Motherland, Day 9: She sells sea shells

... and squid and octopus and jumping shrimps and wiggly crabs and creepy eels and red fish and white fish and yellow fish and more.

I tried snail/escargot for the first time today at the Wuchi fishing port and market. I also saw a whole lot of sea creatures I've never seen before. We walked around the back and were able to see a little of the processing. Customers were choosing big fish, and the workers would use a saw to slice them.

After the fish market, we headed toward some windmills we'd seen in the distance. It turned out there was a little walking park along the shore, so we stopped and walked a bit. Fresh air, waves crashing, a little rain spray. It was calming.

I made it on the right train this time, transferred to the MRT (subway) and got off at the correct station. I even followed the signs to the right exit. But my most proud moment was orienting once I emerged from the station. I could see the signs for my street, but I didn't know which direction to turn. It's been overcast most days, and without the sun, my sense of direction is handicapped. I was about to head left, when I noticed a slight difference between the street signs: One had an "E" after it, and the other had a "W." I knew my destination was east, so I turned right instead and as I walked, started seeing familiar landmarks.

Tomorrow we head to Hualien, city of my birth. Part of me feels a little numb to my adoption process right now; part of me recognizes this is a pretty momentous homecoming. This weekend I luxuriated in "tourist" mode. Tomorrow, will I feel Taiwanese?

Motherland, Day 7-8: Down the coast, up the mountain

Yesterday, I made my way to the MRT station, rode up to Taipei main station, and got on the high speed rail to Taichung. The high-speed rail is really fast! Apparently, the drive to Taichung would normally take 3 hours. My ride was about 40 minutes.

Today started with a Taiwanese breakfast (pancake rolled up with ham and vegetables). Then we drove into the mountains, where the views were incredible. Lush like Jamaica, clouded and mysterious like a scene from Ang Lee's Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, open and delightful like a scene from the Sound of Music -- unique to Taiwan. We ended up at a park called Sun Link Sea (Sun Lin Xi) and took a $40 NT bus ride as far as it would go. Then we hiked up the rest of the way on our own. My Canon battery started to crap out, so thank goodness I had both that and my iPhone. Words can't describe it. And pictures cannot capture the depth of texture, the fresh smell, the cool dampness, the sounds of water falling and frogs calling.

I thought we might never get out of the park because every minute, I felt compelled to take more pictures! But finally we headed down the mountain to make our dinner reservation: a hot pot restaurant called Shabu Shabu. Seriously, I cannot believe we do not have one of these where I live -- someone could make a lot of money off it. It's like Hu Hot meets Chinese buffet meets teppanyaki dinner. You order your broth of choice, and it fits into a burner on the table. Meanwhile, you choose whatever you want to put in your hot pot -- vegetables, tofu, meat, dumplings. While you're waiting for your hot pot to cook, you can enjoy a variety of buffet dishes. Fruits, vegetables, sushi, dim sum, dumplings, soup, hot cooked food ... the choices seem endless. Like any good Chinese buffet, ice cream is included. This one also had a chocolate fountain and display case of fancy desserts. Simply overwhelming.

Originally we planned to go to an outdoor concert, but it seemed awfully chilly for that. So instead, we headed back to my buddy's house, and she took me on my first Taiwanese motorbike ride! It was so fun! We stopped at a fruit market and then a pet store ("fish middle fish" was the literal translation of the characters, but I think it means something like the best fish of the best). Now I know where all the Taiwanese get their dog sweaters. And dog strollers. And fish. And shrimp. And frogs. And turtles. And hampsters. And ferrets. Yes, ferrets.

Of course, on the way home, we stopped for bubble tea. Any weight I gain on this trip is totally in bubble tea. I mostly get it without milk to cut some calories, but I just cannot resist. It's soooooooooooooo good!

Tomorrow, we are headed to some fishing area. It will be neat to see the coast. Then back to Taipei. I am having an amazing time. Conquering so many fears -- of heights, of strange foods, of new people and experiences. It's exhilarating.

 

Motherland, Day 4: Drama and a 10-course dinner

Well, you can't stick a group of women together without some drama, especially when they are crammed three to a room. I think because I am somewhat an outsider, some people have felt more comfortable confiding in me. It's flattering but also frustrating because I am anti-drama in my own life.

