Best of Times, Worst of Times

So.

One of the problems with not posting in a while is that so much happens. And I think to myself, where to start? How to tell? What to do?

I hope that you all had a good Halloween. I think that Halloween is a tough holiday for us IFers. I know it is for me. It was on Halloween that I decided, that my husband and I decided, that we really, really wanted to try for a child. It wasn't an automatic decision for us. He had Mama, and I was (am?) an abused child. But we saw this toddler running around dressed as a dinosaur, and we knew. We knew we wanted to take care of and nuture something, of someone, and have it be filled with hope. Not the sadness that we get with Mama.

This year, I saw the little ones in their costumes (my absolute favorites being the two little boys dressed as firemen who were running around the firehouse down the street). And I laughed at their cuteness and I giggled at their antics. And I smiled, thinking next year... And then I cried. Cried for the one who didn't make it.

On a side and Mama note: Mama has no impulse control, and if she sees a big bowl of candy, SHE'LL EAT IT. So in the past, we've been the house that gives out pretzel bags and "healthy" snacks. This year, I bought "gummy body part" candies in the shape of severed fingers and bloody eyeballs. The thought was that the kids would like them, but Mama would not find them appealing.

WRONG. I came home to find her shoving several fingers in her mouth, exclaiming, "they're lemon! I like them!" Next year, it's back to pretzels. If only so I don't have to see THAT again.

So. I didn't mention lots of things in my last post. Like, how even though I'm still, to use a medical phrase, "touch and go," I've been released to my 'regular' ob-gyn. Surreal. I have my first appointment on Tuesday night, so. I'm not anticipating it, I'm not dreading it. I'm just hoping more stuff doesn't go wrong.

I so want to get a fetal doppler monitor. Can anyone recommend a good place to pick one up?

The RE kept congratulating me which, no suprise, made me cry. My husband said that it's as though Spunketta has her own little angel, looking out for her. He's sweet and poetic like that. I immediately thought of an A.fterlif.e episode, where a boy was tormented by the ghost of a brother that didn't make it. I'm not so sweet and poetic.

My stomach/abdomen is growing. ("That's not the baby," says H, "that's fat." Nice). It's also exceptionally tender. As in, I cannot bear to have any sort of weight on it. This is something that I've not heard associated with pregnancy, but who knows. I can't worry anymore, there's no space in my heart, in my brain, in my soul.

I'm in limbo until week 12.