We made it to 12 weeks. Next week will be the next major milestone, but I think most of the anxiety is gone by now. It's hard to be anxious when you're just trying to make time pass and stay hydrated. Lots of Netflix shows were watched. The good news is the 24/7 sickness has improved significantly, at least to the point that I no longer feel like primordial slime sitting on the sofa, drooling into a bowl. Zofran has pooped out completely, so I just stopped taking it. It's still rare that I get through the day without puking at all, but we're down to several non-eventful rounds on an empty stomach in the morning, and at least one like clockwork around 3 PM. Occasionally I've even felt good. This morning I was actually able to do some house chores faster than a terminally ill Galapagos tortoise. I still have the car stocked with paper cups though, because there is usually at least one good retch-fest on the way home from church. It's all about strategy.
Still no bleeding, no spotting, no cramping, and no drama. No periodic useless visits to the ER. This progesterone stuff seems to be working.
By the way, if this works, we're done. I can't do this primordial slime routine with a small child around, at least not until we can afford an awesome nanny. We may still pursue the adoption angle. We'll see. At the moment, I'm more concerned with finding something inoffensive and semi-liquid for breakfast tomorrow.