El Preggo

I’ve been lackadaisical at best this year in adding new blogs. Mainly because my whole life revolves around this crazy nugget; maybe even bigger still because I wasn’t sure how to broach the massive gap in between my normal storytelling and the fact that there is a new person in the world. I write funny, still personal anecdotes. I try not to get close to “the other side.” But there’s a little of both in this truth.

How ironic that I have always been so terrified of an accidental pregnancy.

Hours of teenhood were lost marinating on the asinine topic that I would somehow fall pregnant the way people fell in love. When we were finally “ready,” I did what most normal individuals do- I insisted on reading a mammoth-sized textbook to learn exactly how this happens. After all, if one couldn’t become pregnant from hot tubs or toilet seats, there had to be great mystery in this feat. Note: I was one of the children excused from the 7th grade Reproductive Series a la my momma.
The textbook I settled on took me no less than 8 weeks straight to read.  How had I been so unaware of the art of getting pregnant? This wasn’t a love fest, this was straight up science. 
A thermometer by my bedside and copies upon copies of fertility charts folded in squares and stashed in my nightstand, I charted my body like a zealous dieter.  I crept my way into countless online forums to see if my non-existent signs were signs of pregnancy.

Forums where I read ridiculous stuff like this (truly, I was seeking advice..):

And on the earliest possible day of the first real month on the books (cue “First Response tells you FIVE days before your missed..” blah blah blah), I had everything I had been hoping for right on a little white stick.

I had just returned from NYC and it was May of 2012. I had eaten my way through the city…an entire Grimaldi’s pizza for lunch by the Statue of Liberty (hey, they didn’t sell by the slice), followed by a Magnolia’s Bakery German Chocolate Cupcake, and a snack in Bryant Park. I slept until 11am every morning and felt like a lazy college student. I knew before I tested that things were about to get wild.

It was a Sunday when I found out. I kept my mouth shut while I strategized breaking the news to my husband. I read about 37 terrible ideas (buying him a book called “my boys can swim!” ranking high on the list) before settling on a couple pairs of shoes from Target in a box that was ‘mailed’ to the house and addressed to my husband. Unfortunately, the dual shoes sent an unintentional message that screamed TWINS, which had to be cleared up. But precious nonetheless.

And this is the way I will always remember the excitement of being pregnant (thankfully captured in this picture)! Because if you do the math, it’s not hard to deduce that this magic white wand wasn’t Augie. Nor was the next one, or the other ‘maybe’ that was lost in the shuffle.

What followed was like a bad movie. My husband left town for work travel and THIS happened (no lie). I went to work and had a stern talking to (which has rarely happened prior or since). Something didn’t feel right so I went home. I showed up at the doctors office unannounced the next day in hysterics (my apologies to all of Dr. G’s patients!), and confirmed the worst. I was insane, like literally. Something snaps in your hormones that are beyond what can be articulated in writing. Pregnancy has nothing on miscarriage in that department. At one point, I flung my entire body onto our hardwood floor, gasping for air from crying uncontrollably. Oh the drama. But I couldn’t have helped myself if I had tried. After some time things returned to normal.

And then it happened all over again. This time, it did what life does best- combining itself with every other macro-level terror in your life. Another work trip for my spouse, a massive rundown of work events I was responsible for debuting that month, a grandmother’s illness escalating, and my poor, sweet little parrot falling ill and dying after 15 years of camaraderie. And yes, you better darn well believe that parrot was the last straw keeping me together in a time like that!

When the parrot passed (at the unmerciful hands of a stupid vet who chatted about his new mattress while he put her down and whom I have audibly cursed in Central Market), I had nothing left. I missed 2 weeks of work. I nearly threw up everyday. I lost 9 lbs. People asked if I was pregnant….perhaps it was morning sickness. The irony burned.

But thanks to God’s grace the story doesn’t end there. You can laugh, but I sat bawling in my car in the driveway, blubbering to my mom about how I just knew, I just really knew that my bird had to head north before I was going to be able to carry a pregnancy to term. And as it so happens, it was that week exactly that commenced the journey for my little nugget.

So I guess I owe it all to my birdie after all. Nugget has a lot to live up to because I really, really loved that bird 🙂

{more to come}

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