“When exactly ARE you going to tell Mum and Dad?” my sister asked me the other day when we were discussing my latest scan. “Dunno,” I replied, “I’ll worry about it at the time. I might get you to do it.” (I wasn’t entirely joking.) “You could just send them your blog,” she said. “I’m not sure THAT’s a good idea…”
It’s not that I’m cavalier about it, it’s just that it’s really not a significant concern of mine right now. Partly because I’m not really worried about what they’ll say, but also because it’s SOOOOOOOOOOO far away.
Before I get to the point where I’m telling my parents that I’m pregnant I have to….
- keep checking to see if I’ve ovulated
- have a scan to check that the lining of my womb is thick enough to proceed with the cycle
- start using progesterone suppositories — sorry my mistake PESSARIES, it appears pessaries go in one hole, suppositories in another (although actually these CAN go in both). (Anyway, yes, progesterone pessaries — don’t, I can’t even… not least because, idiot that I am, I was googling them the other night and they’re meant to exacerbate any side effects of pregnancy, which is utterly terrifying for someone who is nausea-phobic — oh yes, I haven’t mentioned that before have I? I do sometimes wonder whether someone who has (self-diagnosed) emetophobia should actually be trying to conceive/have a child)
- get my eggs defrosted and hope that they defrost OK
- get the sperm defrosted and hope that it defrosts OK
- inject any successfully defrosted sperm into any successfully defrosted eggs
- hope that they develop into viable embryos, at least one of which looks good enough to transfer to my womb
- have an embryo put inside my body
- wait two weeks for a blood test to tell me whether or not I’m pregnant
- stay pregnant for my early pregnancy scan
- stay pregnant for my 12-week scan…
- work out how I can keep on making convincing excuses for not drinking
- decide at which point I consider myself “pregnant enough” to tell my Mum & Dad
So you can kind of see why my mantra at the moment is “one day at a time” — all I have to do today is use ovulation sticks to check (twice) whether I’ve ovulated yet. So I can’t think any further ahead than that.
(Of COURSE I’ve thought further ahead than that, I’m not a bloody robot. I’ve thought what it would be like to tell people; about how people will react; about all the events I’ve already got planned this year and how they’ll change if I’m pregnant, and so much more. I’ve also thought about how I’ll feel if I’m not pregnant, about how soon I might try again — but then I catch myself and realise that I’m not even at the point where I can think about not being pregnant yet, I haven’t even got any embryos. One day at a time.)