October 28^th, 2013

Holy sweet Moses, pregnancy sucks. Like. I know a woman's sense of smell is way better when she's pregnant. I guess I assumed that food would taste super awesome too. Like all your senses would be heightened.

BUT NO. No, when you smell more, you get sick more and NOTHING tastes right. Nothing tastes good at all when you're pregnant. So my mom bought me these things called "Preggie Pops" that are supposed to help ease morning sickness (which is poorly named, because it happens aaaall day long).

Yeah, I visited my mom, step dad  and two youngest brothers yesterday. We carved pumpkins and had chili and it was a lot of fun. This was my pumpkin (credits go to Amy for helping).

And on Saturday, I went to see Anberlin and I met Stephen Christian. Photographic proof:

Lastly, my baby is seven weeks now (at least until the doctors re-age him or her. He's the size of a blueberry and his brain is becoming very complex. And he's 10,000 times the size he was when he was conceived.

October 24^th, 2013

So I guess the reason I haven't written in the past couple of days is because I don't particularly feel pregnant. Except for, like, a weirdly heightened sense of smell and sore boobs and occasional nausea (and we can't forget the exhaustion), I really don't feel it.

I want to. I want to know my baby is in there and that he's going to be okay.

But I have to be patient. There's a lot of stuff I need to do before I can meet him (or her).

In the meantime I will avoid the smell of milk and laundry detergent.

I can't wait for my doctor's appointment in November. (The 7^th.)

October 21^st, 2013

Well yesterday was full of marvelous pregnancy symptoms. Mild nausea by the laundry detergents, an undeniable craving for Cheetohs, which is really super gross. Also Sushi. Sushi and Cheetohs.

See also: Insatiable horniness, random mood swings. And, my god, the exhaustion.

Right now I'm watching the Queen Latifah Show and eating oatmeal (because, apparently, Cheetohs aren't acceptable breakfast foods when you're pregnant [or ever]).

Today is a good day though. It marks week 6 of my pregnancy (for real this time). That means my baby is the size of a pea. And my child's heart is beating about as much as mine is.

Here, behold the midget wonder!

I won't be taking a picture of me yet, because I look exactly the same. Well, mostly. More acne (a common symptom of pregnancy) and also like really bloated. Apparently your liquid content doubles. I'm supposed to gain FOUR pounds of blood. Four pounds. Of blood. This means I won't be able to suck in my gut. Bah.

I'll do me-pictures monthly instead of weekly, like my far cuter (kinda) cherub.

Another marker of the sixth week is that this is when nausea usually kicks in the door of your stomach and decides to stay until your scond trimester (week 14). You don't have to have morning sickness, but 75% of women do.

So the odds look superb.

Something important happened a couple days ago. I talked to Eddie's mom. I feel pretty good about it. She is really, really kind and is planning on inviting me over for dinner sometime next month. Next time Eddie visits.

I'm nervous because:

A) It feels kind of like an interview. I'm trying out for the role of Mother of Your Grandchild. Obviously she doesn't have much of a choice and the most important person in my child's life is going to be me, not her or Eddie. But it still is nervewracking. (None of this is based in fact or anything Eddie's mom, Karen, said to me. Just wacky feelings.)

B) Seeing Eddie again might be weird. I'm a little afraid that he will be bitter towards me. Just not sure how it'll go and not knowing things drives me crazy.

I plan on announcing my pregnancy to Facebook on the 7^th after my appointment. I also am going to a Care Net banquet that night. (Care Net being a really awesome non-profit for women who find themselves pregnant and in crisis. Care Net upholds the idea that even unborn life is beautiful and should be protected.)

It seems appropriate that that is the day I share it with the world and embrace the oncoming storm of "Did you hear about Bri?" And I want to give Eddie time to break the news to people he knows the way he wants to, other than he said she said crap, which we all know will happen.

I'm really glad to have continuing conversation with the father of my child. Gives me hope that we might be able to manage this FWB situation (Friends With Baby).

October 19^th, 2013

One downside to having Eddie's involvement is that he has a vote on names and might hate the ones I chose. And he might have his own opinions. Like during idle chatter a few months ago, he said his family names are Edmond and Louis.

