Jul 1, 2013


It's been awhile. I was gently prodded to write by a sweet friend via text. I have a good reason for not posting and it is that I had a huge secret burning a hole in my pocket, or brain or whatever you say. Big NEWS. BIG BIG NEWS. Mike and I decided not to announce it until we had waited a bit and personally ( or impersonally via text in my case) told our family and closest friends.I probably could have handled telling people a little better.  I literally told most everyone by text including Mike who was sitting right next to me. I just felt weird telling people.

Anyway,  my thoughts were so preoccupied with the news that I couldn't think of one dang thing to say that wasn't related to the big news. But now the news is out to family and friends and even Facebook, so I can feel free to write about whatever I'm thinking about.

 I'm pregnant. It's so weird. I know I have written on here many time about how I was trying for so long and I just couldn't conceive. I wanted to be pregnant so much and was so frustrated that I just wasn't.But it's time to be honest. We weren't really trying too hard for all those years. We were trying for awhile and even went to the fertility doctor maybe 4 or 5 years ago. After lots of tests and poking and prodding and even a painful surgery with only LOCAL anesthesia (as in they were cutting me and I could not only see it on screen but FEEL the hell out of it) I was basically told that I had Poly-cystic ovaries and that I was too morbidly obese for the doctor to help me. She told me that she felt that I was too unhealthy to get pregnant. I was sad and mortified. Something else I was too fat to do. The person who was supposed to help when you can't do it on your own was saying, Yeah, I'm not going to help you because you are too fat. So I kind of gave up for awhile. I thought that maybe the Doctor was right. If my body wasn't naturally conceiving then maybe there was a reason. Maybe my body couldn't handle a pregnancy.

We began to discuss adoption but it just didn't feel right. I had this nagging feeling in the back of my head that I would get pregnant someday and that it just wasn't the right time.

So, with that in mind,  I was content with not being pregnant. I had a new goal. I wanted to get my body healthier.I worked really hard to make that goal a reality. A little over a year after my  bariatric surgery and a significant amount of weight lost I figured we could start trying again. I wanted to start naturally so I started charting. The first month I charted I got pregnant.

After 7 and a half years of being married and thinking it was a very real possibility that I would never be a mother you would think that positive pregnancy test would have sent me over the moon with joy and excitement. In reality, it sent me into dissasociation, then panic, then overwhelming bad feelings that I couldn't actually pin point. Then I felt guilty for not being overjoyed and so grateful for the blessing. Mainly I just felt really doubtful that I was really pregnant.

So time went on and I started feeling symptoms. Let's just say that feeling so horribly physically did nothing good for my bad emotional feelings. I was kind of in a tough place.

Then the other day I went to the Doctor. It was second appointment and I really had no idea what to expect. I was pleasantly surprised when they announced that I was going to be getting an ultrasound. It was so odd. She pointed out my "little pumpkin". The head, the arms. The tiny little legs. The heart beat. I just felt happiness. I felt wonder. There really is a little baby inside of me. A baby that at just 11 weeks in utero  had my heart doing flip flops and my eyes filling with tears. I couldn't stop smiling. It was even better when I got home and showed Mike the pictures.

I'm feeling better physically. I have bad days that are getting fewer the closer I get to my second trimester. I'm getting excited. Feeling more peaceful. Still have moments of being extremely overwhelmed but I'm working on it.

That's what's been going on with me for the past 8 weeks.