December 2010

As I was nursing a wicked hangover in New Orleans over Thanksgiving vacation, a very scary thought came over me rendering me a nervous wreck. Shit, when was the last time I had my period? This friends, is not good. After a long day of thinking about it and Googling pregnancy symptoms online, I awkwardly suggested to my husband Jeff that we go get a pregnancy test. I didn’t want to get him all worked up if it was just a false alarm, but I had no choice. So we proceeded to walk to the drugstore, passing the flashing neon lights of Bourbon Street and blues music playing and purchased that little life changing test called EPT. On the way back to our hotel I promised Jeff that if this came back negative, I was heading straight to Bourbon Street and downing like six hurricanes.

It came back positive…twice.

The first words out of my mouth were: “OHMYGODOHMYGOD!”

Jeff of course, couldn’t be happier. *Hugs* *Kisses* *Hugs*

But then a worried look came over his face as he studied mine. I wasn’t smiling. I wasn’t laughing or crying – I was shocked! I was…SCARED TO DEATH! Seeing his concern for my reaction, I had to explain to him that this is a huge deal. Our lives are about to change and it’ll never be the same. But most immediately, MY life is going to change. MY body is going to change; my habits are going to have to change, etc. He has 9 months to get used to the idea of being a dad. He gets to drink the entire fucking time.  I on the other hand am suddenly a mommy. It doesn’t matter that I don’t have a baby physically in my hands; I have to think about everything I do, everything I eat or drink for the next 9 months and always put this little…baby…inside of me first. Upon finding out that you’re pregnant unexpectedly; you have a lot of growing up to do in that single moment – considering that last night I was passed out in the hotel lobby.

My mind started racing to how this is going to impact the immediate future. I mean look, here I am in New Orleans, the land of drinking to excess, in which visitors down hurricanes, grenades, and three beers for a dollar in a single hour. It’s like, what you do in Nawlins. Never mind that, what about our trip to Baton Rouge the next day? We were going there for the sole purposes of stalking “Twilight” stars who are down there filming the fourth “Twilight” saga film, “Breaking Dawn.” We planned to watch one of the stars perform with his band at a local Baton Rouge bar. I guess no drinky for me. But even more than this, my mind shot forward a few weeks to my BIG self-indulgent trip to L.A. that my friend Cristina and I were going to take. We planned to drive down to catch the final show of Adam Lambert’s international tour and then bar hop in Hollywood with some friends and close the weekend out wine tasting and getting spa treatments in Solvang, just outside of Santa Barbara. Shit, I guess that trip just went down the tube. I mean seriously, who wants to bar hop when they’re preggo?

“Wait; am I even old enough to have babies?” I thought out loud. Jeff reminded me that I’m 30 years old, so yes, I’m more than old enough to have babies. “But I still feel like a kid myself,” I whined. “I’ll feel weird telling my parents. This means they’ll know I’ve had sex!”

And yes, it was weird telling my parents. I said something to the effect off; “Hey, a funny thing happened while we were in New Orleans…I found out I’m pregnant!” They were stunned and thought I was kidding. Later, they told me it was like I told them I had just bought a car or something. I guess there should be a manual on how to tell your parents your preggers when you haven’t exactly accepted the idea yourself and you’re not quite at the *excited* part yet.

So week one of pregnancy (that I was aware of) was a bit…strange. It wasn’t how I ever expected to feel when I found out such monumental news. I guess because I’d been having such a fabulous year filled with super fun activities and I wasn’t quite done being selfish and having it all about me. This is of course where the guilt came in, because I should be over the moon about my situation. Give it time, I thought to myself. I’ve always wanted kids, so I’ll warm up to the idea soon.

Now, if things like peeing 800 times a day, pregnancy acne, exhaustion, and bloating weren’t throwing me off track, I could get really excited about this. I guess I should be getting on my knees and thanking my lucky stars that at least I don’t have morning sickness. Thank the Lord.

P.S.

Although just recently posting this blog, I wrote it a bit ago, when I was still warming up to the idea. No worries, I’ve warmed.

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