I'd like to start this off with a disclaimer, because what I say in this blog will be really real and probably not, well, what you hear from most people. In case you haven't noticed, I'm usually pretty real, so this shouldn't be that surprising honestly. But in any case, the disclaimer is that I am happy about the pregnancy and looking forward to the future.
But seriously, what in the world am I doing?
The timing is fine. I mean, of course timing happens differently for different people, so I'm not saying that this timing is the only good timing (duh), but for us, it was important to have time alone. I was never the type to envision myself with kids. Honestly, I didn't even plan to get married for a long time, but plans happily changed that. Jeremy felt the same about kids. We both figured we'd just wait and see how we felt about it later, and in the end we both decided that we could live happily with no kids, but eventually we'd regret that and would wish we'd given it a shot. So, we've been married five years and I'll be thirty before much longer -- it seemed like a decent time.
I also had to come off of the medication I've been on for a few years for my fibromyalgia pain. Thankfully it wasn't a horrible withdrawal, and I've been OK without it so far. So that also had to factor in.
Last, I've had some additional health issues that often make it more difficult to get pregnant, so I didn't have high hopes.
Ok now fast forward. I'm going to tell you some things you probably don't hear a lot. The first thing that happened -- which I didn't recognize as a sign of pregnancy -- was my face broke out horribly. I used to have problematic skin, but I took some serious meds when it got unmanageable around age 23, and I haven't broken out with a single pimple since then until now. I had no idea what was going on.
Then, I started feeling tired. Pretty typical there.
We were going to a family reunion near Macon, GA, in late October. I normally make that ride with no problem, but I had to have bathroom breaks on the way down, and then when we arrived to a smorgasbord of delicious food, none of it sounded good to me. I ate pickles, a BBQ sandwich, and a ton of chips, but the celebration cake just did not do it for me.
Afterwards, still feeling "off," we went back to my parents' house for a bonfire and roasted marshmallows. I don't normally love dessert, but there's no dessert I love more than roasted marshmallows. We sat by the fire and as I finalized a perfectly golden-brown roast, I realized I did not want to eat it. I made myself eat a s'more, but then I felt really bad.
This whole day Jeremy had been saying, "Laura, your'e pregnant," and I kept denying it. I just didn't think so. But that s'more incident convinced me. As I told my sister, "I knew I was pregnant when I couldn't eat the s'more!"
The next morning, a test confirmed. Now here's the part I was warning you about. When I took the test and it came back positive, I cried. Not tears of joy. No, I was overwhelmed and afraid. I couldn't help thinking "What have I gotten myself into?"
Have any of you felt that way? I know I'm not the only one. But I'm the only one I've ever heard say it. The more time I have to get used to the idea, the more I'm OK with the whole thing. It's going to be... something. Something good. Something crazy. Something I can't even imagine.
And yes, the baby room will probably be done in sci-fi theme, whether it's a boy or girl.