What a Week, Where's my Head At?

Hi, sorry it's been so long, but what a week, I'm fucking shattered, emotionally and physically. As you may or may not have read, I got the phone call from my GP to say that I had all the hormones of a 3 year old girl and that the chances of ovulation this month were slim to nil. Well, on Tuesday, four days after the previous phone call, I was given my more recent blood results, so, what do you know doc..... My day 28 bloods showed a progesterone of 77! I had enough in me to ovulate... twice. Unfortunately, I knew my monthly friend was going to arrive any day with the dull cramps low down in my tummy.

I knew we hadn't timed it right, remember my mentioning the "O" word, causing David to run for the hills like a screaming girl? Well, for this month I was happy in the knowledge that I had indeed ovulated, my cyst filled ovaries were not completely screwed and so I went on to go about my weekly business, hit the gym, shopping and so on. When I went to the gym, I was doing some upper body stuff, kinda strenuous and I felt it in my chest, round the side of my boobs and across the top. I put it down to the fact I was working hard and thought nothing of it.

I made an appointment to see my hairdresser to get my hair done, I did some stuff for work, I went to line dancing on Thursday, I spoke to Kik about what we were doing for her birthday that weekend. Before I go out to get drunk, I've made a habit of taking a wee pregnancy test just to rule it out so I can get drunk, that and to fulfill my morbid obsession with seeing the single line appear to denote a negative result and blast my cursed ovaries (think the Mothercare paradigm, I'm sure they're related). So on Thursday I buy a double pregnancy test and head off to line dancing. There's a dance called Roll With the Flow that I've been trying to get for a while and for some reason I was doing worse than usual and behaving like a spoilt child about it. Bugger the PMT. When I arrived home, David was still out at the pub and Alex was in bed, I was having a wee sing song to myself, something I haven't done for aaaaaages, I was filling my hot water bottles and I needed to pee. Why not, I might as well bask in the depression and pee on a stick. I went to the toilet, opened the wrapper while dancing from foot to foot and sat down to pee on the stick. I replaced the cap, being careful not to get wee all over the place, and waited. The test window came up with the oh so familiar horizontal line, the control window then showed the vertical line, I sighed. I went to wash my hands. I looked at the test with the usual sinking feeling. I blinked, looked again. Nah... "It's a trick of the light, a reflection". After I dried my hands, I picked up my test (completely screwing up the purpose of washing my hands in the first place). There it was, a line I had never seen before, a vertical line imposed on the horizontal. Positive. Pregnant. PREGNANT! David, where the fuck was David, he was supposed to be there when I got my big fat positive. I called his mobile and left a very shaky message on his machine. I tried to waken Alex, but no matter how much I knocked and shouted, he never woke up. I was alone in the knowledge and I had to tell someone. David finally phoned, drunk. When I told him it would wait till he got home, he insisted I told him over the phone. "Wow" was his reply "Well, I'm not going into work tomorrow". He justified this statement by saying it was a family emergency. I, of course went into work. I found it so difficult to concentrate and wanted to tell everyone.

So that's it, I'm sprogged up. All the PMT, boob pain, cramps were because of the bun slowly cooking in the oven. This is great, we're having a baby.

I'm shit scared!