You just haven't earned it yet, baby

Today is Day 10 DPO so I allowed myself the luxury of taking an early pregnancy test just for entertainment purposes.  Not surprisingly, it was negative.  This doesn’t mean I’m not pregnant.  However, I am pretty convinced I’m not pregnant.  And this isn’t surprising.

What is surprising is my initial reaction.  Now, remember it was about 7 AM and I was half asleep, and definitely mentally exhausted from ten days of anxiety about this moment.  Originally I had planned to videotape myself taking the test, but then saw another blog post referencing a news story about women posting every second of their pregnancies online (and yes, you tube-ing videos of themselves taking a pregnancy test), and somehow the idea seemed less original and it made me not want to do it.  Also I had that fear of failure – what if this is, like, the first of 20 pregnancy tests I end up taking over months or years, how stupid am I going to feel?  So I nixed the video idea.  And it came up a resounding, undeniable negative.  But oddly I felt kind of relieved when it was negative.  Why on earth would I be relieved to NOT get something I’m putting so much time, money, and emotional energy into?  I’ve been trying to figure this out for the last few hours.

I think at first I was relieved because it meant nothing would change.  It meant I could continue on in the land of the familiar – me, my dog, my friends, my activities, my business.  Sure, no kid and no relationship, but I’ve lived that way nearly 39 years; I’m used to it.  I don’t have to spend the next few weeks terrified of a miscarriage, analyzing every twinge, every cramp, every spot in my underwear.  I don’t have to be sick to my stomach for weeks; I don’t have to endure labor.  After ten days of thinking I may have a little visitor, I now know (well, almost for sure know) that my body is my own again.  I can drink caffeine, I can sit in the hot tub.  I can dance my butt off this weekend in Vegas and not worry about falling or overdoing it.

But there’s also a part of me that really feels I just haven’t earned it yet (I had that Smiths song in my head as I sat there staring at the negative test – you just haven’t earned it yet, baby, you must suffer and cry for a longer time).  Sure, I had that infertility scare last month and that sucked, but compared to what so many women go through – can you imagine if I just got knocked up off one IUI?  That almost never happens; it would be pretty much a miracle, actually.  There’s that deep, self-punishing part of me (no doubt remnants of my old Christianity) that really feels I need to suffer some more.  I need the roller coasters, I need the failures.  I need to want it so bad I can taste it.  And I do, I do want it bad.  But maybe not bad enough, yet.

There’s also a part that, I’ll admit it, kind of enjoys the ovulation drama.  For someone as technical as I am, I get a huge kick out of monitoring my body.  I’m someone who weighs myself several times a day on my digital scale.  It’s not that I’m obsessed with my weight – it’s that I find it interesting.  I drank a glass of water and gained a half a pound.  I peed and lost one pound.  I woke up two pounds lighter than I went to bed last night.  It’s interesting!  And so is the two week period before ovulation – watching for the signs, temping, checking your body, taking the OPKs.  In the first half of your cycle there’s never a dull moment.  And the last IUI was so amazingly empowering that I kind of look forward to doing it again (well, except for the three days of excruciating cramps – I could do without that).  And this time, dammit, I’ll make sure the OPK is positive.  I’m still convinced I ovulated on Monday and not Saturday.

The ugly part of this IUI not working is the worry of why it didn’t work, and how many more I will do before I’ll start to wonder if I’m back in Infertility Land.  The clinic typically does three IUIs before they suggest you get outside help.  If only it were all free it would make it a lot easier.  But it’s not free, far from it, and pinpointing ovulation is nearly impossible, despite all the tools at our disposal.  So it largely is just an issue of timing.  I wish my ovulation would happen on week days so I could get an ultrasound every time to see if an egg actually left the ovary (they can see this by evidence of rupture and fluids) – but if I stay on schedule I will likely continue to ovulate on Saturdays or Sundays when they don’t do ultrasounds.  After all, there’s no telling for sure that I’m actually ovulating, it just “looks like” I am.  This could still be an issue until I see actual evidence that it happened.

Originally my plan was to take a blood test at the clinic on Thurs or Fri to see for sure if I am pregnant or not and then stop the progesterone so my period can show up.  However right now I’m feeling a little reckless…I think I may stop the progesterone now so as not to jeopardize my next cycle (progesterone can delay or stop your period entirely), take another test on Thurs or Fri at home, and of course if it’s positive get back on it.  The period is due Friday and I’d like to keep on that schedule if possible; most people online say it takes a few days for the progesterone to get out of your system and then you get your period, so I think it’s best to stop taking it now.  And save myself the trouble, expense, and pain of another blood test.  Let’s just go forward assuming I’m not pregnant and take things from there.  

