Twiddling Fingers

There was a lot of finger twiddling involved. We’re talking months. Hubbyloo and I were on the same page about having kids and we covered this topic very early on in our relationship (even before any talks about a serious commitment – neither one of us had time to waste with an incompatible partner); I always wanted to be a young mom (my deadline was 27 for my first offspring), and for Hubbyloo being 15 years my senior added a sense of urgency to the need to procreate. We did wait a couple of years after we got married, then we started working on it.

In the beginning it was more like… drop the umbrella, let’s see what happens.We did this exercise for about five months (June – October 2012). I am not sure whether it was the uncalculated approach we had, OR the fact that I was trying to apply all sorts of techniques to our baby-making in the attempt to genetically design a baby girl. I wanted a girl so badly; now thinking back I can’t really remember why it was that I was hooked on the idea of a girl – Copiloo is more than I have ever dreamed of. I wanted a girl and I knew that my chances of having one with Hubbyloo were close to nil. Over three generations, Hubbyloo’s family comprises of 20 something men and three females. Hubbyloo has three brothers who among themselves have five boys and a girl (I wonder if my brother-in-law is really the father). I wanted a girl so badly that I purchased a book that promised to teach me how to achieve that. Now, obviously it didn’t work but I am not sure whether it was because the theories in there were wrong or because I was too lazy to apply them correctly. There was soooo much “right timing” involved that even for this life goal of mine I was not willing to become less lazy and better organized.

So, after wasting a few months with this nonsense, we had seriously started working on it in November 2012 and it took us seven months to crack the nut. I gave my best in November because my second biggest wish was that my baby was born a Leo, just like his momma. So November was THE month. I failed.

At one point, tired of the scheduled romance, pressured by the passage of time, and slightly worried that this might not work for us, we went to check ourselves. I had my first appointment, ultrasound performed, things looking good; nothing in there (before putting my legs up, I had joked: “Wouldn’t it be funny if you actually see something there?”); the action item: send the husband to check his fishes. His appointment was made that same day, Thursday May 31, but was later cancelled.

On Saturday June 2, I got my hands on some pregnancy tests from a friend and I decided to take one. Low and behold, there are two lines on the stick.

Positive test

Look! Two lines.

Tears in my eyes I run over to Hubbyloo, who had no clue what I was doing in the bathroom, and I tell him “We’re pregnant!”. No reaction from this guy, other than “You can’t be sure. You need to take a second test.” Twiddling fingers, drinking water, waiting to be ready to pee again; second pregnancy test shows yet again two stripes.

2 Positives

Look! Four lines!

“Ok, you convinced now?” “No, we need this confirmed by a doctor. Call on Monday and make an appointment.” Really?… An ice statue transpires more emotion than my husband on the day I told him he was gonna have a child. It’s an awesome memory though, cause I felt the loud pounding in his heart at the prospect of his dream coming true, but also saw in his eyes the reluctance to share his happiness out of fear that it might prove to be an illusion.

Following week things were confirmed by the doctor and we were on our way to baking the sweetest bun in the oven.

First ultrasound

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