half empty glasses

The scan on Friday went well, and I'm even more in love with my doctor than I was before. When he walked in, in lieu of a hello, I offered up my apologies. He was all '..the hell?' and I was all blushing and guilty and 'for getting pregnant, oops'. He joked about claiming this baby as the unit's own anyway, and I, in all seriousness, agreed. That place gave me hope when I had none, and without hope, maybe this new life would never have happened. Marc asked me to keep in contact with them all, and to make sure to bring blobby in for a visit once it's less blobby and more baby. Everyone has looked after me so well. They were always kind and patient and understanding - and even more so on the day I was emotional and unreasonable (and ovulating and conceiving that very moment, so no wonder I was a tad flighty, eh?), and I don't want to leave the safe place they made for me under their wing.

They also gave me a 'starter pack' for new mums. Among other things, it contained magazines, brochures, and samples. It took me two days, but having opened it and having read the parenting magazines, seen the samples of maternity pads (ick), antacids, incontinence pads (oiks!) and foot gels for pregnant women, it hit me.

I'm really one of them.

So much for that serene, madonna-like bubble I've been living in this past week. It took me a day or three, but I've been crying myself to sleep and wondering what on earth I'm going to do and how I'm going to do it.

You'd think I'd have thought about all this already, but while I planned on IVF, I didn't plan on being pregnant or even having a baby. Not that I don't want one, but I never thought IVF would work, ferpetesake.

Uh, does that make sense? I swear, this being pregnant gig? I miss my brain.

Anyway, that I am pregnant is freaking my socks off.

That the father has, for all intents and purposes, abandoned his child, and me for that matter, pisses me off. To clarify though, I don't feel all sad and abandoned and woe is me, because I don't want him near us right now anyway. We'll need to forge some kind of relationship because of the children involved, but dang, if he didn't already have a daughter who will be my kid's sister, fuck him and the horse he rode in on. Hrmmph.

Now, where was I?

Oh, yeah.

I'm tired, I guess. Money is scaring the living shit out of me, and I'm scared of how much longer I can (or can't) continue to work.

I'm scared of how much there is to be done, and it all boils down to finances. Some things need doing before the baby is born, big things like selling my car to buy another, ripping up this shitty carpet and replacing it with something less toxic, and even if I don't make up the baby's room, the baby needs space in my room. Over the next several months, I need to organise other smaller things too, like clothes, baths, washcloths, cribs, stuff, stuff, more stuff and fuck knows what else babies need. (a competant mother, maybe?) Then by, say, Spring next year, I'd like to have put a contract out on the father made my backyard less of a dump...I know it's all slowly, slowly, but right now and in my head, it all feels so urgent, and despite feeling there's so much to do, I'm not doing anything.

Go me. *rolls eyes*