I am woman, hear me freak out

I of course woke up at the crack of dawn today, the big day, so after I had my cereal and made my lunch, I thought I'd quickly get on here to say thank you for all your good wishes!

I'm a little freaked, considering I haven't been at work in 5 1/2 months. But I went to lunch with my new boss on Friday and it seems like we're going to be a good fit. She's refreshingly human. (Of course, NO ONE will be able to compete with the Boss Man. But she can try.)

I have to report to HR in their corporate offices at 8:30, then I'll be on my way to the branch. My suit and blouse are pressed. Everything I'll need for my desk is packed up, including a framed pic of the MB and me (I'm hoping a glance at his wide smile will give me a boost when I'm lagging), I bought new clothes and makeup, got a mani/pedi, my car just got out of the shop with a clean bill of health and I'm ready to go.

Ok, I had a major breakdown shopping yesterday when I hated everything I tried on because of my hideous body, I was mortified at my broken-out face when the nice girl at the MAC counter recommended a new foundation, and I went to bed at 8:30 from sheer exhaustion at so much drama.

But that's kind of just par for the course for me. And today is a new day.

Here we go...

A little bribery is a good thing

OK, confession.

I've been up the entire night. Yup, never went to bed. I'm in my somewhat manic and anxiety-ridden phase again, although it is a bit exacerbated by some lingering physical pain and cramping. So I promise it isn't my usual slide into spazzville...I'll be better soon. (Really Mom and M-I-L. Honest.)

But what is especially wonderful is that I'm on this trip again, just in time to start my new job on Monday!

Monster energy drink six-packs...here I come!

But after watching lots and lots of bad movies on Lifetime Television for Women, I finally got on the computer and have at least caught up on everyone's blogs. Well, until you write something else later today, that is. Damn.

I am really worried about how I'll keep up with blogging when I get on with the new job. I imagine I'll run home, ditch the nylons and heels, and dash to the PC every evening! But I think it may be closer to...run home, ditch all my clothes and put on sweats and socks (all the better to impress my husband when he gets home) and try to keep the eyeballs propped open before surrendering to bed at some ridiculously early hour.

But I'll figure in the blog time in there somewhere.

It's just that I haven't worked since August and it may take a while to acclimate. This seems especially crazy to me though, since prior to this big fat mental health break, I was the most obsessed workaholic at all my jobs since college. I always want to be the best. I always HAVE to be the best.

But not anymore. Right now, I'd settle for being the best at being ok. I purposely picked a position with slightly less responsibility than my old Bank V.P. self (notice I said slightly...I do like to be in charge...some habits are hard to break).

I'm hoping I can learn and grow and do well, all within a reasonable frame of sane work hours. No more six day weeks and 12 hour days for me. I have at least finally learned that it isn't worth it. And that my body apparently agrees.

So here's Brooke's new guide for starting a new job (but don't hold me to it):

1. Get a decent amount of sleep when possible, but don't get mad at self for HAVING to watch Sex and the City every night at 11:00PM...hey, I can get to work in FIVE minutes, so you better believe I'll push the wake-up time

2. Bring lunch and snacks to work, thereby eliminating the "I never take a break or go to lunch and aren't you proud of me for such dedication!" excuse which only leads to binge city when getting home...Ben & Jerry's is not a healthy dinner

3. Realize that I'm not going to know it all, or be perfect at everything immediately...ok, if ever

4. GO HOME...there is no need to be there when everyone else has gone for the day...all that crap will still be there in the morning

5. And on that note and perhaps most importantly for me...

LEAVE WORK AT WORK

Do not obsess over what you could have done better. Do not worry about what the customer thinks of you because you wouldn't give in to his complaining over federal policies. Do not stress that because your boss was quiet all day, that must mean YOU caused it. If you can't sleep at night because you feel like such a failure, know that you're the only one who feels that way. So cut it out!

So I will try.

In the meantime, I think bringing a dozen Kripsy Kremes on my first day can't hurt. Although with my luck, the whole staff will be on a diet and will resent me. That's ALL I need.

