fist bump to all the guys out there who have lived with a pregnant woman

To the Love of My Life

I'm sitting on my old bed at my parents' house

Wishing I wasn't stranded here without you

I hate sleeping by myself

I wrote half of this post months ago

and could never find all the words

I still don't think I can

They always focus on how difficult pregnancy can be for the mom

But they never give the dads-to-be enough credit

I want you to get some credit

I want you to know that I'm really grateful for all the back tickles

and that you came home every day with a smile on your face.

I'm so grateful you were never upset with me for sleeping in

or for still being in my pajamas when you got home

I want you to know that I'm glad you ate all those fries with me

and that you would kiss my tummy before you left for work

I want you to know how much it meant to me

that you told me I was beautiful every day

That no matter how many days I had gone without doing laundry

or washing the dishes, you never made me feel like a bad wife

I want you to know that you are what got me through every day

Knowing that in 10 minutes you would walk through the door 

and hold me and remind me of why we were doing this

was enough to get me off the bathroom floor

In the Bible when Christ is suffering in Gethsemane

It talks about how God sent an angel to comfort Him

I used to think this was strange because the angel couldn't help with the pain

Now I understand the angel

I want you to know that I know it was hard for you too

maybe a lot harder than it was for me in some ways

I want you to know that I couldn't have done it without you

and that I can't do this without you

love love love love love love love love love love love love

A Very Long Wordy Post About Being Pregnant But I Tried to Make it Funny?

I have decided to document my life via this blog and because of that, I want to write about the last few months (or the first few months, depending on how you look at it).
I've been putting it off for several reasons. 1. My first trimester did not end when everyone said it would. Or at least, my body didn't think the party was over yet, and 2. The internet is a scary thing. As a girl who sucks up everything she reads, google has actually come to be code for "you're pregnant which means this million things can and WILL go wrong with you." Even the wonderful bloggers out there can unintentionally inflict the worst kind of worry on a person by simply documenting their lives. And I don't want to be that blogger for someone else. So, with that being said,
DISCLAIMER: This was MY experience. Chances are, yours will be completely different! And here's the great thing about this whole life on earth thing. You think you can handle so much. And then sometimes life (or God) says "Guess what? You can handle a little bit more." And you really can. Even if you think you can't. So that is my disclaimer. Do not think that my experience will be your experience.

I mentioned in the finding out post that I was light headed the day I took the pregnancy test. Well I think that was also the last day I wasn't nauseous. It started out with just severe nausea (I say severe because I really think this was the worst part. Throwing up is bad. Feeling like you are car sick with the flu on a roller coaster 24-7 is a billion times worse). And in my crazy pregnant mind I thought You must not throw up. This is not the flu. You will not feel better if you throw up. If you throw up you have to eat. And that means food. It was a very Gollum/Smeagol-ish time in my life. I hated food. It was torturous to choke down a cracker. And honestly, if I hadn't had a little bitty baby alien to feed, I probably would've chosen starving to death over eating with all that nausea.

Also, let me say something about fast food real quick. Remember how I wanted to go all Vegetarian/healthy/I love my body and want to give it the nutrients it needs? Yeah, that went down the toilet with a lot of other stuff those first few months. Fries were the best. The literal best. The saltier and least resembling potatoes the better. And fountain Dr. Pepper. (I hate all carbonation in general so this was the most bizarre). I had to get over that being healthy thing reallllllly quick because eating anything at all was a gold medal in my book. Like Olympic gold. Not community sports, A for Effort gold.

Then one day it got so bad, Gollum literally could not talk me out of throwing up. And I did. And it was glorious. I felt better. Not 100% better, but comparatively. Like I didn't want to die. And you know what? A cheeseburger with those fries and fountain Dr. Pepper sounded really good. We probably went and got one. And I probably couldn't eat it once we got it (this happened a lot). I honestly can't remember. Those months are all a blur.

I would also like to say, by this point I felt like a total sissy pants. My mom threw up once her whole pregnancy and I wasn't going to be that girl who threw up every morning and complained about it the rest of the day. (And to you girls, I AM SO SORRY I EVER DOUBTED YOU! THIS STUFF IS THE WORST!) I was going to be strong! I was going to eat healthier than I ever have and do moderate exercise on a regular basis! I was going to like being pregnant! HA!

I was sick. Really sick. All day. For several weeks. Months, really. And at 8 weeks when it got almost unbearable and my little pregnancy app said "You may start having some nausea at this point." I gagged and said, "START?! This is when it's supposed to start?! I've been dealing with this #*$& for weeks!" And then I threw up. They also said that this week I would be feeling much happier and not sick. Which is another story for another time.

ANYWAY, we had our first dr.'s appointment. And I almost passed out standing at the desk to give them my insurance card. And luckily this is a place used to pregnant people because the nice lady gave me an apple juice and B filled out the paperwork. And said my birthday was March 24, 2013. Which I think is hilarious. So we're all excited out of our minds because this was meaning it was real! And it truly was a wonderful dr.'s appointment. We met with the nurse lady person and she gave me a billion pregnancy magazines and a prescription for Zofran. With 4 refills. And let me tell you, that stuff is the best stuff to ever happen to me. And I got to keep my clothes on the whole time. I also had to have all the blood taken out of my body.**

**Okay, not all. But I have found a trick. Once upon a time I had to have blood drawn and they gave me the little intern girl who was scared and didn't know what she was doing and I passed out and had a seizure. And after that I have never been the same. So I ALWAYS tell the phlebotomist (spelled that right first try) that I am THE WORST to take blood from. And they never give me the scared intern. And they talk to me the whole time and are super duper careful and do you want to put your feet up? And I haven't passed out since. And all is right in the world. Except that I was nauseous at this taking-of-blood experience so it was good that B was there to help me walk out of there without fainting. Glad I had my apple juice.

