Man, I love you guys! I hope that you will still love me when I am fat and bloated and cranky. Now that's a pretty picture, isn't it? Thank you all so much for your good wishes. It has been really hard keeping this secret for the past 7 weeks, and it was lots of fun to finally be able to share the news.
So, details. I am 12 weeks and 2 days pregnant, which means I have actually been pregnant for about 10 weeks. You see, they count funny. Did you know about the counting funny? It was news to me. Basically, the very instant that you actually become pregnant you are suddenly 2 weeks pregnant. Whatever.
My official due date is July 31, but I'm not sure what my doctor was smoking when she came up with that one. My due date should be August 2, and it I were putting money on it, I would go with August 5 or so.
We found out I was pregnant the day after Thanksgiving, and I think we were able to start breathing and blinking again about a week later. You see, I wasn't supposed to get pregnant. I mean, we were trying, but we had done all the testing and I had the prescription for Clomid and I had even filled the prescription but we decided to try one more time on our own. It was going to be a good last effort, but clearly it wasn't going to happen. Except it happened. My theory is that my ovaries got carried away with the holiday spirit and forgot about their campaign of hatred and woe and accidentally dropped an egg. And now I'm pregnant, so take that, bitches.
I've felt great the entire time. Well, I'm so tired I can barely speak, but otherwise I've felt great.
Best part of being pregnant, so far: Lying in bed this morning with my husband's head on my fatter-by-the-day stomach.
Worst part of being pregnant, so far: Eight weeks of zombie-like exhaustion. I'm starting to wonder whether I should go eat some brains.