3:45 PM - Update: so I broke down and called the clinic to get their opinion and they said the blood test is accurate as early as 8 dpo (good to know for next time!) so I am going in tomorrow, plunking down $50 and getting the test.  Results will be in Thurs.  Then I can stop the progesterone and get on with my weekend, and my next cycle, with no doubts.  Feel better about this (even though again I wish all of this were free).

Stats

Here are some excerpts from today’s journal.  

4/14/11

Because my body now feels normal, I’ve found there are moments when I forget what just happened.  Last night in front of the TV I felt like my old self, and then had those lovely adrenaline shock moments of, “Oh my God, I get to test in just a few days!  I may be pregnant!”  But because the cramping/twingyness is over, I also have become more and more convinced that it didn’t work.  My opinion means nothing, I know, but this is just where I’m at.

Still obsessing on missed timing, still worried about infertility, or the unpleasantness of $3000 of failed tries behind me, months gone by, 39 years old, and having to start all over again at square one getting my Day 3 labs done.  This prospect is so horrifying to me it makes me want to cry…but then I remember that if this is what’s in store for me I just have to suck it up and go with it.  I mean, what am I going to do, quit?

As noted I’ve let go of the “it has to happen in this time frame” thing for the most part – sure, some months are more ideal than others and offer more opportunities for fun “reveal” stories, but at this point, any old time is fine with me!

Had another “empowering” thought today.  So as we know there is a 1 in 4 chance that this IUI worked, and next time another 1 in 4 chance, which, if you look at a strata of women and not just me trying twice, means after two tries 50% of the women who set out to actually meet this goal succeed, which to me is pretty darned good.  Also the 3^rd try is 10% and the 4^th is 25% again, so after four tries, 85% of the women who set out to achieve pregnancy, have.  Those are fantastic odds, if you ask me.  Now, let’s look for a moment at my dating life.  I had easily 300 first dates over an eight year period, including a couple of people I met on my own (not online).  Of those, maybe 2% resulted in a second date, 1% three or more dates, and 0% a relationship.  So to compare this with trying to get pregnant via IUI, this would be over 300 IUIs with a 0% success rate.  And I survived that hideous nightmare of getting my hopes up, dressing up cute, and being constantly rejected and disappointed, without even the prize of motherhood at the end.  SURELY I can survive a few more IUIs if I need to!!!

Wouldn't it be cool if...

Since there’s so much “what if” going on for me right now, I thought I would harken back to a thought I had a few weeks ago.  Which is, why do things have to be so uncertain?  Why do things have to be so hidden inside people so that by the time you see the truth it’s too late?  So I thought – wouldn’t it be great if, for example, you could just look at someone and see what their inner life is?  Wouldn’t it be great if you could tell if a man is emotionally unavailable just by looking at face?  As in, his face turns bright blue or something?

I’ve been thinking about my last “relationship” and how I had no idea about his true self until I’d spent enough time around him, observed him, and heard him tell me his back story.  But it wasn’t until I started to get an “off” feeling and then recounted some incidents to my sister that it all came together for me.  Right away she said, “Oh my God, you’re dating our mother!”  And that was it, the relationship was officially over.  See, now, if he’d had a bright blue face (in this case not representing emotional unavailability but big-fat-loser-y-ness) I never would have gotten my hopes up, never would have dated him at all.  In fact, never would have dated any of the people I dated.

But then again, where’s the fun in that?  So much of life is our relationships and what we learn about human nature from them.  Would I be better off if I’d never dated ANYONE?  Of course not.  So I guess I’m glad I had those experiences.  But many times it would have been nice to know what I was getting into.

