11dp5dET ... (16DPO) ... Irrational

Oh. My. God.

My boobs just keep getting more and more sore. And BIG. Ah, yet again, Progesterone strikes. Mr. Buggy loves the big boobs, but made the almost fatal mistake of trying to cop a feel the other night at the growing goodness in front of him; I almost punched his teeth out.

How do you explain to a man how sore your boobs get? What the heckadoodles can you compare it to on a level to which they'd understand?

If you have a comparison, please, I'd love to hear it. Believe me - I go out of my way to make him understand how everything feels with this whole craptastic journey. After all, it's not just me going through this. Right?

The progesterone is making any symptoms I may or may not have difficult to decipher. Right now, I just feel like I'm going to get a visit from my lovely cow of an aunt. Still cramping. No spotting, but this almost worries me since the last time I did have a positive test I had implantation spotting. I know logically that every pregnancy is different, and that not every woman experiences it, and who knows, maybe the progesterone was masking it or something, but still.

Voicing these concerns to Mr. Buggy, he tells me to just POAS. Nope. Not gonna. This irritates him to no end. He's dying to know.

One night last week as he was shutting the light off to go to bed, he rolled over and told me he loved me, and goodnight. Quickly followed by, "Goodnight Blobby*. I love you."

My heart filled with joy hearing this come from his lips; immediately followed by panic. What the hell are we going to do if this doesn't work? Now I'm worried that he's so attached... too attached? To a microscopic blob? The ball is totally in my court right now - is he going to blame me if it doesn't work out?

These are the (again, I know, irrational) things I think about in bed every night.

Last night was another one of these irrational nights.

Yesterday we had dinner with my younger sister, who's now expecting her second (she already has a little boy). Months ago I had told her that I had hoped that if/when she gets pregnant again, that I know it's selfish, but I hope that at least she doesn't have a girl so that I can have a shot at being 'first' at something with respect to grandchildren (like I can genetically choose an XX embie - rolls eyes - I know, irrational). She chuckled, and wasn't offended (good thing, looking back what I said was a little offensive).

So some of you may remember from previous posts that she waited to tell me til last that she was pregnant again. Scared shitless of my (our) reaction. (Which, props to Mr. Buggy, he made a nice save that day and compensated for my shocked, dumbfounded, and wordless reaction). Anywho.

Then last week she drops the bomb that she's having a girl. And I can tell again that I'm the last to know. I really tried to be happy for her, but all I could come up with was how much more fun it would be to shop for baby clothes (boys vs. girls, you know).

Then she tells me last night at dinner that she's having another baby shower. WTF? You don't have 2 baby showers! But really I'm thinking - oh great. She's totally stealing my thunder. If this pregnancy works for me, I'd be coming home in October for my own baby shower. She's due in October. I was going to do double duty - baby shower for me, help her out with the newborn, then fly back end of October.

November may be too late to be coming home (flying) if I had to bump it to later. We can't afford for me to be flying back multiple times. We probably won't be coming home for Christmas.

I've waited YEARS to have a fucking CHANCE at having a baby. Now I won't be having the first grandchild. I won't be having the first (sex). And I'm going to have to play second-string baby shower, which, in and of itself is going to be difficult since I have to fly back to a different country with all of my loot - which will inevitably be gift cards.  Sigh.

I know. Totally irrational and I'm putting the cart before the horse in so many ways, but still.

I am nothing if not a planner.

And I know that I should just be happy seeing a live blob with a ticking heart. And making it all the way through a pregnancy without any problems along the way.

But that doesn't stop me from throwing a temper-tantrum inside my head, kicking and screaming "THIS ISN'T FUCKING FAIR!! It's my time, already. My. Fucking. TIME."

*Blobby = Mr. Buggy's nickname for our blastocyst. I think if we make it that far we should graduate 'Blobby' to 'Bug' or 'Buggy' as of, oh, maybe a hearbeat on an ultrasound time? Fingers crossed.