[Ed. Note: This will be my only blogumn this week, but it’s super-long, and I’ll be back next Monday.] Remember how last Tuesday, I said that an IVF pregnancy is very different from a non-IVF pregnancy? As it turns out, a IVF miscarriage is also very different from a non-IVF miscarriage. Thursday: I keep coming back to Thursday, because I don’t feel like getting out of bed. This is often the case on what I call “Is she still there” days —  days on which your fertility doctor checks that you are or still are pregnant. CH had to talk to me for 30 minutes on Monday, before convincing me to go in and get the blood test over with. And when I was pregnant with Betty, we had the “Why you should get out of bed” conversation for every single doctor’s appointment until I cleared my first two months and was transferred to a regular OB.  Basically, you don’t feel like getting out of bed, because what if it’s bad news? Why get out of bed for bad news? But we have a very busy day on Thursday. I read 100 pages of my non-fiction book, get out of bed, meet with a realtor about a business we’re looking to start, rush to the doctor’s office for the blood test, plug in a late article on FaN, promote Fierce and Nerdy, clock two pages on the 32 CANDLES screenplay — the next thing I knew it’s time to eat before my writing hours begin. I had resolved early in the year to do this pregnancy right, not to forget to eat as I had with Betty, to feed myself regularly and nutritiously. So when lunchtime rolls around, that means I watch a soap...

Don’t drop dead of shock, but I’ve found a new passion: cleaning. Yes, I said, cleaning. Did I just hear the thumps of several of my IRL friends as their bodies hit the floor. Dangit, I told you NOT to drop dead of shock. Let me explain how this all came about. First, due to a series of events that I won’t go into, we fired our increasing flaky bi-monthly housekeeper. Then after reading APARTMENT THERAPY, I came up with a simple plan to to keep our home clean. Simply vacuum and mop downstairs on Sundays, vacuum and mop upstairs on Mondays, pick up our room on Wednesdays, clean Betty’s room on Thursdays, no housework on Fridays or Saturdays. The minute you start feeling resentful or annoyed, I told myself, pick up the phone and call in a maid service. But to my great surprise, I didn’t feel resentful or annoyed. Here was the dealy, I got 30-60 minutes to myself after dinner (my MIL gladly volunteers to sit with Betty while I do this) to exercise in a way that didn’t really feel like exercise. Then when I was done with my cleaning for the day, I got the extra thrill of having accomplished a small, but meaningful task. So as often happens with me, my passing interest juggernauted into complete fascination. So  I ordered REAL SIMPLE: CLEANING from the library, a book about how to REALLY clean your house with natural or at the very least non-toxic products. I couldn’t wait to try it out. But then I was informed that I shouldn’t do anything even slightly strenuous until we found out whether I’m pregnant or not. I thought I would miss the picking my daughter up the most — and indeed I...

Sorry, sorry. Know I promised that T.E.’s blogumn, DIY NERD, would debut in this space today, but we’ve got to learn to do an audio edit right quick before it can. So now I’m forced to say come back next week for that. But this might be a good thing, since I wanted to get in one last IVF update before I go in for my big frozen embryo transfer on Friday. I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that things seem way more confusing this time. Last time, I had spent over a year trying to get pregnant: ovulation tracking, fertility tests, blood draws, failed IUIs, lots and lots of drugs with random side effects — I was trained up and ready to go. Also, I didn’t yet have a child, so if need be, both my husband and I could drop everything to get things done when they had to get done. Doing a frozen embryo transfer, is like saying, “Remember all that stuff you did two years ago? Do the last thirty days of it with no training, a second book to finish, and no husband to back you up (because he’s babysitting) — now! Now dropping everything, means dropping your baby, and you don’t want to drop your baby — she’s precious. So appointments that CH came with me to last time, he now spends at home with Betty. I find myself yo-yoing between extreme gratitude (yay we live in a time with IVF, yay we can afford IVF, yay I can hopefully squeeze this last baby out before going into promotional efforts for the next book –how convenient!), and mild resentment. IVF takes up so much time, it’s so invasive [there is no such thing as an appointment where...

So, I guess I’ll do my promised Mexican cruise article tomorrow, since as often happens with IVF, my period came and now my life is fully rotating around my ovulation cycle. It’s kind of like being in a two-week long episode of Private Practice, in which every test and exam has to happen NOW! NOW! NOW! as opposed to later when you have a nice hour or so block available. When I underwent IVF the first time, this wasn’t a problem, because at that point, CH and I had been trying to get pregnant for over a year-and-a-half. We were already well-used to not ever making firm morning plans, and dropping everything at a moment’s notice when I got the little happy face on my ovulation-testing stick. I had even developed systems (yes, systems!) for managing appointments and getting done everything I need to get done at my then-job. This time around, though, I’ve been constantly running after the dropped ball. I started unexpectedly spotting on Sunday, and I was surprised when CH asked me (as he never does unless we’re trying to conceive a baby w/ science) if I had started my period — he must have seen the newly-opened tampon box next to the toilet. I answered that I hadn’t expected it until Monday, but yes, it had just started. And he asked what we were supposed to do next. Now I know that having Baby #2 is important, but along with all the other stuff I have to keep straight including my writing schedule, day-to-day life, new business, and oh yeah, Baby #1, I have to admit that my answer was vague. Something along the lines of, “Dr. Koopersmith told me, but I’m having a little trouble remembering… Um, I think...