Freaking out, but in a good way

Okay, so, according to the two little pink lines, I’m actually pregnant. Let the freaking out commence.

I know they say there’s no such thing as “a little pregnant”, but I really do feel that my grasp on it (or its grasp on me, I suppose) is quite delicate at this stage. I mean, the bun in this oven is exactly two weeks and one day old, which isn’t much. Many people in this situation could think they were just a little late, and their period might easily show up in the next few days and they’d be none the wiser. It’s only because I’ve been obsessively charting and checking and wishin’ and hopin’ etc. that I decided that yesterday was the day to go to Target and, while picking up a rather nice little red t-shirt on sale and a new shower puff because my old one had unravelled to the point where a dead jellyfish would probably have worked just as well, to buy me one of those boxes of sticks you pee on.

And lo, the pink lines. Jubilation. Tempered by a healthy dose of disbelief. I can just about get my head around saying the words “I’m pregnant”, but the notion that this will in time be followed by my abdomen inflating and something kicking me from the inside, let alone the idea that we might be entrusted with an actual baby is absolutely not something that feels possible just yet. I suppose pregnancy is an adjustment period, like engagement. When you get engaged, you have to say “I’m Engaged. I have a Fiance,” quite a few times before you can bring yourself to think that this means you will be Married and have a Husband. (I maintain that “fiance(e)” is such a silly word purely so that when you get to being able to say the simple “husband” or “wife” you’ll embrace the term with relieved delight.) Mind you, I still sometimes think of B as my boyfriend and am surprised to find he’s my husband and I am a wife. But when there’s a baby right there in front of one – inside or out – it’s more than just semantics, so I suppose I’ll just cope when it happens.

Anyway – early, early days. No chickens being counted just yet. (Oh god, imagine if it’s triplets.) I’m trying to drink lots of water and I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning. Must remember to breathe for the next ten weeks or so, because I don’t think holding my breath would be helpful.

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