And so it begins...

This, my friends, is a turkey baster.

This is not what I used to get pregnant, although it wasn't far off.  I went to this awesome doctor who sort of looked like a dude from Three's Company whose name is escaping me.

We had a couple of meetings to discuss 'the process' and 'my expectations'.  Then I had to see a shrink because a 15 year-old can get knocked up playing two minutes in the closet, but I needed the okay before I could have a baby.

Mid-November, we started to monitor my cycle, ordered my swimmers to get shipped up here and watched the folicles grow!  A couple looked great so I was sent home with a needle to give myself that night and told to come back at noon the next day.  My step-mother, a recent expert in needle giving having watched No Country For Old Men, stuck me in the gut to release the folicles.  She even tapped the needle...it was hilarious.  Then I went home to 'sleep'.

The next day at noon I went to the clinic with my friend Kati.  The nurse and I reviewed the vials and I signed that they were right (ooh...what if it was someone else's sperm...sounding like a Law and Order ep!).  My doctor walked in and said, "Let's make a baby.".  Ah the romance of it all, just liked I dreamt about my whole life.  The mood was perfect, the fluorescent doctor office lights, the picture of a fake town in Italy on the wall and the kitten oven mitts on the stirrups.  Then we repeated the whole thing the next day...and we made a baby.  First try.  I'm incredibly lucky - and am the offspring of the most fertile woman on the planet.

Spence (my father) - "I could call from a business trip and your mother would get pregnant."  Charming.

I will admit, my heart was pounding the whole time the insemination was taking place.  But after the doctor left the room, I lay there and it felt right.  I knew without a doubt that I was making the right decision - which doesn't happen to this second guesser too often.

I didn't love being pregnant.  I'd post a picture but I don't think I have one...wait maybe from my shower? (holy CRAP my boobs were bigger than my belly)

I barfed in a bag on the drive home every night.  Morning sickness had no time limit for me, it was all day until that blessed drug (name?).  I was tired and didn't feel particularly sexy.  I ate mashed potatoes, peaches and McDonalds.  I hired a doula.  I took prenatal yoga.  I had ultrasounds attended by anyone who wanted to check him out, an amnio and genetic tests.  What would I have done if something was wrong?  I'm not sure but being a single parent, you have a bit more to think about.  If I get hit by the proverbial bus tomorrow, asking someone to assume responsibility for a special needs child is more of a chance for me than for a duo-parent couple.  Thankfully that's a decision I never had to make.

Will wasn't a mover or a kicker.  He loved storms and he hiccuped alot.  I never got very big since thankfully - as my friend April put it - all those extra large pizzas in university prepped us for this - so no stretch marks, those are for the skinny bitches from uni.

As my due date grew closer, I wasn't getting any bigger and neither was Will.  I was scared.  Then they sent me home and ordered me to bed, and I got seriously scared.  Nothing like lying in bed for 5 days with nothing but time to think about why the reptilian child in your belly isn't growing.  In hindsight, what I'd PAY to have those five days back...oh god, how I'd enjoy the sweet freedom of lying in bed for five days.

And I should have listened when everyone said to enjoy them as my last bit of freedom before the arrival...
And WHAT an arrival he made.

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**IT WAS THE BOYFRIEND ON ONE DAY AT A TIME...RICHARD MASUR...GOD I LOVE GOOGLE..