Is anybody in there?

There are a few rules after an embryo transfer: Basically: take it easy, no alcohol or caffeine, no lifting, and no sex. Specifically, no orgasms. At all. It’s like someone telling you DON'T LOOK AT THE GIANT PINK ELEPHANT. How can you not look?? So, only a mere 8 hours after the transfer, in the middle of the night, I can’t resist it. The orgasm comes in my dream, and I wake myself up as it’s happening. “no NO! Dr. H said no contractions yet, it’s too soon!!!”

Apparently, embryo transfers make me feel sexy or something, because the next night I dream about B’s penis. In it, we’re in an auditorium, watching a show, red velvet seats and all. He says he wants to move up to see if he can get a better seat. Sure, I say. I’ll wait here. Just leave your penis with me. And he does. All of me is clothed, except the penis. It’s rather dark, but nonetheless, I cover his/my penis with my hand... and it’s on with the show.

You would think I’d be having dreams about children, about babies, about holding them in your lap, about how they know the tamber of your voice, the touch of your skin, the sound of your voice. I dream all this in the daytime. In between meditations and work and feeling not bad. Feeling not nauseous, not big-bellied, not pregnent. “It’s fine,” the nurse says. “Most women don't even know they are pregnant yet at this stage!” I say yes, you’re so right. And then I go online to order the cute maternity pencil skirt with the orange and rust colored pattern. Now I feel better.

NEWS.

It’s been a week filled with a new down comforter which came just in time for the kick-ass cold, wet storms; three full end-to-end rainbows arching right over my head, followed by sunshine; and most importantly this announcement:

IT'S OFFICIALLY WEEK 5.

Week five of a brand-spankin’ new pregnancy. I swear my belly, which can no longer fit into jeans and skirts, looks like a 15 week belly. I can’t tell anyone at work yet, and certainly not my mother who's idea of keeping a secret is... well, actually, she has no clue how to keep a secret. Only a couple of my dearest friends know, but you, YOU I can tell. It’s like talking your heart out to the person next to you in the airplane, who you suddenly and surprisingly connect with. The anonymity gives me full permission to say it all. So let’s begin.

This pregnancy has been in the works for (dare I say it out loud) EIGHT YEARS. Ouch. My husband and I have dreamed, we’ve hoped, we’ve shot me up with hormones, we’ve wondered if we were SURE we were doing the right thing, we’ve seen my ankles showcased in those stirrups ten thousand times. As for me, I”ve done the things women due to maximize their chances by bringing mind/body to a happy, healthy place. I’ve lost 10 pounds, I got stronger and fitter, I’ve meditated, I’ve upped my protein intake. I eat warm foods, don’t drink coffee, I routinely get pricked by my darling acupuncturist, and each day I take yet another prenatal vitamin. I’ve made it through 2 surgeries, 3 intrauterine inseminations, 4 in-vitro attempts using a donor’s eggs, 1 miscarriage after 1 pregnancy, 1 biochemical pregnancy, and now three tries of IVF with our dearly adopted embryos.

For what? So someone else’s baby can grow in my belly. (It's a funny concept, now, suddenly). I"ll explain the logistics later -- but for now, understanding that this may be the only glorious time I’m pregnant, my husband (B) and I (Andrea) decided in the excitement of the news of this positive pregnancy test, that we want to chronicle and share this crazy wonderful experience. So here goes!