Motility

Do you know this word? I didn't. The dictionary on my iPhone defines it as the "ability to move spontaneously and independently." This is an ability you want sperm to have if they are to do their thang and swim to the promised land. That sounds a little weirder than I meant it to, but I hope you'll bear with me. You can have as many millions of them as you like, but if they're just sitting around, it's a no-go. So in addition to making sure I'm ovulating (and, by the way, that now seems to be the case, although I have a basal body temperature thermometer on its way from amazon.co.uk just to make sure), I thought it might be smart to be sure that N's side of the equation is in working order. So we got this home test kit on the left that includes funnels and test tubes and drops that turn things a range of really nice-looking colors no matter what the result (see said colors on the right). And while I realize that the manufacturer was trying to appeal to speakers of several languages at once, I get a huge kick out of the fact that the box says "2 TEST(E)S" on it. But back to colors. We landed in the fuchsia range, which is where we wanted to be. This means that there's an 86% chance that everything is operational, which is nearly a B+. This is what happens when you try to get a teacher pregnant.

The Accidental Confidante

Those of you who read my other current blog, A Year of Kir, will recognize my chest x-ray on the left, which everyone in my program had to get as part of our medical exam, in order to receive the titre de séjour, which allows us to be in France legally for the year. When I photographed it for AYoK, however, I intentionally cut off the bottom part, which, if you zoom in, says protection plombée, referring to the lead wrap I velcroed around my abdomen and lower back, after I answered in the affirmative to the question of whether I might be pregnant. I ended up explaining in both the weighing-and-measuring room and the x-ray room (and, in fact, in the listen-to-my-chest room) that I had stopped taking the pill but had not yet had my period, and that we were trying to get pregnant.

I was not the only student in my program with a 1:30 appointment for my medical exam. There were five of us there, and as I was called in to the listen-to-my-chest room, one of my classmates, L, said that she had heard me talking to the doctor. Oh, really? I asked, playing dumb. She told me that she had heard me say I had stopped taking the pill. Dammit. L and I are friends, but it has been hard work to keep this to myself, and I was frustrated that now someone knew, first of all, and that I hadn't gotten to choose who that someone was. She assured me later, in a very nice e-mail (in response to mine, asking her to please keep what she had heard to herself), that we could trust her. But still. It's nice to know that there's someone I can talk to if I want to, but on the other hand, there's something powerful about having a secret. Ah, well. Hopefully, soon enough, we'll have a next level of secret to keep to ourselves, and shortly thereafter, no secret at all. Knocking on wood.

Whaddayacallit

I've loved names for as long as I can remember. I owned three baby name books as a child, and when family members brought me dolls from their travels, I displayed them behind index cards with names from the countries they had come from. I remember there was a Tatiana, but I'm having trouble recalling any others. I was hoping to post a picture of the cover of my first book of names, Name Me, I'm Yours!, but it was published in the 80's, and so it's getting harder to get a hold of that image--even in the ebay auction for a copy of the book. This one on the left was my second, and the third was Beyond Jennifer & Jason: An Enlightened Guide to Naming Your Baby (which, in current editions, is called Beyond Jennifer & Jason, Madison & Montana: What to Name Your Baby Now). So while some little girls were [apparently] dreaming about their weddings, I was naming my children. And other people's. And anything I could get my mind on. Seriously. I have always wanted to be the one to think up the perfect name for everything, be it a team, a business, a website, etc. N and I have been joking about what an exciting naming project this baby thing will be for me, although, of course, it isn't--and shouldn't be--mine alone. So, because I love lists of names, I wanted to share with you the names of the babies born to friends, family, and acquaintances over the last few years (and no, unfortunately, I have no idea why there is so much space between this text and the columns below):

Zachary (2) Benjamin (2) Zoe (2) Sagan Asha Amelia Oliver Anna Violet Julian Isaac (2) Will Lily Lucy (2) Emma (2) Mali Morlu Hannah (2) Nicholas Charlotte (2) Elizabeth James Dominic Harper Asher

Annika Charlie (f) Charlie (m)(2) Grace Travis Tyler Eli Wyatt Mary Sarah Liana Phoebe Molly Maggie Axel Feyana Joanna Henry Atticus Evan Graham Audrey Orli Xavier Gemma

Eliana Noah Gavin Daniel Sean Brisco Mia Madison (f) Lexi Audrey Byrd Iris Tovah Leo Yoni (m) Nava Annie Gibran Wilder Quinton Brooke Ella Katherine Laurel Elza

Like I said, everybody's having babies. I was thinking of starting a list of names I/we like, but there are some things I want to keep between N and me.

