I just found out that I'm about to join the ranks of mommy bloggers everywhere. Well, in nine months, anyway. How do I feel? Well, besides the fact that I'm about to toss my cookies and have a headache that I've been nursing for the past nine hours, I feel great. Freaked out/terrified/anxious/happy/worried/any other crazy feeling that you can conjure up, but great.
Let me tell you how I found out. Really, guys. It's such a cute story. Please sense the sarcasm in my voice. I just really want this written before pregnancy brain kicks in and I'm a freakin' wreck. Ah, who are we kidding? I'm already a wreck. Last night I cried about a Facebook status (yeah, I'm that emotional). Anyway, onto the good stuff.
It's Thursday, September 13th. I come home from work with a migraine, convinced that going to the gym will somehow make it better. I go to cycling, and come home feeling approximately 50000000 times worse than I did when I left. I'm pretty much a genius.
My head is throbbing, I feel so dizzy I can barely stand, and I'm about to lose my lunch. Oh, did I mention that I'm a week late? Yeah, when it rains it frickin' pours. My gosh, I suck at staying on track. Anyway, tomorrow's a food day at work, and I want to make this totally awesome dip, but I don't have artichokes just chillin' in my cupboard. I try to get ready to go to the store, but Mike won't let me. He tells me I need to lay down.
"No way!" I shout, in between sniffles, cries and giggles (I told you I'm a wreck). "I can go, I feel fine." I stand up, run to the bathroom, and consider puking up whatever's left in my stomach.
Mike rolls his eyes, takes my grocery list, and walks out the door as I yell, "DON'T FORGET THE PREGNANCY TEST!!"
It's 8:45. I'm getting antsy. Where the heck is my husband? Doesn't he know he's holding my fate in his hands? I call him, and right as the phone starts to ring, I hear the garage door open. Good, he's home. I ask him how many tests he bought, and he tosses two to me. I debate whether or not I should take one, because my gosh, do I have to pee. I've been holding it for like, ten horribly long minutes. I've heard that the test won't show up positive if my pee is diluted.
Eh, what the heck - I'll take it. We have two, after all. I run to the bathroom, and, yes, I pee on the stick. I look at it immediately and ... HOLY FRICKIN BALLS. THAT IS A PLUS SIGN. Maybe the test is broken. Nope, there's the control line. OHMYGOSH, OHMYGOSH, OHMYGOSH (I'm crying, laughing, and hyperventilating at this point, all with my pants around my ankles while hangin' out on the toilet). I AM PREGNANT.
"MIKE!!! MIKE!!!!" He comes in, saying, "Are you joking?" Looks at the test.... gets a sort of deer in the headlights look about him, and says, "Wait... are you crying because you're happy or you're sad?" I just look at him, bawling, still muttering, "ohmygosh, ohmygosh," and shrug. I think I'm happy. No, I'm pretty sure I'm happy. I'm "positive." Haha, see what I did there? Anyway. He then goes in for the kill and says, "I don't care if you're sitting on the toilet, I'm going to hug you!"
So we hugged. And we freaked out a little bit. And there's an alien baby growing in my belly. And Zeuss tried to eat the pregnancy test, but I yelled at him. And I'm writing this two and a half hours after this all went down. And I realize it's like a novel, but hey - you didn't have to read it. Or maybe you did. I am a vicious mama bear, after all.