How Pregnant Am I?

7 weeks, 3 days: Went in for my third sonogram this morning, and I had a different doctor, an OB/GYN, as my regular RE was on vacation. We did the sonogram, everything was fine. Heartbeat was there, we got the close-up of the fetus, she printed me out a copy of it in all of its Sea Monkey-like glory. Then I asked how far along I was. "6 weeks, 5 days," she replied. Huh? How can there be a difference of 5 days? We know when my last period was, we know when I was inseminated. Does that mean G had supersperm that packed emergency rations and lived in the uterus for at least five days, vs. the supposed 72 hours?

When I asked the RE how she could explain the difference, she said it was all by how long the fetus was. Which seems like a really, really inexact way to gauge anything, considering the fetus is about an inch long and curled up. So we can make a woman ovulate multiple eggs, remove them, freeze them, defrost them when needed, inseminate them, and replant them in her uterus, where they have a chance at developing into a living being, but we can't figure out how old a fetus that's hanging out in the womb is?

Talking About the Pregnancy with the Best Friend

7 weeks: I had a talk with my best friend the day before Christmas; we hadn't spoken for three weeks, since I told her I was pregnant. She's been trying to get pregnant for a year now, having undergone three failed IVF cycles. She also has been incredibly supportive, recommending my RE and Ob-Gyn. So I was nervous to tell her that, after all the drugs, the shots and the surgeries she had to no avail, it just took one turkey baste (aka IUI) for me to fall pregnant.

I received my results on a Tuesday, and knew she'd find out those of her third IVF cycle on that Friday, so I said nothing. She'd been checking in from time to time, and swears she called me Tuesday to find out. For the love of God I don't recall she did. So when Friday rolled around, I tried to be lighthearted about things, because she wasn't very optimistic re: the eggs' quality. So I sent her a note asking how it went, capping it with something like "So are we drinking buddies.

She took it completely the wrong way. She said she wasn't pregnant and asked how I was. I felt really guilty—Why was I pregnant and she not?—and really awkward, so tried to downplay it. "I think so. I'm going for another test on Monday." She replied with something like "Good luck" then I didn't hear from her despite two phone calls and an E-mail.

She had gone away for a week's vacation, so when she returned and we finally spoke, it was if there was an elephant in the room. We danced around it for 10 minutes, making meaningless chit chat, until I finally said, "Look, I don't know what happened with our last exchange. I didn't know how to tell you I was pregnant, because I know you've gone through so much and want it really badly. I didn't want to hurt your feelings and just feel awkward about all of it."

She said that she called that original Tuesday—which again, don't deny, but have no memory of—and that it seemed I had done a bait-and-switch, asking her out for a drink than canceling. (I thought she was doing the same: I wanted to go out for a drink—alcoholic or not, who cared?—and felt she was dumping me.) She said it felt like I was being insensitive, although I was one of the kindest people she knew and would never intentionally be cruel. She added that she was happy for me, but didn't want to have every conversation about the baby. Which is fine. We're going to see each other after the holidays. I think it'll be OK.

Strangely, despite this blog, I find it difficult to talk about being pregnant. I feel stunningly inarticulate about it, in fact. I'm nervously looking forward to 10 weeks, when I can get the CVS to find out about any chromosomal abnormalities (one transposition runs in the family), then 12 or 13 weeks, when if all's OK, I'll feel it is safer to tell more people. Right now it seems like an awkward secret.

First Heartbeat

Week 6, Day 3: Had a sonogram this morning , and the clump of cells has officially become a baby. It has a heartbeat. The reproductive endocrinologist pointed it out on the monitor: "See that flutter? That's the heartbeat. She also told me how long I'd pregnant, which was three days less than I'd thought. Damn. I had been smug about only having had nausea once and no morning sickness—I thought it would show up by 6 weeks, and here I was on the 7th or so I thought—but I'm not out of the woods yet. And the two pounds I thought I'd gained in baby weight? The RE laughed. "No, not baby weight. You're just bloated."