"the pain is a 10, nurse"

So, welcome to Week 6 of what I hope will be 40. It's not been the best of starts. You'd think someone who saw such misfortune with pregnancy #1 would be issued a hassle-free-pregnancy-pass for round #2, right? Not so much. Some major left sided pain last week had me convinced this was an ectopic and was about to blow up, taking me out of this world at the ripe old age of 26 1/4. When the pain shoots up through my neck I call mom, who insists I hang up and call the doctor. The OB on call tells me in a most serious voice that he's "definitely concerned" and asks how soon I can get to the ER. Oh, boy. I kissed the pets goodbye and mentally prepared myself for what I was sure would be the worst news since.....well, May.

Note to any injured Austinites: avoid Brackenridge Hospital. Unless there's a (rusty) knife angling from your head, you're better off taking your chances, saying your prayers, and waiting it out. Think third world country. Think inner city filth, mass chaos, blood, puke of all colors, no habla ingles, and a cuffed convict or two. And by the way, when the triage nurse at the ER asks about your pain level- "rate it 1 through 10, 10 being the worst"- SAY 10! My meager 3-5 self-estimation ranked right up there with the guy with the nosebleed, guaranteeing us a last place spot in line (despite my panicky, tear-streaked face and obvious distress). A 4 hour wait (still panicky, still crying, still distressed) and and the subsequent stressful 3 hours of explaining and re-explaining and re-explaining again to every doctor and nurse who came to poke, prod, insert, or draw.......and the most uncomfortable, nerve wracking ultrasound in history.....and we get perhaps the best news so far- no ectopic suspected. Apparently a cyst was causing all the pain. Phew. There's the beginnings of a tiny little bean setting up residence in my uterus. It's small, but it's there. And I hope it likes its' new home and decides to stay. 2am, we're on our way home, blissfully relieved that for now, we've dodged a bullet. I look over at my husband's tired face in the driver's seat and think once again how amazingly lucky I am to have found this guy. And how badly I want a little one with a face just like his for us to love.

Life these days is up and down and more than a little nervewracking. I don't have the joyful innocence of the average mommy-to-be. In fact, I have yet to acknowledge there might actually be a baby in there. We see the doctor again next week for what I consider the "make or break" ultrasound. By that point (7 weeks, 4 days) an embryo with a beating heart should be clearly visible. I tell myself that it's only at that point that I'll allow a bit of excitement to creep in. Other girls tell the world and buy baby books and start thinking names and nursery themes. I use phrases like if, maybe, in case, and if we're lucky- never daring to dream that this may possibly end up with an April baby. Gotta protect this heart of mine.

In other news......well.....not much to report there. This whole procreating thing has proven entirely consuming. Surviving what's left of this Texas summer (who knew I'd ever look forward to winter?) Slowly getting the house to look like we actually live here. Hanging with a couple cool as can be little cousins before they head back to school in a week. Basically, trying to keep busy for another week and remain hopeful. Hope. Hope. Hope.