And here he is doing jello shots at my 40th birthday party

I've started to write this a few times and keep deleting everything and starting over.

I feel like one big blob of lethargy and I don't want to bore you.

Plus, how many times can you guys say "I'm so sorry" before you want to tell me to snap the hell out of it? I know I'm tired of me. I can imagine how you feel. (But thank you all the same, HONESTLY, and if I haven't been on your site to thank you personally, it's because I can't get to it or it won't let me comment..."annie" and "m&co" come to mind.)

But I was tagged today with a completely new meme and I think it's worth my writing about. Thanks mamalujo1...I needed something to get my mind off of stuff!

The rules: The tagged victim lists 8 different points of their perfect lover/partner, mentioning the sex of said partner. Tag 8 victims to join this game & leave a comment on a post letting them know they've been tagged.

If tagged before, no need to contribute.

(Now after the above cut and paste job, I do have to add a caveat. I personally don't think you should have to mention the sex of your perfect partner if you don't want to. I don't see what it really has to do with their attributes. But seeing as how we all know Mr. Blogger well by this point, it does me no harm to mention it. Just didn't want anyone to be offended.)

Sex of My Perfect Partner: male

My Perfect Partner:

1. Is patient, understanding and knows just when I need a hug.
2. Can make me laugh just by watching him laugh.
3. Is highly aware of the fact that I am accident, injury and illness prone and doesn't blame me for it. Having a medical background is therefore also highly desirable.
4. Is very outgoing and requires no babysitting at parties and social events. Everyone I have ever introduced him to ends up loving him just about as much as I do. In a different way of course.
5. Loves me for me and never asks that I change a thing. (See also: thinks I am gorgeous and desirable even though I think he may be insane.)
6. Has a British accent and is wickedly sexy.
7. Is smart and capable and works hard.
8. Makes me proud to be his wife.

I think eight is an awfully high number of tag-ees, and I don't want everyone to be "meme'd out", so I will only ask those I know who won't hate me for it (I hope)...

1. Emily
2. Rock
3. John
4. Melanhead

Oh, and in the time it took me to write this, I got a phone call. The bank that's super duper close to my house wants me to start on Monday. It's a good position and an ok salary (don't we all want more?) and shouldn't be as stressful as the one at The Company With No Soul that caused me to be on disability to begin with. To think that a week and a half ago I would have been thrilled silly.

Any ideas on how to get my shit together by Monday would be greatly appreciated. Mr. Perfect is going to have to get with the hugging. STAT.

Getting there

Since it's 2:30 in the morning and I can't sleep anyway, I figured it was time to come out of hibernation. I have finally read through all your comments, and no Emily, I didn't know 30-some people even read my blog, let alone could be so caring.

I guess it's true that in times of crisis or pain, you find out what people are made of. I have learned that as much as I hurt, in ways both obvious and unfathomable, you have all helped me to know I'm not alone. I know I have my friends and my family and most importantly Mr. Blogger to get me through this...that has never been in doubt.

But I never really knew that complete strangers whom I've never met, nor laid eyes on, could be so ready to lend a hug, or an "I'm sorry" or an open heart full of compassion.

In addition to the comments, I've received emails from random readers who happened upon my story. Some could relate. Some wanted to offer a story of hope. And some were just kind enough to write. That is more than I ever thought I deserved.

I noticed that some of you even mentioned me in your own blogs and asked others to come on over and offer support. That is beyond appreciated and I am truly touched.

To all of you, a simple "thank you" could never be enough. I hope you know how much your words of sympathy meant to me. I can't begin to repay you for your thoughtfulness. I can only say that it meant a lot.

A LOT.

Now, the truth is that I'm still somewhat in a self-wallowing phase. I'm pissed off and hurt and angry and disappointed and embarrassed...and a slew of other adjectives that all somehow don't seem strong enough to describe what I feel.

Physically this is different than any of my previous experiences in that it seems to be taking FOREVER to complete and every day I face the crippling pain and blinding headaches and I keep wondering when the hell it will be over.