I remember X, who was the first really mature, “dad” like guy I dated (he was my age, though).  He was a grown up who owned a house, had been married, had a great job.  He wore suits.  He took me out to nice places.  Most importantly, he actually called me for dates, which almost no one ever did (I met him online, and 99% of my hundreds of dates never made it past one meeting).  He was such a departure from my usual flaky artist type that I thought hey, maybe this is the missing ingredient – maybe this one will work because I’ve finally matured and gotten interested in a real grown up man, not these perpetual adolescent metrosexual types.  But over the course of our few dates there were red flags.  He seemed somewhat dismissive of my work – I think he thought it was silly.  I got the distinct impression that he was really lonely in his tiny little house with four cats and wasn’t really over his divorce.  And the big one that was an issue with everyone I dated in the last ten years – he didn’t want to sleep with me.  There was always an excuse – having to get up early, needing to help someone move, etc etc.  At one point I protested, “but I shaved my legs!”  Ah, to no avail.  In the end it just tapered off, ending with him giving me the ol’ “this isn’t working out” phone call.  And I’m proud of myself that I answered back, “I don’t mean this to sound punitive, but you’re emotionally unavailable.”  He answered yes, he knew he was.  I begged him not to waste anyone else’s time until he figured himself out.  He said he would.  That night he was back online looking for more women.

I do consider that guy a total waste of time.  And again, had his face been bright blue, I would have run screaming for the hills.

Now I am officially “retired” from dating.  Honestly, eight years of constant online dating (and dating a few I met naturally) was the most frustrating, infuriating, miserable, pointless experience of my life.  So it is with great joy that I hang up my dating hat and (attempt to) put on the single mom hat.  As mentioned earlier I kind of have no intention of dating ever again.  I mean, hey, I’m open to the idea, but that’s just not my focus and I really don’t care whether I ever meet a great guy or not.  Don’t care. 

So I have released the uncertainty and lack of control the dating world offers for the uncertainty and lack of control the “TTC” world offers.  I wonder about every cramp, every twinge, every “not like myself” feeling.  Even though I know none of these things can possibly mean anything – it’s way too early.  My plan of action is now to take an early test on Tuesday; if it’s negative then have a blood test at the clinic next Thurs.  I am assuming at 12 dpo that a blood test couldn’t possibly come up with a false negative (will check on this though).  Then if negative I can stop the progesterone so it doesn’t delay my period, head out to Vegas and dance my butt off all weekend without having to be careful.  And in two weeks try again.

And here I sit four days into my two week wait, uncertain, no control.  If only MY face could turn bright blue to confirm pregnancy.  That would be awesome.

I'm not freaking out

I swear, I’m actually not.  I guess I should say not yet. It is only 3 dpo after all.  There’s plenty of time to freak out.  But so far I’m pretty proud of myself for getting on with life despite this huge thing happening to me…or not.

Here’s a quick inside look into the last couple of days (lots of technical stuff – if you’re not interested in this, turn back now):

My body definitely knows something was “done to” it.  There’s none of this “I didn’t feel anything” stuff going on with me – my body is all weird.  From the moment of the insem until now I have been crampy, bloaty, heavy feeling, minor back pain, and having twingy pains happening mostly on the right side (where I ovulated from).  I have the urge to walk sort of buckled over, and the skin where my ovary is feels tender.  Actually not much of this is happening today, it was mostly Sat, Sun & Monday.  After obsessive hours Googling I discovered much to my dismay that most of this is totally normal and not at all an indication of pregnancy.  The fact is your body has just been poked by a catheter and flooded with very irritating highly washed sperm.  It’s totally normal to react this way for about 72 hours.  So, the sucky part is, this is what I get to look forward to if I have to do this again and again.  I also had minor spotting the first couple of days which is also normal.  Sigh.

Today I’m all caught up on this jag of “what if I miscalculated my ovulation date???”  Here’s why I’m thinking this – as you know the clinic only goes by OPKs to target ovulation, and only one particular brand (I have used two, and it’s true – they have given me totally different results in the past).  So Friday morning I did their protocol get up at 5 AM, pee, go back to bed, then take another test at 8 AM.  I had a test that was very close to a positive, just a hair shy of totally positive.  I’d give it about an 8 if 10 were a total, undeniable positive.  We then had the ultrasound which looked good, with the follicle activity and all that.  But remember she couldn’t measure the follicles so all she could tell me was ovulation was on its way.  She then said to not drink too much and run another test late that night after holding my urine for a couple of hours, which I did, and saw that the line had completely disappeared – as in, I’d give it about a 2 on the scale; it looked like tests I had taken several days before.  Since this was about 16 hours later, all I could think was the surge must have happened during the day and was now on its way out, which meant I would ovulate Saturday, so we did the IUI.

