I’m having a baby! Before we made the announcement, I’ve been privately chronicling my journey as a mama-to-be. I’ll be publishing some of the posts over the next couple of weeks. Here’s me from the past …
Written on Monday, April 23, 2012
I am obsessed with my boobs.
I stare at them in the mirror, noticing that they’re plumper than ever before in my 30 years of existence. I press on the sides, near my armpits, and, yep, they’re still sore. I make Matt touch them constantly, and even though he, the world’s expert on my breasts, has confirmed that yes, they are indeed bigger, he doesn’t want to read into it the way I’ve been doing so for the past 50 hours. “No matter what they mean,” he says, “let’s just be thankful for this time of giant boobies … honk-honk!”
I believe I am pregnant. I know I shouldn’t even be uttering the words because I’m probably just setting myself up to be pretty sad but I wanted to write about what’s going on in my head right now. Not a day or a week from now when my mood is sure to be completely different.
Matt and I had decided that once we returned from Japan, we would try to have a baby. As you may recall, I was somewhat on the fence about having children. After many months of agonizing over my indifference, I finally fell to the side of “yes, children!” (This tipping points involved hanging out with babies and enjoying it, feeling some fuzzies when I looked at babies, realizing that I want to experience the raw humanity that motherhood brings, proclaiming that yes I do have the capacity to love a being I’ve never met despite the fact that puke and explosive diarrhea makes me wanna hide in fetal position, and knowing that hell, I’m not getting any younger. And all the kids on Facebook are doing it). Of course, it is a good thing that I want to have a baby because as I mentioned earlier, I believe I am pregnant.
I never thought I would be one of those women who would obsess over trying to conceive, or TTC as they call it in the scary, grammar-deficient abyss known as online pregnancy forums. I thought I’d play it cool, you know? We’re not on any deadline so we’ll just live our lives, have a ton of awesome unprotected sex and if it happens, it happens. Yeeeah, no. When you start trying, you start wondering. ALL THE FRIGGIN TIME. I think I’m pregnant. Maybe I should take an online quiz! Oh my God, yes, I’ve been breaking out! Yes, I’ve been eating an awful lot! Yes, I am a little constipated! I MUST BE PREGNANT. THERE IS NO OTHER REASON FOR THESE THINGS. I’ve since realized that you can type in any symptom in the universe and someone in internetland will diagnose you as pregnant. Try it.
And then, of course, the sex has been hot. You know, the kind of hot where you whine, “Come onnnnn, I need sperms in me today. GET IN THE GAME.” We’ve traded post-sex cuddling for the post-sex Googling. “Okay, so now I’m supposed to perch my legs up on a pillow for 30 minutes,” I’d say, looking ridiculous. (P.S. I totally just lied about the cuddling. We’re married. Who does that?)
Anyway, back to the boobs. There are a lot of possible pregnancy symptoms out there but doctors say that sore, swollen breasts are one of the most defining ones. Also, I took a pregnancy test today and the pink “pregnant” line appeared ever so faintly. (Like, I had to squint and hold it up to a light to see it.) I feel hopeful but cautious. And I’m focusing all my energy on the cautious part because if that’s not there, my mind will spiral out of control.
For now, I’ll try to just admire my spectacular knockers.
(Reality check: They’re still an A-cup but they fill the whole bra without leaving a giant air bubble. So … score!)