Negatory on the Louis and I don't think I could call my son the same thing I call his dad. I'd consider it as a middle name though.

^^^ So after I wrote that at, like, nine in the morning, after taking a shower and eating breakfast. I proceeded to watch a couple episodes of Friends and then, would you believe it? I was exhausted.

Whew, all that creative energy spent. -_-

I guess what happens is that, when you're pregnant, your body is so busy, not only making a baby, but also the placenta, that you're about as tired as though you've hiked a mountain. That's not made up. It's a statistic. Jess (the woman I met with who has five kids under the age of seven) divulged that one to me.

And I do feel it. I'm still tired, after my nap. And now work. V_V

October 18^th, 2013

Two big things happened today, so naturally I present today's blog in two parts.

Part 1: I Was Right And Karma Is A Bitch

Jonica, my dear roommate, went to find out the gender of her baby today. She's twenty weeks, so it's more than time to figure that shit out. She really wanted a girl because it would be her parent's first grandmother. So I always teased her that she would have a boy.

I WAS RIGHT HA.

But.

Now I know I'll have a girl. Despite my own mild to moderate hopes. (I've decided either will work. My roommate is right. The name really does make it okay. Lydia. <3)

Whoa, two McDonald's workers just went into the warehouse alone. You know they're doing something dirty.

Anyhey, Jonica is having a boy who she has named John Henry and he's going to be so cute! Apparently he's really long. (His body, not that. But apparently that too.) And I'm excited for her! And she's excited too, despite how not-girly he is.

I'mma have a nephew, J-Man!

Okay, onward to the next segment of today's not-sucky post.

Part 2: Sometimes People Surprise You

VIRTUE

FEELINGS

This is the philosophy I was taught growing up. That, while feelings have their place, always elevate virtue over feelings. Clearly I don't always partake, but you know who has lately?

Eddie.

That's right.

At 11:19 am today I got a phone call from him. The topics we discussed are as follows;

Eddie: So... I get the impression that you want us to end up together.

Me: Lol, no.

(I thought that was pretty funny though, and I think the entirety of my body blushed.)

Eddie: Are you sure you're pregnant? Are you sure it's mine?

Me: Yes. Yes.

(Yes.)

Eddie: Aspergers makes me a jerk.

Me: Clearly.

(He basically told me how it is unlikely he'll care for the child, a symptom of his autism. Not a matter of personal desire not to care. I secretly think he will one day.)

Eddie: But I will be involved.

Me: Eep.

(Huge relief.)

Me: How does being at the boy-or-girl appointment and at the hospital after the baby is born and once monthly after that sound for involvement?

Eddie: That sounds like a very reasonable place to start.

(WINWINWIN.)

So I know I might be too excited about this, but until now I was thinking he had already chosen not to be there for me or the baby. But he told me he will be when I need him, to message or text him if I'm ever freaking out (he confessed he won't be much help) and to keep him updated on what's going on.

I don't think anyone will understand how this, even just this, makes it all okay now. I don't even really understand why, but it does and I am so happy. And once again, excited over my baby.

>squee<

October 17^th, 2013

I wake up a lot during the night (I always have). Most of the times I fuzzily wonder "Am I still pregnant?"

That's easy to figure out. I just poke my boobs. Ow.

They really aren't kidding about the sore boobs. Nothing compared to period soreness. I don't even want to know what my boobs are gonna look like in a few months, but apparently they can get three sizes bigger. I'm a DD already. DDD, E, F?

Is that right? Is "F" even a size in the U.S.?!

Anyway, I followed this routine a lot last night, but it's 6:33 now and I've given up on trying to fall back to sleep. I'm not a night person regardless of my desires to be so. I'm usually ready for bed by eleven at the latest and I am never, ever in bed past ten without being sick or having stayed up ridiculously late the night before.

That might actually help with the parenting thing, I think.

Later today I am going to meet up with Mrs. Jessica B. She is phenomenal, my parenting idol. This woman has five children all under the age of seven and would you believe that they are all well behaved, brilliant kids?

They are. Because Jess knows how to parent unlike anyone I've ever met, and I fully plan on taking advantage of her expertise. I also hope that she'll doula for me...

