***Forewarning: If you’re anti-baby, you should probably ignore me for the next seven months***

I’m sure you can guess…or assume…that since my life – and my body – have literally been overtaken by this little sprout, you can follow the logic and know that so, then, will my blog.

And my blog is still broken, so I can’t post any pictures (sad face).  But once I can? Photos of the little sprout for all!

How I became knocked up?…..how it always happens, duh (ear muffs, mom).  No special requirements here.  Just a little sun, water and Mother Nature doing her thing without my explicit permission.

Wait.

Let me explain.

Of course the baby making process all goes “down” the same way every time if you’re doing it a la natural.  Unless you’re still holding out for the stork, in which case I’ll try to reserve judgement.

Anyhow, Tim and I *did* actually have a plan to “stop not trying” (if you follow that logic)

That “plan” was just…how shall we say? Put on the fast tracks.

One (apparently fateful) Friday night back in May, I told Tim over dinner that I was definitely ready to have a child.  ”Definitely ready” as in I’d finally wrapped my brain around the idea.  Not “definitely ready” as in let’s go jump on it!!!

He took the literal meaning. The jump on it one.

Condoms? What condoms? Condoms obviously aren’t necessary when you’re jumping on it (I’ve been off the pill for a few years.  Those little monsters gave me horrid migraines every time I went to the “white pill week.”).

And what’s an inebriated girl to do but oblige?

(I’m well aware that this is all TMI…but so is everything regarding pregnancy…so we’re all just going to get to know ME a little more intimately)

That one weekend in May, by the way, was the only condomless weekend we had because I was all, “No! Wait! I should go to the doctor first!”

So, from that point on, Tim started suiting up again (which was actually completely unnecessary, unbeknownst to anyone) and I scheduled a pre-conception appointment.  I wanted to do this right.  By the book. Cross all my T’s and dot all the whatevers.  Mind my P’s and Q’s and all that jazzy stuff.

About a week before I was *supposed* to begin that lovely monthly cycle, I started complaining that my boobs hurt…which as we girls know is *also* a symptom of our impending monthly visit…or in my case, sometimes every few months visit.  I didn’t think anything of it because I’m a irregular as they come.  I mean, really, what were the odds? I’ll tell you: One in eleventh billion.

Tim’s first response when I was all, “My boobs are SORE!” was “You’re SO pregnant.”

Of course, I was like, “That’s impossible. It was TWO times and I’m irregular.  The odds of that happening are like, impossible.”

(Apparently, nothing is impossible.  Just keep that in mind the next time you think you’re in the “safe zone” – just a little friendly reminder)

So we went about our life as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

We kept running.  I kept going to the gym.  I ate soft cheeses.  I had fish. I DRANK ALCOHOL.

Then, the second to the last week of June, all hell broke loose. Tim left for a business trip.  During that trip, his Uncle Ed passed away and I had to scramble to purchase plane tickets to Rochester (the hellish Delta experience) and get the dogs set up for doggie daycare while we were gone.

All of that transpired in about two days and by the time I was finished with it all, I was exhausted in a way that didn’t even feel normal. Naps were my new BFF and I kept thinking, “Why do I want to sleep so much?….”

(I know.  All completely obvious signs I totally ignored)

Then, the night before Tim flew home from his business trip, I got this random thought, “I probably should take a pregnancy test.”  I have no idea where the idea came from or why it popped into my head at that very moment, but it did, so, I grabbed a test from under the bathroom sink, was about to unwrap it…..and my phone rings.

It’s Tim, calling to say goodnight like he always does when he is away.  For some reason, I didn’t expect him to be calling AT THAT VERY MOMENT, so I sat there, trying to sound normal while sitting on the toilet, test in hand.

Did I tell him what my plans were?  Noooo.  I figured it would be negative anyway, so why tell him now?

So I didn’t.

Once we said our goodbyes, I ripped the test open like it was my job, peed on the little stick and brought it downstairs and put it on the kitchen table while I was busy doing something else that I cannot recall (I blame pregnancy brain – which is totally real and sometimes frustrating because I’ll be right in the middle of a thought and then….poof! It’s gone).

A few minutes later, I walked by the table, picked up the test, thinking it would say, “Not pregnant” like it always had in the past.

I looked down and definitely saw the “pregnant”….but the “not” was missing in front of it.  It just stared up at me all, “PREGNANT. YOU ARE PREGNANT.”

So, what’s a sane person who didn’t expect this result in a million years to do at this very moment? Race out the door to the drug store and buy three additional brands of tests.  JUST TO BE SURE.

As I drove to and from the drug store, I was literally shaking like, “Really? Is this really happening?  I have to wait until TOMORROW to tell anyone????!?!?”  The chick who rang up my three items was all, “Good luck, no matter what you’re hoping for!”

I just smiled at her like, “You have no idea.  This is like the child from Jesus and I’m almost convinced it had to happen through immaculate conception because it was IMPOSSIBLE for this little miracle to occur with all the odds against us.”

After I got back home, I began drinking water like it was going out of style.  Which, by the way, was a terrible idea because I had already been peeing more than I remembered being considered normal and after that massive influx of fluid, I was literally getting up every thirty minutes for the next five hours to pee.

Not. Fun.

BUT, I had plenty of fluid to take those additional tests.  I decided to take two that night and then, just in case this was all a dream, the last one the next morning.

One by one, they all came up with the same result: Knocked up.

By the time I researched Dr. Google and found that a false positive on a pregnancy test is almost unheard of, I decided to figure out a way to break the news to Tim.  And let me tell you – it is never a good idea to try to keep a secret like this from someone for even half of a day.

But somehow, I managed to act all nonchalant whenever I spoke with him on the phone as he made his way from Texas back to Colorado, even while I was driving to the bookstore to pick up part of his surprise, chatting with him like it was just another typical day.

When he FINALLY made it home, I was shaking, again.  Tim has wanted children longer than me, obviously with the whole 13-year age gap, and this bit of news has been a LONG TIME COMING.  As soon as his car pulled in the garage, I swung open the door with a goofy grin on my face, I’m sure.  I had his surprise hidden behind my back and the first thing I blurted out?

“You’re home early! I have a surprise for you!”

Way to be slick there, Jessica….

However, Tim didn’t think anything of what I said.  He apparently thought that because he was home early, I didn’t have time to finish his surprise and therefore, it wouldn’t be 100% complete when I gave it to him.

I could barely contain myself, telling him to hurry and making him drop his bags at the door.  He wasn’t allowed to do anything unless it involved me giving him the surprise.

I told him to close his eyes and hold out his hands.  He did.

Then, I placed a book of baby names with three of my pregnant tests taped to the front.

(this is where a picture opportunity would be perfect, but, sadly, as we all know, blog = broken)

He opened his eyes and almost immediately knew what I had handed him.  We hugged.  I cried (pregnancy hormones…I never cry).  And then we sat down and were all, “HOW IS THIS EVEN POSSIBLE?”

I still don’t know the answer.

I do know, though, that I had to call the doctor that day and leave a message all, “Ummm…so about that pre-conception appointment? I need to change that to a…the one where I’m pregnant. Yah. One of those.  Surprise?!“