about the long break

I know, I know ... we all do it. We all take long breaks and then come back with some sort of feeble (or really, let's be honest here, not to feeble) explanation for why we've disappeared. But this break has been exceedingly hard for me.

So, here goes.

My Dearest A ... I am so sorry to not have told you this in person. I've been trying to find you, make time for you, drop by your house when I thought you might be there, etc. But the timing just hasn't worked out and, as much as I don't want you to hear another piece of news through my blog and not through me, I'm at the point of exploding. So if you still want to hear it from me in person (though it may have already grapevined itself to you) then stop reading now.

About six weeks ago J and I were sitting on the couch watching American Idol and he put his hand on my back and said something to the extent of, "My god, you're producing an assload of heat!" This is exceedingly unusual for me since I am normally freezing cold even in the dead of summer and I really never produce my own heat. But I didn't think anything of it.

The next morning I had an unbelievably hard time getting out of bed. Just no energy whatsoever, lay there and read for about two hours after waking up. And even then had a hard time actually getting out of bed.

I got up and made myself some toast for breakfast. As soon as the toast was done and all buttery and covered in jam, I realized I wanted nothing to do with it, so I just dumped it right in the trash can.

And this, my dear friends, was the moment when I stopped and actually put some thought into it. Producing lots of heat, completely exhausted for no good reason, having inexplicable aversions to a food I normally love ... I immediately ran into the bathroom and took one of the several pregnancy tests I had lying around. I didn't believe the results when I saw them, so I did it again. And now, the moment you've all been waiting for ...



It's true, it's true ... I'm pregnant. Ten weeks and four days. Estimated due date is November 26th. We have our first official appointment with a midwife on Friday and I am so excited I can hardly breathe.

How have I been feeling? Nauseous, though I still haven't thrown up. But honestly, that's because I have years and years of experience with feeling nauseous all the time and not puking. It's actually probably my greatest skill. Who would have ever thought it'd be this important to my life? And exhausted. Being lazy for the sake of being lazy, for the fun of it, is awesome. Being lazy because it takes about as much energy to stand up as it normally does to work a full eight hours ... SUCKS!!! There were two weeks where I cried almost every single day because I felt so crappy and so tired and so alone in my misery. But then I realized that probably actually talking to J about what I was feeling would help. It did.

I read somewhere that a pregnant body at rest is using about as much energy as a non-pregnant body climbing Mt. Everest. That's how tired I've been.

But I am so excited. This is pretty much all that J and I have wanted, separately and together, for our entire lives. So yippee for us! And for those of you wondering, it was very intentional. In January we decided that we didn't actually want to wait any longer, that being married and having a whole bunch of money wasn't actually that important to us. What matters is that we get started on this ASAP so that we can give our children as much of our youth as we possibly can. (I'm 27, he's 32 ... we've got a lot of youth left for 'em)

So yeah. That's me. Sorry for the extended story and post, but now you all know. Life couldn't get much better than it is right now. I'm happy as a fucking clam.