I feel punished for being hopeful. I feel punished for my pride in being pregnant to begin with. I can't figure out what I've done to have FOUR. MOTHER. FUCKING. MISCARRIAGES. But I must have done something horrific, because it appears someone wants me to pay.

I know I'm being irrational, but none if it IS rational. It doesn't make any sense to me, so I search for reasons. And I apologize for perhaps being melodramatic, but I can't help it. Give me time.

So I cry. Over and over and over until I have nothing left.

I shudder at the remembrance of being in the shower Monday afternoon and screaming because I couldn't stop the flooding that brought upon the hideous resemblance to some kind of crime scene in my bathroom.

But before that I had no warning this time. No spotting. No cramping. Just some very slight dull pain that afternoon that did make me call the doctor who of course, said not to worry.

I had JUST called MB and said if this didn't get better by Tuesday, I was going to go to Urgent Care. Just to make sure everything was ok before he left for London on Wednesday.

Not more than half an hour later I called him in complete terror and said he needed to come home. NOW.

The doctor we saw that evening was really very kind and sweet and understanding. I'm sure I looked like a ghost and she knew not to ruffle me much. She tried to give me hope after the physical exam by saying that the good news was that my cervix was still closed and many women experience some bleeding in their first trimester.

But you can't say that to a woman who knows better. A woman who NEVER seems to be in that group of "...and everything turned out just fine".

So my betas were zero. ZERO. Who knows how long this had been going on. And of course I played my "I told you so" card.

I haven't been super pleasant to be around lately. I didn't want to talk to ANYONE for a few days and my poor husband has run many an errand to ply me with Diet Dr. Pepper and chocolate chip cookies and anything I may need to make me feel better. Of course none of it does.

MB didn't get to go to London, although I did try to convince him he should, because I didn't want him to disappoint his kids. I feel AWFUL about that. But he wouldn't leave me. I should have known he would not be swayed.

I'll be even more brutally honest with you now (if I haven't already lost you with my tales of woe...I'm sorry for being so graphic but I have to get this out).

I don't know if I can keep going through this. It's getting to be too much. I have a feeling that I'll probably be pregnant again at some point if we continue to try (after one particular miscarriage, I was pregnant the very next month), but do I want to be? Well, of course I want to be. But do I want to risk this outcome, is I suppose the better question.

We have a follow-up appointment with my OB in a few weeks, but what else can she do? She already tested me for everything after the last time.

It's just this simple. I'm old. And my eggs are old and apparently chromosomally unsound. I can't do ANYTHING about that.

Maybe it's a crapshoot. ONE OF THEM has to finally be ok. Right? Well, that's what I told myself this time too.

In the meantime, I HATE that every time I get pregnant I have to tell everyone that I'm not anymore. I HATE that I still haven't yet told my step-dad and step-brother and his wife...whom I had JUST told I was pregnant a few days before.

I HATE that I am battling some pretty horrible cramping right now in the battle to stay upright and write this in the need for catharsis.

Most of all, I HATE that I feel broken.

No prescription strength pain reliever is going to fix that.

Just to let you know...

This is Mr Blogger...

This is going to be a very short blog, I just wanted to let you all know what is going on.

Brooke had a miscarriage yesterday. She had some cramping during the day and then at about 4.30pm some bleeding.

We went to Urgent Care about 5.30pm and they took some blood to do a beta test to see what her levels were. The tests showed that her levels were almost at zero so the doctor concluded that they must have been dropping for a while although she had no symptoms until yesterday.

The doctor said that, because the levels were almost zero, further tests or an ultrasound wouldn't be necessary as it was almost over and she would probably just experience some light bleeding and some cramping, but no more serious symptoms.

Obviously this is very upsetting for us. We had tried to do everything we possibly could and I really thought that this time it was going to be ok.

I just wanted to let you know, as Brooke may not be on here for a while until she is feeling up to it.

