Because Baseball Is Life

Well, it's official. Early miscarriage it is. My blood tests came back and my hormone levels are dropping, which is a sure sign this pregnancy is not viable. Which means we are now at Uterus Alert Level Orange: Experiencing Pain; Watching For Bleeding, Nausea or Light-Headedness.

For those of you out there who are getting sick of Uterus Watch 2006, don't worry. We are nearing the end. But before we get there, I have to relay my latest theory. Well, it's not so much a theory as an analogy I was making to Mama Jo that went very, very wrong, very very quickly. See, Mama Jo has been out of town and thus has been getting her Uterus Alerts by e-mail. When I sent her the latest information, she was quite concerned about my ability to have more children. Well, like I said yesterday, the doctor is not so much concerned about this. But in explaining it to her, well....I got a little creative with the visual imagery. Here's what I told her:

We already discussed it. The "blighted ovum" and the "early miscarriage" are completely separate animals, so he sees no reason to be concerned yet. Plus, he doesn't start worrying about my ability to conceive and carry a child to term until I have three failed pregnancies. (Three strikes and I'm out, I guess... Don't know how that works, though, considering a baseball analogy makes Oscar the pitcher and me the catcher. Oh...I guess his sperm is the ball and my egg is the batter. Okay, I've got it now. It's not so much that I'M out as my eggs are out. Or my uterus. Whatever. The point is, I suppose the next time I have to clearly communicate the proper pitch to Oscar? And if the batter fouls out again, we'll have a conference on the mound. Heh. I said "mound." Ahem. Anyway.)

Yeah, so I'm twelve. Whatever. At least I've regained my sense of humor about this whole thing.