My husband has been travelling a lot lately. He has a side gig where he goes to big city-type places with fancy restaurants and gets car services and first class upgrades and hotel suites. It all sounds very glam, until you realize that he had to drive from WV to Pittsburgh, fly to Miami via Charlotte, then get up at 5am to fly to Newark before lunch, then head to Manhattan for dinner, then back to the airport so he can fly back into Pittsburgh around midnight, drive home to WV and get up at 6am for work tomorrow. That's five airports in about 36 hours. Typing it all out like that makes me feel slightly less jealous that he's having dinner at Bar Boulud tonight and I'm having left over spaghetti and meatballs for the second day in a row.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
ANYWAY, all of the travel reminded me of how and when Sam was conceived. (Side note: this isn't going to get all graphic or anything, so don't worry. Intimate details will most certainly not be provided!)
When SOB was about to start his final year of residency I had been working at my current post for about three and a half years. I had moved up from when I began, but I knew it wasn't for me, long term. We had talked about having a baby, and decided that if we started trying now the timing would hopefully work out well, since we were already planning to move for his fellowship. I stopped taking my birth control pills in April, and that first month we just kind of winged it. When we went on vacation in May, I was in that horrible 'it's too early to know if I'm pregnant, but I might be so no booze' stage and I lamented our decision to start trying before our trip. I also lamented the amount of money I was spending on pregnancy tests, but that was to be expected, right?
The next week I got my period, and because I am an absolute control freak I immediately went online and ordered some ovulation prediction kits. I wasn't going to let this whole process develop naturally. I was a scientist, damn it, and I knew all about the processes going on inside my body. I also knew there were ways of monitoring them, so a few days later the kits arrived.
After reading all of the instructions (twice), I marked off the days on the calendar when I would start testing. SOB had a conference scheduled for that month, but it was towards the end of what I predicted would be my most fertile period. I started the ovulation tests, and day after day I would get a negative. I started to think that I was doing something wrong. After re-re-reading the instructions and realizing that I was doing everything right, I started to worry. His trip was looming, his destination all the way on the other side of the country. He was only scheduled to be gone for three days, but in ovulation speak that was long enough to miss our window.
He flew out on Wednesday. He was scheduled to return first thing Sunday morning via red eye.
On Thursday afternoon my ovulation test was positive.
I was disappointed that we would be waiting another month to try for our baby, but held onto a tiny shred of hope that if he wasn't too tired on Sunday morning maybe we still had a shot. I gave him a call, and before I could even say a word he starting telling me about how boring his conference was and how he wished he was coming home earlier. Maybe he was blowing smoke up my ass, but I saw my opportunity and wasn't about it let it go! I immediately told him about the test and then commenced a campaign of convincing him to come home a day early. If he got on the red eye Friday night, I argued, we'd get at least two chances for our future child.
He said he'd look into it. The next day he was on a plane headed back to me and his pro-creation duties.
Two weeks later, I got my first positive pregnancy test. What was truly fitting about it was that it was the day before Father's Day.
To this day SOB likes to tell people that I forced him to fly back from California to have sex with me, and while that may be a teeny tiny bit true, when I look at Sammy, I think to myself, thank god I was so damned persuasive!