January 4, 2009

• Knocked Up

  Holly shit. Holly shit. Holly shit.

  So, you know how I wrote a few blogs about how I don’t ovulate because of a thyroid issue? I’ve been treating this holistically and have been pleased with the results. My lady cycles are longer (38 days), but they are present (this summer I went a whopping 93 days without a period).

  Anyhow, I’m approaching day 48 and I mentioned to my friend (who is also having lady issues) how pissed I was that the holistic treatment seems to have stopped working its magic. Then she said, “are you sure you’re not pregnant?” I laughed, especially because we were sipping away at a bottle of chardonnay.

  I didn’t think pregnancy was in the realm of possibility. I’ve been told–point blank–that I’ve not been ovulating. And yet something about the shitty way that I feel the past few mornings made me buy a test today.

  I took it at work, thinking I would just be able to shut the question down in my mind and focus. But holly shit. It’s a plus sign. A blue plus sign popped onto the screen straight away. Bold.

  I took another one (there’s two in a pack). And there it is again. Plus. Plus. Plus.

  I am horrified. I am happy. I am sweating. Horrified. Happy. Sweaty. In September, its possible that a howling squirmy human will pry her way out of my body cavity. Horrified. Happy.

  I am also suddenly really hungry, but then again it’s almost lunch time.
   
  The day that Shaun proposed we get married,  I knew he was going to do so from the moment I woke up in the morning. I was covered in a cold sweat. I called him and said: “you’d better not ask me anything horrifiying today.” I just knew. And although I’ll take another test tonight, just to triple check, and make a doctor’s appointment first thing Monday morning: I just sort of know. It’s sort of cool. Regardless of if this bundle of cells lives and thrives, it’s weird to think that right now I’m a willing host to something that is chomping away at my caloric intake.

  I’m trying to keep in mind that its just cells right now. I don’t want it to be more because loads of fetuses abandon ship prior to three months. And I’m not the healthiest cat in the litter, so I won’t be offended if the little cell bundle decides my body is a crap environment to morph into a human in. So I’m not gonnae tell anyone (aside from the doctor and Shaun) until a few months pass. So please, pretty please: don’t mention the plus sign on any public comments.
  ____________________________________________________________________
  Ever had another person attach themselves to your uterus?

  Edit: I forgot to mention–this wasn’t exactly planned, although it was (like most cases of preggers, I presume), not rigorously prevented. I’m actually sort of surprised this is the only “oops.” We’ve been together since we were teenagers. I’m laughing to think of how freaking freaked I would be if this happened at virtually any other time. Even though the money situation sucks at present, at least we’re not still in school!
  
  2/16 Edit: The morning before I dished with my friend over wine, I was at the computer, Googling all the gross symptoms that I’d been having. Since I thought that pregancy was impossible, I’d diagnosed myself with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome or an Autoimmune disease. When Shaun came home from writing, he found me crying at the kichen table. “I’m seriously sick, Shaun. It’s not the flu. It’s not a cold. It is something really serious, I can tell.” He soothed me and encouraged me to make a doctor’s appointment, which I did. How hilarious is it that I thought I had some horrible illness, when really it was just a little fetus? Ha!

  • 12:54 pm
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