(English class time! A doula is a woman who assists in a birth. However, she is meant specifically to assist the birthing mother, whereas most of the other medical personnel in the birthing room are there predominantly for the baby. She presents knowledge on different birthing positions [would you believe you don't have to be on your back!], is able to stand up for the birth plans and wishes of the mother and, if a father or partner is involved, she can help him or her do their best to help the mother without taking over the partner's job.)

(Having a doula in your birthroom drastically decreases your chances of needing a C-Section, labor induction, pain relief, or any ther kind of medical interference with what is and should be [in most low-risk cases] a very natural part of a woman's life. If you are going to have a baby, get a doula. They are vital.)

I have to drop off a job application today. Kinda sucks because, like, I wanna do something I'm good at, but my strengths seem to be limited to customer service. I'm not fast nor do I put together puzzles at any great speed. I am not assertive or competitive and my memory sucks. But, goodness, customers love me. I like people. People are my strength. Retail isn't necessarily.

Bah. I'll get the job that I need to get. Barring that, I'll beg for money on the street corner.

Baby news is starting to spread. I told a loose-lipped person, so I should have known. But yeah, it's getting out there. I told Eddie that I'd wait two weeks from the day I broke the news to him before I'd share the info on the interwebs, but at this point, I don't think I'll need to.

Exception to my two-week-delay in telling folks: If the father decides he isn't up for a compromise and that he will not be in the child's life. Then screw him, the information is mine to share.

Other exception: If he decides he can compromise but needs or asks for some more time to get used to the idea. I'd happily keep it quiet for my whole first trimester if that helps him help us.

Anyway, here is an illustration of what I think my roommate's birth scene is going to look like:

My boobs and my belly are going to have to apply for their own citizenship.

October 16^th, 2013

I was pretty sure I'd be talking to Eddie today. He messaged me on Facebook telling me that he would call me, provided he get his phone issues worked out.

But it's nearing 8pm and I haven't gotten a phone call. I figure either his phone is still out of business or he's a tad too nervous to talk to me quite yet.

I'd really like to stay optimistic here and imagine the best. Maybe he'll read my messages to him and see how much I need him and we can work on a compromise.

Yeah, maybe I guess. But more likely is that he's already made up his mind to take the easy way out.

Everything I've heard is that even people with aspergers can work through things like this. And he really can if he were to give it a try. It'd all be worth it.

But like I said, I think he's decided to trade his integrity and backbone for an easier life.

I can do it alone if I have to, though. I just really, really would rather have his support. Especially considering he is just as much a "culprit" as I am. I mean, we discussed this. Both before and after the sex in question.

I just hope he knows it's the wrong decision. Morally wrong, yes. But he's missing out on someone brilliant, and that's wrong too.

I bought this today because it is cute and I wanted to log this stuff away for my son or daughter to read one day.

October 16^th, 2013

I've slept on it and I'm feeling a little better. Partly because this isn't a reflection of the value of me or my amazing child. It's a reflection of him and his integrity, which apparently is shoddy at best.

Besides that, he's voluntarily missing out on a person who is going to be the best person this world has seen to date.

I'm just saying that our baby is going to be magnificent and smart and he's going to win my heart over in a matter of weeks, my family and friends' hearts over in a matter of months and then, in the years to come, he'll win over the hearts of the entire world.

Who passes up the chance to be involved in such an amazing person?

Speaking of which, I'm actually five weeks. (I was off a little in my do-it-yourself calculations.) I'm on week five right now so my baby is the size of an apple seed  It's radical how fast they grow. I'll be showing by the end of January and massive when my roommate's baby is born in the beginning of March. (We find out if she's having a boy or girl on Friday!)

At work today, one of the customers I told, a cute tiny middle aged woman who always seems so smiley (if not a bit spacey, but in a totally adorable way) came in and her face lit up and she called me "mommy". She's been the only thoroughly excited person so far, besides my youngest brothers. (Who were arguing over what they'll be called. Noah says he's going to be Uncle Everything That Is Awesome and he says Jonathan should be called Uncle Weird.)