Anyway, everything worked out. We got a new room and now I only have one roommate (woo-hoo!). It was just a lot to take care of today.

The reflexologist came and presented to our class this morning. I have an individual appointment with him tomorrow evening, and now I'm freaked out. They call it foot "massage," which might be a stretch. There is a three-pronged tool involved and a lot of poking and knuckles pushing into spots in the foot.

Tonight, we were treated to dinner at a Japanese restaurant, Ichiro. It was the fanciest, most beautiful and amazing dinner I have ever had. The hospitality and generosity of our Taiwanese hosts is humbling.

I also had a chance to talk to the woman who organized our trip. She asked my story, and I shared. She seemed particularly interested when she learned I was descended of native Taiwanese; specifically the Amis. She said I should be proud of my Amis heritage. She said the culture is matrilineal -- run by women :) So it is unlikely, she thought, that I would have been placed for adoption because of being a girl. She did mention that back in that period, sometimes young Amis girls were sold into prostitution by family members. That could jive with information someone told me long ago that my birth mother may have been a prostitute.

Tomorrow, before I visit the foot doctor, I am headed to meet the intermediary who works for the Child and Juvenile Adoption Information Center. I feel so spoiled and flattered at the same time -- two new Taiwanese friends are going to accompany me to this meeting. I don't know if there will be any new information, but maybe she will give me names or something.

All in all, another good day.

Motherland, Day 3: Solo exploration

Yesterday was so draining, I opted to indulge in alone time today. The architecture in Taipei is an eclectic mix. Slums next to condos that look like they could belong on the Champs Elysee, art deco here and there, along with sleek high rise businesses.

Wandering on foot, I ended up on a main roadway that had mechanics shops and even a gas station. Eventually, I ran right into Dongmen Station, which happened to be featured on the cover of my tourist map. It abuts the Yongkang Street commercial district. I stopped in a tea store and an antique store and a little snack market. The best find, though, was a bookstore. I enjoyed browsing the magazine section.

A funny thing happened when I stopped to order bubble tea. The sales person, upon figuring out I didn't speak Mandarin, began to speak English to me. He raised his voice and exaggerated the sounds -- like you might do for a hearing impaired person. I have observed that in the U.S., for example, when people speak to individuals for whom English is a second language. Not sure how yelling improves comprehension, though .... especially when you're yelling in my language.

I tried to get a phone today. Huge disappointment. Long story short -- AT&T and Apple blow. My iPhone is locked and won't work with a pay-as-you-go Taiwan SIM card.

I walked off my disappointment, heading east and then turning south down a main thoroughfare with wide, tree lined sidewalks. I saw rows and rows of bicycles that turned out to be in front of two schools. The bikes got progressively smaller in front of the elementary school. Then I realized there was a huge beautiful park across the street. Even though I was getting pretty tired, I really wanted to check it out. I'm glad I did. It was such a peaceful oasis in the middle of the city. No rushing. People just strolling or sitting on benches. I saw several professional-looking photographers; I wonder if it's a popular spot for shoots.

At our "process time" this evening, we talked about sticking out. Today I made tremendous progress in feeling comfortable here. When I wanted to blend in, I would simply respond to the sales people with "hi," which is common here. When I wanted to avoid the awkward one-sided Mandarin exchanges, I would say "hello" when I entered a store. That is not common, and let them know immediately I did not speak their language. This helped me feel more in control of my identity -- at least helping to manage people's expectations of me.

Today I stretched my legs -- literally and figuratively -- and it felt good.

Yongkang Street

Children at Da'an Park

Motherland, Day 2: Making friends

Today started kind of slow for me. Even on the other side of the world, I am still not a morning person. And being a non-morning person in a group of 20 up-and-at-em types was pretty overwhelming. We went to the National Palace Museum. The museum was crowded. The artifacts were interesting, but it was hard being part of a group tour and not being able to browse like I would prefer. The crowds were not as bad as Versailles, but it was enough to discourage me from staying the rest of the afternoon.

Instead, I joined a group headed to Tamsui. Best decision I could have made! We had five Taiwanese student escorts -- they were delightful. I didn't catch all of their names, but their accompaniment was so comforting -- and entertaining!

