I mean, duh. Right? Today was Olivia's two month check up. And for some reason, I was compelled to look back and see what I was doing this time last year.
This time last year, I was miserable. MIZZZZZRABLE. My first IVF failed. I had to continue with my normal routine and act human when all I wanted to do was pull the covers over my head and sleep until Christmas.
(I would've lifted the covers to fart, though. I have a strict No Farting Under the Covers policy. A policy which Mark defies. This is why we use separate blankets. I refuse the possibility of a Dutch Oven. Separate blankets is how we avoid divorce.)
(I also have a strict No Farting in the Car policy. For similar reasons. I basically just don't want to be trapped in any place that holds the smell of ass.)
Thinking about it now, I don't even know how I did it. IVF seems like a blur. It's almost better that I was working full time and going to graduate school at night, because I don't know how mentally stable I would've been if I had more time to think.
If I'm being honest, I almost never think about it anymore. Olivia is here. She is here, and how it happened really doesn't pop into my mind anymore (except when people say things about the fricking Octomom, which, dammit I wish she would just fade into obscurity already). And that is freeing, people. It is amazing to no longer be consumed with infertility.
It won't last forever. I'm sure at some point, we will want to try again. And I don't know if it will feel the same as it did before but I'm sure that the second round will consist of much suckage.
But right now, I am consumed with my squishy little baybee who suffered through 2 shots today and who has been sleeping it off for the past 4 hours.
At two months, Olivia weighs 8 lbs 14 oz (10th percentile). Mark thinks we should put her on a diet because she is really tanking up.* She is 21.26 inches long (10th percentile), and has a noggin circumference of 15.06 inches (50th percentile).
The shots were sad, but not as bad as I expected. Nothing of note really happened, except I may have made an inappropriate comment about how I would leave my husband for Dr. Karp** (author of The Happiest Baby on the Block) if given the opportunity. A joke which, surprise surprise, I don't think the pediatrician got.
Or if she did, she didn't think it was funny.
*Kidding. Kidding. Kidding. He was kidding.
**I'm going to post about this soon. Because Oh My God That Shit Works. ***
***Also, I'm going to post my birth story soon, just for the anonymous person who asked so very nicely.