Googling what S should be doing

By seven pm tonight I found myself Googling “working long hours when pregnant” as I got more and more wound up that S was working longer hours than I think she should be.

Eventually I found something that pretty much sums up how I feel (the great thing about Google is if you look long enough, you’ll always find something that supports your position, no matter how insane it may be…). Continue reading “Googling what S should be doing”

Pregnancy surrounds me

Everywhere I look I’m surrounded by pregnancy and its side-effects — or so it seems anyway.

S grabs her stomach and winces with a cramp — I suddenly have a similar pain — is it a weird pregnancy-pain-sharing thing?

S’s hair looks funny — is it because she is pregnant?

I’m sleeping heavier than ever — is it because S is pregnant?

So, then to the ailing psychic cat.
Continue reading “Pregnancy surrounds me”

“I’m so excited I can’t sleep”

So said S 5 minutes ago as she tried to cram in a nap before dinner.

This post today was supposed to be about something else completely, but it has been such an exciting afternoon that this morning’s events have been pushed back to tomorrow’s entry — you’ll have to wait till then to read about the insights our cat has into S’s pregnancy — no I’m not joking.

Continue reading ““I’m so excited I can’t sleep””

But I’m carrying our baby

“But I’m carrying our baby.”

An increasingly common refrain heard emanating from under piles of cushions on the sofa.

Most often heard used in a pleading voice as a final attempt to satisfy the latest of S’s craves.

Today the “I’m carrying the baby” angle has been used repeatedly to try to get me to go over to Ratu Plaza to pick up a pirated copy of the latest West Wing series. That we’ve got 20 other DVDs to choose from is irrelevant as S has her heart set on West Wing.
Continue reading “But I’m carrying our baby”

Weekday sickness

Saturday comes around and the nausea and sickness disappears. Admittedly S manages to sleep for a good half of the day, but in those few hours where she surfaces the nausea is largely gone. Perhaps in the case of S morning sickness is more like a weekday sickness — a common illness that effects at least half the world’s working population. Continue reading “Weekday sickness”

It’s official & peanut butter and celery

So this morning we raced off to the SOS centre in Cipete and waited 45 minutes for the results — we’re going to have a baby!

The doctor was even nice enough to run off a copy of the lab report.

So now that it is official, we rushed home and contacted the family and some close friends to break the news — we know we’re supposed to wait three months, but we couldn’t help but share some of the happiness. Continue reading “It’s official & peanut butter and celery”

I think…

So S get’s back from East Timor on Thursday night. It had been raining all afternoon and the Jakarta traffic was at a complete standstill. Occasional sms messages drift in while I’m slowly preparing what turns out to be inedible.

“In taxi and macet maak maak (bad traffic in a combo of Indonesian and Thai). I don’t know where I am.”

I’m simultaneously watching the latest episode of American Idol (Bucky got kicked off) and relaying the results by sms to S — never a single mention from she who is destined to be in a taxi for over two hours of what news she has.

Finally S arrives, straight through the door and off to the bathroom — politely turning down a glass of wine. I go wait on the lounge.

and wait

and wait

and wait

Eventually S returns, and, while behaving rather oddly, makes a few vague statements then reveals;

“I think I’m pregnant”

The wind whistled, the clock ticked… somewhere in the distance a dog barks.

“Wow” I say.

Wow turns out to be the only word of substance I’m able to get out of my mouth for the next ten minutes.

background — we’d been trying to have a baby for over two years without luck. In the end I got tested in late 2005 and was told in no uncertain terms that I was a non-starter. The lazy, confused, mall-formed malcontents masquerading in my body as sperm would struggle to find their way out of a wet paper bag, and while theoretically possible, the doctor politely slid some IVF for dummies papers across the table. We decided to keep trying — hell its not like trying isn’t fun — but we’re also pretty resigned to the fact that what we were doing was for fun alone.

It turned out S was had been feeling awful in East Timor and so, on an impulse popped into a shop at Denpasar Airport (you have to stop there whe flying from Dili to Jakarta) for a DIY pregnancy test — then dashed into the loo.

The result: positive.

S then gets to Jakarta, sits in a cab for two hours and stops at another shop to get a more expensive pregnancy test. When she gets home, sweeps past me and does the test.

The result: positive.

I’m still on the lounge, slowly progressing from “Wow” to “How”. S gets me to run off some pregnancy symptom sheets off the web — the best one is a thirteen point checklist. S has 11 of the 13 symptoms. Nausea, backpains, sore boobs and an extreme sensitivity to smell are the big ones — she keeps telling me I smell (I don’t).

I say “Wow” a few more times.

We decide that tomorrow morning we’ll head to the doctor’s and get a learned opinion from somebody whose vocab extends beyond “Wow”.