no. 565 – In Need Of Reassurance

I’m not feeling particularly well today. Last night I was horribly constipated and bloated and barely managed to sit through supper at a restaurant with my in-laws while both my intestines and uterus cramped in protest. Particularly bothersome was Mr. DD’s nephew visiting from the south who thinks that he’s some football star in the making for this team, even though he’s not even ON the team. He put away a salad, onion rings, his pound-plus of steak, his hash browns, XBoy’s left-over steak sandwich, a boat dish of french fries and a boat dish of cottage fries. I’m sure he would have put away more if Mr. DD’s family didn’t have such "healthy" appetites.

This summer when he’s finally graduated from college, he’s going to watch with a mixture horror and disbelief as his body quickly melts into 300 pounds of fat since he will no longer have free access to the team’s work out equipment. It’s rather pathetic, really.

Add to it, my asthma is really sticking it to me. Symptoms can either get better, worse or stay the same when an asthmatic gets pregnant. Mine is worse. Every time I cough, I get a nasty pull in the abdomen. I see a hernia coming on if I’m not careful.

Take all that and add in even less breast tenderness, decreased appetite and noticeably absent Ass-Mouth today and I’m not feeling all warm and fuzzy about tomorrow marking 9 weeks. It’s only another week before my next scan to see if Murdock made it through the holidays.

Any actuaries out there want to calculate the odds of a heartbeat in another week? Is there actually a way to calibrate in 4 miscarriages (3 before 9 weeks) and a pregnancy at 40 with a 31 year old’s donated eggs?

Is it any surprise that I chant to myself, "PUP-O. PUP-O. PUP-O" as if I were in meditation?