, sweating like a stuck pig, oh yes and don't forget that side of constipation please.  Then I came to my senses.  I'd do it all for that beautiful bundle of a baby that will call you Mama, that will go to you for comfort when they're babies and strength and advice when they're adults; the one that you will love unconditionally and always be there for; the one that has your heart from the day they come flying out and look at you for the first time like, "whew, glad that's over! Nice to meet you, Mom!"   

   Patience is not my forte and because I'm a recovering pee on a stick addict, I decided to wait to test until the day after my period is due...ONE DAY, that's it.  I'm in the torturous two week wait, and look forward to testing on October 25th...my birthday.

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