Those damn two pink lines and uterine terrorists.

I felt pukey this morning, but didn't. I'm just WAITING for the puke to happen, last time it happened from week 9-26 as I recall and I threw up during labor while pushing. (Though, that could have been the strawberry lollipop my big step sis slid me after begging her for food). This is why they tell you not to eat all day on the day you push, because, YOU WILL THROW IT UP. I did.

I've been feeling fine, but wondering when I should let people know. I'm not one of those "YAY! I'm having a baby, everyone celebrate along with me!" Glowing cheeks etc... millions of women do this every day, I'm no different. I just hope for an eventless pregnancy that's all. SO knowing I don't want a big show or make a big deal, it's hard to tell people, especially at work. I'm also not worried about the first trimester rule, I'm a pretty open book (one of my many flaws in life) so if I go through a miscarriage, I don't want it to be some big secret or gossipy thing amongst anyone if I have to miss a few days of work. Hey, I'm preggo, seems like a good way to tell people and of course putting it on FACEBOOK, so the WORLD CAN KNOW. I don't like to give too many personal details on facebook, but this social network is the only reason some family members know Joseph is as cute as he is and Paul and I are still married. So facebook is a good way to get out the message, as uncouth as it may seem to me, to be.

I also haven't had my "second opinion", I mean, all that has confirmed that I AM pregnant is that First Response test and those damn two pink lines. I had my doctor appointment today, apparently since I had my last kid, where you call after your positive test result and the nurse says "congratulations, we'll see you in eight weeks" Isn't the case anymore, they want to see you right away to get you information, bill your insurance, make a profit and fund those bigger hospitals that will mostly likely still have hot water issues in their post partum units. Nothing makes a woman, who has just squeezed out a baby, more crazy, than a dreamy lustful hot shower (alone) after the whole labor and delivery process and then to find out hot water is not available.

At the doc's office today, I peed in a cup and FORGOT to write my name on the cup label BEFORE I peed (again) and must remember next time to write my name on my pee cup label before I put in my steaming sample, nothing is more awkward than trying to scrawl your name on a label whilst tenderly holding a cup that could spill over at any moment and I'd be dealing with, well, a mess of piss and no one wants that.

Write on the pee cup label BEFORE, you pee in it, yes before. Logged.

So they also took my blood and my doctor did a pelvic check, what a lunch break people! I showed up, got my weight checked, peed in a cup, they took my blood (and not in the cool sexy vampire way) and did a pelvic exam.. now if only I got a free drink with that combo meal, I might have felt like it was a good deal. But NO ONE told me I was pregnant. I mean, the doctor or the nurse never said "well, you were right, you are knocked up!" No one CONFIRMED it, so I sit here and wonder if I just missed my period because of all the stress at work and those two pink lines (that I took two times) are an indication of some scary cancer disease that produces the same hormone you produce when pregnant that gives you a positive result, and my news is not that I'm carrying my second offspring, but that I'm harboring a uterine terrorist.

A uterine terrorist that could be withholding information on WMDs. Then, my doc, (whom I totally love btw and my female visits are always filled with chuckles and jokes) says "you've put on weight since last I saw you"... I like to think of myself as pretty laid back about a lot of female issues (though my husband who watches me stare at myself every morning and grab my muffin top fat and say nasty things to myself as well as give myself the evil eye over all my cellulite and millions of imperfections, would disagree) I take my Doc's comment in stride and tell her I've been running a TON and when she hears that, she is slightly concerned that I'm not skinner than I am, and they are checking out my thyroid.

I explain that I continue to eat like total shit and am basically a garbage disposal for anything with strong family ties to chocolate, but still she wants to check my thyroid. So now I have:

1) A Uterine Terrorist, possibly hiding WMDs
and
2) A thyroid disorder that is keeping me fat.

When really:
1) I'm knocked up
and
2) I'm just a fatty. I've hit the big 3-0 and I no longer care. I'm married and like to drink and don't mind over-indulging at least twice a day.