learning to trust my body

I suppose it’s going to take me some time to figure out how to talk about all of this, but I want to, and yet I don’t want to be insensitive, so anytime I talk about p-word stuff, I’ll try to provide ample warning for those having a really crap day/week/year with all of this. This is one of those posts.

First, J and I are both deeply touched by all of your sweet comments. Someone asked if we wanted quiet congratulations or loud ones. We’ll take them all. In fact, we’ve been back over and over again, and I’ve been weeping through all of your sweet words. We aren’t telling anyone but the blogosphere for now, so the opportunity to celebrate with all of you is really special. If you do happen to know us in real life, please keep this to yourself. We don’t plan to tell anyone but immediate family for quite a long time for obvious reasons.

Yesterday was such a whirlwind of emotions. J and I opted to leave the house for a little shopping, and we kept looking at each other reminding one another that I’m pregnant–as though either of us could forget. It’s a much scarier place to be than I imagined, and yet, there is also a strange sense of release I’m feeling.

For so long, I thought that there must be something wrong with my body since I wasn’t getting pregnant. I was certain that even though Mr. G’s sperm was clearly not viable, it was somehow my fault. I assumed that nothing was going to work because somehow, I must be broken. When I took that test yesterday, and the p-word popped up, I had a few moments of confusion. I shook the test, expecting “NOT” to pop up at any moment. This couldn’t be my test if it was positive. 

I replayed that moment for myself throughout the day. I kept imagining that word popping up, and I was shocked every time. But I eventually had to reconcile that this word did indeed describe me, that my body did, in fact, successfully conceive. I have continued to remind myself that it could easily all end in a moment. It could. But I learned yesterday that my body isn’t broken and that I need to give it a little more credit for doing its job.

It’s amazing how quickly the symptoms came once the p-word showed up. The boobs that were tolerably sore before have become unbearable. They feel like they have been used as speed bags by some crazed boxer. I have an ongoing headache, and I’m tired–so tired. I can honestly say I’m feeling pregnant, and while the discomfort is a pain in the ass, I can’t help but be so grateful for all of it–for every second I’ve been blessed with thus far.