Week 4

Here we go again.  Week 4...again.  Hoping against hope...again.

It's hard not to be concerned, anxious and/or worried about the pregnancy, considering I'm in that "age group" where doctors refer you to the high-risk gynecologist for a talk.  I've been watching the pregnancy test lines and monitoring them for "pinkness."  It's ridiculous, yet I am compulsive about peeing on that stick every morning, just to make sure it wasn't all a mistake.

The acupuncturist was the happiest I've ever seen her.  She smiled big, gave us a hug, and congratulated us like she knew it was going to happen all along.  All the while, I just cringed and tried to smile.  Why can't I be happy?

By breasts are slightly sore, but nothing like the first pregnancy that miscarried.  I'm bloated, or perhaps just indulging in some seriously emotional eating.  But who can tell?  It's all up for grabs at this point.

I do feel the pings and pangs in my abdomen that tell me to keep hope alive.  It's there, I can feel it.  And it's trying to let me know to stop fussing and relax...which just indicates to me that it's already bossy.  

A chip off the old block.