We took a test at the beginning of August, and it was negative. No baby. Bummer. So being the frugal person I am, I decided not to take another test until I had symptoms. Weeks later, no symptoms, although my stomach was growing unquestionably larger. It may have been the daily ice cream runs of Silver Lake. Or the seconds (and thirds—yipes!) of Auntie Debbie’s cannelloni. So still I didn’t take a test. But then it happened. At 8:30 one night, I fell asleep. And the next night, the same thing. So it was time for another test.

This time I took it without the anticipation of the last time. Without any clear signs, I couldn’t quite pee on the stick with as much enthusiasm as before. The two minute wait, I folded clothes while Wally got WV dressed—no waiting on the bed for the time to lapse. Then Wally checked. “Two lines. What does two lines mean?”

“What? Two lines? Two lines???” And by now, you know what it means.

So I called the doc, and they were equally as confused as I was. With the timing of my last cycle and a negative test 3 weeks prior, they didn’t know how far along I’d be. I went in for an ultrasound, only to find out that, according to the fuzzy black and white image of my chicken nugget with a beating heart, I was already 8 weeks along. Nearly 1/4 of the way!

By 8 weeks with Wally Ben—who ended up being our little colicky wonder for the first few months—I was nauseous all day every day and had been for a few weeks. Since I’m symptom free (besides some fatigue that can be cured by an early bedtime or a nap or two), I’m thinking I am carrying a good little baby. (Either that, or a girl. I’d prefer a good baby boy, since I would love WV to have a little brother. Especially a non-colicky little brother.)

Either way, mark your calendars. April 18, 2011. Little O will be coming our way.

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