MB

Trying to steal my thunder

On Friday, I was having a craving for something sweet, so Mr. Blogger said he'd pick something up on the way home. He returned with the following from the bakery section of our local Albertsons:

1. An entire apple-boysenberry pie

2. A dozen oatmeal raisin cookies

3. A pack of NINE chocolate cupcakes with white frosting

4. A raspberry coffee cake

With the exception of a few cookies and a cupcake, he has eaten almost the entire list. And he's a twig...so you may join in the jealousy.

Saturday, he was sitting at the computer and was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to lie down. He ended up taking a three hour nap.

And Sunday he kept claiming he was hot, yet cold, and was feeling just generally icky. So we took his temperature. He's not sick.

I think he may be pregnant.

Sticks of butter consumed while in the throes of depression*

*Courtesy of A Little Pregnant


As usual around here, life sure ain't boring.

Yesterday was spent hauling Emily, her wife and their sperm around (I'll let her tell the story), so I was just too tired when I got home to blog much. Lately I'm too tired to do ANYTHING much. (You really can stop thanking me too, Em...I'm ALL OVER helping anyone in their quest for babydom. Especially you and Madge.)

Ok, I also sat down and HAD to watch about four hours of the US Figure Skating Championships, so that may have prevented me from sitting on this ass-numbing cement chair as well.

(Shit, you know what? My blog is turning into one of those "and then I went shopping where I bought all these super cute outfits I have pictured here..." monstrosities, isn't it? I always vowed not to bore my reader. Can we blame my utter lack of originality on The Peanut sapping my brain?)

In preparation for my interview this morning, I had more impressive memorizing of mundane data from that bank to do as well. I had to make another brag book, make sure my suit was still clean and polish my shoes. The things we do to impress a prospective employer.

But it went well, I think, and I am pretty thrilled at the prospect of working LITERALLY five minutes from my house. But I try not to get my hopes up about stuff lately. And they won't get my background check back for at least a week, so I need to get my mind off of it.

Speaking of which, I need to confess something.

I'm pretty freakin' terrified, and as much as I try try TRY not to think about it, it's two weeks to my first ultrasound and I just feel no hope.

I keep telling Mr. Blogger, "I just don't FEEL pregnant!". I have no nausea, no morning sickness, no nada. I am tired, but what else is new, and I do have to go to the bathroom at least every couple hours, but then maybe I just have been drinking a lot more.

I know, I'm only 5 weeks and 3 days, so I shouldn't worry yet. But don't forget that each of my previous pregnancies ended around this point, although I never knew it until around my 8th week. The hell of knowing you were just be-bopping around without a care in the world for at least THREE WEEKS, when you weren't even really pregnant anymore...well, it gets to me. A LOT.

I am on the progesterone suppositories for the first time during pregnancy, but even that doesn't guarantee anything. And those were frankly prescribed to me in the EVENT that lack of progesterone was my issue. None of my multitude of hard-to-pronounce tests really confirmed a damn thing. Other than that they couldn't find anything really wrong with me.

Mom always tells me I should be THANKFUL for not feeling sick, considering she had morning sickness (actually more like all-day sickness) every stinkin' day for the entire pregnancy. And she was a teacher, so every time she had to run to the bathroom, she had to make sure another teacher was covering her class. Sorry Mamacita. I guess I was a trouble-maker.

I may just be catastrophizing, but it seems like my boobs aren't as sore as they used to be either. Yes, you have entered the TMI zone. Love it or leave it.

I just feel supremely suspect over whether or not anything is still going on in there, especially since I keep reading those DAMN PREGNANCY BOARDS where everyone is bragging about their beta numbers, or multitude of symptoms, or worse yet, letting everyone know their bad news (this is inevitably titled "Back from OB" with an accompanying sad face symbol and "Angel Baby in Heaven" blinkie). Shoot me now.

I know I need to stay positive. I know I need to relax. And I do try, really. You wouldn't BELIEVE how much deep breathing and visualizing I do. And can I just say that I'm personally really proud that I've managed to not freak out about also trying to go back to work in the midst of all this. Usually just interviewing alone would have me a nervous wreck.

