On New Year's Day, I woke up and brushed my teeth in the bathroom like I do every morning. As I leaned over the sink to spit, something caught my eye in the mirror. Not something, but somethings — two of them. Two strands of white hair beaming from the crown of my head like a light show. Well, I guess I'm really not getting any younger, I thought to myself, as I finished wiping my mouth. 2011 is the year I turn 35.
"I'm ready to make a baby," I announced to Drew as I crawled back in bed.
"Really?" He asked.
I'd originally told him I wanted to wait until after my birthday in September so I could enjoy one last carefree summer of unencumbered bike rides and Mojitos at Happy Hour.
"Fuck it," I said, "Let's just do this. It's probably going to take awhile anyway, so let's get this show on the road."
"Yes!" He exclaimed.
The next month my period was due and didn't come, so I took a pregnancy test. It was negative. I threw it in the trash.
I guess I'm just late, I thought, It's not going to happen this fast anyhow.
Then I sat down at my computer and started working. A couple hours later, I had this gnawing feeling I couldn't shake. "Look at that test again," a little voice in my head urged.
So I dug the test out of the trash and studied it. Still negative. I mean, right? There are supposed to be two lines if you're pregnant and I saw just one. Or maybe there was a really, really faint second line. I held the test under a lamp. Hmm. There was sort of a faint second line there. I Googled it: "Faint second line, pregnancy tests." A bunch of images popped up. They all looked just like my test. I read the descriptions of those images, many of them from blogs. I followed the links to the blogs and read about babies — babies that had been born eight months after those faint second lines showed up on pee sticks.
Oh wow. Was I going to have a baby?
I took six more tests over the next three days. Really, six. They were all positive, and clearly so. (Tip: if you want to skip the "Is it or isn't it" riddle, go digital!).
Last week, we had our second OB/midwife appointment and got to see our baby squirming around during an ultrasound. He (I have a feeling it's a he, but of course don't know for sure) was moving around so much — kicking his legs and flapping his arms — it was hard to get a good picture, but the sonographer managed to snap this:
Yesterday I started my second trimester. I'm hoping to start feeling better soon. Luckily, I haven't had much nausea, but the fatigue, among other unpleasantries, has been relentless and unbearable. Some mornings I can hardly lift my head off the pillow. And most nights I've been asleep before nine, sometimes even before eight. Having any kind of social life these last couple of months has been a challenge, but I guess that's something I need to get used to anyway. My thyroid levels are three times higher than they should be, which is probably adding to the fatigue, so now that I'm taking medication for that, I'm hopeful I'll have more energy soon. If not, well, I suppose I need to get used to feeling exhausted all the time too.
Anyway, Drew and I are very excited. Very excited! We didn't anticipate this happening so quickly, and as much as I'll miss drinking champagne when I'm in Paris next month, I'm so, so grateful we have what seems to be a healthy baby snuggled in my belly (oh my God, I have a baby in my belly!). I'm sure we'll have plenty of parenting struggles in the not-so-distant future, so I'm happy that getting pregnant is one we were spared — at least this time. Baby's due on October 24th — exactly nine months to the day after I launched Dear Wendy. Guess there were "new beginnings" in my chart that week...