Well, guess what?

I'm 8 weeks pregnant! We wanted to wait to tell everyone until I'd had my first pre-natal appointment and seen the heartbeat and just generally knew for sure that everything was okay. We got that happy confirmation on Thursday. Now we've told almost everyone (I still have some friends to call, but they don't read the blog, so I'll still surprise them), so you, anonymous blog readers, are last.


Here's a recap of the interesting bits:

In June, someone sent me a Peruvian fertility god, and I got two fortune cookie fortunes, one of which was "no obstacles will stand in the way of your success this month." I also had my HSG test, and it's generally agreed that there's a higher rate of conception after the test.

On Wednesday, July 11th, I woke up four times in the night to pee. That was weird. The next day, Thursday, was a day that I could have (how do I put this delicately?) found out conclusively that we were not pregnant. That did not happen. Also, I was STARVING all day. I got suspicious, but I've certainly gotten my hopes up before only to have them dashed.

On Friday the 13th, I was still starving, and the, erm, conclusive proof had still not shown up. I had told myself before that I was going to wait until I was REALLY late (Saturday) to test, but I just couldn't wait. I ran out to Rite Aid and bought a two-pack. It was already late morning, and you're supposed to do them first thing (because all the hormones are more concentrated). I took it anyway, then ran out of the bathroom so I wouldn't sit and obsess. Two minutes later, I went in, uncovered my eyes, and there, as clear as anything, were my two lines.

I told Sweetie that afternoon. It went something like this:

Well, you're going to be a dad!
What? How do you know?
Your other girlfriend called.
...
I took a test!
Oh! Oh, well this is good. (Pause) We'll have to start a college fund.
I think Mom and Boompah are on that.
Orthodontia, then.

That night, he called me Sweetpea (he often does), then poked my belly and said "and Peapod." So the baby has had the nickname Peapod ever since the first day we knew.

Getting to tell Mom was a real thrill. I wrapped a little package with booties and a bib, and handed it to her. She said "For me? But I haven't done anything!" I said, "It's for something you're going to do..." She still looked puzzled until she opened a little corner and gasped. "You're going to be a grandma." We both cried. Boompah just said "So, I can shop now?" (Note: Peapod is less than two centimeters, and already has a Ziggy Stardust onesie, some tiny Smartwool socks, and an "I killed a man in Reno just to watch him die" t-shirt.)

Monkeygirl is already planning my shower. For someone to supposedly doesn't like kids, she's VERY excited for me.

I told my BlogHer pals, because I just didn't think I could pass off the constant eating and peeing over a weekend of sharing a hotel room. It was funny -- I said something about painting the nursery, and Suzanne and Des kept their heads bowed, like "Awkward!" But Alex got it, and then there were many yays and congratulations.

We told my family and Sweetie's family on Thursday, and everyone has been really overjoyed for us. It's been really fun sharing this, and I know how much everyone loves us and how much Peapod is already loved.

How I'm feeling? Good, delighted, blissful... and tired. It's not a complaint, because I know this comes with the territory, but I have been surprised at how fatigued I feel. I've been taking up to TWO naps a day and going to bed early and sleeping in late. But, I'm so fortunate, because A: I'm on summer vacation, so I have the luxury of giving in to the fatigue and B: Sweetie has been really patient with me and been picking up my slack.

I'm also HUNGRY! Ridiculously hungry. Famished, even. Let's give an example: Today I ate a moderate breakfast, then at 10:30, I had a yogurt, and at noon, I got out of yoga class and stopped at the grocery store. By the time I got home (12:30) the phrase "in imminent danger of starving to DEATH" was ringing in my head as I lunged for the microwave. While I waited the 3 1/2 minutes for my frozen meal to heat, I ate two pieces of baguette. And it's been like that for the last month.

How's the baby? Well, it's just over 1.3 centimeters, has all the organs it's going to get, has a big head in comparison to its body, has a heartbeat... Just this week, it graduated from embryo to fetus.

Are we going to find out the sex? I don't know. Sweetie wants to, and I've heard some good arguments on that side (you can start using "he" or "she, pick out a name, feel like you know the baby...), but I've sort of always dreamed of hearing "It's a..." at the birth. I mean, is there any greater surprise in your life? And the people I know who chose not to find out say that it was indeed a wonderful surprise, and they recommend it. We still have a while to decide, but right now, I don't know.

Have we talked about names? Well... yes. But I'm afraid it may come to fisticuffs. Sweetie's favorite names thus far run towards Menzes (pronounced Mingus), Konnor, Ghazal and Maude. I have visions of throwing something down the hall and saying "Oh, honey, could you grab that?" while I furiously fill out the name portion of the birth certificate. I wouldn't hate Konnor except that it was recently the 38th most popular boy name in the U.S., and almost 2,400 babies born out of every million have that name. Which means that for this kid's entire life, he's going to have to be "Konnor P." And every time I shout "Konnor!" on the playground, six kids will come at me wanting a juice box. And it doesn't really matter that it's Konnor-with-a-K, since that just means it's spelled wrong.

Now, I know that not everyone needs to know every little detail of my pregnancy, so I promise not to overwhelm the blog with this stuff. In fact, I've put most of the ooey-gooey feelings stuff on another blog altogether ( http://countmomula.blogspot.com ). But it is part of my life now, so I expect it'll show up here sometimes.

Anyway, I'm just excited to finally share our good news. Thanks to everyone who's been wishing me well through this whole journey. Love you all,

Count Mockula