Sorry to be such a damn broken record these days. I know there's nothing anyone can say or do, other than to hope for the best. I just wanted to put it out there that I'm kind of tired of pretending I'm not really REALLY scared.

You know you're bad when you HOPE for the puking.

My butt is KILLING me

Reasons this is so short and sweet today and why I started so late (or why I have now started some kind of addiction to lists)...

(Oh, and no, that was not my picture yesterday with the before and after hair...made me laugh just to think of it! I'm waaaay older and not nearly so tiny and cute. You mean you missed me here (no, not Mel's cutie-cute baby...keep scrolling down)?? I'm hurt.)

1. The computer chair broke and my ass is killing me. Somehow we managed to break it in such a way that it's still in one piece but has no padding whatsoever. I don't understand it at all. And Mr. Blogger spent much of last night researching the ultimate office chairs that we simply HAVE to have. I have told him that he needs to scale it down a bit. He hates it when I say that.

BELIEVE ME, baby got plenty of back over here, but this is like sitting on cement. That can't be good for Peanut.

2. I spent the better part of the morning following up with some banks I spoke to last week, just to let them know that as it turned out, I didn't go out of town, so you know, I am available for an interview...should you be so interested. Hint hint.

I did have one phone interview also, as well as what I now refer to as THE NEVERENDING SURVEY sent to me via email from one credit union I sent a resume to last week. If I have to read sentences such as "I enjoy being in a leadership role" or "I value the opinions and tastes of others" ONE MORE TIME...I may scream.

3. I got up early this morning to go through the whole progesterone suppository extravaganza as I do every morning (and night), but instead of just lying there for an hour for things to um, ABSORB, I completely fell back asleep. And I slept for two whole hours. It was nirvana. I call my usual bedtime sleep experience The Nap Between Every Other Hour Trips to the Bathroom.

4. Oh oh! Just as I typed in the number 4, I got a phone call from another bank! I now have an interview this Friday at 10:30. Woo hoo! But she has to call me back because she was trying to look up the salary range for the position (I REALLY hope it's what I'm looking for because this branch is not even TWO MILES from my house...MAN that would be great!).

She called and it's PERFECT...ok...calm down...don't jinx it.

5. I spilled fresh spinach and cheese ravioli (YUMMY) all over the computer desk earlier. Shhhh...don't tell MB.

6. Ok...I'll give you some hints on the whole cousin thing from yesterday, seeing as how I was branded as a big fat meanie and all:

* If I told you his first name it would mean nothing to you because he goes by something else professionally.

* He's my mother's first cousin, but eight years younger.

* He's NOTHING like the character he's best known for. (No, he's not Pee Wee Herman.)

* I told Melanhead. (I had to...she made me Person of the Week!) See if you can get it out of her.

Good luck...and may you not be disappointed!

Only five things?

Thank you AGAIN everybody, for helping me to calm down yesterday. Honestly, I can't tell you what all the support means to me.

But I figured you could use the break today.

It occurred to me that ages ago Tink tagged me to do the "Five Weird Things About Yourself" post, and with all the drama around here, I completely forgot to do it.

Thing is, I've probably written about most of the weird things about myself, but here goes anyway...try not to be bored:

1. I ALWAYS have a song in my head. And often I have no idea where it came from. For instance, all morning I've been singing "Birdhouse in Your Soul" and for the life of me, I could not tell you why. I didn't hear it on the radio or anything and it's a very old song. At night I often have to tell myself to SHUT UP and let me get some sleep, or else the singing in my head would go on forever. I guess it's better than voices in your head...at least it's entertaining.

2. I have a pretty famous cousin, but when I was little I wasn't allowed to see any of his movies because they were not "appropriate". Consequently, all the guys I dated thought I was very cool and would quote my cousin back to me, but I had NO IDEA what they were talking about.

3. I have never ever tasted alcohol. But the weirdest part is that there's no particular reason. Just didn't feel like it. I'm not judgmental about it at all and grew up with parents who never made it the forbidden fruit, by any means.

Honestly though, once I started developing so many stomach issues, it was one of the things they told me to stay away from. That and coffee...neither of which I drink. Maybe someone was trying to tell me something?