For Friday and Saturday I didn’t take my temperature because of the getting up and peeing thing, not sleeping, etc; I knew I’d get inaccurate results, that it would just confuse me, and didn’t matter anyway since the clinic only asks for the positive OPK.  Afterwards I asked if I should take my temperature to confirm ovulation or progesterone production, but they said I shouldn’t need to since the lining was so good this time; they seemed to think good lining = ovulation & progesterone production.  So I didn’t temp Sunday.

But then I started worrying about this whole progesterone thing.  What if I didn’t take it and lost a potential pregnancy?  They said they would call me Monday to talk about it, and Monday AM I took my temp at a normal time – and it was an astounding 96.8, which is what my temp usually dips to the day I ovulate.  I was horrified.  Was I ovulating  Monday and not Saturday?  Had I just thrown $880 down the toilet?  For the record I took it again about ½ hour later when I was still in bed and it was 97.7.  But one thing for sure, even if the temp is 97.7, there’s no way I’m making progesterone, since 97.7 for me is barely coverline. So when the lady called she said she didn’t think I needed it but I could definitely go on progesterone if I want – the good news is it can’t hurt.  I told her about that temp and she didn’t really have an answer for it, but said based on my history with post-O temps being low it certainly wouldn’t hurt.  So I shelled out $45 and got on two weeks of progesterone suppositories, 200 mgs each.  Tried the first last night before bed.  Haven’t noticed anything yet.  Temp still 97.7 this morning.  It will be interesting if the whole time I’m on progesterone my temps NEVER go up.  This can only mean for some reason progesterone production isn’t reflected in my temps.  But my guess is it will probably kick in in a few days.  Also last night before I put in the progesterone my temp was 99.0, which is way high for me.  Wondering if the natural progesterone production was kicking in or what.  But then why would the temp be low again this morning?  Christ, who knows. 

So with the low temp yesterday and all day long twingy pains in my right ovary I began to worry that I was ovulating Monday.  I don’t really see how this is possible – Monday would be CD 18 for me (way late), and how to explain the OPKs?  Would the ultrasound really have shown that much activity three days early?  I wish I could call the clinic and ask them all this stuff, but it’s irrelevant, really – I want to ask if my cervix position during the IUI looked like ovulation was imminent; but of course it did, or she wouldn’t have done it.  She said it did.  Could “imminent” mean two days later?  It could.  Oh, if only I were dealing with live sperm none of this would matter – with frozen I’ve got a lousy 12 hour window.  And as noted there are no guarantees of anything at all.  But that slightly light OPK is nagging at me.  Usually they’re much darker.  And I did have an instance last month where I took one during the day that was lighter than the one in the morning, and then it was darker again.  So, I may have fucked up this time, I’ll be honest.

The good news is I AM OVULATING.  So even if this one’s a BFN I really don’t see any cause to go the miserable RE route; I don’t think it’s worthwhile to get my Day 3 labs run this time, not until I’ve failed one or two more times.  And the good news is as soon as I discover this one’s a bust it’s only two weeks until the next try, and I’ll for sure be in town and available for whatever is necessary.  So, that’s the good part.

I’ve decided to film myself taking the test.  I have been running a video log of this whole process from day one, so since this *may* be the seminal moment, I would like to document it.  Even if it’s a disappointment.  I think I can handle it.  It’s all a process, right?  If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.   

I feel like a guy

I always imagined after my first IUI that I would get together with girlfriends (the ones who know) and have a nice dinner or some kind of ritual gathering to talk about it.  But, due to the maybe-maybe not timing of it, plus the sudden desire to just be alone and quiet with my thoughts, I decided to spend yesterday afternoon and evening by myself.

Now when I say “be quiet with my thoughts”, I mean get in bed and watch one of my all time favorite documentaries for like the bajillionth time, Metallica: Some Kind of Monster, followed by a streaming documentary about Norwegian death metal, followed by This is Spinal Tap just to lighten things up.  Why this odd choice of post-insemination films?  I’ve been thinking about this for the last twenty four hours and the only thing I can come up with is this: because I felt like a guy.

