Slightly sore boobies?  Check.  Already thickening waist?  Check.  Nausea?  Not yet.  Cooking meat gross?  You bet.  A bit more tired than normal?  I think so. 

Feeling very, very grateful?   Absolutely.

I didn’t SEE the results of the blood serum test when the nurse called Tuesday.  I heard her say you are pregnant.  Then not much after that.

So today, I realized I had one test strip left.  The kind that’s supposed to pick up days before you are due to start, but did not with me.  What the hell, I thought this morning, why not pee on it, and just see.

By damn, it finally registered.  And that was the moment that made it feel real.

I have 3 children, and have never been able to get a positive HPT.  Until today.  It felt good.   That little faint second line felt good.

So Mr. 4tops finally gets home, and excrutiating hour and half after the phone call from the nurse.  I didn’t know what to say.  How to tell him.  I was up in the bedroom, in my grubby work clothes, cleaning out the closet and packing boxes, not looking lovely.

As he talked with me for a few minutes, and then began to leave he said, what do you know.  Whaa?  I replied, stupidly.  What do you KNOW?  Are we pregnant?  

SO the proverbial cat was out of the proverbial bag.  And he was really, really excited. 

I wanted to wait on the children, especially the youngest, who is 5, and in whom I have no confidence would A.  even understand, or B.  be able to keep a secret.  Which we want to do till we can tell other family.

But Mr. 4tops was excited, and wanted to include them, as we usually do with most things.  So, within an hour, we told them.

And they both burst into tears.  So much for the family Kodak moment.  We had a bottle of champagne for a toast (for us, not them, and don’t fuss at me, I was only going to have half a glass), and were all hey, this is happy, and they just fell apart.

Why?  1.  They were overwhelmed.  For whatever reason, it was overwhelming to them.  Maybe because the house is upside down, we’re moving, ect.  I don’t know.  But it seems, they were.

2.  It seems, I’ve shared one too many Baby Stories and Discovery Baby shows with them.  I love them.  I think they’re miraculous.  They, however, seem to think it’s awful painful, and somehow have derived, dangerous.  They were scared for me.  Is that sweet?  They said that after all 3 of them, they didn’t want me to have to go through it again.  I suppose this is one of the things with having older children.  They get more, but not everything. 

So.  We talked.  And in the end, when we told them the only reason we are as happy as we are, is because of our experience with them.  If we didn’t love them so much, we couldn’t imagine how awesome this could be.  They seemed to get that.  And that I’d do whatever I had to a million times over to have each of them in my life, so I’d do that for this child.  Which they’d undestand better, when they meet her/him (I’m leaning towards her). 

This morning, they’re whispering in  my ear little things that come to their minds, like, we can teach the baby to talk.  To walk.  Sign language.  And conspiratorially patting my stomach.  And telling me they are old enough to be there when the baby comes, can’t they be in the waiting room with the grandparents?   

I hope these things mean this is going to be a great adventure.  I’ve never been here before.  Older children, and a baby on the way.  Oh, G*d, I’m freaking out again. 

I’ve been squeezing into my pants for several months now, due to laziness on the diet moderation front.  So tonight at dinner, I realize hey, I can just get into to maternity pants real soon.  I’m legit, now.

Problem.  When someone says, oh, you’re pregnant, how far are along are you? 12 weeks, 14?  16?  I have to say, nope, 4.  That’ll be a bit embarrassing.

Oh My God.  Positive. 

Mr. 4tops is on the way back home from a trip.  He doesn’t even know.  Too speechless to write more, except if you know me personally, don’t tell anyone yet. 

Frankly, I’m just an impatient person.  We are frenetically trying to finish the remodels in the house.  To put it on the market ASAP.  While my husband just resigned one job, and is starting another in a week and a half.  Traveling a week a month, and telecommuting the rest, while we show and hopefully sell the house.  Soon.  So we can get to Atlanta, put all our crap in storage, live with my PARENTS and find a house to buy.

Atlanta realty is tough when you are going to be working in town.  You either pay up the hoo-hoo for and in town hovel, or pay a reasonable amount, for a reasonable house, but spend nearly 3 hours of your life, ech day, commuting in and out of town.  

So all this is playing in my life and in my mind when yesterday I just say eff it.  I’m going to get a blood test.  So I did.  Now my understanding of this serum test is that from 7-12 dpo, it will register an amount as low as 5 units of whatever unit tells them yes, this one’s pregnant.  But this doc at the clinic says, if it’s before 2 weeks, you may get a false negative. Something about qualitative/quantitative, one registering slightly more sensitively than the others, blah blah blah.  In the end, I talked her into writing an order for me to go straight to the lab, and get the test performed, stat, meaning, I should have the results faxed back to the clinic by 2 pm, EST today. 

If they’re even accurate.  Which according to her, now they may not be.  But they were with our 3rd child, several days before I was due to start my period.  That doc said something about qualitative and quantitative, too, but I can’t really remember, because I had two toddlers testing out all the look-in-your-ear equipment, and checking out each other’s tonsils with those cherry flavored sticks.  

Anyway, they called the next morning.  I was right.  Positive.

So, I went for it yesterday.  I am no good with waiting.  And now I’m not sure what the results will mean, if they are negative, so that sucks.  And I called at 2, and was told whe call back within an hour and a half, as the results had not been faxed over yet. 

At this rate, I’ll probably get my period before they track down that fax.

Which, frankly again, I feel is probably going to happen.  I just can’t stand not knowing.   But again, if this is a negative, if she ever calls me back, do I know now?  Or whaaaa?

I went to bed at 8:30 last night, I was so tired.  But then, we are busting our humps (I used that before the Black-Eyed Peas) around here.  So who knows, yet again.

Got more crap to clean out and pack.  And more time to kill before I drive to Columbia and talk to the lab tech, myself.  How hard can it be to get a fax sent? 

Because it’s 4:36 in the morning here, and I just woke up, couldn’t go back to sleep, had to pee, so came downstairs to catch it and dip a stick in it. 

Yep, you guessed it.  Negative.

So, today I smelled garlic dill pickle sandwich slices from the next room when Mr. 4tops opened the freezer.  They stay in the fridge.  And I’m not sure I believe him, but he claims he smelled nothing, even when sticking his head in the fridge.

Oh well.  Just have to wait and see. 

And as I knew it would be, it was negative.  And I know, at THIS point, that means nothing.  Why do I do these things to myself? 

I think it’s day 22.  And right now?  I’ve been feeling kind of gaggy and burpy for the past couple of hours.  And the rotisserie chicken I bought at the grocery and put in the car to bring home seemed to take over the entire car, and my nostrils up to the far recesses of my brain.  It. smelled. bad.

What to make of this?  Who knows.  7 days more to wait.