From Brews to Babies, Part I

It's been awhile since I've gotten down to really writing anything from the heart. Often times when I blog, it's because I'm heartbroken or confused or feeling particularly enlightened and I find that as sick as it is, torment is often fuel to the literary fire. But here's the skinny...or, well, not so much. And it has nothing to do with anything tragic.

I went and got myself pregnant.

Well let's start there.Obviously I did not impregnate myself, I mean, I had a little bit of help from my loving (over-willing, eager, affectionate, hands-y) boyfriend, who in the past 7 months has awarded himself with accolades aplenty for his sperm making it to my egg, even through that "unstoppable" birth control wall (insert snort laugh). Can I just inject here that I took that shit like it kept me breathing? Let me tell you, I could be out at the bar, 4 beers in and stop to swallow that very important little pill at the same time every...single...day. So despite the fact that I'm rapidly approaching 30 and understand the risks of sex and love and hair pulling (what?!), I was sincerely surprised when I peed on a stick out of boredom and found it to be positive. Sirens went off in my head, almost audibly screaming "YOU'RE HAVING A BABY A BABY A BABY WITH ARMS AND LEGS AND IT'S INNNNNNNNN YOUUUUUUUUUUUUU".

I didn't cry. I just did what any normal woman does and peed on approximately 35 more of those damned baby-predictor sticks and gathered them all in a pile and took pictures of them with my iPhone and then sent myself a text with the pictures attached because if not for double visual proof, there was no way I was going to be able to believe it. I was going to be a mom. Good God Almighty.

In light of the "situation" at hand, I was thrilled. There's no denying that my uterus had succeeded in throwing me THE most intense surprise party ever, but after the initial shock wore off, I placed a hand delicately on my belly and whispered the first soft "Hello" to the tiny human that was brewing inside of me. 

Josh took it like a champ; he barely even flinched when I woke him up at midnight that night to tell him my news. His exact words were, in fact, "Your mother is going to shit herself". And then, "Is that really all? I thought you were going to tell me something horrible, like, you were cheating on me with your gay best friend". Someone give this man a trophy for his completely charming aloofness and impossible-to-beat unintentional comic timing.

And so started our journey together, now 3 instead of 2. It's crazy to me how much just expecting a baby changes you, not only in the obvious external way, but internally as well. There is an enormous weight of responsibility that immediately falls on you; not to mention other weight gains, hunger pains, morning sickness and giant growing knockers that surely could be a stand-in for the Grand Tetons. But you learn, and you grow, and you carry that weight (yeah, all of it) as a blessing and opportunity. I'm learning that there is no greater sacrifice than carrying a child, and even if I am not perfect, I am going to laugh through this experience, and cry, and eat 6 brownies in a day on occasion and continuously look forward to an even greater adventure that's rapidly approaching.

There's so much more to say, and I'm finding that I probably should have been writing throughout this whole pregnancy rather than just idly noting things in my iPhone. So stay tuned, because you'll want to hear about pee cups being spilled all over the doctor's office and other mishaps, like the poop hand story (what can I say, I've lost all sense of decency).

From brews to a baby, from late nights to now many an afternoon nap, from lingerie to stretchy pants that go ALL the way up under my boobs (heaven), everything is changing. It's one hell of a ride, and I want you to be there for it.