>sigh<

I'm still sad. Still sad that my baby is already being rejected without getting a fair shot at showing his father that he's worth every bit of trouble. But, I mean. What can you do? It's sadly acceptable now days for men to not be men.

>shrug<

Note to self: First appointment is November 7^th, at 9am. Eep!

Here's my baby this week:

And here's me this month, at week 5:

October 15^th, 2013

At this point, I can be 99% sure the father is going to bail. He's going to give me money but he thinks it's optional to be at least a little bit of a father to our kid.

I'm angry and I'm sad and that is all there is as far as feelings right now.

And right now, I know that if I wasn't carrying another person, I'd be just fine with dying.

I'm so scared. I can't do this alone.

I'm so done.

October 15^th, 2013

The terror increases. The truth is slowly trickling from the mouths of people who don't want to hurt me, but want me to know the truth.

It would seem as though the father is likely to bail on me. Not monetarily, no. But in all other ways. So it looks like my child and myself will be his dirty little secret that he, conveniently, gets to run from because he is not physically attached to the baby. Which is half him.

I have never understood that. Why do guys think they can do that? Pretend it didn't happen just because they aren't vital in the first nine months of their child's life.

Guess what. You're just as vital as I am. And guess what. You're just as responsible as I am. AND GUESS WHAT. YOU'RE A MOTHER FUCKING DAD (lol punny) AS MUCH AS I AM A MOTHER.

Sorry to ruin your mother fucking day.

And who the fuck says this is harder for you? Who the fuck says that you can't do this? Who the fuck says you're the only one with difficulty processing things.

I really just need to talk to him so that I know where he stands because, as you may have noticed, I'm getting a little bit irritated.

I need to connect with my baby. I find myself more excited when I think of Eddie as being involved beyond monetarily, at least to some extent. But if it's just going to be and my baby, I need to maybe rethink how I think of my child...

October 15^th, 2013

So things have taken a turn for the worst.

I found out something about the father that will put a definite snag to my near-perfect FWB (Friends With Baby) life I had imagined.

What had I imagined, exactly?

I mean, I need monetary help, and I know that will happen either way. But beyond that, I wanted some emotional support when he was ready to give it. Him at the ultra-sound when we hear the heartbeat or find out little boy or little girl, him at the hospital during or shortly after I've expelled the baby from my internal organs. And afterwards, him being in my baby's life a few times a month. Maybe even weekly.

That's not too much, right? I don't know. It seemed reasonable and just about perfect to me.

But because the father deals with a minor form of autism (aspergers), it might not be so simple. I don't know enough about that to know what is overcomeable and what is simply unscalable as far as challenges go.

I do know we all have our mental blocks. Clearly I plan things too much. And when something doesn't go according to my carefully prepared plans, I lose it. Beyond that, if I procrastinate over something it becomes A Thing. That Thing becomes, to me, what represents all of my failures and I will not touch it. Sometimes The Thing is big, like going to college. But more often it's so simple, like making a phone call or even bringing something in from my room or doing dishes.

The Thing scares me, because it tells me I screw up.

So I know that we all have these hangups, but I don't know how hung up he'll be over this. Will he be able to be there that often? Could we compromise to make him more comfortable? Would he be able to see his child once monthly, a medium that I would be impressed with in this situation.

I don't know what this is going to look like now, and I thought I did. He's putting on a brave face for me, but he's not going to adjust to this quickly at all. He's definitely not ready to come to terms with this, and he may not be for months.

It was almost perfect (as far as impregnated fuck buddies go).

And now I'm scared again.

October 14^th, 2013

The idea is finally sinking in. I'm going to have a baby. It sank in a lot more when I realized that today, the 14^th, begins my sixth week of pregnancy. (Scientifically, pregnancy begins two weeks before there's actually a baby in there. It's really complicated to figure out, but I diiiiid.)

So right now, my baby is the size of a nail head. It's heart beats 80 times per minute, which is like as much as my heart beats. Plus, it has all the beginnings of his facial features.

And I really think I'm starting to love it.

I'm due June 16^th 2014, which is kind of exciting. I realized that in January is when I'll be able to find out if I'm having a little girl or a little boy (please be a boy). And I'll be able to hear the heartbeat in the middle of next month.