Oh, and I can't tell you how many people SWEAR they've seen me drunk. I just like to dance and have fun at parties. I guess people don't get that you can actually be that way naturally.

4. I have very, very VERY curly hair but get it professionally straightened. Mom is still waiting for the day I go back to au naturel. Everyone is, really. (You know the drill...DO YOU KNOW WHAT PEOPLE PAY FOR THAT HAIR???)

But since I only began doing it in 2002, Mr. Blogger has never seen me without straight hair. He sees pictures of me and can hardly recognize the girl with all the curls. It's just easier to keep styled this way and I relish the extra sleep from not needing to battle with all the electric tools.

And I was JUST about to go get it done after it having been six months since the last treatment. But now that I'm pregnant I can't do it. I'm gonna have some FUNKY looking hair by September.

5. I think I can kind of understand animals. Not like in a Doctor Doolittle way, where I actually carry on conversations. More like an intuitive thing. I usually know what's bothering my pets (and it kills me that I don't have any at the moment) and am able to read them pretty well. It also goes the other way in that they always come to me when I'm "not right". My grandmother was the same way.

Of course that didn't stop my last cat from peeing on my bed every morning. WHILE I was in the bed. Ew.

Now time to tag others, even though just about everyone I read has already done it. Hmmmm...

1. Emily
2. John
3. Amber
4. Rock

Get to it, kids!

What, me worry?

I know what you're thinking.

Oh SUUUUURE, now that she's all knocked up and everything, she seems to have abandoned her blog. We give her all that encouragement and support and POOF! She's gone.

Well, yes and no.

If you can call it "abandonment", I have only done it to the extent that my feeling horrifically sick all weekend (although not nausea or vomiting...nope...more like the...uh...other end...um...non-stop...EVERY TIME I EAT...is that normal or should I be worried?) prevented me from getting even upright, let alone at the computer.

Then, because when it rains it pours, I had an interview earlier today that I had to prepare for. They were quite impressed that I knew so much about their bank, so I guess it was worth it. I had my little brag book for them to keep and EVERYTHING. And I managed to keep myself from running to the bathroom, which I was REALLY happy about.

I think it went well, but of course still called a few other places when I got home. You know...eggs...one basket...you get the idea.

I of course, am still ravaged with worry and panic over being able to, FOR ONCE, make it through the entire first trimester. Each of my previous miscarriages were detected only at the point where we went for a normal first ultrasound, only to discover that the pregnancy had for all intents and purposes ended by the 5th or 6th week.

So seeing as how today I have hit the five week mark, I am somewhat of a mess. I SERIOUSLY, punch myself in the boobs at least a few times a day to make sure they still hurt. And I feel MUCH better when they do.

Mr. Blogger has come to the conclusion that I am insane. Can't blame him much.

And Dr. Internet is of course a very dangerous thing. Although this made me smile, when I had started to panic again over my beta numbers. (Go to the end of the post and click on that last link for the cutest picture ever.)

On Friday, not one, but THREE health professionals made me cry when I was trying to get some information about whether or not it was safe to go to London on Wednesday.

It wasn't that I was upset over them telling me not to, it was that EVERY FREAKIN' PERSON kept saying, "I don't know what to tell you. There's no way of knowing anything and you'll just have to wait and see." Or, "Well they have good hospitals there so even if something does happen, you'll be covered". Or my favorite, "Just relax about it and see how your first ultrasound goes."

NO ONE would listen to me. Even when my actual doctor finally returned my call, she told me, "Your numbers are so low...you're barely even pregnant yet". And she laughed. LAUGHED.

Is this any way to talk to a woman with three previous miscarriages who is FORTY-FREAKIN-ONE years old??? Can you say highest of the high risks?

So finally I called a friend of mine who went through numerous IVFs and fertility counseling for years and frankly, knows so much about this stuff, she almost went to work for her clinic. (And most importantly, has a beautiful one-year-old baby girl!)

