Alternate title of post: “The only pregnancy post I’ll ever do. Promise.”
So yeah, sorry for keeping it a secret. I really wanted to keep the focus on my book. My book will always feel like the first thing I gave birth to, and I wanted to give it the attention it deserves.
I didn’t find out I was pregnant until almost 7 weeks. How does that happen, you might ask. Hah. Well, when we looked back at the calendar, we discovered I got pregnant the week after I turned in my manuscript for my cookbook. Immediately after turning it in, I remember having a couple weeks of sheer fatigue. I thought it was just the decompression process after turning in a manuscript. I began taking naps in the afternoon. Long ones. And I have never been a nap girl. I felt guilty. I felt lazy. I didn’t like that my husband was at work, and I was at home, sleeping. Ugh. I kinda hated myself. Then, it got worse. I started to get SO DANG HUNGRY. I couldn’t go more than a few hours without eating. I told myself ‘my period must be on the way.’ Except, you know how that ‘I’m going to eat everything in sight’ feeling before your period only lasts for a few days? This lasted for a month. And I gained 4 pounds. So, let me back up a bit here and say that as soon as I turned in my manuscript, I went on a sugar detox. Remember sugar free week? I quit drinking altogether, too. I was about to turn 30, and I felt like my body needed a little tune-up.
So, now I’m 3 weeks late, and I keep asking myself ‘do I feel weird?’ Doesn’t it feel weird when you’re pregnant? No. I felt completely fine. I get a nagging feeling to go buy a pregnancy test because at least I would finally know for sure. So, thank God for Walgreens being open 24 hours, because I went to buy one at 6:30am. I came home, I peed on it. It immediately popped up positive. All of a sudden, all of my education went out the window, and I couldn’t read the test. I was literally blind and dumb and couldn’t decide if a vertical line meant positive. The box clearly stated in many ways that a vertical line means positive. I told myself the horizontal line wasn’t ‘as blue’ as the vertical line, so it was a false positive. I took a photo and sent it to my best friend in California. Bless her heart, the clock is 2 hours behind for her, and I called her, screeching and begging her to read my pregnancy test for me. Luckily, she’s up breastfeeding her new baby. She looks at the photo, and tells me it’s positive. She tells me to take a deep breath, go for a walk, and take another test. I start bawling in the phone. Like this ugly cry. I’m not ready for this. I’m a planner! This was completely unplanned.
So, I do what Esther says and I take the dog for a walk. I start putting the pieces together: I’ve been so tired, so hungry, and I’ve been really hard on the dog. Like, losing my temper at the dog for him doing the littlest things (future parent-of-the-year award, right here).
So, I float through the rest of the day in denial and tell myself everything is fine. I’m really not pregnant. It’s just a fluke. And this small voice in my head reminds that if I do happen to be pregnant, it’s okay because: I’ve been taking prenatal vitamins for months (long story), I quit sugar, and I haven’t had any alcohol.
My husband gets home from work, and we always take our dog on a walk to a park before dinner. I rush him through the ‘tell me about your day’ part of the conversation so I can tell him my news. I tell him cautiously and say ‘I only took one test, and I really think it was a false positive. But yeah…’ Why am I so awkward around my husband? Anyway, we agree to chill out, and take another test in the morning.
The next morning, I pop out of bed, ignore the fact that the dog needs to go outside, and pee on another stick. Immediately positive. I bring the test back to bed (yuck) and my husband says ‘yep, you’re pregnant.’ Much kissing ensues. Have I told you how much my dog hates it when my husband and I are affectionate towards each other? The dog is very possessive of me, and tries to break up our love all the time. It’s, um, unsettling.
So, last time I saw my doctor, she told me to call her immediately if I got pregnant. Since I’m 30, I’m automatically high risk. UGH. Should I apologize to the medical community for taking the time to get my life in order before having a baby? I feel like I’d be treated better if I was 16 and pregnant. Anyway, I told my doctor, no worries, we’re not trying to get pregnant. She’s not at all shocked when I call her just a few weeks after our conversation to say I had a positive pregnancy test. I ramble on the phone to my doctor (I freaking LOVE my doctor-let me know if you need an OB rec in St. Louis. Seriously) and I tell her all about how I really don’t think I am pregnant. She tells me to come in next week for my 8-week appointment.