Beyond that, when my roommate, Jonica, has her baby in the beginning of March, I'm going to be maaassive, in the beginning of my sixth month of pregnancy, and more than halfway through.

Week six, though. That's where I am. Wow...

I told my brothers today, the two youngest ones. They were excited. More excited than me. Which is kind of awesome of them. Totally made my day.

Also, I've (prematurely) thought of names. I really like the name Priscilla for a girl, but I get a lot of mixed responses about that. I like it, though. I'd call her Pri. Bri and Pri.

But I've decided on Titus for a boy. I adore that name, and I love Ti as a nickname.

I guess I ought to way in the opinion of the father, whose opinion in general is still yet to be decided upon. I haven't spoken to him since I told him. I hope he's doing okay. I'm getting anxious to talk to him about things. Express that I want him there for more than monetary reasons... I want the other half of this equation to be, you know... the other half of this equation.

It's not like I want him to be at every appointment or in the delivery room or anything. Of course not. But it'd be really comforting to have him in the birth center at least, and at one or two of the big, important ones. Like the heartbeat next month and the gender one, maybe? I think that would be radical.

I just don't want to do this alone, and I never understood why guys think that, because they're not physically attached to their growing child, they aren't responsible to be more than just a giver-of-funds. Money is good, and I'll need it. But we were friends with benefits and now we're friends with a baby. He's a dad just as much as I am a mom.

But something we have is time. So I'll be patient.

On another note, here is a sketch of what my baby looks like.

October 12^th, 2013

So I met the father of the embryo at my good friends' house back towards the end of August. He'd been staying with them over the summer and only just recently and inconveniently went back to where he hails from, like an hour away from where I live. I wanted to tell him in person, but that clearly wasn't going to happen, so I went over to my friends' house and told them about the baby, hoping that they could help me get ahold of him.

I was worried because they're good friends with both the father and I. Would they choose a side if the father decided to be a douche? Would they be really disappointed with me...? These were my fears when I went over.

But they were marvelous. Those men are angels, they are. God, I love them. And they told me that the father had actually expressed worries about this situation, hoped pregnancy would not be a result of our unprotected incident  But that he also said he wouldn't run away from it if it happened. My friend assured me that the father is a man of his word.

And then, totally out of coincidence with no knowledge of what has been mutating in my uterus, the father called one of my friends to let him know that he's been pretty much cut off from the outside world since he doesn't have internet and his phone is off.

I decided to be brave and have my friend call back so I can tell him.

I told him, and I have to say I am impressed. The truth is that the father is a few years younger than me. I'm twenty-two and he is nineteen. (I know... But, I mean, the purpose of our "relationship" was to scratch itches and it didn't seem like a problem. Then we had to go and be stupid.)

But anyway, he was... really impressive. I think he's worried like I am. Like he'll suck as a dad, he won't care about the kid and he won't be able to provide anything for it.

But I think the fact that he's worried about this stuff screams that he's going to be way, way better than he thinks he is. And the fact that he's not going to bail, just... It just makes this a lot more okay.

I'm going to be a mom, but I don't have to do it alone and that is the best thing he could give me. (Plus I heard his mother is a sweetheart, so even more relief headed my way.)

In other news, this is my positive pregnancy test.

And now that the father knows, I think I will begin to, like, feel normal about this. In fact, I can't bear the thought of miscarrying. I don't know why, but the thought of this baby changing my life scares me. But I wouldn't have it any other way...

I've decided motherhood is not really big on logic.

October 11^th, 2013

Sleeping on it didn't help. But watching Juno did. "That little pink cross is so unholy."

I know them feels, Juno.

It's weird. I will think of something pregnancy or baby related and get a little wave of excitement followed by a massive gag reflex. I know they'll even out eventually, and one day the wave of excitement will far surpass the initial disgust and fear.

It's just... I don't think I've ever handled this much stress at once. And I can't be stressed cause the embryo will die, and even though I'm scared, I think I would be really really sad if the embryo died.

It's not just being pregnant. It's all the finances that come with it, telling the father, where to live...

And, God, my job. Which I'm 99% certain I will lose within four months (complicated, just don't ask).

