(Thoughts written at the time):

We reached 6 weeks pregnant and I waited for the dreaded morning sickness to come. None came, but shortly after beginning the week, I was hit with a nasty cold. It’s the total worst – as much as I’m embracing being pregnant, it’d be nice to be able to take something to speed up my recovery. Instead, I must rest.

The bloating has begun, and my boobs are already ridiculous. Other than that, I’ve been doing okay. Every day is a day closer to the scan, which I’m most excited about. I know that hearing that heartbeat gives us a 90-95% chance of taking home a baby. Oh how I want to hear it.

For now, have a picture of our weird little moon crater offspring:

Isn’t that wild? That’s a picture of our embryo freshly thawed on the day it was transferred to my uterus. It blows my mind to have such a tangible reminder that this future person started as this tiny clump of cells.

Today, at 6+4, our babe is the size of a chocolate chip, a pea, a ladybug, a grain of rice, a smartie. The apps all have different cute size reference points, and I have all the apps.

The baby is growing organs and has eyes that can’t quite see yet, and may already apparently be waving its little nubby arms and legs around. This is all super surreal to me. Apart from the little bloated belly (which to be honest, I’ve always had a fat tum), and the tiredness, I don’t really feel any different. I’m still on estradiol and progesterone for 4 more weeks, and I’ve just started separate folic acid and iodine instead of my expensive prenatal, so I currently take about 11 pills a day.

I can’t wait for the first scan, and to reach that 12 week point, too. I think I’ll be forever counting milestones until we feel like we’re “in the clear”. But maybe I’ll never feel really in the clear. It took so much heartache to get here, there’s a part of me expecting failure and devastation.

I pray every day that this pregnancy continues.