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!

Monday Sunnies

Quotes by the hubs this week

B: Hey! Why are you being lumpy?
E: Because I'm fat!
B: Hahahahaha why do you always have to turn it into something weird?
E: Because you're the one who called me lumpy!
B: Just because you don't like to be called grumpy or frumpy.

Mary Kay prize

After getting this ring in the mail, B wanted to do it right so he said
B: Pretend I'm on one knee
E: Okay
Whips open the ring box
B: Erin, will you Mary Kay me?

B: Hey!
E: What?
B: I listend to Wicked today
E: *skeptical* Really? Why's that?
B: Because I like it. *sings* "Kiss me too fiercely"
I kissed him

In other news, we watched Marley and Me which I just bawled through the whole thing. And Bryson looked at me like I was a psycho because he's not a dog person. Which is not happy, it just happened.

I also found a really spectacular picture of {Ashley} from our Senior year Madrigal scrapbook. I will not post it on here as a courtesy to her, but just know that it is wonderful.

The Body Issue: Part 4

It took me a year to build my confidence up again. It was a different kind of confidence than I was used to--a kind of confidence that was completely internal. Certain individuals were placed in my life during this time to help me see it. This young woman who is strong, brave, talented, and beautiful with so much potential. I caught glimpses of her when I really danced, when I served, when I was obedient. She became stronger and began to shine through this body. Sometimes I could connect the two--spirit and body--in a way that left me breathless and humbled. They were very much ah-ha! moments. I felt like I was very prepared to make this major.

About a week before auditions, I asked God if I was going to make the program. My answer was clear: "Erin, you already know the answer to that. You will make the program." I honestly questioned, wondered if it was just my own thoughts. As I continued to pray, I continued to get the same answer. I knew I would make it. I wasn't feeling cocky. I knew I had to go to that audition and give it my all, but I felt a calm reassurance that I was ready to nail this tryout. And I did. I walked out of the audition confident that I had succeeded. It was one of those times were I felt that spirit-body connection so strongly that I felt like I might explode.

During this weekend of auditions, I also had a performance. I was in the faculty works concert and the second show was the same day as auditions. Because I had to be in the RB so early and because I was already ready, I walked to the dance office to see if they had posted the list. They had. And my name was not on it.

I read the list about 5 times, read every name slowly, making sure they hadn't put mine there in code or something. I checked the walls surrounding the list to make sure there wasn't a second list. My name was nowhere to be found. Shocked, I walked down to the green room for the pre-performance devotional. I saw all these dancers--majors and non-majors--standing in a circle. Some I knew, most I didn't, but I felt this overwhelming sense of family. This was my family and I all of a sudden felt so close and united with all these dancers.

After the devotional, I spoke with the teacher whose piece I was performing in and told her I had not made it. I didn't think it was possible, but she seemed more shocked than I was that I had not made it. She said she would talk to the head of the department about me and see what she could do.

I performed. As soon as the stage went black, I marched right off, grabbed my phone, and made it outside right as the tears began to fall. I called my mom (another shocked reaction). I was sitting on the curb between the Tanner Building and the RB. Nobody was around and it was very dark. Just me and all this space. But I felt like I somehow filled it. 

I realized my tears weren't out of sadness or disappointment, but gratitude. Gratitude for the last year--for the things I had learned and the teachers I had had. For the friends I had made and the family I had joined. Gratitude for my body. Not only can I dance, but I can run and skip and walk. I can play the piano. I can sing. I can see colors and hear music. I can hug my family and friends. I can smile at someone. I can express how I feel in so many different ways. Not only that, but I can feel. I can be happy, excited, and grateful. And I can also hurt. I can know that I care about someone or something so much that it hurts. I can feel the pain of a heartbreak and the relief in its healing. I can feel. And that means I'm living. I think this is another way that Jesus Christ lived the perfect life. He felt everything. It was perfect in this sense because it was complete. 

