Baby K

Greetings all. Looks like it is a nice day today, finally. I haven’t actually been out to enjoy it for the mere fact I’m exhausted from baby creation. I’m anxiously awaiting that relief of the second trimester, to feel the boost of energy that has been forecasted in all the prego books and articles I’ve been reading.  Baby K has got me all consumed.

It’s funny because I pretty much put the thought of me being able to have kids out of my mind, well, forever I guess.  Not to say I didn’t want one, but really because I had it set in my mind I was unable.  Within the last few months I thought more and more about this being a reality, more than a fear, and deep down I began to mourn.  I kept this sad thought to myself for the most part, but, put excessive amounts of booze in me and I’ll blather woe-is-me.  In which, case in point, I blathered to my mother on Thanksgiving.  Bawling and blathering to the tune of Old Milwaukee’s Best Light, good lord.

Now, at that point there was not any doubt at all that I was NOT pregnant, which is why I imbibed quite a bit on that day of thanks.  I had been holding secret hope for  months, with a crowd “Ohhhh” when another month passed by.  I put on a few pounds over Thanksgiving and I started running again.  I would go out for an hour everyday and I began to get very frustrated cause I couldn’t lose one stinking pound.  I complained to my sister relentlessly about this and she would come back with the “Are you pregnant?” comment and I always answered “no” roll my eyes. I complained to her too that my back had been aching at night and we needed a new bed…she’d ask the question.  Then I told her another time about how I had to have these sugar cookies so freaking bad that it possessed my mind until I got them and ate the whole container…she asked the question.

I didn’t really start actually wondering myself until one evening Steve and I were sitting on the couch watching a little tube when he commented on how Brian, his Jack Russel Terrier, liked me more than him.  And just then Brian put his front paws on my leg and stood at attention and I said, “Aw look, he’s guarding me.”  The proverbial light bulb flashed and I wondered if I could be pregnant.  Somewhere in my brain was the information that dogs are in tune with that sort of thing and Brian was actually guarding me.

So on Christmas Eve, almost one month to the day of my woe-is-me lament to my mother I decided to buy a prego test.  I got one of the boxes that has two tests in it.  When I got home I ripped into it and like a sign, there were three tests in it – like the fates were saying your going to want to make damn sure.  So I took the first test, and while waiting, I brushed my teeth.  I purposefully had flipped the test upside down so I couldn’t sneak a peek.  You know that flip of your stomach when you’ve reached the assent of a rollercoaster, the moment that combines anticipation, fear, excitement, please don’t let me puke feelings – right before you go screaming downward, that’s how I felt when I flipped the test over.  Then I went into a sort of an Oh My God trance for the rest of the day seeing those two pink lines.

I kept the test to myself because of the mere fact that it could be wrong.  I went to bed that night, woke up about three in the morning and took another test.  This time I watched it and it showed pregnant immediately.  And then it was Christmas, and I had a big big secret maybe.  Fortunately I had one more test, three is the charm.  So, when Steve and I were traveling back from his folks I said, “When we get home, we’re going to take a Christmas Pregnancy Test!”  He was like, ok, and then snoozed the whole way back.  He had about as much optimism as I had a month ago.  Imagine his surprise!  Imagine mine when he said that I ruined his Christmas proposal with a baby trump!

So here we are now.  I haven’t completely snapped out of the Oh My God trance, or maybe it falls in with the exhaustion, I’m not sure.  All I know for sure, right now, is Baby K has hung in there and I’m taking it one day at a time with all that goes with that – including my going waistline and a respectable number on the scale.