Where have I been in the world of writing and composition? I’ve
been pregnant. You may think that’s not an excuse, but believe me, it totally
is. When you find out your pregnant you have way to many options for reactions.
For me, it was all very cautionary.
I told maybe a few girl friends I was late, of course my
husband already knew. Some women say “you know.” All I knew was I’ve never been
late, and I’d been off of birth control for four years. I’d never had so much
as a “scare” in my 27 years on this planet, so it was definitely an
indicator. I jumped the gun on
excitement earlier this year and grabbed a pack of pregnancy tests. Those
things are expensive so my husband insisted that I wait until we had a real
cause to take one.
It happened on Memorial Day, well the eve of that Monday. I
was exhausted but couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t sick but I wasn’t well. I had to
work all day Monday of Memorial Day and then be hostess to dinner plans I’d
conjured up. That Sunday night I was curled up in a ball in bed desperate for
sleep and begged my husband to come straight home. I remember he knew I was
late and I just wailed, “I don’t feel good.” He put his hand on my lower
stomach and curled up with me so I could sleep.
Memorial Day we went by and I snagged a nap before dinner.
My girls were buzzing wanting to know when I’d pee on the stick. I promised
that Tuesday I’d do it and we’d see. My husband agreed. I woke up that Tuesday
morning after over ten hours of sleep anxious and excited. I’d heard the
morning was a good testing time so I read the directions and took it. I don’t
think it took the full minute before the two pink lines radiated the signal for
“Pregnant.” I crawled back in bed and woke my husband.
I put the test on his chest and let him see for himself. He
smiled and said, “I knew it.” When I asked how he just said, “I just…knew.” We
went to the doctor to get the definitive “Yes,” and then we told people only on
a need to know basis, which was a total of three co-workers. No family, no old
friends, just the girls that I needed to help me cover my ass at work in case I
got sick or the rumors started.
At the time there was another woman at work pregnant. She
told everyone right away and it was all anyone could talk about. That wasn’t
going to be me. None was the word. My husband actually caved and told his
coworkers first. Everyone thought it was adorable and wanted to keep me fed.
And so the journey began. Keeping it quiet was pretty easy.
Believing I was pregnant was the hard part. And all the books say different
things. I also quickly discovered that women don’t even tell you how crummy
being pregnant is. It’s truly amazing to be forming human life but it’s also
exhausting and very intense. I’ve had cousins and some of my best friends give
birth to 2 or more babies and no one tells you the pitfalls. The constant
nausea, never being able to find anything decent to eat, the headaches,
vomiting, aches and pains and pure unadulterated exhaustion are never really
detailed. The books just call it “fatigue.” I think it’s slightly more than
that, readers!
The miracle of life is hard. I’ve caved many times and
whimpered to my husband that this is all very hard, but what makes it even
harder: the peanut gallery.
Once you start telling people that you’re harboring a baby,
the reactions are hilarious and always very candid. My dad was delighted, my
step-mom squealed, my eldest sister was ecstatic, my other sister seemingly
complacent and my mom was pretty stoked as well. At work, some people were
stunned. The general question was whether or not it was planned. The answer is:
“Well, it wasn’t unplanned.”
We’re not the kind of couple who lets life take us for a
ride anymore. We can go with the flow and just ride it out but we make the big
decisions that make our life great. We refuse to be victims of circumstance.
I think my biggest pet peeve of telling the world we’re
expecting, is everyone telling us, or at least me about my pregnancy. It’s like
as soon as you say “Pregnant” it opens this can of worms starting with “See,
when I was pregnant,” or “I heard if the baby,” “Have you thought about…,” “You
should…,” and it just goes on and on.
And no one is right, and no one can really tell you what’s
going on with your body, but everyone must chime in. Those you listen and
genuinely care just want to hear about you, not tell you about you. The peanut
gallery will always be there though. So
far I’ve been told that since I have constant heartburn, I’m having a boy. A
week later another person said my heartburn means it’s a girl. Others say my
belly is sitting high, which means it’s a girl. I then explain to them where
exactly the child is within my body, and then they say, oh well maybe it’s a
boy then.
I’ve been told what to eat and not to eat by people who live
off of shitty Chinese food and McDonald’s. I take their advice with a grain of
salt, or perhaps a pound of salt in some cases. I’ve been told by a complete
stranger I need to avoid a hospital birth and get a midwife because it’s more
cost effective and my baby will be happier and healthier if you keep it away
from the scary hospitals. I’ve been told a lot about my pregnancy, but
sometimes you just need to tune it out. Mostly I just listen to my baby and my
body, and believe me, that baby tells me if it doesn’t like what I’m doing.
Everyone wants to know my cravings. Cravings? I’ve recently
discovered meals and snacks from my childhood are the easiest to go down. I’ll
tell you this though, if there are no mini-bagels with cream cheese, cheddar
cheese, ice cream-related dessert items, or some kind of chip other than
potato, like tortilla or corn chip, there will be hell to pay.
Oh and then there’s the activity factor. I had some extra
weight on me before I conceived. At that time I was hitting the gym 5 days a
week for at least an hour. I took up to four spin classes a week. I did weight
training, yoga, and jogging. After I found out about the little minion inside
of me I had to slow down. And my first trimester I had experienced a kind of tired
feeling like I never thought possible. My second trimester is much better but
working out is not easy. If I’m lucky I get some activity in once a week. But
working 40 hours a week, and then keeping up with pup and home is a lot harder
when creating life.
And I was always taught never to taunt the animals so I can’t
for the life of me understand why the people in my everyday life insist on
testing me. I’m pregnant people, let’s not go out of our way to annoy or piss
me off. For the most part, the whole pregnancy journey has been just that;
quite a trip.
Family has been a rock, although it is times like these when
having a present and active mother sure would be nice, but I have an amazing
husband to take great care of me. That kind of support isn’t something that comes
with every marriage and every child. That’s something that through being
pregnant, I see.
Mostly, being pregnant is a miracle and I wouldn’t change
anything. Through all of the less desirable symptoms it’s still just so amazing
to be a part of something so big. I’ve always been worried that I couldn’t
become everything a mother should be but with this pregnancy, I feel this
ever-growing sense of calm. Everything will be okay. We are a family and we’re
growing more and more every day now. Times will be hard and things will be different
in so many ways, but we’ll all be so much better for it. We’ve never felt so…lucky.
We finally just fell into the place we’d been trying to get to, and the feeling
is indescribable.
So that’s my pregnancy, see?
