After a long, hot summer of secret keeping, the word is finally out. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant and I DON’T CARE WHO KNOWS IT! Just kidding. I care a little. Which is why I limited my announcement to only the selected few with internet access.
So YES. I’m pregnant. And I’ve got the vomit, permanent couch indention, and extra pounds to prove it. But I’m not here to complain about the first trimester. At least not today. I’m here to rejoice and share all things baby! And I guess the most logical place to start would be with conception. But HAHA fat chance. So I’ll fast forward to about 4 and a half weeks later, when I found out.
Taylor was on shift for two days in a row, and I’d been at home dealing with a pretty crazy day of my own. Once the work day began winding down, I had only one thing on my mind: a giant bottle of petite syrah. But I was a couple days late, so I figured before I downed a bottle of red and homemade nachos for dinner, I should probably take a pregnancy test. Because I prefer gluttony with a clear conscience thank you very much.
But I was so convinced that I wasn’t really pregnant, that I popped open the cork and poured a glass. CALM DOWN I didn’t take a sip. I high tailed it to the bathroom, escorted by Max, for the quickest and easiest test of my life. And there it was.
OH SO PREGNANT.
So I screamed. At Max, because it was just the two of us. PS – don’t take a pregnancy test alone. Having no one but a four legged, stanky breath creature to share news like that with is…a buzzkill, to say the least.
I knew that Taylor wouldn’t be home until the next day, when I had plans to be in Dallas with friends. That meant I had to keep this to myself for 48 hours. FORTY EIGHT HOURS. So I celebrated with baby’s first picture and a trip to Target.
Two days of waiting was total hell, and then when I finally got home to see Taylor, he was asleep. Did you hear me? HE WAS ASLEEP. Sure, it was like 7am on a Saturday morning, but I had NEWS! So I nagged and I griped and I jumped on the bed until he was awake and I made the announcement by throwing a onesie at him. Poor, precious, half-asleep Taylor rubbed his eyes as he processed everything and said, “Really? REALLY?!?!!”
Really babe, really.
The next few weeks were a blur of 4 hour naps and all day nausea. But at 9 weeks, we had our first appointment, where we got to see this little peanut wiggling around! Heart stolen and completely melted.
I attempted a few baby bump photos. But as the weeks passed, I looked progressively larger and more hellish. So it didn’t last long.
But there’s no hiding it anymore! At 5″1 with more to love, that my friends, is a 13 week baby bump. A Chipotle, Whataburger, EZ-Mac, sour gummy worm baby bump.
I never did get to enjoy that bottle of petite syrah. But I’ve already started making a list of things to hold against this kid. And that, my friends, is number one.