Dang you, Eve! And other such blasphemies.

Why do I say this? If I recall my biblical stories, because Eve ate the fruit, there is now multiplied sorrow in conception of children. That's right people, I'm pregnant. And sorrowful. And by sorrowful, I mean sick. All. The. Time.

As of today, I am 11 weeks (+ two days) pregnant. I keep hoping for the day when I wake up and feel better. The day that everyone tells me is just around the corner. I hope this corner is shorter rather than longer.

Anyhow, here's the scoop:

We had been trying for about five/six months, and to be honest, we were really surprised when it happened during August. Chris was working in the Trauma ICU, a month of very long hours. But he had a "Golden Weekend," meaning he had Saturday and Sunday off in a row, which happen to be conducive to baby-making. And for those of you that we have lied to about whether we were trying to get pregnant, I'm not really sorry. It's an odd question really. Aren't you really just asking us how much unprotected sex we have?

I found out the night before the new school year started. Oddly though, I was really annoyed with my husband when I took the pregnancy test. In fact, I didn't even tell him that's what I was doing. I just went upstairs and took it. I stared at that test for several minutes trying to decide if what I saw was really a + sign. So I took it downstairs to the medical professional to ask his opinion, at which point he commented about me getting some pee on the outside of the stick, yuck. Like he doesn't come home some days with stranger's bodily fluids on his socks!

We both stared at the test. We stared at the examples on the test instructions. We determined that I "might" be pregnant. We hugged and kissed. We took awkward pictures with the stick. We went to bed.

The next day was the first day of school for me, and to be honest, I didn't think about it a whole lot. I was very busy. But every once in a while, I would stop, remember that I was pregnant, and smile.

The first week or so felt great, aside from a little heartburn. But when Week 6 came, so did the morning/noon/night sickness. With a bang. I even came home early from work one day because it was virtually impossible for me to stand up. That was the day I called the nurse to inquire about a prescription. She, of course, asked me if I had tried any over-the-counter remedies. I hadn't, which I explained, but I also explained that I was going on family vacation that would require me being on a houseboat for five days. She phoned in a prescription. A miracle drug.

We spent Week 7 at Lake Powell with my family, which is where we decided to tell them since we were all together. We called Chris's family as soon as we returned, and then started telling friends/coworkers over the next week or two. If you are just now finding out, it's only because I pretty much spend all of my time on the couch. I apologize. I honestly haven't told anybody that I don't come across face-to-face because that is about all I can handle. I'm tired.


I am now half way through Week 9, really looking forward to the day when the food that I crave doesn't make me want to puke when I think about it. I always knew that the stomach flu was the best way to lose a few pounds, but I definitely didn't expect pregnancy to be the same way.

Also? Chris told me the only reason he decided to get me pregnant was because he wants a Father's Day gift--a grill, in fact.