The First Journey Began...

In May of 2011. After almost a year of hard work to lose weight, quit smoking, quit drinking and get my life back into orbit, my husband and I began our journey in, well, the usual way. I had been counting my cycle for almost a year at that point, and I even stopped in to my obgyn for a little preconception check up. He gave me the all-clear, some advice and his blessing and away we went.

I've lived a pretty blessed life, so it makes sense that I naively thought this would be an easy trip. No flat tires, no detours, no traffic jams. I thoroughly expected to be already refusing champagne at my friend's wedding in June 2011.

But the first cycle came and went and no baby. I sighed. I cried. I was impatient and frustrated with my body for being less than perfect. But I kept at it. July? No dice. August? Sigh. No. September? Still empty. October? Drank and smoked at the Halloween party. No reason not to, right. Sigh.

In my brain, I knew that five months was the average and that there was no cause for concern. Many of my friends and family have had to wait a lot longer than that for their blessed miracle. After the fifth month I started to relax a little. This wasn't going to be a short trip, so I might as well enjoy the scenery. I still counted my cycle and timed our trying, but I was a little less frustrated by negative pregnancy tests. The thoughts of my emptiness did not consume my every waking moment by October and November.

And then...in November...that blessed positive pregnancy test! I was sitting in the bathtub, casually glancing at the plastic stick on the sink. I figured it'd be a negative like usual, so I was truly a little disengaged. But then I turned the stick to meet my gaze and...that word. That beautiful word. And no, this time there was no annoying "not" stamped in front of it. I told my husband and we both squealed with glee. We were going to be parents!

At Christmas we told family and friends. Sure, we were only 6-7 weeks pregnant then, but so what? We saw our baby's heartbeat on ultrasound at 6 weeks, and the chances of miscarrying were 5% at that point, or so the internet told us. The husband and I are both poker players and we kept saying "I'd play 95% odds"...and so we did.

But at 8 weeks and 4 days I began to spot. Just a little at first, so I freaked out and called my obgyn. They had me in and did an ultrasound, which ended on a high note. Baby was there, fine and showing a heartbeat of around 150 bpm. Big sigh of relief. Even though the spotting continued, it wasn't too bad. And when it got a little pinker at 9 weeks, I called the doctor's office and was once again told not to worry. I'm a paranoid person, so I told that little voice in the back of my brain to shove it. I went on vacation and tried to enjoy myself.