Month 1

So today gives me almost incontrovertable confirmation that the only thing I'll get this month out of all this baby planning is a set of super-strong fingernails. I wasn't really expecting to turn up pregnant just three weeks after tossing the birth control. But there was still this hope/fear that I would be like one of those women who falls ass backward into pregnancy. I reckon I've got about six months of trying before the failure to "catch" puts a lump in my throat.

Women with short or weak nails really should tell their doctors they want to have a baby. I've been on prenatals for about three months and I think I could dig a house foundation with my bare hands. It's a great living example of how what goes in your mouth determines everything about your body. No one believes that more than I do. And yet, it's easy to lose sight of it.

Today I found a mouse hanging out in our guest room. He(?) was just sitting there next to the big puffy reading chair. I contemplated chasing him. I contemplated feeding him. Ultimately I just shut the door so that Zoe wouldn't eat him and left for work. Even if I didn't pity him (which I did, he's so tiny) I didn't want Zoe to eat him. She could get bitten or catch something from him. Not that she was battering down the door. When I found him she was lying in the hallway, mousie in clear view. I spent today telling people about the mouse, and the universal reaction was revulsion. I'm missing some sort of trigger. The sight of a mouse doesn't upset me at all. They don't seem any different than a gerbil or a hamster, just smaller. I understand... blah blah blah disease. But I feel more grossed out and exposed on the subway on any given day than I do by the sight of a 4 oz. mouse ten feet away from me. Damon wanted to get a trap. My reaction to that was swift and negative, so we've agreed that he will caulk or otherwise fill around the radiator pipes where they lead into the apartment. This is surely where he wandered in from.