My first impression of Tamsui was that it was beautiful -- perhaps even more because of the misty day. The river runs along one side. The mountains on across the river were capped by clouds. On the other side is a huge market! I tried so many new foods today. I had quail eggs, fried squid, candied tomatoes, fried mushrooms, and a couple of Tamsui specialties: Ah Gei and iron eggs.

On the train from Tamsui back to Gutang, I ended up standing with all the Taiwanese students. It was interesting to learn about their families -- how many kids, what their parents did, where they grew up. Somehow the discussion evolved to gender roles and cultural expectations in Taiwan. It was really fascinating to dig a little deeper, to find out what their hopes were -- particularly the female students.

Walking back to our lodgings, someone pointed out a chops shop. The next thing I knew, I was whisked into the shop and five people were helping me choose a name and chop for Miss M! I chose a name that sounds like Mei Rei. Mei is "plum," literally, but it means resilience -- it's the national plant for the country and is apparently able to grow in many conditions. The particular Rei I chose means "heart of the flower." My daughter completes my heart, and I look forward to seeing how she blossoms.

I thought choosing a name would be the hardest part; I didn't realize how many other choices go into selecting a chop. I could not have done it without the guidance of my new Taiwanese friends. If only I could remember their names! Tomorrow I will have to ask them to write them down for me. I just cannot remember things I hear, particularly in a different language!

Candied strawberries and tomatoes

Tamsui market

Miss M's first word

"Uh-oh," she said, looking at me after chucking her toy off the changing table. I wasn't sure I heard her right, so I picked up the toy and gave it back to her. "Uh-oh," she repeated when the toy hit the floor again.

And did I mention she is crawling?!

Once in a lifetime ...

Eiffel Tower, check. Champs-Élysées, check. Notre Dame, Versailles, Moulin Rouge. Check, check, check.

What an amazing trip this has been. And what an amazing international traveler our not-so-little tax break turned out to be. Of course, I hope I'm not jinxing us. We do still have to get back to the U.S. with our sanity intact.

Yesterday, we braved Paris without our hosts and tour guides (my best friend and her husband). We took the RER into the city and hopped the Metro to the Louvre. It took some creativity to get the stroller out of the Metro station; the exit we ended up at wasn't wide enough, so we had to break it down and squeeze through the gate.

After a wonderful lunch of pasta, scallops, wine, beer, coffee and people-watching, we walked over to the Louvre and were surprised to see the Eiffel Tower again in the distance. We took in the scenery for quite a while, and when we were sure we were done marveling at the magnificent surroundings, we walked over to the museum entrance ... only to discover it's closed on Tuesdays.

So, we decided to check out the Moulin Rouge (one of my favorite movies) instead. We bought some gelato and asked for directions. Two trains later, we emerged to a scene that juxtaposed beautiful French buildings with seedy signs for sex shops. It looked like the right area, but I couldn't see the red windmill. We took a guess and walked down the parkway where it looked like lots of other people were going. Then we saw a street headed up a steep hill packed with tourists. I figured we must be getting close. When we got to the top of the street, instead of the cabaret, we saw a gorgeous church! We had stumbled instead upon the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur at Montmartre. The steep stairs were impossible with a stroller, but then we saw a lift ... and it took our Metro tickets. Voila!

After admiring the view, we rode back downhill, bought a Coke and asked for directions to the Moulin Rouge. First left and second right, he said. That put us back where we came from, just headed the opposite direction. So we bought a postcard and asked again. It turned out we had just gone the wrong direction when we emerged from the subway. I should have guessed when the sex shops faded out that we were getting colder!

We continued down the parkway, and sure enough, there it was. Just like the pictures. But real. By this time, we were tired and Miss M was hungry. So we sat at a bar and fed her.

Did I mention I've become a public nurser? Something about the anonymity of the big city makes me more comfortable nursing in public. I never thought I would be one of "those" women, but when you have no private place to go and your child is hungry, you do what you have to do! I always use a cover -- I finally splurged on one I really like, and I think that helps my comfort level, too. (Before I was using a hand-me-down.)

Armed with my Hooter Hider, I nursed Miss M on the Champs-Élysées, on a bridge overlooking the River Seine in view of Notre Dame, in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, at the gardens of Versailles, in the Louvre, and outside a bar steps from the Moulin Rouge. Where we saw, she nursed.

Tomorrow we fly back to reality. I'm sad to leave my best friend and sad to end this exhilarating experience, but grateful to have had it.

