Pregnancy milestones. 

I’ve missed a few milestones it’s true. I can’t even tell you with any accuracy when I felt Powerball’s first flutter*. But, for the sake of accurate recordkeeping, let it be known that today- 17w2d- was the day I gave up trying to button my pants.

*14 weeks, maybe? It was early and I blamed an active imagination instead of an active fetus.  Sorry, Powerball, I promise to pay more attention once you’re here. 

Told you.

The list of people we’ve told about Powerball is pretty small: my parents, 2/4 of my siblings, our closest friends, a couple of coworkers, relevant medical professionals, you.

This list shouldn’t be confused with the list of people who know about Powerball, however.  Somehow that list has spilled outwards, further and further away from our control.  Thanks to loose lipped friends and family members (I know who you are), the list of people who know about Powerball now includes: my aunt, my other aunt, an unknown quantity of cousins, a nosy coworker, several Russians, approximately 43% of our acquaintances, my real estate agent, and my real estate agent’s assistant.

Guys, my real estate agent’s assistant knows about Powerball and Sea’s mother doesn’t.

I’m torn between appreciation for the enthusiasm surrounding Powerball and frustration that we haven’t had a say in what gets said. I’m sad to have not seen/heard the reactions of the people I love, the moments replaced with congratulatory e-mails with hints of hurt feelings that all begin, “I heard the news.”

It’s making me not want to announce at all, really.  To issue a retraction, maybe (“What we assumed was a fetus was, in fact, an alien invader. We apologize for the confusion.”) To keep Powerball off Facebook until s/he graduates from fetus to person, or maybe even from small person to legal adult.  To tighten our grip on whatever bit of control we still have.

Still, we had better tell Sea’s mother before the real estate agent’s assistant lets her know.

Powerball update: I’m 15 weeks pregnant.  Powerball is now the size of a canary, and flutters in a convincingly birdlike way from time to time. I’m denying the fact that my shirts are too short and my pants are too tight.  I’ve started a (secret) Facebook group for queer folks expecting babies in the fall.  If you want to join, send me an e-mail at




Yays and nays.

This morning I shuffled myself back into Clinic One for a pregnancy test.  Today, when they call with the results of my bloodwork, the two week wait will officially end.

While we (okay, I), wait, I hope you’ll indulge me in some hopeless navel gazing: the yays and nays of why I might (not) be pregnant.

The Pregnancy Test:

I’ve only twice before needed to go in for a pregnancy test.  One of those tests was negative, the other was Bingo. 50/50.  Crap: that tells us nothing.

14 DPO:

And no signs of bleeding, hence the need for the pregnancy test. Prior (unmedicated) luteal phases have ended 12 days after ovulation.  I’m not on progesterone suppositories this time, so if blood is coming it should be coming.  But I Googled (yes, I Googled), and apparently Femara can increase the length of the luteal phase by raising progesterone levels.  Also, this is my first tracked cycle post-Bingo, and she may well have messed my cycle up.  Still we know nothing.


On Sunday I grumpily declared to Sea and a handful of friends that this cycle had failed.  I was cramping, it felt like my period was coming, despair set in.  Three days later the cramping has continued on and off.  Period warm-up stretches or pregnancy? Only my uterus knows.


I’m really, really tired.  A toddler also woke me up at 5:20 this morning.  Singing.  I’d be worried if I wasn’t tired, frankly.


I’ve had moments where I feel like I’m on a ship, but that could also be psychosomatic.  Or the result of getting up at 5:20.  Or the fact that I ate Twizzlers for breakfast.

Modern Family:

The other night, an episode of Modern Family nearly made me cry.  When I was pregnant with Bingo, I could barely go on Facebook because posts about missing pets would leave me teary.  Maybe I’m being overemotional.  Maybe that’s a symptom of pregnancy.  Or maybe the episode of Modern Family was just really sad.

And with that, gentle readers, I rest my case. So, while we wait for the phone to ring, yay or nay?