I'm three days late and devastated. The baby is Brandon's idea. My birth control prescription expired a month ago and instead of refilling it, we decided to try. We thought it would take a few months to get pregnant. Statistically, it should.
When the test comes out negative, I cry because I'm happy. And I cry because I feel guilty for being happy. I'm not ready to be pregnant. I can't do without my anxiety meds for nine months. I don't want to share my time with someone other than my husband.
Brandon is heart broken and my reaction to the news disturbs him. What kind of woman doesn't want a baby?
I bleed a little a few days later. Without talking about it, we both decide to put off trying for a while.
I've been nauseous for the last week. It rests thick in the back of my throat. No amount of water helps to swallow it down. I chalk it up to the fact that Brandon is in the Czech Republic and we recently moved into our new house. I miss him and I'm disoriented. That's enough to make my stomach feel unsettled.
Suddenly, I can only eat things I've never really liked: Fruit Loops, Apple Jacks, Frozen Waffles, Indian Food, Lemonade.
My co-workers tell me I must be pregnant. I assure them I'm not. But that night, I pray for the baby. I ask that my anxiety meds and lack of prenatal vitamins haven't hurt him.
With my sister on the phone, I take another pregnancy test. My mouth splits into a wide grin and I feel giddy when the stick confirms what I already know. I don't understand how three weeks ago this felt like a death sentence but now I couldn't be happier.
I decide to wait until Brandon is back from Prague so I can tell him in person. I want to see his face when he hears the good news.
Brandon has been home for three days and I have my first prenatal visit. The midwife's office is at the hospital and she asks me a slew of questions. I'm given a due date of February 28th.
She has me lie back on the exam table and lifts my shirt. She pushes on my still-flat stomach and seems to be feeling for something. She asks if I want to hear the heartbeat. I say yes.
She presses the Doppler into my stomach and moves it around. She stops and we can the rapid swishing of our grape-sized baby. I don't want to be one of those women who cry but I can feel tears forming behind my eyes.
What do you think, Dad? she asks Brandon.
He has a big smile on his face. This is just weird, he says. Three days ago she told me about the baby and now we can hear the heart beat. It's a little surreal.
I keep falling asleep at my desk at work. I get up to pee a lot because I'm drinking so much water. I snack all day long because if I eat anything larger than my fist all at once I throw up.
I get an email from my boss about eating and sleeping at my desk. He doesn't mind so much because he knows I'm a good employee, but his boss minds seeing people not working.
I decide to have to tell him I'm pregnant—not that it should excuse my behavior but at least explain it.
He's happy for me—ecstatic really. He says he'll tell upper management to leave me alone and that I can eat when ever I want at my desk. But the napping does need to stop.
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Confessions of a Mormon Bride (2014 Watty Award Winner)Non-Fiction
True love never ends. At least mine won't... Part memoir, part essay collection, Confessions of a Mormon Bride: Essays on Love and Mormonism, explores the intersections of love and faith as the author makes her way to the wedding alter, assumes the...