Needless to say, things have been busy. I have found it harder and harder to write as my days seemed to get shorter and shorter. Before I knew it, I had notes stacked up about things I wanted to write about, but just didn’t have the time. Usually writing is an escape for me. My ramblings make me giggle and help me make sense of the crazy world around me. The fact that some of you like to read along is only icing on the cake. Last night I came across another blog I read intermittently and the author had posed a “challenge”. Write 500 words a day for the next month. No edits, no proof-reading, just write. So today starts my first day. I missed yesterday as I came across the article so late. So be prepared. Remember, I’m not proof-reading so you’re not allowed to judge.
When I think about the biggest thing that has happened since I last sat down to write, only one thing comes to mind. I’M PREGNANT! Yup. You read that right. This bitch is preggers. Now, before you rush to the window to check for flying pigs or call hell to inform the devil he will need a winter coat because hell is about to freeze over… breathe. That was the advice I got from my friends when I found out, so I impart this wisdom on you. You OK now? Good. Now back to the crazy shit at hand. Yep, I am pregnant. I always said that if I were to spawn, the little womb shark would most likely be the Antichrist and was sent to supervise the apocalypse. So if you need to repent, I would start now.
How the hell did this happen you ask? Well when a man and a woman really love each other… blah… blah… blah. I will save you the awkward story you probably got from your parents and just tell you that my birth control failed. NuvaRing, you bastard. So after realizing my period was a couple of days late, I decided to take a pregnancy test to prove to myself that I was just fine and I could stop being an anxiety ridden crazy women. Skip forward 3 hours to me curled up on the bathroom floor, positive test in hand, sobbing my eyes out, and telling myself my life had just ended. Poor Kevin. He walked into the room with a look of pure fear. Sweat pouring down his face. I looked and him and said “I’m sorry”, as if I had climbed on top of myself and gotten pregnant. He sweetly said he was going to help me get off “that cold floor” so I could cry on the couch.
So here we are, 15 weeks into a pregnancy. My tummy has “popped”. Which is actually what people say when you don’t look pregnant, but you can’t zip your jeans. I am in pregnancy limbo, where I may look pregnant one second and the next I look like I ate too much cake. YAY!???? So welcome to my journey. At least I don’t have to suck in my stomach anymore.