Umm…why would a woman who might just be getting pregnant right now think she’s a guy?  I’ll tell you why – in the word we choice mom types use so much: it’s because I felt totally empowered.  The feeling of empowerment dimmed a bit when I thought I had a bunch of fertility issues (and hey, I may still, who knows), but just being given the thumbs up and going through with this thing I set out to do back in November made me feel like the king of the world.  King, not queen.  And today when I was driving around I was compelled to blast kick ass rock ‘n roll at ear splitting volumes and bang my head along with it.  I noticed I do this whenever I feel good, active, in control.  And thank God, now is one of those times.

Despite the fact that I spend much of my life dressed as if it’s the 1940s and following a man’s lead on the dance floor, I’ve never considered myself much of a girl.  You won’t see me losing it over some new hair product or spending myself into bankruptcy over shoes.  I’ve always thought I had a pretty masculine energy (which is a large part of my theory as to why men find me so unappealing).  I don’t mind this about myself; in fact, I think having to be father and mother to the as yet unborn (possibly un-conceived) child this quality of mine may come in handy.

When I was at the clinic for my ultrasound on Friday a very butch lesbian came in, with a track suit and faux hawk, to pick up her vials “for the weekend”.  There was a lot of discussion about how to store the nitrogen tank, all the waivers, etc, as I sat there pretending to play Scrabble on my phone.  I so wanted to reach out to her and say, “hey, good luck,” or something supportive, but I didn’t want to intrude on her privacy.  It did make me think about masculinity and femininity in women, though, and how no matter how much of each you may have or not have, that urge to be a mom is still there.  I think that’s pretty cool.  I hope she (or her girlfriend) hit it this weekend and have fun doing it.  I know I did.

So as we speak there may be cells dividing in me.  When I think about this, I get all happy.  I’ve had low baseline cramping on and off ever since, and a little spotting, but I was assured this is normal (minor freak out last night when I thought I may have gotten an infection, but read and re-read the info a thousand times until I convinced myself I was fine).  I also had a minor freak out today when I started reading about other men’s sperm count, motility, etc, and saw that this guy’s numbers aren’t exactly perfect…but this is based on Wikipedia, and everything is different when it’s “after wash” and all that, so many factors.  I guess I just have to take the clinic at their word that this guy is above normal (they did show me his numbers compared to the average, and they were way above average, but they didn’t give me that paper to take home, darn it).  So I haven’t been without my odd moments.

But here’s what I’m not doing (yet).  I’m not putting all my hopes on this one IUI.  I’m not looking for symptoms that can’t possibly exist yet.  I’m not planning on testing until I know the likelihood of a false result has passed (will really try to hold out until at least Friday the 22^nd…but I can’t promise anything).  I’m not assuming all my weird issues have suddenly disappeared – tomorrow the clinic is going to call and tell me if I should take progesterone or not; I have egg quality to worry about, the timing of this one was kind of wonky, etc etc.  Only ¼ of women “hit it” the first time, and of those 1 in 3 will miscarry (at my age).  But you know what?  This also means I have a 1 in 4 chance of this working, and a 2 out of 3 chance of it sticking.  I think I’ll focus on that instead of the negatives (for once). 

I feel good and peaceful.  I’m just delighted the “journey” has begun, no more revving my engines at the gate for months. 

I often envisioned my walk from parking my car to the clinic and wondered what it would be like, what I would be thinking, what song would be on KROQ as I slid into the parking space.  I had a vision of myself panicking, my throat closing up.  I imagined myself suddenly waxing nostalgic for my old carefree childless life and asking myself if I really wanted to give that up FOREVER.  I pictured myself crying on the table in the dark with my pelvis unnaturally raised, thinking about how sad and pathetic it was that “it came to this”.  Boy was I wrong about ALL of this, and I am SO, SO glad.  As mentioned yesterday, I felt nothing but good, happy, and excited.  And despite what I’ve written occasionally here in my darkest moments, this method of motherhood didn’t seem second rate to me AT ALL.  It felt great, and so right for me.  For sure it’s not for everyone, but I truly believe that this is my “path”. Oh, and the song playing on the radio was Bad Religion’s “Sorrow”, as in There will be sorrow no more, which seemed appropriate.

I spoke to a girlfriend yesterday who’s seen the darkest side of male nature and says she’s thinking about freezing her eggs and maybe taking this route some day (she’s a bit younger so has time to work all this out).  She said something great.  She said, “I’m not going to let my fertility pass me by just because I’m surrounded by idiots”.  I told her we should make T shirts emblazoned with this.  I’d wear it, with my big pregnant belly sticking out of the bottom.  And rock out to Metallica.  Proudly.

