It was somewhat fitting that, on the day I promoted my post about trying for a boy, I found out I was actually pregnant. I kind of called it though. Right after my egg dropped in September, Scarlett’s guinea pig Hutson died. The very same day, a neighbor’s dog just collapsed and died as she was walking it home.
My inner voice, whom I call Nancy, said to me “Oh shit. You’re pregnant. Where’s there’s death, there’s life. Circle of life. Hakuna Matata.”
I realize this was an elderly dog and a guinea pig dying that I was assuming meant life in my uterus, but it didn’t matter. I just knew it.
A couple weeks earlier, I took a preg test about 5 days after OD day. (That’s ovulation day if you didn’t read my post). Negative. It was a little early to expect anything. Two weeks pass by. Flo says vaginal bleeding should have commenced. A quick underwear check. All clear. Oh shit. I did feel a little off. I couldn’t stop burping. I attributed that to the half a hamburger I ate the night before. Red meat just doesn’t sit well with me, ever. Like lesbians, I think I have a beef intolerance. Bwahahahahhahaha. I’m sorry those kind of jokes don’t get old to me.
After I posted on Facebook about our willingness to give it a go for the third time, I decided to pee test again. Just in case. The incessant burping was one reason but we also had plans to go to the beach for the weekend with Vince’s parents since they were visiting from Pittsburgh. And I do love sitting on the beach with a cold bev in my hand, watching the ocean.
Nancy and I applaud ourselves for this decision because, when I thought I might have been pregnant with Gianna…I avoided taking a test until after July 4th weekend. I didn’t want to know for sure that I was pregnant and I wanted to drink.
I know. I know. That’s pretty shitty. But I was young, immature, and maybe borderline alcoholic. So I got shit-faced on a boat with Vince’s uncle and two days later took the test.
She was the best kid I had so far in terms of following the rules. So maybe that helped? Just kidding. Not advocating for women to knowingly drink like fishes when they might be pregnant.
My plans for having a fucking drink that weekend were in the shitter. Baby #3 is on their way. I’ve taken 5 tests so far and they are all positive.
When the first one came back with double lines, I felt so many damn emotions. Went through me so fast like someone with ADHD changing the TV channels.
I felt scared. I’m 37. All kind of shit can go wrong. What the fuck am I doing? My body isn’t equipped to handle this anymore. I hurt my back sneezing last year. Am I crazy?
I felt slightly perturbed because I have two boxes of wine (because I’m classy) and a bottle of champagne at my house that I now have to give away. Damn it.
I felt excited. I felt nervous. I felt overwhelmed.
Yes, I know I planned this. But shit’s for real now. Now, I need to think about everything I put in my body. Because it’s not mine anymore. It’s incubator for the next 36 weeks. Goodbye wine. Goodbye bleu cheese. Goodbye hard seltzers. Sigh.
I need to baby proof the damn house. I need to buy all the baby gear because I got rid of everything. I have zero baby shit. Because I’m not a hoarder. Scarlett is 8.
I have to convert our loft in to a bedroom eventually. I have to figure out child care for when I go back to work. I have to change my insurance because my current plan is high deductible and won’t cover all the thousands of visits you have when pregnant.
So much to do and I just keep burping.
I struggled with the test results for about 10 minutes. What should I do? Nancy was having a fucking field day in my head.
It’s early. The baby is the size of a poppy seed that you flick off your bagel and looks like some horrible kid’s drawing of a caterpillar laying on a rock. So small. You should wait to tell anyone. It’s too early.
No Nancy, we don’t wait. Because we are horrible at secrets. I don’t have resting bitch face, but when I am hiding something, I get resting snitch face. I coined that term. Defined it in Urban Dictionary. The Internet is amazing. Feel free to use.
Resting snitch face is my lip curling up like Mona Lisa. The secret or surprise just wants to burst out. However, I can keep other people’s secrets just fine. Vince has hammered into me and the girls that “snitches get stitches.” We don’t rat on anyone. So feel free to do hard core drugs around me, do hits for the Mafia, or kill strippers and dissolve their body in my bath tub with chemicals. Mum’s the word.
Jooooookkkkiiiiiing.
But when the secret is mine to tell, it won’t stay in for long.
Obviously by this post, you can see there is no waiting. I immediately burst in to my bathroom and scared the shit out of Vince. Apparently he had been meditating in the bath tub as he soaked in epsom salts. Yes, I am married to a man. This is what he does.
As soon as I opened the door, he throws his fist up in the air like he’s going to haymaker me for waking him up. This is his immediate reaction any time he is woken up. This man has never been in battle, despite his Viking ancestry, and no one has ever tried to attack him in his sleep. I don’t know why his brain thinks it needs to defend itself. Fucking weirdo.
Anyway, I told him. He, of course didn’t believe me and is still in somewhat denial. I’m excited because this is the first time I’ve been pregnant as a married woman. Yay! All the Catholics can rest easy now.
Then, I told my co-worker because she had texted me about the Facebook post earlier that day. Then, I told Gianna. She had a muted reaction. Definitely happy but nothing over the top. She’s never been one to go big on emotions unless her hormones are raging. Then she’s a fucking wacko who cries for no reason. We’ve all been there.
Then, I told Scarlett. This child. She started to cry. Out of joy. Bless my heart. Her reaction made Nancy immediately think I should have waited to tell her in front of Vince. It was priceless. She was so stinking happy.
She hugged my belly and said “hello little baby brother. Or sister”. And I’m crying writing this sentence. DAMN YOU HORMONES. Are you here already?! I can’t.
Now I am telling the little part of the world that reads this blog. I know it’s early. I know shit could go wrong. But, I didn’t start this blog to hide myself. I started it to share my life and parts of my family. If I didn’t share this, it would be going against all of that.
So get ready for this ride. It’s going to be a 9 month sobriety challenge with no soft cheese and no filter. Hopefully you’re as excited and as scared as I am.
Aaaaaaaaaaaahhh I’m so happy for you guys!!!!! I remember the day I told all of you I was pregnant with #3 ..we were all at Kathy’s house and the look on your faces were priceless…good times! Miss you all! Can’t wait for you to find out the gender!
We are so excited for a baby Curtin!!! ❤️❤️❤️
This is soo exciting. We are soo happy for you all. I csnt wait to meet and hold little man. I am speaking him in to the universe as the secret would say. In any case this is exciting! Congrats!
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