I’ve never been one who couldn’t keep a secret. Just ask **** from the 3rd grade, she told me she liked ***** and wanted to kiss him. He still has no clue. It goes into the vault, as long as it’s not a secret of my own.

The longest I’ve lasted with a secret of my own has been 2 weeks. I spent each day of that two weeks not sleeping, wanting to call people and hinting every chance I got. “Oh, you like WHAM? Getting a better job is great, isn’t it?” I’m really just not good at keeping my mouth shut when I’m excited about something.

That said, we decided to try to last until Friday to tell our close friends. That way we have positive confirmation by the doctor before we go blabbering everywhere. Ideally, we would’ve waited until we were 12 weeks along. That’s like asking me to stop breathing for 12 weeks, and we all know that’s not going to happen. So a 2 week gag order seemed doable.

Apparently, we have less self control than we thought we did.  First, it was just 2 people. Mine was by accident, I had to tell her because I couldn’t tell Eric right that moment. He was playing chess with my dad. So I told one of my closest friends. Eric, then, had a free pass to tell one person and told his sister. We decided that would be it.

Yesterday, we went to see a 9-11 Truth lecture in Boulder. A co-worker/friend of Eric’s came along. We got 20 feet away from the car when Eric says, “Should we tell him the good news?” That phrase bothered me, for some reason, so I said something that bothered me even more, “Apparently, I’m with child.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. It’s much stranger telling people in person than I thought. I felt almost embarrassed or ashamed. Like I was just admitting to a perfect stranger that I have sex. It was incredibly uncomfortable.

He asked, “Did you test or…” Eric responded with, “No, we go in…” I finished, “Thursday.” This left the poor man thinking we were just guessing that I was pregnant out of no where. About 10 minutes later, he asks, “So, do you have any symptoms? Why do you think…” I had to explain that I’d taken about 6 home pregnancy tests, and you could see his ‘these people are nuts’ face disappear. He was very sweet and said if we needed anything, he has tons of baby stuff – he has twins.

So, I’m trying very hard not to tell my friends until Friday, but I’m having a harder and harder time. I keep wanting to drop hints, or “let it slip.” My family won’t know until 12 weeks, period. That’s a whole other story. My friends, though, that’s going to be much harder.

I’ve mentioned before that we have no clear idea of how far along we are. If you go by my last menstrual period – August 22 – I’m 9 weeks and 6 days. Thanks to hypothyroidism, that is a completely unreliable date to go by. If I go by when about my last period was supposed to be – September 24 – I’m 5 weeks today. That would make much more sense. Well, in the backwards way they count pregnancy.

How does it make any sense at all to count by last period? Not everyone has that “perfect” 28 day cycle, so wouldn’t those of us with extra long cycles be no where near as far along as those with them? How could they count me at 5 weeks, when someone with a 28 day cycle would be at 4? I assume our children don’t begin growing before they’re even fertilized, so why count by beginning of last period? That’s like saying an foot is 12 inches only when it’s not 42.

Nothing says “breeder” like buying your local Dollar Tree out of their stock of pregnancy tests, just to be positive you’re remaining pregnant until the day you actually go in for your first appointment. Which, I’m confused about – not a new feeling in this thing. I’ve read you get your blood test, first thing. Then, you go in for your first OB appointment at 8 weeks. “Call your doctor,” I hear. Well, I did. I tried, and they weren’t open, I assume because of the blizzard. They’re not open on Fridays, either. So what does one do?

I’ll tell you what I wanted do, buy 8 pregnancy tests to take every day between now and the appointment. To make sure the line is getting darker with each test by studying them very closely against the others. Write the date on each test, take pictures, the whole shebang. But, that would be nuerotic, right? Nuts and overkill. That’s what Eric said. So I only bought one for every OTHER day. I think that’s a step in the right direction.

Yesterday we had an appointment with mortgage advisor in hopes of getting a pre-approval. We’d worked ourselves into a tizzy, expecting to get approved for $30,000 at most. We already were picturing having to live in the worst neighborhood in Denver, or, worse, raising our child in my parents house. Not that there’s anything wrong with my parents house…it’s just, you know, my parents house.