She told me that her "High Risk Doctor" (where do I get one of THESE??) told her that the only really safe time to fly is in the second trimester and she wouldn't recommend going. She also gave me lots of other good advice and some specialists to call and made me feel better that at least I wasn't just nuts to be wondering if flying 6,000 miles for 11 hours was necessarily such a great idea.

Then I got on line and discovered that if you:
A. Are over 35
B. Have experienced high blood pressure at ANY TIME
C. Have had a previous miscarriage

...they don't recommend traveling. Ding ding ding on ALL THREE.

Couldn't someone just have said so...instead of all this "I just don't know what to tell you" crap? I never once asked, please look into your crystal ball and tell me what is going to happen in my pregnancy. All I wanted to know was if travel was safe. And there you go.

So we cancelled my trip and will probably go in April some time. MB still has to go see his kids, but he's leaving a week later instead and will only be gone for 4 days instead of 11 (I was afraid to be alone that long).

I know I'm nuts. I know I'm ridiculously cautious. But it's just that this particular time is really the scariest.

Oh and my first ultrasound is scheduled for Friday 1/27. When I get there...well...let's talk about that later before I get all worked up again.

And before I forget, would you like to know my approximate due date?

9/11.

Oh boy.

Aren't you looking forward to the next EIGHT months?

Joy to the world

I have decided that the last (approximately) 24 hours have quite possibly been the greatest in my entire life (non-wedding related though, of course Honey).

First, we get confirmation on the whole "holy-crap-I-really-am-pregnant-and-those-8-HPTs-I-took-weren't-lying" thing. (The picture of the three I took were only the tip of the iceberg. It's a compulsion.)

And the results from my second beta today actually came in early and I was told this evening that I went from 66 at 14 DPO to 110 at 16 DPO. They even said, "That's great!". Of course, nothing prevents me from worrying anyway, but so far, so ok.

The Peanut...she is latching on. Or he. I'll take anything really. Ohpleaseohpleaseohplease.

I am supposed to talk to my doctor tomorrow morning though to go over whether or not it's a good idea for me to go to London. And they still want me to take it easy, so I apologize profusely for not getting to read everybody's blogs lately...I'll catch up, I promise. All your comments and wishes yesterday were SO NICE! THANK YOU!!!!!!!!

Now normally, all this pregnancy joy would be the topper of all toppers. BELIEVE ME. I would NEVER EVER dream of asking for more.

But it didn't end there, my friends.

Last night, Mr. Blogger and I watched the National Championship Rose Bowl, as I tried not to get TOO excited (must stay calm and relaxed for The Peanut you know...YEAH RIGHT).

AND USC LOST.

USC...the mother of all arrogant teams. USC...whose fans' belligerence knows no bounds. USC...who hadn't lost a game since SEPTEMBER 2003.

USC...WHOM I HATE WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING...LOST TO TEXAS 41-38.

Mom literally called me as the game ended and said she was THIS close to running through the neighborhood banging pots and pans together.

We were CRYING, we were so happy, people! You just have no idea how pathetically immature our glee in their loss was and how we enjoyed it OH SO MUCH.

And then after I got to watch all the post-game ESPN Sports Center possible (all the better to continue reveling in the loss), Project Runway was on, which, if you're not watching, you MUST.

Oh! Oh! And today I spoke with a few banks who were all interested in me and are trying to set up interviews before I leave.

Considering how much I normally worry and stress over EVERYTHING, and how the tides can always change...I am going to grab on to this with all I got.

You do the same, Peanut.

Why I haven't been on here for a while...

There are no words.


I'm freaking out.


I feel sick.


I'm a nervous wreck.


But I went to the doctor yesterday and called this morning to confirm it.

Supposedly my beta test placed me at a 66 HCG level for 14 DPO (days past ovulation). I go back in tomorrow and the numbers will need to double every 48-72 hours to show it's developing normally.

Now I have to go back to lying down 'cause they want me to stay off my feet (can you say high risk pregnancy and I'm supposed to leave for London a week from today?).

Please God...could we get it to stick this time?

Please?