Where in the world?

Miss M completed her first transatlantic flight this weekend. It was the first of a few travel milestones she would sleep through, including a tour of the Château de Fontainebleau yesterday and lunch on the Champs-Élysées today. She did wake up today in time for a few pictures in front of the Arc de Triomphe, the second half of our stroll down the Champs-Élysées and dessert at Haagen Das.

In other news, Miss M has started raising herself up on her hands and knees and creeping backwards!

More adventures ahead!

ETA: This was written May 12, but for some reason didn't post until the 18th. Sorry about that!

"She's complete."

Already, everything about pregnancy, labor and delivery is blurring in my mind, so I figured I'd better record Miss M's birth story while I can still remember a few of the gory details.

My OB checked me internally for the first time at my 39-week appointment Sept. 9. It hurt so bad, I couldn't help crying out loud. (Sorry to whoever was in the next exam room!) Afterward, she told me I was 3 cm and 75% effaced. That was great news, but she was careful to caution me that it didn't mean anything as far as when the baby would arrive. She did say that it could mean my labor would go more quickly.

I left the appointment feeling encouraged that my body seemed to have a general idea of how to get a baby out. That afternoon, I went back to work and barely noticed any cramping. Walking to my car after work, I realized my lower back was kind of achy, in a PMS sort of way. But I thought it was due to the exam and figured a soak in the tub would feel good.

I'm not sure how long I was in the bathtub. Long enough for Chris to grill me two hotdogs, and for me to eat them in the tub. Also long enough for me to realize I was having contractions. After about three sharp, low cramps, I started timing them. At 15 minutes apart, they were regular enough for me to allow myself to acknowledge I could be in early labor. But I kept thinking about my best friend, who had contractions five minutes apart for two days before the hospital would admit her. So I prepared myself for the long haul.

By 9 p.m., the contractions were 6-8 minutes apart, and I was pretty uncomfortable. I called L&D to see what to do. The nurse wasn't encouraging. She said I could come in, and they could check me, but they hated to have to send me home. She recommended trying to get some sleep and seeing if the contractions slowed down. If my water broke, or the contractions sped up to 3-5 minutes apart, then she said I should come in.

All it took was the threat of another internal exam to make me determined to wait it out at home as long as possible. We went to bed, and I went to sleep ... in 6- to 8-minute increments. Waking up in the middle of a contraction is no fun. I remember trying to get on my hands and knees to rock through the contractions. The worst were the ones where I didn't wake up in time and was stuck on my side unable to move through the pain.

Around midnight I got up, and decided to try to walk the dog. I only made it one house down the road before doubling over again in pain. As soon as the contraction ended, I hightailed it back to the house. The next contraction had me in tears, and I told Chris we were going to the hospital immediately.

The ride to the hospital was awful. Every turn, every little bump in the road was excruciating, and I kept telling Chris to slow down. Then I'd want him to speed up so we could get there faster. Thank goodness it was the middle of the night, and no one was following us.

Checking in seemed to take forever, even though the only waiting was for me to be able to answer questions between contractions. You know how it is when the dental hygienist tries to make conversation while cleaning your teeth? Or when you take a big bite of food just as the waitress stops by to ask how you're doing? Check-in was like that, except instead of a mouth full of food or floss, I had a uterus full of pain. The best part was posing for a lovely headshot that was printed on one of the four wristbands I got to wear.

I lost track of time, but I know it was sometime around 1 a.m. when we checked in because when I asked what date it was, I was surprised to hear Sept. 10. At this point, all I could think was that they had better admit me. By the time a doctor came in, I told him if I wasn't in labor, I needed him to give me something to make the pain stop. Lucky for me, he said I was 4 cm, 100% effaced, and I'd be having a baby today.

By this time, every contraction had me writhing and moaning in pain. Getting admitted was Step 1. But I still had to get an IV and have bloodwork done before I could get my epidural. The doctor was kind enough to offer some morphine while I waited for the good drugs. It took the edge off, but not the pain. (Although I sure would have liked to had it before the nurse took three tries to insert my IV.)

The anesthesiologist -- I mean, the epidural he delivered -- was amazing. The relief was immediate. When they checked me after, I was 5 cm. The doctor broke my water and said he would wait a couple of hours to see how I progressed before deciding if I needed pitocin. He recommended getting some sleep, but I was too excited. Two hours later, about 6:30 a.m., I was 6 cm. He seemed pleasantly surprised; I was relieved and finally passed out.