For some reason, I still didn't show up on the list. But I knew I had made it in every other way. I had made it to the place I needed to be. I know that God did not lie to me. I needed to know I had made it, but not make it. About a year and a half later, I found out why.

I had one of the most profound spiritual experiences that night, sitting out on the curb. It's so crazy to me that it has been almost 2 years since that night. I think that was the moment I realized that this "body issue" wasn't really, and never has been, about just my body. It was, and always will be about my body and my spirit. 

The Body Issue: Part 3

This is the story of my first year as a wannabe dance major at BYU.

I graduated high school with the expectations to go on and do music. I was good at music. I won scholarships for music. I had been actively involved in all music-like activities. It was my "thing".

So I think I kind of surprised everyone in my choice to major in dance. I had done after-school ballet off and on since I was 18 months old. But I was never excellent at it. And I didn't have the dancer body with Heidi Klum legs. (Who even has Heidi Klum legs? Heidi Klum, probably).

So my first semester of BYU came and with it my first day of dance in the RB. Dance 241. I wore skinny jeans and my hair down, thinking we wouldn't dance on the first day. I'm always that person who doesn't get the email about "what to bring/wear to your first day of school". We danced. And I somehow managed to walk with driving hips and work on head-tail connection (because that's what you do in modern dance) that first day of class. We were doing the most simple of movements, but I loved every second of it. I was in my "happy place" outside of real life. I remember thinking This is going to be me for the next four years! It was one of the best days I've ever had at school. Dancing all day every day sounded like complete bliss to me. And a lot of it was. I met some of my best friends in those classes, I had some of my most spiritual experiences dancing at BYU, and I had some out-of-this-world-incredible teachers.

Auditions for the major came around the end of October and I remember all the sophomores and juniors in my classes saying, "Oh, you'll get in no problem. You have to be pretty bad to not get in." Well, audition day came and I didn't make it. I didn't even make callbacks. 

I was devastated. And embarrassed. I asked one of my teachers what I should work on and she very bluntly told me, "You're weak. And you're dancing is all the same. You're like one big bowl of vanilla ice cream. I want to see some chocolate and strawberry. You need to be more dynamic." Okay, if you're going to insult me, at least let me be the chocolate ice cream. Ugh.

So I lost all confidence and gained a whole lot of determination to prove this teacher (and the whole dance department) that this girl could dance every Cold Stone flavor and then some.

That first semester was probably my hardest. Dance tests are hard. They were for me at least. I struggled remembering the routines and one of my teachers liked to throw in handstands (um, hello girl who never learned how to cartwheel). I had issues with being upsidedown. Basically I did bad on the tests. Which were 90% of the grade. So basically I did bad in the class. I got a C+, missing the B's by .16 percent. My first C in my entire life (okay, not true. I got one my last semester of AP Stats senior year because I was in the musical and never had time for math homework). I begged and begged for a B- and finally got it, but still felt like a C+ dancer. C definitely stood for "crappy" in this situation. I was a crappy plus dancer which is the worst you can be. They might as well have given me a T for Troll.

The semester after that was better. And the spring and summer terms were better. Like I said, I was determined to prove I could dance. I didn't take a break. I worked and worked and worked and went to school year-round. Finally, fall 2010 arrived and I was ready to be an official dance major at Brigham Young University.

21 things about turning 21

hunger games/harry potter dreams

awesome white cowboy boots

princess candles in german pastries

festival of colors...almost

warm weather

water fight instead

tangled

waterfall hike

birthday cupcake on top of said waterfall

21 candles

cake smashing

wiping frosting all over the U blanket

sunset

bryson making up own lyrics to "go the distance"

learning how to throw rocks

brazilian food

loving brazilian food

pepper spray

new capris

footloose

love calls, texts, and fb messages

thank you all for being so sweet

love you, b. thanks for making it the perfect day

you are the birthday wish that came true