So then I went to Target and got my little red bottle with the yellow ring around it and paid my $20 (1 for each pill-totes worth it). And I took one. I now understand drug addicts. Because seriously that stuff is heaven sent. Again, I wasn't 100%, but I could maybe eat something? Like maybe a Gandolfo's sandwich? Like the sky just opened up and I could hear the angels singing. It took off the edge. The horrible horrible edge where you really question everything you knew about yourself.

So. Long story short, here is basically a sum up of what those months meant for me:
I could not do the dishes. The smell and the food and the everything about dirty dishes just could not be handled. So I kinda totes failed in that department. Also cooking. Couldn't do that either. Wife fail.
I also couldn't handle the smell of anything. Good or bad. No smells at all. Which is horrible for someone who magically got a bionic nose at the exact same time all of this was happening. For reals that is the sense I could go without.
I could not stand up for longer than a few minutes at a time. So you know, showering became a scrub down and rinse. Shaving became a thing of the past. And then by that time I was gonna pass out and had lost all my strength to comb out my hair and maybe put on some lotion so I don't get stretch marks.
I never ever ever looked cute. Ever. Even on Sundays when I got dressed, I couldn't manage to do the hair and makeup, even with the most minimal effort. This is actually how the Primary President knew I was preggo. "You just didn't look as good." (I don't think that's what she actually said. But that's what she meant. And it's fine cuz it was true.)
I broke out. Bad. Like I've never really had bad skin and now here it was. Like what I should've looked like in high school. Also this hasn't gone away. Dealing with it.
Throwing up in the comfort of your own home is a wonderful luxury. Luckily I work from home (mostly) so this was a huge blessing. I did have 2 side-of-the-road incidents, one Bryson was kind enough to take pictures of, and the second, a nice man in a Beamer pulled over and asked if I was okay. "Yep! Just pregnant!" Like I said, throwing up at home is the best option.

This has been a horrible rambling of horrible events. But luckily, this is Part 1. The bad stuff usually happens in Part 1. There is, however, a Part 2 (this is not trimesters. Trimesters are a load of boloney that dr's and apps feed you to get through the Part 1). And Part 2 is great. And I know Part 3 (which will probably be a baby) is the best part. So we're all looking forward to that.

Also I'm super duper proud of you if you read all of that. I know it was torturous.

Finding Out

It was March 3rd.

Fast Sunday.

I was late.

And feeling very lightheaded.

I had always had weird "period stuff"

(abnormal cramping, irregularity, etc.)

The word Endometriosis had come up a couple times

But you can't really do anything for that

except wait and see if it messes with your ability to conceive

I never really worried though

Infertility wouldn't be my cross to bear

We decided early this year that it was time to start trying

(actually, Bryson did. I'd always been on board)

I wanted a baby the day we got married

and I had to learn to be patient

like I had had to learn so many times before

I just felt like our baby was ready

But Dad had to be ready too

And I'm so glad it took him as long as it did

There was one day towards the end of February

that I had a little panic attack

I knew I wasn't pregnant

I knew I couldn't get pregnant

I would have to wait longer

I did have endometriosis

I wouldn't be able to be a mom

And I think for those 24 hours I knew

what it felt like to be infertile.

The next day I went to the temple with my mom

And I was reminded of what I had known all along

Infertility was not my trial.

My body could do this conceiving thing

I left feeling happy and relieved

Back to March 3rd.

I had had sharp pains in my stomach

for the last couple of days

I figured it was some weird new pre-period symptom

but I was late

and that was actually out of the norm

Google is the best, isn't it? Smartphones are lifesavers, right?
I searched "sharp pains early pregnancy symptom"

And there was a whole message board!

I read how hundreds of women had this as their first pregnancy symptom

I took a screenshot of one story and sent it to Bryson

He responded "Very interesting..."

and left it at that.

How could he be so calm at a time like this?!

Church ended and I rushed out of Primary

Bryson was standing right outside the door

and we hurried to the car

He asked me if I had my wallet and I said no

He told me to look in the glove box

(where he always keeps a $20)

We both knew what we were going to do

But lo and behold!

A box of pregnancy tests!

The man had skipped out on Priesthood to go to Macy's.

"I figured it was better than both of us breaking the Sabbath,"

he said.

We got home and I charged toward the bathroom

with the man on my heels

"You're not coming in!" I said

"Oh, yes I am!"

"No way, Jose!"

"Then you better come out the second it says."

So I peed on the stick and hadn't even flushed

when that little plus sign showed up

I was screaming and laughing and yelling

"I'm pregnant!"

to Bryson, whose head had managed to find its way around the door

"No way, Jose,"

he said, because these things were supposed to take minutes

But there it was

and that logical boy couldn't deny the evidence

We were gonna be parents!

About Baby S

Here's what we know so far.

I am 15 weeks. Which means we (baby, me, Bryson, our marriage) survived the first trimester. This is actually more surprising than you might think.

I am probably going to write a very long post about that soon. 

Baby is about the size of an apple or orange, depending on who you're asking. Basically it's huge.

My stomach is poking out a little. Bryson thinks it's weird that it's not squishy. I didn't stick a pillow up my shirt, babe. There's a baby in there. (I think this is actually him saying that I have rock hard abs. Ha)

I am due November 4th. Which means many awesome things, including: I will either be ginormous for Halloween (million costume ideas) or have a newborn (million and one costume ideas), we will have a baby for Christmas, and I have all winter to lose the weight. Really it's like perfect timing.

It's heartbeat is officially THE BEST sound in the entire world. 145 bpm. Dr says it sounds like a boy. They also told my mom the same thing. 

We're finding out next month so y'all should start casting your votes now!