About an hour later, I woke up when a new nurse came in. I asked her how long she thought my labor might be. She said if I continued to dilate a centimeter an hour, they'd consider that good progress. I did the math and hoped I'd have my baby before the end of the day so my doctor, who I adore, could deliver her.

Just then, my OB arrived. She checked me, turned to the nurse and said, "She's complete." I think we were all surprised. The nurse had just came on and was still getting her stuff in order. I was still waking up. My doctor was headed into a busy morning of clinic appointments. But just like that, it was time to push.

You have to know, at my first OB appointment, I expressed my two fears. One, that the epidural wouldn't work. (Thankfully, it did!) My second fear was that the baby would get stuck. It happened to a friend of mine -- she pushed for three hours before being rushed to the OR for an emergency c-section.

My baby was at zero station, and my OB said I had a ways to go. So I was prepared for the worst. Thankfully, I was in the hands of an experienced, calm, compassionate nurse. She was by far the best nurse I had during my entire stay. I owe my positive delivery experience to her.

Back when they broke my water, they learned the baby had already passed meconium. Both nurses and my OB talked to me about what this meant and prepared me for what would happen when she was born. I'm grateful they took the time to do that.

The atmosphere in the room was calm and quiet. With the exception of spotlights turned on my hoo-hah at some point, the only light was natural morning light through the windows. Pushing took all of my energy, and in between, I laid back with my eyes closed. I only spoke to answer direct questions; toward the end, I'm not sure if I even did that.

I pushed for an hour and 45 minutes, but I had no sense of time passing -- it seemed to fly by. The nurse adjusted the bed several times until I was at an angle she liked. She said my contractions were really long, and had me do four, 10-second pushes each time. At some point, she got a towel and had Chris stand between my legs holding the ends. She had me grab the middle and told me to try to pull him on top of me while I was pushing. It worked.

Everything happened so fast at the end, what sticks in my mind are a few random details. I remember my OB was already in the room when they were paging her for the delivery. I remember feeling something coming out so suddenly I sat up and yelled -- not from pain, but from the surprise of it. When I looked down, I saw a gray Gollum-looking thing slide out. They immediately whisked her away to a side room, where I later learned they intubated her twice to remove meconium. A few minutes (moments?) later, we heard strong cries, and they asked my husband to come over.

What happened next is documented in pictures I didn't see until a week after she was born -- Chris meeting the baby, Chris cutting what was left of the cord, Chris holding the baby for the first time. I remember a nurse relaying what she could see. "He looks so scared!" Then I remember him bringing her to me. In the pictures, I still have a washcloth on my forehead (pushing gave me a headache). I am holding her little hand. She is quiet, wide-eyed, looking at me. I remember saying I didn't want to let them take her, but they were anxious to get her to the nursery to check her thoroughly and make sure she was OK.

After they left, I remember the doctors were stitching me up. They said I had a second-degree tear, and they were using words like "rectal sphincter," which scared the bejeezus out of me. I was so afraid of feeling any pain, I kept trying to push the epidural button, but I couldn't get anymore drugs. Thankfully, I couldn't actually feel any pain. Just pressure. It was weird.

I must have catnapped after that. But the next thing I remember is Chris coming back with the baby. The nurse told me he was on his way, and I was sitting up in anticipation. I hope I never forget the feeling that came over me when he walked around the curtain into view with our baby. The most intense love, pride, joy, hope. We were complete. I was complete.

Overwhelmed with love

Today was my baby shower, and words cannot describe how grateful and appreciative and loved it made me feel to be surrounded by so many people who care about us. Yes, we need stuff, and the generosity of friends and family far exceeded anything I could have imagined. But above all, I was overwhelmed that so many people would take the time to even attend a party just for me and the baby. Amazing.

I can only hope this baby grows up to have friends even half as wonderful as mine.

Be still, my beating heart

I was wishy-washy on whether or not I wanted to do a 3D ultrasound. Maybe it's true that parents are blind to their children's unattractiveness. But I always thought other people's 3D pictures looked pretty creepy.

Anyway, after seeing our darling girl in 3D, I am so glad we did it. Even though the photos didn't turn out, it was worth it for this six seconds of video.

