Monday, September 22, 2014

Pregnancy: 8 Weeks

Right before we headed out to California, we found out that we were pregnant. I saw a faint line on a test, and knew there was no such thing as a false positive. Previously, I had imagined telling Nik in an adorable way. Something that would result in him faintly crying from happiness, while I was aglow  smiling with him, somehow caught on film. Instead, I headed out of the bathroom in sweats, walked into Nik's office holding the test and said, "We're pregnant." Instead of the happy tears I assumed my normally-sensitive husband would have, he proceeded to stand up with his hands in the air, saying, "What?!" over and over. With his hands raised in the air, I hugged him, and his arms remained in the air.

The following weeks, I felt like a rockstar. I ate the same types of meals I always ate, full of vegetables and protein, and only ate sweets twice a week. I guzzled water down to stay hydrated, and pumped myself full of pre-natals. I hiked with my mom, and continued to get my normal eight hours of sleep. I was like, "Should I pursue a career in surrogacy? Clearly, my body was made to do this." Then, six and a half weeks came.

First, my body was like, "No more chicken. Never eat chicken again." Then, my increased sense of smell started not likely certain smells. Those certain smells being pretty much all smells. Anything scented. Any type of food, especially as it cooked. And people. Why do people have such strong smells? Then, I developed what Nik has affectionately dubbed, "afternoon sickness". In the mornings, I am okay. But breakfast foods like toast and cereal are easy. Lunch is a bit harder, then by 3:00 PM it's like my body has given up from all the smells of the day. Which is terrible, because I'm hungry and it's almost dinner time. Oh, afternoons and nights are so hard. I'm on a diet of bread, cheese, and milk. I have consumed so much Taco Bell, even Nik (the junk food lover) is like, "Maybe you should cut back." But I know I'm lucky. I've known people, and especially in my family, who are throw up sick the entire first trimester. As of eight weeks, I only had one barfing session.

Today, I had my eight week appointment with my OBGYN. I had attended the doctor a week before, but only met with a nurse practitioner. (Who happened to be LDS, and had taught Nursing at BYU, she's great!) The nurse practitioner saw me, and asked if she could attend the ultrasound. It was helpful, because the doctor explained things to her as he performed the ultrasound, and it helped me understand what was going on. The baby's heart rate was 163 each minute, and it measured exactly to the day for the due date we assumed. Hearing the heartbeat was more magical than I could have imagined. I was scared it was going to be a holy-crap-I'm-going-to-be-a-parent moment, but it wasn't like that at all. It reminded me of the feelings I had when Nik and I were married, just overwhelming joy. I left that appointment over the moon. Clutching the print-outs from the ultrasound I wanted to dance, I wanted to sing, I wanted to do something to express this happiness that was bursting from me! So, I texted Nik and some of our family to share the good news. Later, walking around stores with those pictures in my purse I wanted to show them to cashiers and random shoppers. A healthy baby! My baby!