You know that TV show "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant"? I always gave those women the benefit of the doubt. Whenever my friends, family, or coworkers made fun of the show, I'd say, "You know, not every pregnancy is the same. They might not know! They might not be as in tune with their bodies as other people! It might have been a totally weird pregnancy!" Most people would change the subject or more on. But I held fast to the idea that sometimes, you really didn't know you were pregnant.
On February 10, I knew I was pregnant. Before I even peed on the stick. I knew it was completely as I knew the sky was blue and that gravity works. I just knew. Partly, this was because I felt awful; secondly, it was because the weekend before I had had multiple scream-crying jags aimed at poor Danny (we will laugh about those someday, I'm sure). There is nothing quite like acting like a huge asshole to make you think something is seriously wrong with me.
And what was seriously wrong with me was a tiny embryo doing its thing inside my uterus.
By February 11, I knew for sure I was pregnant. I took a special digital pregnancy test and everything.
This is stick that I peed on.
I mean, look at that read out. That's for sure. The first test I took was negative; however, I was not deterred. I took another test the next morning and it had an extremely light plus sign. I made it through an entire day at work (give me props, right now, for this feat, because seriously) and bought these digital read outs. When it was for sure, I immediately told my mom. Because who else would I tell?
The next few days felt so surreal. I called and made a doctor's appointment for March 5. It felt like so far away and I wanted to know, immediately, ASAP. Looking back (and knowing how far along I am now), I was only about 2.5 weeks when I tested--that's so early!!
That first week, it felt like I had new symptoms everyday: none of my bras fit; I was exhausted; my stomach hurt; my body cramped at random times; I couldn't stand the smell of coffee; all I wanted was a hamburger; ranch dressing started to taste horrible; the smell of fried food literally made me gag. And yet, I couldn't tell anyone. I hadn't even technically missed a period yet.
I don't know how Danny and I kept our secret for nearly a month. I told my coworker, Meredith. We told Danny's brother Nate and Nate's wife, Amy. We planned a surprise for Danny's parents when they visited in March. I bought prenatal vitamins, registered at Target for baby stuff, looked sadly at the stack of stuff in what will be the baby's room and considered moving it. I wore leggings nearly everyday, stocked up on comfy sweatshirts, and wondered when morning sickness would kick in.
Congratulations! It's a jellybean! (It's says "hi Grandma!" because my mom ended up not being able to come in for the ultrasound.)
Surprise: despite all evidence to the contrary, I have not had very bad morning sickness. I feel very nauseous some mornings, but have not actually gotten sick. I'm mostly super tired and cranky and generally feel like I'm dragging around an extra 10 pounds. (Another surprise: I've only gained 1 pound according to my doctor's appointment, despite feeling as if I've turned into the Michelin man.)
Finally, post-doctor's appointment, we can talk about our future human spawn. Right now, it's still an embryo because I'm only 6W6D (7 weeks by the time this posts of course). However, it does have a four-chamber heart, that beats, which is by far the most stunning thing I've ever seen in my life.
Most people would say it is bad luck to talk about being pregnant so early, but I think it's really important to share each step of your life with other people. I know it makes people nervous, but even if something happened, it's part of my life and I don't see much of a point in keeping it hidden.
It is strange to be at a time in my life where I know I will look back and say, "That's when my life changed. That was it." It is so weird to be actively in one of those times and to be completely aware of how life-changing it is.
I'm very excited for this journey, though.