So I guess first up is finding a way to, like, go to the doctor's since I'm not insured. And then I will have to find a new job. So this is just marvelous.

I don't feel any pregnant-y things yet. Like no sickness. I'm unnaturally sore, though, so I think that's something. I have started prenatals which makes it waaay too real, but I want things to be okay...

This explains why I gained so much weight the last two weeks. It was the same for my roommate. The first few weeks of her pregnancy she was an eating machine, couldn't stop. I had zero control for a while there. If it was edible, it was in my mouth. Oi vey.

But I have to be a little better now. Cause it's not just me anymore. Apparently it never will be again.

Just realized this significantly decreases the chances of me marrying Adam Young from Owl City...

October 10^th, 2013

So after work I rushed into Target and bought a pregnancy test. Two, just in case. Then I sped home at entirely unsafe speeds (almost died like twice) to pee on the aforementioned pregnancy test.

The handy dandy Knocked-Up decoder on the side of the box told me that the two lines meant I am pretty pregnant.

I'm pregnant...

So then I proceeded to freak out and cry for like ten minutes and then I started texting the people I needed to text. Now I'm sitting here trying not to think of all of the implications of having a child, which I hear is basically for life.

I'm a single mom.

I'm a mom. Or will be.

You know what worries me the most though? That I'm not excited. I don't want my baby to think I don't love it... but if I'm being truthful... I don't. Not yet.

But I promise you, baby. People will love you one day. Your grandmother will and your uncles will and I will the most. Just... give me a few days to comprehend (if I ever can comprehend).

But as my friend told me, it's okay to not be okay. It's okay to be scared, sad, angry, whatever. Which is really good, cause I am all of those things.

October 9^th, 2013

I know I'm only a day late, but that seems enough to damn me to pregnancy and years and years of motherhood afterwards. Honestly, I can't take the wait anymore. I'm going to be getting a pregnancy test tomorrow because I need to be doing something to figure this out.

I've already decided that if the first one is positive I'm going immediately use the second one. And then I will proceed to cry myself to sleep. And if it's negative, I will hold on to the second one for another week, just in case.

Then, on Friday, I will go tell the father. Which I am supremely nervous about, but I will make no assumptions and let his... integrity speak for itself. I think it's best that way.

I plan things out way too much. I worry way too much. So it's possible I'm late because I've been sexually active (surprise!) and that I've been more stressed than usual. I've the acne to prove it.

I'd rather be pregnant with a stress baby than an actual baby. Jus' sayin'.

October 8^th 2013

Worried, very worried.

To make matters worse, auto-fill in my word program finishes "very" with "very-pregnant".

Marvelous.

Well in case you can't guess there is a big chance I am, indeed, very-pregnant.

Which I so don't want to be.

Don't get me wrong, potential future baby. If I am, I will learn to be excited about you. It's just not the situation I expected, y'know?

Obviously I know that I put myself here. Like. I'm not so dumb to think that my uterus is impervious to sperm, so...

I just kind of hoped it was. But I read the back of the package and "kind of hoping" is, like, 0.5% effective as a form of contraceptive. Shoulda gone with the condom.

None of this is confirmed yet so I guess I should chill and wait a few days before really freaking out. I'll give it till Friday till I can buy a pregnancy test.

I have never wanted a period this bad in my liiiife.

So as light-hearted as I sound about all that I'm actually pretty worried. I am twenty-two and I could make a good mom, I know that. But I don't really know that I can love selflessly. I'm, in general, a pretty selfish person. What if I'm not maternal enough to love my embryo. What if this is just the beginning of many mistakes made. And what if the dad decides not to be involved at all? I'd actually find that to be pretty shitty, even though the Giver of Life and I aren't involved beyond recreational sex. You know. Like tennis, but closer. And riskier.

I actually already told my mother and she's by me. I know that sounds premature but I couldn't go two weeks thinking my mom might not be a supporter. That might've actually killed me. Screw what everyone else thinks. If my mom stops loving me over this, life is over. The good news is she hasn't stopped loving me despite having a daughter with limited decision making skills.

I guess I'll be back in one to three days with either fantastic, tampon-y news or a less fantastic, curl-up-in-a-ball-and-watch-Juno news.