The First Few Weeks

The first trimester of my pregnancy was absolute H-E- double hockey sticks. I had all the symptoms that indicated there was a life forming inside my womb. From morning sickness to odor sensitivity, I experienced it all. However, if there was one word that can sum up that entire 12 weeks, it’d be hunger. Oh yes…hunger. The one thing all living, breathing creature had, pregnant or not, was something I felt to the 10th degree.

For those first three months, the amount of food I consumed literally determined everything, my mood, my level of friendliness, my tolerance for other people’s stupidity, and the amount of affection I was willing to show my boyfriend. The hunger I felt was not the ordinary I-skipped-breakfast kind if hunger. I would eat a full meal and half an hour later, it would be as if I hadn’t eaten anything at all! My jaw was working overtime trying to eat enough food for my starving baby. I remember waking up two to three times in the middle of the night just to eat. I would keep boxes of cereal (the healthy whole grain kind like kashi) near me so when I’m too tired to get out of bed, I can just eat without having to get up.

But just because I needed to eat, doesn’t mean that what I ate would stay down. As I’m sure all you prego ladies out there know, there are just certain foods, whether it’d be flavor or consistency, that would just make you puke like there’s no tomorrow. For me, it was anything mushy like strawberries and mashed potatoes. Yep, those things were stricken off my diet during this time. And it wasn’t just that, eating too much of the same thing would make me throw up as well. One night for dinner, my honey decided to treat me to Olive Garden (oh how I love their unlimited salad and breadsticks!) and at that time, they were having a buy one take one special which basically means you eat a meal at the restaurant and they give you one to take home. Well, that night I finished all my pasta at the restaurant and upon my arrival at home, I nuked up the food I took home because I was hungry again. Biggest regret ever. My body was completely rejecting the food that I had consumed too much of. I was in the bathroom for a good while as the contents of my stomach was emptying itself into the toilet.

It was during these few weeks that I realize how important it is for a soon-to-be-mama to have a really good and caring baby daddy. My boyfriend (fiancĂ© soon to be hubby) was the absolute best. He would take care of all the chores while I just relaxed and deal with the symptoms of being pregnant. Because of my odor sensitivity, he would wake up before I did just to brush his teeth. He loved me through my tantrums and my annoying need to eat every hour. He endured through every tear that sprouted from silly arguments and every emotional outburst I had. Lucky for him, that period of “oh my gosh I’m secretly killing her in my head” was over right when my 12 weeks was over. I guess there is a light at the end of every tunnel.


Day One



The day I found out I was pregnant is a day I’ll never forget. My boyfriend, Billy, and I had a trip planned the last weekend of March. I, of course, was anxiously awaiting the arrival of Aunt Flow. After all, who wants to go to Vegas whilst on their rag. Well… one day passed, two days passed, and all I kept thinking was that it’s completely normal for it to be late sometimes. The thought of being pregnant didn’t even cross my mind.

By Wednesday, my period has yet to come. Knowing that I was going to meet up with my sister for her weekly comedy night in Long Beach, I texted her and asked if she could bring some pregnancy tests (who wants to pay for those things, they’re way too expensive -_-“). When she handed it to me that night, I was still thinking in my head “I won’t be needing this, I’m sure my period will come soon.” And even though we were joking around the rest of the night about me being prego and her being an auntie, I still didn’t take it to heart because I just felt so… unpregnant.

So March 27 comes around and there was still no sign of my period approaching. That night when Billy and I were talking, he finally said, with attitude might I add, “Why don’t you just take the test?! You have it right there!” Apparently, even though I wasn’t giving it a second thought, he was getting more than a little concerned. Just to appease him, I told him I’d take it the following morning. So I did. I went to the restroom at work, cup in one hand, pregnancy test in the other, but all I could think about was how this test would go to such waste. But a promise was a promise and I was determined to prove to him that his concern was out of place. Well, waiting that minute in the restroom was definitely not the longest minute of my life. That second line on the strip showed up clear as day and fast as lightening. You can imagine the shock and dismay I felt staring at the tiny little thing telling me I might, just might, be pregnant. I must have checked the package ten times to make sure what I was seeing was correct. I took this strip to show the one person who played a part in this supposed baby (Billy and I worked together at the time so there was no need for texting or calling to deliver this news). Each step I took to my boyfriend’s desk was heavier and heavier. With a shakey hand, I showed him the result of my test and walked back to my desk.

I sat there for a good minute trying to register this information into my brain. Then all of a sudden my phone lit up in the corner of my eye. “Are you okay?” And that’s when my facade of courage and okay-ness all went away. And yes, in a professional, business-like environment, I was balling like a baby. I ran into the logistics department and cried to Caryn, the logistics manager, who was like a big sister to me. All I kept muttering was “I’m pregnant, I’m pregnant how did this happen?!” I rushed to the restroom to have a moment to just wash up and breathe. Caryn went in there after me, offering words of comfort and telling me everything would be ok. I gather my composure and sat back at my desk, staring at the screen still in a zombie-like state of shock. The grandma of the office, Marilou, came up to my desk to tell me everything would be ok and that it’ll be the happiest time of my life. She was in the stall In the restroom and overheard everything (ninja status since neither Caryn nor I heard anything). She told me not to worry about anything, that what happened was meant to be. The rest of that work day was spent googling the validity of pregnancy tests and false positives. I can’t even remember doing any actual work that day. I was just letting the information sink in.

When I got home that evening, I took another pregnancy test which again confirmed that I was definitely not going to get my period before this trip. But now, instead of fear filling my heart, it was just a feeling of happiness and worth.

The funny thing about all this is, a few weeks before this happened, Billy and I were visiting a good friend of ours in Lake Forest to do a car photo shoot. His girlfriend, Candy, and I were chatting and the topic of periods and protection came up. She asked me if I was on the pill. I wasn’t. She stared at me in astonishment when I told her the only method we used to prevent a baby was the pull-out method. “What if you get pregnant?” She asked me. I just shrugged and smiled and told her we’d just keep the baby. Maybe God was using her to drop a hint, maybe she jinxed us. Who knows. Sure, it was unplanned and unexpected. But as one of my colleagues said, better to not plan and have one than to try for one and fail month after month. A year down the road, on the monthiversary of my joyous baby news, I couldn’t be happier and my life has never felt so complete. I thought, somehow, my life was ending when I was going to have a baby. But in actuality, my life didn’t start until she was born.

Mrs. Uncle Bob