Pregnancy Blogging - Like Regular Blogging, But With Less Bourbon

Gosh, I have so much to tell you.

For one thing, thank you for all the well wishes. I kind of expected a lot of random advice and questions, so I'm kind of surprised -- and deeply amused-- that after "congrats" the most commonly expressed sentiment from you commenters was concerning the pee stick.

The truth of the matter is, I discovered I was knocked up on October 20. Five days after we got engaged. I'm due the end of June, and right at about 12 weeks already!

Meaning that --

-- well, actually, meaning a lot of things.

Perhaps most importantly, the stick in the photo is very clean and also almost two months old. But thank you for your concern.

I also have a lot to say about what these last 8 weeks have been like. Terrifying, weird, exciting, good, frustrating, and a little barfy. Not that I've actually thrown up at all, I just feel like I'm going to a lot and then I don't, and instead realize I'm kind of drooly.

Hmm. Did you know that you salivate an extra amount when you're pregnant? Yeah, well, neither did I. You know why we didn't know this? Because no one talks about grown-ups who drool. Oh, sure, people talk about pregnant women glowing, and pregnant women throwing up, but holy hell! There are a LOT of physical symptoms of being pregnant that are lodged between "glow" and "hurl" that's all NEWS TO ME. Like drool. And heartburn. And having a sense of smell like a bloodhound. (I swear, if pressed? I could tell you that there's a little mold on that bagel. In the freezer. Next door.)

But what I really wanted to tell you is the answer to the question that has come up a lot in real life: Did you plan this?

Answer: No. Well, yes. No. Sort of. A little. But mostly no.

For those of you following along, this is old news, but my situation is this: there is a genetic disorder that runs in my family. My sisters and I have discovered that we are carriers. This doesn't have to mean much, because carriers have few if any physical symptoms. However, there are two big concerns --
1) We can have kids who have the full disorder. This happened to my sister, Healy, and her son, Charlie.
2) We have a slightly increased risk of going through early menopause -- early as in, before the age of 40. It would make conceiving naturally impossible. Following the birth of Charlie, this also happened to my sister, Healy.

So then. Late this last spring, my cycle got really funky and uncooperative. And when you take my family risk into account, this is scary stuff. An infertility specialist told me a lot of things that amounted to nothing good. It was very possible that I had missed my window of opportunity, and I felt heartbroken.

For two+ years, I'd known that this was a possibility, I just hoped it wouldn't be the case. When I started having "issues," Ish and I discussed -- along with our future in general -- adoption.

This fall, the doctor said he wanted me to take a test. It was the Clomid Challenge Test, where they give you Clomid (a very common hormone used to spark ovulation) for a few days, and they take your blood before and after. If the results weren't so good, the doctor said, he would reommend moving directly to IVF.

SO.

Ish and I had every reason to believe we were looking at a very uphill battle on the road to conception, if it happened at all. And knowing it could take months and years of trying, we were like, "What the hell?" So before we were engaged, before we were even 100% ready to try and get pregnant, together, as a couple, we just said, "What the hell."

My Clomid Challenge Test came back looking okay. We breathed a huge sigh of relief. Hope was not entirely lost.

I went to my doctor for a follow-up appointment, where we discussed next steps. On my way out, I picked up a pregnancy test, because even though I was sure I was not pregnant, I was a couple days late.

I got home, peed on a stick, started fixing myself lunch and checking work email. When I grabbed the stick to throw it out, I was rather confused by that vertical line indicating a plus. Huh?

But...we...couldn't...first time?...not possible...NOT POSSIBLE...

And then I ran to Google because I convinced myself that there was no way it was positive. SURELY a FAINT line means nothing? It has to be a dark line? Right?

Not right, no. (As my friend later said to me: My "faint line" is eating crackers right now.)

I was, am pregnant.

And you can bet that, trying or not trying, it was a huuuuuuuuge surprise to us all.