Because I was desperately missing my blog and twitter outlet during the whole "try to keep this GIANT NEWS a secret for three entire months" time frame, I kept a brief diary in my kickass iPhone.
Here are my earliest entries:
Miss Sarcasm arrived to visit me last night! We went to dinner and ate unpasteurized cheese and drank a glass of wine. "Are you pregnant?" the waiter asked. Nope! Bring on the bacteria cheese and alcohol!
But in the back of my mind? My period was due today... and yet, no sign of it...
Ok no period. Must go to the drug store. Then shopping and lunch with Miss Sarcasm!
I thought I'd take the test later tonight, once we went to bed. But when I got home from lunch, I just couldn't wait any longer. So I peed. And guess what.
|1-2 what? Children?|
HOLY FUCK. I was totally not expecting that. I even bought 2 tests, because I'd need one of them next time, right? Doesn't it take months and months to get pregnant? It's been maybe three months. And I'm pretty sure we didn't even understand the precise timing requirements for the first two months. So lucky...
And of course I couldn't even wait two minutes to tell Hubby. Even though he was in the bathroom.
"Hubby! Come out! I have something to tell you!"
When he walked out, I just said it. "I'm pregnant!" Then I hysterically laughed and waved a pee stick in his face and he just shouted "Are you serious?!" over and over while I freaked out.
(Then for about 2 weeks after that, every single time he and I caught each other's eye, we'd raise our eyebrows, pull our cheeks back showing our teeth, and inhale deeply, to reveal an awkward panicked smile-type laugh. Every. Single. Time.)
Oh, poor Hubby has to scoop the kitty litter. SUCKER.
Turns out, though, that I have to give up ALL THE THINGS. What the fuck? I can't even have a scalding hot bath - my favourite type of bath. And yummy bacteria cheese? Gone. And WINE. I can't even talk about wine.
On the up-side, I get to use pregnancy as an excuse for pretty much everything. So there's that.
I'm a mess. Fucking student doctor scaring the shit out of me and still managing to NOT answer a single one of my questions directly. I'm surely guilty for anything that goes wrong. This is too much responsibility.
And the hormones begin! So emotional. Freak out at work and irritable with Hubby too. Not that that's any different, really, come to think of it.
Otherwise? No symptoms! No sore nipples, no sickness, no anything. I'm like one of those freaks who wouldn't know she's pregnant until a baby appeared in the toilet. (Which SERIOUSLY happened to a girl at my office. She really just thought she'd gained weight and had stomach problems. Until she gave birth in her bathroom. Then she called her mom. WHOA.)
I have to keep reminding myself that I haven't had my period. That's really the only proof for christsakes.
I can't poop! That is so not like me. I'm a pooping expert.
And a nosebleed? What the fuck is that?
But Hubby found a random sign today, which is super exciting.
It's a sad day when I have to eat my cats' Metamucil.
I told hubby I wanted a girl. A boy would be fine too, but I don't know what to do with a boy. Changing a diaper with one of those little things pointing at me would be super weird.
Later, Hubby spent a good five minutes crawling around on the kitchen floor, following me as I walked around, trying to hook my feet with the long string that he pulled out of his hoodie. Aaaannnddd this what having boys is like, then?
Are you in there little fetus? In 9 months will you come greet us? I will buy you some Adidas...
More to come! Let the illness begin...