Well, this is my first post, so I guess an explanation might be in order as to why I decided to make a pregnancy blog and why I called it Superman needs to stop kicking me in the crotch: and other joys of pregnancy.
Some quick background is also in order, in case you're reading this and you don't really know me. If you do know me, you know that it takes me forever to tell a story (thus the inquiries of, "is this a regular story, or a Kelly Story?"), usually, so you shouldn't be surprised:
I just moved to Belleville, IL, which for those of you who don't know, it's near St. Louis. I've lived in the Chicagoland Area my whole life and my husband and I uprooted at the end of June for lots of reasons:
It's warmer down here
He has family and friends down here (I have some friends as well)
We always enjoyed coming down here for holidays and vacations. Seems really laid back in comparison to where we're from.
Chicago is too expensive for us to live in anymore
My internship didn't keep me because...well, who knows really.
I hated my actual job because of a harassing coworker
I was freaking out about finding a job in my field as graduation approached.
I claimed to have been sick of the area and wanted a fresh start.
And the list goes on...
And then we found out I was pregnant.
Oh shit.
Actually my exact words (at my friends' house, too, by the way) were:
"You've got to be fucking shitting me."
Now, I don't want you to misunderstand. We're thrilled that we're having a baby. Stressed? Yes. Also thrilled. My husband couldn't stop smiling for four days straight and said his face starting hurting. It was cute.
It just came out of nowhere, though, so maybe you could understand my surprise and reaction. Especially after the kind of day I had had a few hours earlier. I guess a good place to start would be right where I found out, so here goes:
My mom wakes me up at the butt crack of dawn to remind me to go get my dad from the VA (Veteran's Hospital). He just had kidney surgery (FINALLY) and he was ready to come home. I had visited him the day before and he looked like shit, I'm not going to lie. It was upsetting because no one wants to see their parents look like that.
Plus, I always pictured that one scene from Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home when I went in there. It's McCoy in the hallway treating patients as he goes with 24th century medicine and huffs to myself: "What is this, the Dark Ages?"
Yeah.
ANYWAYS, I go to pick him up and it takes a million hours as usual. I finally get him in the wheelchair and I am carrying most of his stuff, too. We stop by the pharmacy, get his happy drugs, I go get the car and get him and his stuff in it by myself (no easy feat, by the way) and off we go to take him home. My mom, for whatever reason, was acting like a biatch on the phone, so I was like, whatever, must be that time of month.
I pick up lunch for them, show her how to change his bandage (because they just took a TUBE OUT OF HIS BACK OMG GROSSSSSSSSSSSS)
And I left, already exhausted, and it was already 1pm. I was supposed to be at my friends house for our Lord of Rings Mani/Pedi party at 2pm. I called to say I would be late and would call when I was on my way.
I went to Jewel and after getting off the phone with my husband about how craptastic my day had been so far, I said, I am going to drink tonight, the hell with it. So I bought a crap ton of booze and munchies, picked up lunch, went home, packed up and left for Jen and Rich's place.
On the way there, I was thinking about how I had been feeling off for a while, and just chalked it up to stress. Something made me stop and get a test and I haven't figured out what it was really. I guess I thought that if I was, I didn't want to be boozing it up, which turned out to be the least of my problems because when we figured out the expected due date I had already:
Drank on Cinco de Mayo (didn't puke)
Helped my parents move (moved a bunch of heavy shit)
Rode my bike three times in 90 degree weather, once for 8 miles, another was 6 and the last was 5 miles, but I had to stop alot and couldn't figure out why.
And ate like crap, but that was pretty normal anyway...ish.
I had even taken a test at the beginning of May. Two of them. The first one was debatable because it said I was, but it was super light so that one must be defective and I took one more and it said nope.
Yeah. First day of last period (which was only light spotting) was May 4th. Oops.
So, back to the test picking up. I picked a pack up and went to the party. We all got there late anyway, so no biggie. It was nice to pamper and watch the movie with Jen and Hope. Rich came in to say hey and hung out in his room to give us girl time. I stuffed my face with lots of yummy crap. We decided at the start of the second movie that our guys could come over if they wanted to, we were done with the girly stuff and we could play games later.
I called my husband and said come over.
After a while, Jen asked, so what are you drinking since you brought all this stuff over?
Hold, one I gotta pee and I'll tell you when I get back.
My husband shows up finally, while I am in the bathroom. I can hear him talking in the living room.
I took my purse in with me, peed on the stick, was in the middle of changing into comfy nighttime clothes and I looked down.
It hadn't even been 30 seconds yet and there were two pink lines. Two, not one like usual.
And that was when I said, "You've got to be fucking shitting me." shaking like a leaf, dropping the contents of my pants into the toilet...
End of Part 1...because it's late and I have to pee (big surprise there).
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