The Real Story

The first time I wondered if I might be pregnant was the day we helped our llama give birth to a dead baby. I was so depressed and traumatized by the experience, I could hardly think of anything else for days. Slice didn't even know it until I broke down one night, crying over the violence and blood, the disregard for human life portrayed in our mass media.

(DaVinci Code.)

The next weekend I joked with my friend Laurel about how horrible it would be to get pregnant before our trip to Japan. Ha ha!

By the time we took our trip to Arizona, we knew; I was starting to get sick and tired. The long drive there and back was miserable. Slice was unconditionally banned from jerky.

I was so tempted to throw the announcement into this post - it would have been just too perfect - but we knew it would be a while before we'd be telling anyone.

This time, I was afraid of being let down.

"Three months," I told Slice. "Then when we can get excited."
I never even took a pregnancy test.

As you may recall, I was worried about Japan. What I didn't say -but some of you picked up on nonetheless - was that I was worried about the toll that the constant travel, strange food and beds, time difference, etc. would take on my first-trimester body. I didn't want to get sick, spend three weeks in a hotel, and ruin the trip of a lifetime for me and Slice. More than anything, I didn't want to miscarry. I wanted no regrets.

It turned out, my fears were valid and then some. I didn't even know to worry about freezing bedrooms, kerosene heaters and electric blankets, midnight bathrooms trips down CLIFF STAIRCASES, soap-less public bathrooms, caterpillars in my food. Super-hot public baths. Fainting when a sweet sister spent an hour tying me up (tightly!) into a kimono.

But I never got really sick. I am grateful for that! We took an extra suitcase full of cold cereal and instant oatmeal, as a precaution, and because I must eat breakfast food for breakfast, pregnant or not. The suitcase turned out to be brilliant - when the food was gone, we filled it with souvenirs to bring home.

Also, our trip was long enough that we didn't have to rush through anything. We could take our time and take it easy. I tried really hard to be a good sport.

One day I talked to my parents on Skype and I just couldn't wait any longer. I told them. The next day I spent over an hour on a conference call with all my older siblings. I was about twelve weeks along by then.

Traveling home was the worst part of the trip, by far. I couldn't sleep on the plane and by the time we got to LA, I was convinced that my body was falling apart. I had a splitting headache coming from the back of my neck (that had never happened before), stomachache as usual, random leg pains, and an overwhelming desire to die. Instead I took some Tylenol and slept a blissful hour on the floor of the airport before we had to catch our next flight.

Since then, things have been pretty smoothing sailing. I love my bed and my shower and my car OH SO MUCH more now.

And I am so glad we went! It was an awesome experience, like we all knew it would be. Probably my favorite part was being with Slice for a whole month, just us, before we jump into this crazy thing called parenthood.

My first doctor's appointment was last Thursday, and I was a little nervous. Oh what a day if it turned out I wasn't even pregnant! But I was. Am.

When I heard the heartbeat for the first time, I cried. It finally seemed real.

Then he did an ultrasound and -I wasn't expecting this for at least another month- told us he is pretty sure it's a boy.

WE ARE SO EXCITED.