First, we got there late. We’re always late. Upon walking in, we got “that face” receptionists that just want you to go away give you. The what-the-hell-are-you-doing-walking-up-to-my-desk-like-I-can do-anything-for-you look. To his chagrin, we mentioned that we did, indeed, expect him to let the advisor know we were there then sat down in a very warm colored, freezing cold, distant corner. As if we weren’t nervous enough, a very thin, well dressed, young woman passed by us and flashed us her best million dollar smile. It looked as if she was going to eat my head. She did this three times in the time we waited, it scared the hell out of me each time. By the time the advisor stepped out to save us, I was convined we’d walked into a real estate version of The Titty Twister from “From Dusk Til Dawn,” and were about to be eaten alive.

The advisor was a nice young man with perfectly manicured eyebrows, that stared you in the eyes when he spoke. I’m not talking “maintain eye contact,” I’m talking ”staring to bore a whole through the back of your head.” I never thought it was possible to have an uncomfortable conversation about weather but, let me tell you, it is absolutely possible. After the 5 minute long, very strange weather conversation that did nothing to alleviate my fear of a heinous death by being eaten alive, we discussed our financing options and Eric’s credit score – something along the lines of, “I’ve never seen a score this high in any man under the age of 65,” came out of the advisors mouth right after an ear to ear grin spread across is face . We were luckily able to be pre-approved for much more than we expected, and are well on our way to finding the perfect, inexpensive home. We’re both really excited, about the house and, you know, that we weren’t eaten alive.

My reflux has disappeared. I’m worried and scared, probably unnecessarily so but I am. I’ve read it’s normal that certain days you just won’t feel pregnant, and it’s fine. I don’t think it’s fine to suddenly not feel pregnant. I’m trying to be level headed and realize everything is probably okay, but what if, just what if, it’s not?

I made my appointment with my OBGYN (who does not “practice her love with me”) this morning. The nurse asked me when my last period was, as they don’t generally see people before 8 weeks. I launched into an explanation about levothyroxine, hypothyroidism and missing periods. I was responded to with a very sweet, “Okay, sweetie, but when was your last menstrual period?”
“August 22nd…”
“Oh…well, the doctor’s on vacation this week and the earliest we can get you in is Thursday next week. At another hospital.”

I guess my missed period worked in my favor because I’m now able to go in earlier than most people would. God knows I need to, I’m already planning on buying a test for every day until the appointment, so I can be sure everything’s okay.

That “Things to Be Grounded For” list has just upped itself to 2.

I woke up this morning feeling great. I ran to the store, I had a mini emotional breakdown with Eric (that I later apologized for when I realized I was completely wrong), I ate with no reflux and my bowels worked the way they were supposed to.

So, of course, I was convinced I was having a miscarriage. How in God’s name could I suddenly be feeling so good after a week of feeling like hell. Yesterday I couldn’t move without ending up with the burning throat and taste of whatever I had just eaten re-entering my mouth. Yesterday, my stomach hurt the entire day. Yesterday the toilet and I were mortal enemies. There was something very, very wrong if I was feeling this good.

I tried to ignore the feeling well, I made a list of all the money we didn’t have and would have to spend for the first 6 weeks of the childs’ life, clothing and then gear, thanks to Babycenter. I looked for houses we couldn’t afford and hoped for my stomach to start grumbling at me. I ate salsa, just in the off chance it may force my stomach into angry volcano mode. To no avail. However, I now have a comprehensive 4 page list of everything we’ll need to get for the first 6 weeks of our child’s life, filled in with all the things we do have. I do realize a list of this magnitude makes me seem a little nuerotic, but you have to admire my attention to detail:

Onesies (4-7)
1. Plain white
2. ” ”
3. ” ”
4. White “Brand New”
5. Blue “Brand New” (May be too large, do not count)
5. Classic Pooh Yellow
6. Classic Pooh White
7.

I watched Halloween- normal and DVD on TV, and worried. I watched Dexter, and worried.  I was halfway through Nightmare on Elm Street when, mid-water swallow, I felt it coming on. I’ve never felt more crazy than that moment, when I bragged to Eric that my reflux was back and thanked the baby for letting me know it still existed. Then quickly wrote it down on a separate list titled: “Things to Ground Baby For.”