As I mentioned in my previous post, when I let the baby news sink in, I freaked out. I started thinking about driving, and who was going to watch the baby, and going back to work, having to do it all alone while Paul was working most of the time. Then I thought about how tired I was in the morning, and with a full night of sleep, no less! How could I possibly take care of a baby when I’m so spastically tired all the time?

I’d lay in bed at night, trying to figure out how we’ll manage on Paul’s salary. We’re going to have to put money aside for a long time. When I’d be lying there awake, I’d whisper, “Aren’t you scared at all?” Paul would reply, “Honestly, I thought I would be, but I’m not. Not one bit.”

You’d think that would placate me, the breadwinner isn’t terrified! Instead I amped up the worrying, because I was worrying for two now! Now it became, “Is this ricotta cheese pasturized?” (Sorry about those text messages, T, I know I was insane. I started worrying about taking my asthma medication, since Google can be your friend AND enemy, you know.

I did everything differently: no sex, sporadic asthma meds, no fancy cheeses, no touching Paul’s lunch meat (ha ha, no pun intended), no more hot showers or nice, hot baths (I seriously have had ONE bath in our nice, new bathroom since we moved in, so sad), I don’t let Woofie stand on my stomach, and I’m super careful with myself. I know the body is tough, and what happens, happens- as long as you follow the basic rules (i.e. GET OFF THAT TRAMPOLINE WITH THAT BONG!), you’re covered- but I at least felt I was being proactive with myself and the baby.

According to the doctors and whatnot, up until 18 days past ovulation, you’re still in danger of a chemical pregnancy (when the egg gets fertilized but doesn’t implant, therefore causing you to have a positive pregnancy test, despite a gestational sac not forming and the egg being shed with menstrual blood). While both good and bad, women know entirely everything about their bodies when they’re temping. We know when we ovulate, know when the period is supposed to come, and in turn, test very early (I tested at exactly four weeks pregnant, only twelve days past conception). Because we test so early, we usually don’t wait for that missed period. An estimated 50/60% of pregnancies end in very early pregnancy, most of the time with the woman being unaware of the pregnancy at all. Of course, since fertilization DID occur, you can still get a positive pregnancy test, which is horrific when you get your period just days later, sometimes late, sometimes not.

So, needless to say, I kept temping until I reached 18dpo, because I HAD to know. My temps stayed up, never dropping by high amounts, and I kept my fingers crossed, and my gatorade cup full of pee for the constant pregnancy tests to keep me sane- I wanted that line to get darker and darker, and not lighter. Finally, I made it past 18dpo, then the milestone of my longest period, no spotting, no cramping, just an unpleasant nausea and super sore boobs.

Even though I’m at 10 weeks, I still freak out if I have no symptoms. I don’t think I’ll ever, ever stop worrying about this fetus (since I know I’ll always worry, no matter what age the child is). I’m so thankful I’ve been able to have ultrasounds every three weeks, since at this moment, seeing that flickering heartbeat inside a blob turn into an actual beating heartbeat we can hear  inside a gummi bear is the only thing that tells me everything is okay in uterus land.

I’m glad I took to heart all the recomendations of my friends to stop temping. Your temps are bound to fall at some point, and why bother making yourself crazy?