I bring my husband to the appointment, because I’m 100% sure that the sonogram will reveal that I’m really not pregnant. No one is more shocked than me when she turns the sonogram machine on and baby bean pops up immediately. I’m like ‘WHAT IS THAT?’ I’m in a state of shock. My husband is grinning ear to ear. My husband is a good Catholic man who loves marriage and babies. If you’re single and having a hard time meeting a good guy, I suggest converting to Catholicism. Seriously. It worked for me.
So yeah. I walk out of the sonogram room, and my doctor tries to tempt me with this wall of free pregnancy magazines. My arms stick to my sides like lead weights. She then presses a pregnancy book on me. I take it home and immediately bury it in the back of my closet. I decide that I want my life to be as normal as possible while pregnant. Pregnancy is not an affliction. It’s a beautiful blessing, and I don’t want to obsess over every detail. I just want ‘to be.’
I’ve had very little sickness. I know how blessed I am to write that. However, my Mom didn’t have it either, and I’m guessing it’s somehow genetics-related. Also, you should know that my diet has always been pretty clean (minus homemade dessert twice a week or so). I’ve never drank much caffeine, and I always get 8+ hours of sleep.
The only craving I have is ice water. It doesn’t sound like much of a craving, but prior to getting knocked up, I only drank hot beverages and room temperature water. It wasn’t morning unless I drank an entire pot of green tea. Now, I sip on ice water all day. I take these obnoxious water bottles full of ice and lemon slices with me everywhere. I’m constantly threatening to leave them at a restaurant, on the counter while shopping, in the grocery cart, wherever. I’m a joy to pick up after. But, I must have it.
I would be remiss if I didn’t mention how I did that annoying thing that all girls do the first time they get pregnant: push their belly out and convince themselves they’re already showing at 8 weeks. I actually went and bought maternity clothes at 8 weeks. I finally got wise to the fact that it was just bloating. In the morning, my belly was flat, in the evening, slightly puffy. I don’t think any man should ever have to deal with a woman calling herself fat, so I apologize to my husband for those weeks of pushing my belly out and calling myself fat. He gives me that killer smile, and pushes his gorgeous brown locks behind his ear. I’m kidding. But, really, my husband is McDreamy in real life.
Thankfully, I got clearance to keep up with my normal exercise routine. I’m a yoga junkie. I always have been. I actually used to teach Hatha yoga in college. After doing yoga for 10 years, I was terrified that my doctor was going to tell me to stop. Luckily, she said to keep doing whatever I’m doing, even running! I feel free as a bird. I run, take super hot Epsom salt baths, and go to bed at 8pm. Hah. Then, yoga starts getting challenging around 9-12 weeks. I’m not exactly sure why. I really wish I had told more people I was pregnant at this point, because I want to talk about it with someone. All of a sudden, I’m sweating in downward-facing dog and I’m falling out of poses. Not to brag, but I’m normally a yoga rock star. I finally pick up my pregnancy book and turns out, yep, all of these things are normal. Apparently, your blood volume doubles while you’re pregnant, which explains why I went from the girl who’s always cold to the sweaty girl. I’m also totally relieved to read in the book that it’s normal to feel stressed about not accomplishing as much stuff as you would like to during the day. The book tells me to ease up myself and ‘let things go undone’. Too bad I’m in the middle of serious book edits at this point, and I can’t tell my editor to let my deadlines ‘go undone.’
So, I kept all of this to myself because I don’t exactly see what it has to do with my blog. I’m still going to bake small batch desserts for eternity. Then, I find out that my publicist booked QVC for me. And the date corresponds to me being 6 1/2 months pregnant. Not exactly something I can hide on television. So, I figured I would come clean to you. But I kinda sorta dreaded it. I don’t know why. But then? I found out it’s a girl. And I’m so over the moon excited, I couldn’t wait to tell you! I will have a little Bakerella baking with me in the kitchen. I bawled like a baby at the doctor when we found out. Her name is Camille, and yes we’re Francophiles.
SO RECAP: I’m 25 weeks (6 months + 1 week). It’s a girl. Her name is Camille. I’m not going to start baking larger desserts. Deal? I love you guys so much for listening to this ramble.
Do you want some chocolate cake? All I have to offer is the crumbs.
Friends! You can catch me on QVC promoting my first cookbook tomorrow, January 21st, from 8-10pm Eastern time. That’s 7-9pm Central time, Mom and Dad. I’ll have a segment during David Venable’s show, In the Kitchen with David. Thanks for your support! See you live TOMORROW! :)