October 1:
Andrew drives me to a CVS for a pregnancy test after the week long argument going something to the tune of:
Andrew: Have you started? I think you're pregnant.
Me: Quit being paranoid. I've been stressed out from school.
I'm just late. (this is not unusual for me)
Marysia takes test (i.e. unceremoniously pees on stick) and not 10 seconds in (who actually walks away and waits 2 full minutes?) the stick is reading pregnant. And not faintly either. Boldly pronouncing itself. I proceed to hyperventilate, still sitting on the toilet. There might have been anxiety-ridden crying involved. Take test #2 with same result. Neither of us is able to sleep well that night and I have a nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach now. Must make doctor's appointment. The following day at school/work is pure torture with us not saying anything to anyone, but needing some kind of guidance or assurance really.
October 3:
Visit OB who explains that yes, we are indeed pregnant, and about 6.5 weeks along. We see first ultra-sound. It looks like a sunny-side up egg with beating pulse in the middle. Calculations are made, and we are both relieved to find out that I'm due next summer, after finals.
We both tell our parents that night, but we still have not shaken the feeling like we did something wrong. I realize this is completely irrational - we're both stable, married adults - but it doesn't make it feel any less like you're 17 and telling your parents you accidentally got your girlfriend knocked-up. I think that's the difference between "we're trying" and "surprise!" Both of our families were very excited. My mother tells me: "With all your planning and spreadsheets, I thought you'd never make a baby!" Um, thanks Mom.
Remainder of October:
I am in a daze and sleeping a lot. I quit drinking obviously, but pretend to be drinking at school functions (which is no easy feat!). Anxiety eventually switches from "yikes we're pregnant" to "what if something happens and I lose it?" I spend much time wondering if it's still in there, heart still beating. This isn't very conducive to studying for midterms, but I fare through that storm. I don't post much here because it's hard to not write about the most pressing issue on hand. I didn't want to be public about it until I was at least past my next appointment which is toward the end of my first trimester. I feel bloated all the time. Everyone says you LOSE weight in your first trimester from nausea. I am blessed with zero sickness, so instead, I want to eat everything in sight. Heartburn is introduced to me in a most violent way, but I learn that eating smaller amounts more often helps some. That, and carrying a giant bottle of Tums (yeah! Calcium!). Andrew becomes obsessed with reading labels at the grocery store and won't buy anything with any sort of preservative or non-naturally-occurring substance in it. This annoys me, but we both eventually get over it. I have extreme dislike for raw onions.
November 7:
Second OB appointment. We get to see the baby this time again, but with much more movement this time. And it even looks humanish. It even wakes up during the ultrasound and acts very annoyed at being woken up. I am relieved that it wasn't just a figment our our imaginations, we are indeed preggo and everything looks great. The doctor says from what she can see, it looks like a boy. I begin prepping my head for a boy and what that means.
November 12:
We have an appointment with a genetics counselor where they test for our probabilities of having Down's, Trisomy 18/13, or any other genetic issues with the baby. This is just a detailed ultrasound, blood test from me, and a family history session with a counselor (not amniocentesis - I am not down with needles in the belly right now). The ultrasound tech says it's "acting" like a girl (i.e. calm and asleep), but I don't see how that is relevant information right now. Boys can be lazy too, right? We prepare to wait 7-10 business days for lab results. That seems like a very long time right now.
November 17:
In a fit of impatience, I call the lab hotline, even though it hasn't been the allotted amount of time (I MAY have called several times that week, you know, just in case) and am shocked to find out the results have been posted. We end up very good on all genetics tests - chances are less than 1 in 10,000 for us, thankfully. And then, they drop the bomb: "Congratulations, you are having a girl." I proceed to feel really guilty for calling without Andrew, and then call him about 8 million times frantically so we can share it. He is in a meeting and is understandably annoyed I called without him when he gets out. We both process news. Wow. "It" is now a "she." At 13 weeks, we already know that Andrew will have to start a new shoe/purse fund, because that expense just doubled.
