The last pill
So, as I mentioned the other day, we decided while we were on our mini-vacation that, as a friend of a friend put it, we're going to pull the goalie. So this morning I took the last pill in the last pack. I don't know what it is about hockey metaphors for pregnancy and conception, but Darren's best friend - who's currently serving in the National Guard in Iraq - has begun boasting that he's gotten one more puck past the goalie than D. has. (His son is eight months old.)
Curiously, today is also our fifth wedding anniversary. We certainly didn't plan for it all to work out this neatly - in fact, we didn't plan to do this at all. The final verdict came about in a long conversation on the back porch of our fancy New England resort hotel - we were sitting in rocking chairs, our feet up on the railing, sipping Bar Harbor Real Ale and looking over the croquet court to the dock and Somes Sound beyond. It was a chilly night; we were wearing jeans and sweaters. We'd just come back from an amazing meal at a real Mexican restaurant, with the best chiles I've eaten since we last went to New Mexico and margaritas with fresh lime juice. That little reminder of our past - we met in New Mexico, where we lived for two years just after college - must have played a part in our conversations -- that reminder that we've been together for 10 years, that we've made conscious decisions to be together, to be in Maine, to try to live a life in which work is not the center. And the next step in this life together is trying to have a baby.
Yikes.
In my typical neurotic, somewhat over-educated fashion, I've been asking friends with kids about how scientific they got about trying, whether they gave up caffeine before finding out they were pregnant, what they did about the drinking - I'm no lush, but I love my glass o' wine or beer with dinner - etc. The verdict seems to be, at least in the beginning, to take my folic acid and have fun. That was the word from my pal S., who has a beautiful 14-month-old girl. So, although I think I am going to switch to half-decaf, I'm going to try not to obsess, to enjoy the intimacy of this time with D., to keep spoiling the dog and eating my veggies.
Speaking of which: On tap for tonight is kale and potato soup - and if it doesn't turn out better than that miserable fennel-leek soup I made Tuesday, I'm giving up soup forever - along with either homemade bread or the alluring, and very tasty, bread from the bakery around the corner.
Curiously, today is also our fifth wedding anniversary. We certainly didn't plan for it all to work out this neatly - in fact, we didn't plan to do this at all. The final verdict came about in a long conversation on the back porch of our fancy New England resort hotel - we were sitting in rocking chairs, our feet up on the railing, sipping Bar Harbor Real Ale and looking over the croquet court to the dock and Somes Sound beyond. It was a chilly night; we were wearing jeans and sweaters. We'd just come back from an amazing meal at a real Mexican restaurant, with the best chiles I've eaten since we last went to New Mexico and margaritas with fresh lime juice. That little reminder of our past - we met in New Mexico, where we lived for two years just after college - must have played a part in our conversations -- that reminder that we've been together for 10 years, that we've made conscious decisions to be together, to be in Maine, to try to live a life in which work is not the center. And the next step in this life together is trying to have a baby.
Yikes.
In my typical neurotic, somewhat over-educated fashion, I've been asking friends with kids about how scientific they got about trying, whether they gave up caffeine before finding out they were pregnant, what they did about the drinking - I'm no lush, but I love my glass o' wine or beer with dinner - etc. The verdict seems to be, at least in the beginning, to take my folic acid and have fun. That was the word from my pal S., who has a beautiful 14-month-old girl. So, although I think I am going to switch to half-decaf, I'm going to try not to obsess, to enjoy the intimacy of this time with D., to keep spoiling the dog and eating my veggies.
Speaking of which: On tap for tonight is kale and potato soup - and if it doesn't turn out better than that miserable fennel-leek soup I made Tuesday, I'm giving up soup forever - along with either homemade bread or the alluring, and very tasty, bread from the bakery around the corner.
posted by mc at 12:48 PM
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