Guest Blogger Post!

This is a guest post from a good friend of mine who is due in February! (We're using a pseudonym because she hasn't told her colleagues she's expecting yet). She cracks me up. I hope you enjoy!

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On the ride home from lunch one June afternoon, my husband looked over at me and said, “You’re glowing. I think my son’s in there.”  Twelve years of birth control had regulated my cycle to the hour, so being hours late could be taken as a sign as much as the mysterious glow my husband detected.  My husband had recently declared post-coitus, “I put it down! You’re definitely pregnant now.”  Back then, I had teased him back, “I don’t think that’s how conception works.  My eggs have been refusing to pair with any sperm that wasn’t the result of amazing sex?”  But who knows, maybe my eggs are just that stubborn...or freaky.

While buying the pregnancy test, I behaved as if I were 16 and pregnant—refusing to ask which aisle the tests were on and after locating them, hiding them under my box of Triscuits. Just in case some stranger had a judgment about a thirty-four year old married woman trying to find out if she was pregnant.  I know it’s irrational, but my association with pregnancy tests and secrecy felt warranted in the moment.  I intentionally picked the box that promised a bonus third test  in case I failed at taking the test correctly, being a virgin and all (a virgin to pregnancy tests not an actual virgin obviously).  I had a moment of bizarre hubris that the first pregnancy test I ever took I hoped would be positive or at least I wouldn’t be distraught if it were.

I decided to take the test at home by myself while my husband was out.  I wanted to have time to process my emotions alone before I shared them with someone else.  As I expected, I botched taking the first test.  The timer clicked away at me for well over a half hour.  I went downstairs, shoved a few Triscuits in my mouth and grabbed a container to help me with the logistics of taking the test.  The second test went from three flashes of the imaginary timer to a bold, unequivocal, Y-E-S.  My first thought was yes what? Yes, the test works.  Yes, that was urine you put on it.  Yes, you’re pregnant?!?! My second thought was I have so many more questions to ask and only one more stick. The next stick didn’t offer a single word, only two pink lines.

What I’d soon learn (not from the stick though) is that all of my preconceptions about pregnancy would soon be shattered or at least didn’t apply to me and my first trimester. The first came when I went to schedule my OBGYN appointment.  Somehow I had imagined that the receptionist would view my newly discovered pregnancy as urgent a medical condition as I did.  Instead, she scanned her computer screen to schedule an 8-week appointment and not a same-day-let’s make-sure-that stick really knows what it’s talking about appointment.

The next lesson was that morning sickness is a misnomer.  It should be called all-day sickness.  I had imagined discreetly vomit into a toilet in the morning and then getting dressed for work.  And not as it turned out walking around all day making sure I constantly knew where the nearest trashcan or bathroom was so I didn’t miss when I got sick during the day, at night, or in the middle of the night.

The last lesson was the hardest because it was related to the thing I was looking forward to most about pregnancy—eating for two.  When I pictured pregnancy, I imagined getting to order two entrees and people around me saying, “No, no, it’s ok, she’s eating for two” when the waitress looked at me strangely.  Of course, I learned that the need to consume more calories doesn’t start until the second trimester, and even more disappointingly, it’s more like eating for 1.2 than eating for 2.  And worst of all: that overeating during pregnancy can harm your child’s appetite regulation system.

I am certain that the baby will have many more lessons for me about the ways I’ve romanticized certain experiences.  Until then, I will take joy in believing that my eggs waited for the sex to be amazing in order to work their magic.

-        Aisha Valentine