As good as it gets?

Just a few days from the two-thirds mark, and I figure I better document now what is probably about as good as pregnancy is going to get for me.

Really, I can't complain too much. Yeah, it sucks that I can't stop peeing when all I really want to do is poop. And it sucks that I still can't stand to watch TV at night (it gives me headaches). But really, this is a pretty cool time. I'll probably jinx myself if I start listing all the pregnancy problems I'm not suffering from (yet?) ... so suffice to say I am feeling like I think a normal pregnant woman should. Nothing worse, nothing better. It feels good to be average :-)

Right now, as I type, I can watch my belly move up and down. Baby girl's just saying hello, I guess. My belly button is stretching out, which has created this weirdly sensitive soft spot. It's soft to the touch and tickles if I brush against anything (which happens frequently -- I swear, the bathroom stalls are shrinking!).

We have lots to do, and I keep thinking I should be taking advantage of my mobility to be more productive. But for now, I'm just going to enjoy a lazy Saturday with my feet up.

And the veil lifts

Yesterday afternoon, just as the sun was beginning to show its face, I suddenly realized I no longer felt like I wanted to die. Yeah, I'm still hurling morning and night. But at least I don't want to die.

That's how bad it's been these past several weeks. Day after day, night after night, praying to the porcelain god for relief. I found much sympathy from friends who have suffered through "morning" sickness, yet wondered: How come nobody talks about this before you get pregnant?

Maybe they're right, I'll forget how miserable I've been once this is over. But I have the memory of an elephant, and I've already told the boy I'm done. This is it. Sorry, but I can't do this again.

Now that the veil of death is beginning to lift, and since we broke the news publicly last week, it's beginning to feel more real. "I'm pregnant." Two words I never thought I'd put together, and yet every time I repeat it to someone new, it starts to feel more real. Oh yeah, and I'm busting out of my clothes. No denying or hiding that.

Guess it's time to go shopping.

Hello, fetal pole!

Yesterday we had our first ultrasound. It was -- still is -- surreal. We saw the yolk sac, fetal pole and fluttering heartbeat. Really, we saw a blurry blob with a quivering middle, but the ultrasound tech assured us it contained all those parts.

It's measuring right on time: 6 weeks, 5 days. Expected due date = Sept. 15.

One more milestone down. Countless more to go.

One step forward

Today I got the results of my second beta HCG test. The results were near perfect.

CD 30 = 514
CD 34 = 2440

The doctor is looking for my levels to be doubling every 48 hours. And I'm right on track. Actually a wee bit ahead of the curve.

It's hard to restrain my excitement about that good news. Obviously it's still way early. But ... Yay!

Our first ultrasound is scheduled for Jan. 25.

Believe it or not

This afternoon, for only the second time in my life, a Clear Blue Digital test glowed "Pregnant" at me.

The first time was yesterday morning.

In between the two digital tests, I also peed on two regular pregnancy tests. Both showed faint, but distinct second pink lines.

So, four over-the-counter tests have confirmed what I hope will stick: My first pregnancy. The result of 14 months' collaboration by doctors, nurses, lab techs, pharmacists, my dear husband and myself.

Yesterday, I was so certain the test would be negative -- only 11 days past the IUI (10 days past ovulation?) and at least three, if not five, days before I expected my period. Anyway, I was so certain, I hopped in the shower without even waiting for the test result.

My husband, let's call him Chris, got out of the shower before me, but when I asked him what it said, he simply replied, "Let's wait and look together."

I finally finished, wrapped myself in a towel and padded over to the bathroom counter. There was no uncertainty, no pink line to analyze. Just a digital screen glaring "Pregnant." Chris started doing some victory dance, but suddenly, I was so overcome by emotion, I just started crying. No, sobbing. Uncontrollably. Chris picked me up and hugged me so hard. But I couldn't stop. Getting here has been so hard.

All these months, I have been trying not to torture myself by imagining what it would be like. And now I am. Pregnant. Just like that. Other than my nipples feeling like they're pressed against blocks of ice, I feel pretty normal. A little backache and some bloating, but nothing that couldn't be blamed on PMS or too much Chinese food.

Thursday I go for a blood test, and 48 hours later for a second blood test to measure my HCG levels and make sure this is real.

I still can't believe it.