What happened

So what happened was, the Serb split. I did love him so, with all of his gypsy ways, but he never was going to stop smoking and we would have had a womb that smelled like a Turkish tea house.

So we searched and interviewed some more, and found BoyScout. He is a student at Rice, beautiful and tall and blond and extremely fit and smart. He was so weirdly, sweetly formal and consistent through the three months we worked with him, all "yes ma'am" and "anything I can do to help you ladies" with no irony at all, just a young man of his word trying to make sure he took care of his end of a business arrangement. In June it actually worked, and now here we are, knocked up with Russian royal and Austrialian prison-camp ancestor blood. He is totally uninterested except in the most chit-chatty, "are you feeling okay" way, and after we have this bebe and pay him, odds are Extremely High that we'll never hear from him again. Which is great.

And I feel fine, no pukiness, nothing really. I'm only at nine weeks so I know I have a long time to go but until I see anything different, I'm sticking with the idea that All Is Well and All Will Continue Apace, perfectly lovely and dreamy like today.

Thanks God, thanks donor, thanks Crisp, thanks job that gives me money to give to donor,  thanks to family members and friends who pushed us even when we were ready to give up. Yay.