I’m approaching the 12-week mark, which makes me happier
than anyone knows. That’s the time period where all of my apps, articles and
other research and blog posts point to as entering the safe zone. Or when the chances of
miscarriage drastically decrease. And it’s when most doctors/experts seem to
agree and recommend that it’s perfectly okay to start spreading the news.
As I mentioned, I wish I’d started documenting this journey
several weeks ago – because a whole lot has happened since July 6, 2015 – which
is the date I took a pregnancy test, and it revealed a plus sign. Immediately
after peeing on a stick that morning, I went into Adam’s changing room/my
little home office, a little teary and tired/bleary-eyed (due to the fact it
was around 6:30am) – and told him the news. We didn’t jump and scream, cry or
shout. We hugged and kissed and both started processing the news in our own
quiet ways. Adam went to work, and I finished packing for my flight to St.
Louis.
Finding out you’re 4 weeks pregnant – and immediately
entering a world to which you’re not really accustomed to every day (which is a
regular, in-office work environment, with colleagues and friends nearby, to
talk to, chat with and engage in personal interaction) is tough. You’re
absolutely reeling on the inside… with excitement, fear, joy and anxiety – and
you have to hide that in the kosher world of not talking about being pregnant
too soon. I even spent 2 evenings with a great, close friend (Kendra
Householder, the pigeon head) and couldn’t reveal what I was experiencing.
A few more weeks passed by – of course containing weekend
obligations that included a 15-year class reunion, an Egan family White Sox
game, a Kayser family reunion and a trip back to the Adams County Fair. All of
which I had to endure while living a lie and acting as though I was the same
old Annie… which is sincerely so hard to do when everything about your previous
life and behavior indicates that something is off/different when you’re not
enjoying a nice (probably fruity) beer or glass of wine. But I kept it under
wraps as best I could… the last two weekends have been particularly brutal
in that department because I had back-to-back bridal showers and bachelorette
parties for my good friends, Klodt and Jenn. I’m standing up in both of their
(destination) weddings, approaching in October – so bridesmaid duties were in
full force! As was the consumption of
copious amounts of wine, beer, cocktails, cigarettes, party favors, gifts and
late nights. I participated in the last 3 on that list.
Revealing the news to
the close friends involved in both events was also inevitable. And to be honest
– that is something that’s both so exciting, but also somewhat nerve-wracking
and hard to do… I have many friends in many different stages of life, and the
serial people-pleaser in me experiences anxiety at the thought of dropping this
type of bombshell on the friends of mine who might not necessarily be on the
same timeline. It’s a major change – and I’m understanding of the fact that not
only will things be changing for me, but the way I can hang/behave could have
effects on my friendships too. And not in a bad way… life will just never be
the same. And it’s a little scary and
will take some getting used to. Regardless, I know that all of my family and friends love me
and are happy for us – and everyone has been so supportive so far. Adam and I
are a couple lucky cats.
Now, when I’m not faking it till I make it on the weekends,
I’m experiencing what I’ve come to learn are very dreaded and debilitating
first trimester symptoms. Starting right around week 7 (after which I decided to run a 7
mile Bix race with Adam and his mom) – I started feeling very weird and sick to
my stomach… just smack in the middle of the day. And exhausted – I’ve had to
start taking naps when I can. And my boobs are sore like nothing I’ve ever felt
before. But the worst kicker is what this growing child has done to my
appetite/taste buds. NOTHING really sounds good to me to eat. And I’m an eater.
I LOVE food and everything it represents. With Adam being the primary chef in
the household, we typically eat a lot of meat and veggies for dinner. And
normally, I’m perfectly okay with that. But for close to 2 months now, if he
comes at me with a piece of grilled chicken, beef or pork – he knows to expect
a mean mug and possible vomit coming his way, because I can’t handle it! Now –
if the beef patty is encompassed by a bun, cheese and mustard/pickle/onion –
and it arrived in a bag with a big M on it… then miraculously, I’m okay with
it. Damn you, hormones!! I still can’t do chicken at all yet though…
hopefully that will retreat so I can take advantage of my life-long love of the
6-piece nugs soon.
Ironically, what really seems to strike my fancy these days is
the paleo-lovers nightmare: pasta, bread, potatoes and cereal. Gimme the carbs,
my friends! I have done what I can to decrease the caffeine in my life…
although I wasn’t really a fiend before. One cup of coffee every couple of days
gets me by. And I drink H20 like it’s my job. Which results in peeing ALL THE
TIME. I think due to the fact that I
can’t eat regularly or adequately, I’ve actually lost a few pounds since
getting pregnant… but I’m fully prepared for that boat to turn south. I’m really trying to keep October in mind
though – and although I can’t do anything about my midsection at this point,
I’m trying to stay on the up-and-up with cardio (hence my Fitbit/step-count
obsession), my arms (I really need to find a good arm workout), and my
butt/legs (I need to get on the squat train). However, I’ve been so damn tired
and feeling disgusting lately, that it’s a big win if I simply get Murph out on a long
walk any given day.
Speaking of Murph, Adam and I have been talking to him quite a bit about
how he’ll have a new sibling arriving in March. He’ll actually be 12 at that
point – which is ~80 in dog years. So technically, I’m envisioning this to be
more of a grouchy, but loving, grandpa situation on our hands. I’d be lying if I
said I’m not a tiny bit worried with how he’ll handle it. After all, he’s been
my little boy and only dog-child for many years now… and he’s fiercely and
erratically protective, as most family and friends are aware. I’m reading up on
best ways to acclimate your dog to a new baby, and we’ll just have to make the
best of it.
We think we’ve decided to be surprised by the sex of the
baby – although, we’ll see how I handle the patience and curiosity after 20 weeks comes
along. I’ve started a list of names – but of course, there aren’t really any
Girl names that Adam and I completely agree on yet. Hopefully, I can wear him
down… I do have 6 months after all!
What I’m most excited about at this stage is just owning and
embracing what’s happening to my body and our futures… Adam and I have never
faked that we don’t love the lives we lead right now. We do. We love our young(ish), married life together. With few responsibilities
(besides Murph) and the flexibility that gives us, neither of us are blind to
the fact that this new stage of life and transition is going to be hard. I know
it will be… there will be days where we hate it. But I also know that the end
result and getting through the hard times will be so worth it. We’ll get to bring
up a child with all of the values, knowledge and unrealistic judgment that we
think we’ve garnered from watching other people raise kids and telling ourselves we won't do the exact same things… haha! And it’s going
to be an amazing thing to have someone call me “Mom” and watch Adam become the
wonderful father that I know he will be.
Also, we might be giving birth to a true leprechaun if we
play our cards right – so that’s an exciting prospect. First, both my mom and
Adam’s dad are redheads and Irish heritage in my family is strong. Second, my
due date is March 13th, which is dangerously close to St. Patrick’s
Day. I feel it’s only fitting that God gives my mom another ginger grandchild
on or near her favorite holiday… the kid will be eating corned beef and cabbage
by his or her 1st birthday.
But first… let’s get through the next few months, shall we?
Who am I kidding – with the way I feel, let’s please get me through the next
few hours, days and weeks with no mean outbursts towards Adam, no barfing in
public and maybe a vegetable or two in my life. Many friends of mine with kids
promise that after week 12, it’s like a fog is lifted and suddenly you feel
like yourself again… or even better.
I CANNOT wait.