Everybody's Doing It

Just to be clear, this is not my child. It is actually my first nephew, due to my brother and his wife in early February. When I heard they were expecting back in June, my first reaction (okay, after the squealing) was to be sad that I would be in France for most of the pregnancy. It has been a real bummer to be far away from my fam while this excitement is brewing. Then, back in September, I found out that my same-age cousin and her husband are pregnant as well, due in March. For real, babies are popping up everywhere. Oh yeah, and another friend/former coworker is due in April. The fact that I only hear about these babies-to-be once they exist makes it appear to take no effort at all to fabricate them. That mustn't be the case, just going by the law of averages, but the sudden-seeming-ness of the announcements makes it all look so easy. On the one hand, I envy these [falsely] instant pregnancies. On the other, as N reminded me recently, I should be enjoying the heck out of these last no-baby-on-the-horizon weeks and months. And I am. It's just that I like to be good at everything I attempt, and ridiculously, that includes things over which I have no control, that are about luck and circumstance rather than talent. Before last night's test, N and I discussed how we would feel about the various possible results, and agreed that if it were positive, we would be pretty impressed with ourselves. But let's face it: the odds of conceiving when you're not ovulating are downright minimal, and the current state of affairs has led me to believe that that may be what is going on. I may be good, but nobody's that good.

La Respuesta

I mentioned to N that I was going to take a pregnancy test when I got home, three days before he's slated to be back in Paris, and so we decided to buy one here in Barcelona. Negative. So no babies yet. And that's okay. It's odd, though, to think that what is currently a fairly free-and-easy topic of conversation might eventually become utterly fraught if we have a hard time conceiving. And that's a subject that sort of blows my mind--that, as well as a woman may know her body and its workings (and I'm not saying that I'm at the top of this list), how easy or difficult it might be to get pregnant is something you just can't know until you try it. Frustrating for someone who likes to plan things out.

Anybody There?

Why a blog with only one permitted reader, you may be wondering? Only you're not, because that one reader knows why, and by the time the rest of you read this, I'll have lifted the embargo. Regardless, here's the deal: we're working on getting pregnant, and we're not telling anyone at the moment. Not our families, not our other nearest and dearest--nobody. And while I'd have my fabulous therapist to share the secret with were we still in New York, we're not; we're in Paris. Except for this weekend, when we're in and near Barcelona. So here's the nitty-gritty:

On Tuesday, October 13, I stopped taking the pill, which marked the beginning of our efforts. Previous to that, I had been taking Jolivette--which is one brand of "mini" (progesterone-only) pill--for over a year, and hadn't had my period in as long; this is sometimes a [delightful!] side effect of the mini-pill. Nearly three weeks later, I still haven't had it, which means that either my body hasn't yet settled back into its former ways, or I'm pregnant already. Would I know if I were pregnant? Boy, this is when it would be nice to have some other readers to give me feedback on this sort of question, but so it goes. I felt slightly funny in the tummy a week or so ago, but it was probably nothing. Also, I've experienced some soreness in my upper half (I know, totally vague, but since folks are eventually going to read this, I don't want to be all weird and graphic. Yet. That may change at some point as a little critter takes over my body.), but don't know to what I should be attributing that. I've started taking a prenatal multivitamin, which contains Vitamin B6, supposedly good for combating morning sickness, and so maybe I wouldn't necessarily feel sick if I were already with child? I know so little about all this. I ordered some pregnancy tests from amazon.co.uk (a more economical alternative to amazon.com for the many non-book items that amazon.fr doesn't carry) that will likely be waiting for me when I get back to Paris tomorrow, and so I can pee on a stick then and see whether anything is up.