PS – did you know Metallica’s James Hetfield lost his mother to the same crazy religion that’s killing mine?  Interesting.

One

So, guess what?  About 45 minutes ago I had my IUI.

I know, I can’t believe it either.  I went in yesterday for my ultrasound and the first thing they saw was my lining, which was a nice rich 8 mm.  This was a huge relief.  She then spent a few agonizing minutes rooting around trying to find my right ovary which was hiding behind my bladder.  She could see follicle activity, but couldn’t get it in a place where she could do a measurement.  So she couldn’t say when ovulation was going to take place, but that it definitely was this time.  And since I’m an old hand at the OPKs and temps at this point, I wasn’t so worried about when, but if.  And there are no more ifs.

So since my OPK still looked just a hair light Friday morning she advised me to test last night and see if it was darker or not, and call the clinic to schedule the IUI for today.  Since the test was lighter I assumed the LH surge was over, which meant the egg was imminent, so at about 1 AM I called for my appointment.  Which was at ten this morning.  Which means as we speak I have some stranger’s sperm hanging out in my uterus.  Hey, it won’t be the first time (chuckle).

So here is what it was like.  I slept amazingly well considering.  I decided not to do anything ritualistic – no good luck charms, no special outfits, no special songs on the Ipod.  Not because I’m cynical or judge others for doing these things, but because I may have to go through this many times, and, well, I don’t know…I think I thought I’d feel silly if I made too big a deal out of today.  It’s a chilly April morning in Los Angeles.  Big billowy clouds have been scudding across the skies for weeks; that bitter Pacific wind has been working hard.  I drove up to the clinic, now a well worn path.  Whenever I felt a rush of adrenaline I would breathe slow and long and it would pass.  When I got to the office I rang the bell several times but no one answered, so I sat and read a magazine article about Charlie Sheen (mom, that’s like, so 2011).  Finally I reached around and stole the bathroom key so I could expel anything that needed expelling.  Then they called me in.  I’m glad it was ultrasound lady and not the random guy who works there sometimes.  She had me sign waivers and explained what to do in case of an infection.  She showed me the vial (tiny little thing!) and asked if I wanted to keep it; I declined.  She showed me paperwork indicating the donor’s great mobility, sperm count, etc.  He is blood type A+ (still don’t know what mine is; will have to ask about that). 

Then I did the standard naked-below-waist-scooch-down-on-paper thing.  She put in the scapula (always unpleasant); said that the cervix was in the right position so she was confident about the timing, and said (very kindly) that I was “easy to inseminate”.  I squelched the urge to say, “that’s what he said”.

It didn’t feel like anything and was over in about thirty seconds (that’s what she said). Then I just hung out and read the New Yorker, and played with my phone a little bit.  And that was it.

That’s all fine, you ask, but how did you feel?

Well, I’ll tell you.  I felt absolutely, positively, great.  It felt like Christmas.  When I was lying there in those post-insemination moments, it wasn’t at all like Jennifer Anniston said in “The Switch”, that she “just felt sad”.  I didn’t feel sad, bad, angry, or scared.  I didn’t think about all the men that had disappointed me, I didn’t think about it not working, I didn’t think about my mother, or even my aunt, who in a way is what this is all about.  What did I think about?  I thought about the baby. 

 

Even in those moments before sperm met egg, I thought about how it’s already real.  I was going to rest my phone on my lap but then didn’t, because I didn’t want to hurt the baby. 

So, baby, even if this isn’t our moment, you’re already real to me; I’m already your mom.  Whether it takes me two weeks to find out you’re in the flesh or years to adopt you, I’m already your mom.  I went through a lot of anguish to bring you here, and there may be more ahead.  But all it takes is one good egg to make you real.  Just one.  And when you’re ready to be my kid, I’m ready to be your mom.

My latest fantasy

So this one will be short and sweet.  Back in the days of the lawsuit, I used to have this fantasy of taking a rubber mallet and a Phillips screwdriver to the head of the guy suing me and tapping it until I heard his skull crack open with a dull pop.  This image kept me going through those dark days and gave me a boost when I felt all was lost.

Lately I've been having a pregnancy fantasy.  I picture myself at dinner or at the home of one of various married friends, taking the positive pregnancy test out of my purse, slapping it on the table, and saying simply, "bitch".  

See?  Even now it makes me giggle.  Ah, good times.