As I type this, the only person who knows that the thought has even crossed my mind to begin the whole process of having a baby is my husband. In fact, I think anyone else who knows me well would be SHOCKED to hear of what I’m about to embark on.
Yes, up until a few months ago, I was a baby-phobe. Of course, I loved other people’s babies, relished in spoiling our nieces and nephews, oohed and aahed during trips through Baby GAP, and got the occaisional bout of baby fever, but that was always quickly remedied with a brief evening of babysitting. The poopy diapers, projectile milk pukes, and graham cracker encrusted slimy little hands constantly grabbing for any piece of jewelry I had on was enough birth control to get me through a few months, at least.
All that changed in April when a rocking good time at a wine festival lead to a little “oops” moment. I woke up the next morning in my wine hangover haze and it hit me….”Shit! I bet I’m pregnant!” The stages I went through were very similar to the stages of grief. First there was denial, I refused to believe it could happen. Then there was anger that we weren’t as careful as we should be. Then the bargaining began. “Please God, just let me get my period. I promise we won’t be stupid next time!” I will say there was no real period of depression. I just headed straight into acceptance, and a step you will not find in the grieving process (for most, at least) – EXCITEMENT!
One week before my period was due for her appearance I found myself browsing Gymboree and buying baby clothes. I called one of my best friends in a panic after my purchase. “What the HELL am I doing? I don’t even know if I am pregnant!” I shreeked into the phone. She was beyond supportive and very excited at the prospect of my possible pregnancy. “Maybe you’re just excited,” she said. “Maybe you ARE ready.”
I have to say that this whole time that I was worrying about whether or not I was with child, I had yet to say anything to my husband. I didn’t want to get his hopes up. I knew he was as ready as any man could ever be. It wasn’t until after I peed on three sticks that said I was indeed not pregnant that I told him about the close call. I heard the disappointment in his voice, and it all of the sudden hit me how sad I was that I didn’t see two blue lines on those tests.
So, here I am, three months later, and my occaisional case of baby fever has turned into full blown BABY RABIES!! I’m afraid the only way to cure it is to have a baby of our own.
I decided to start this blog as a way to document my sure to be ridiculous, hilarious, at times disgusting, and at times painful journey through my first time around at trying to concieve, pregnancy, birth, and whatever I have time to write about after that. I anticipate that I may share “too much information” at times on here, but that’s the whole reason I started this. I need a place to let it all out. I don’t intend to censor myself too much. So if you are squemish about the whole pregnancy thing, or don’t like my views…read no further. However, if you want a window into my world, complete with first time ignorance and brutal honesty about what is about to happen to my body, stay tuned!Powered by Sidelines