Underbelly Confessions

There's a baby in my belly. There, I said it.

The tiny human sucking the life out of me has also managed to drain me of all creative juices these past few months so I will attempt to update all three of you on the happenings and ponderings of this small seahorse-like creature.

Filling you in first with a previous written confession of several months ago when it was too early to tell whether the little guy or gal was going to stick around for the long haul.

Week 1, er 3:

I’m counting it as week one because I’m just now aware of the poppyseed.

I’m looking at it and not believing it, the little magic wand, not the poppyseed, obviously I can’t see that. The advertised comfort handle doesn’t do much to distract from the two pink lines, although it is quite nice. I’m suddenly thinking, why pink? Why not blue? Or green? Are they insinuating that it’s going to be a girl, or maybe because you’re a girl you’d be pre-disposed to want a girl? Color aside. Its positive. I wait two more days, another magic wand. Still two pink lines. I should probably call and set up an appointment with a doctor. Maybe I’m still in shock. Maybe I’m still thinking its not real. Maybe, if I don’t go to the doctor, I can still just stay in my own little world. Well, our little world. Paul’s in this as much as me, granted, his body isn’t going to be dramatically altered, distorted, but his life will be.

I guess I always assumed I’d have kids at some point, but leaving work today it hit me that I never processed that I would, or what that actually looked like. That my life is going to definitely change. It changed somewhat on the 4^th of July when we picked up our puppy Zooey from Hays, KS but a dog is something that you could possibly return. There is no shoving a 2 year old back into your uterus. Sure, I see cute kids and I think, uh, I could have one of those. But reality is, it’s not like you’re staring at the menu at Noodles & Co and picking out lunch for the day.

Maybe I want to stay in the excitement of the unknown but maybe the going to the doctor, and, horrors, having a pelvic exam, will shove me into reality.

Maybe part of me wonders if this is even for real. That I’m going to wake up and discover it was just a long dream. I think I want it, I’ve thought about it for years but what if I’m not ready. What if he or she hates me? What if I’m not a good mom? All kids hate their parents at some point right? I guess I'll find out, because I'm on the train now and it ain't stoppin'.