My frozen embryo transfer wasn’t even a week ago, and I won’t technically find out for another five days if I’m pregnant — but I totally know I’m pregnant. I know this makes people uncomfortable. Not that I’m pregnant, but that I’m convinced that I am before it can be confirmed. I tell people in person and they look at my with almost-pity, as if their faces are saying, “Oh, you poor thing. You want to be pregnant so badly that you’re convincing yourself that you are.” I get it.
And I do want to be pregnant so badly.
But after experiencing the symptoms of a successful embryo transfer, along with my latest confirming symptom, I am confident in proclaiming that I know I’m pregnant.
What’s this latest symptoms I speak of, you ask?
Well, my ridiculously keen, acute, and powerful sense of smell, of course.
It started the other day, and I didn’t want to get too excited about it just yet. I naturally have a really good sniffer. In fact, there’s a running joke about my “go-go Gadget nose.” But then it happened again. And then again. And again.
First, it was my wife’s coffee. She wakes up way earlier than I do and kindly closes our bedroom door while I continue to sleep for an hour and a half. Never before have I been able to smell her freshly brewed coffee until after I come out of the bedroom (Of course, she’s long gone by then, as is the coffee). But the other morning, I could smell it so distinctly that I was actually woken up by it.
Then. It was the heat in my car, specifically the defrost (Why I still have to turn on the heat in my car this far into April is a sore subject…). As I was driving to work, I could smell the inner workings of the heating system — whatever that is. Again, I’ve never smelled this before.
Then. Another day while driving in the car — with my windows up — I smelled a cigarette. I looked around to see who in the car next to me was smoking, and no one was. When the light turned green, I noticed the woman two cars ahead of me, toss out her butt into the street (Why more people don’t get ticketed for littering their cigarette butts is another sore subject…).
Then. Today at work, I was snacking on these until-now delicious grapes. I kept getting this whiff of a dish towel. I smelled my hands a few times, thinking it was maybe them. But I soon realized it was the grapes. After I had originally rinsed them when I brought them home from the store, I placed them to dry on one of my dish towels. It was clean, of course. But dish towels still have that deep-set smell about them. Well, I could smell the dish towel that the grapes had dried on. I mean, come on.
I’m totally pregnant.
If it somehow outrageously turns out that I am NOT pregnant, I can assure you that I will seek the help of an otorhinolaryngologist. And possibly a psychiatrist…