Superstition

I refuse to change a single thing on my desk. I won't put anything away, especially anything vaguely (alleged) pregnancy related. The HPTs. The charts. The Weight Watchers stuff (I got pg right after I started last time). The knitting book. The earrings.

Yes, infertility and loss have reduced me into a heaping mess of superstitious bullshit. Which I know is crap. I know that nothing I do, say or cry will alter whatever is going on inside me right now. On a cerebral level - this is ridiculous. I am an extremely well educated woman, I am a Registered Nurse for chrissakes. But I can't help but cling to nonsense just to find peace.

Fortunately, today was a fairly busy day at work, for which I'm thankful. I couldn't dwell on the upcoming ultrasound tomorrow. Instead, I ordered with the rest of the crew from Cheeburger Cheeburger and had a ginormous bacon cheddar burger with sauteed onion, tomato, lettuce and jalapenos, and a small (hah!) order of their best french fries. I ate all of the burger and a goodly portion of the fries. I am officially a porker. I'm happy to say that I also ate dinner when I got home. And yes, I am now queasy and feeling unwell. I believe my pancreas and gallbladder have launched official letters of protest, and my heart ain't happy either. And the grape Fanta I'm enjoying right now is delicious. When the hell did I start liking grape Fanta???

Yeah. I'm frightened. And John is doing his best to make me feel better - that dear man has made dinner every night this week, when I have walked in from my 10 hour shifts absolutely knackered. I mean dinner on the table, steaming hot. Even Jr, whom we have not told of this pregnancy, senses something and has been on his best behaviour.

All I can say is - it better be good news tomorrow. Because I'm tired of gaining and losing these same 8 lbs over and over again. And I honestly think I will lose my mind if something is wrong. Please ... please ... can it be simple for once? Just once? Please?