This week in Jen history

Have I ever told you the story about when I found out I was pregnant?

Wait, let's back up.

Have I ever told you about my obsession with calendars and planners? I keep my planners and calendars for YEARS and sometimes look back on them to see what I was doing on this day last year, 2 years ago, whatever. I put stupid crap in my planner like "bring more marshmallows" or "give Rex a bath." I guess I feel empty or unproductive if I don't have anything written for the day. Well, 2 years ago I found out I was expecting a baby. This is how it went down.

Fertility treatments. Wrestling and yoga poses. Negative preggo tests. Conception. A wild Valentine celebration that involved lots of alcohol. "Oh, I must be getting ready to start my period." Period never arrives after a week of sore boobs and low back pain. Positive preggo test. Fear and Panic.

That's not fair! You want the real story don't you? The one where I give too much detail and think about deleting some things because they sound heartless and mean but I don't because it's really how I felt and I won't lie about my feelings even though Turner might read this years from now and realize we didn't hug and cry tears of joy. We freaked a little. Ok, we freaked alot.


Here's my fairytale . . .


Under the advice of my doc, Tanner and I decided to use Clomid to help us conceive. My lady parts are on a time restraint and we had to speed up the process if we wanted to have a child. We were both nervous about it and felt a little pressured into it because we knew we weren't quite ready to be parents, but the alternative of NEVER being parents wasn't something we weren't willing to settle with. We atleast wanted to try.

Try we did. Let me tell you that you'd think my husband would be thrilled that their was going to be alot of humping in our house but the treatments and scheduling and testing took alot of the fun out of it. After a couple of months it felt more like a job. It got to the point to where the thought of sex was so undesirable that he didn't even want to try anymore. This was extremely frustrating for me and it caused alot of tension in our relationship. Trying to make a baby shouldn't be like that. It shouldn't have to involve pills and charts and forced affection but unfortunately for us, we needed those things. Or should I say, I needed those things. It was me. I was the problem. I felt so guilty and sad that I couldn't make a baby the natural way like I'm supposed to. I felt like things were falling apart and it was my fault.

We survived the holidays that year but it was tough without my family around and I felt like I was alone. Tanner and I couldn't have been more distant. It was a tough time and we decided I would still take the treatment, but we weren't going to revolve our lives around having a baby. We needed to work on us because we weren't going to last much longer and we both knew it. We started the New Year resolving to mend our relationship and we started going out with friends more and I stopped taking pregnancy tests every 2 weeks. It didn't take long before it felt like our burden had been lifted. I stopped living like I was expecting and Tanner stopped thinking about having to sell all of his stuff to support a family and we eventually got back to enjoying each other again. I tested negative after our December round of Clomid, but wasn't surprised. We weren't disappointed and honestly, Tanner didn't even know when I took the tests anymore. He probably just assumed I'd let him know if I ever got a positive result.

Our friends Shawn and Melissa are well-known for their parties and they planned a big Valentine's Day bash with seafood, homemade wine, karaoke on the big screen, you name it; they had it. We partied all night and had so much fun but I paid for it big time the next day . . . and the day after. I was hung over for almost a full 2 days. I just laid upstairs in my own sweatiness and slept. I had the same hairstyle for almost 48 hours. It was pretty sweet. And I can't leave out the acne that attacked my face as my pores struggled to breath . . . are picturing the beauty? To top it all off, I felt the symptoms of my quarterly visitor, our beloved Aunt Flo. The symptoms hung on for over a week and then one morning as I was eyeing my bloated bulging belly it hit me . . . maybe I'm pregnant.

I took the test in the morning, still not expecting a positive result. I peed on the stick, set it on the sink, and got in the shower. When I got out of the shower, I grabbed the test to throw it away and couldn't look away. It was positive. Oh shit.

I sat on the toilet (where I make most of my life-altering decisions) thinking about what I should do and I decided not to call Tanner yet because what if it was wrong? I think it had sat too long and it gave it a bad reading so I called my doc. The nurse said it's hard to have a false positive, but to stop by on my way to work and they'd give me a test. I called work to say I was running late and I chugged water like it was the last drink I would ever take. I wanted to have enough pee for the test. I got to the office, peed in the cup, waited . . . inconclusive. My urine was too diluted to give a true reading. They advised me to not drink anything and hold my pee for 4 hours then take another test. I went to the drugstore and picked up a test to smuggle into work and when I got there I made a lame-ass attempt to perform my job. Finally, it was time! I went into the party stall and took the test. Preggo.

I went back to my desk and was trying to figure out how I was going to tell Tanner. Wasn't I supposed to be jumping up and down with happiness, isn't this what we wanted? I was thinking: I can't be a parent, I don't know how. How is Tanner going to react? What the hell were we thinking! I calmed down and was trying to think of cutsie little ways to tell him . . . buy baby booties and a card, put the test in a baby bottle and give it to him, all of the things my friends had done for their spouse when they found out. I decided it couldn't wait, I had to call him. I went into an empty office so I couldn't be overheard and of course got his voicemail. I left a message for him to call me when he got the message and returned to my desk. A few minutes later he called back and I told him I would call him back in a few seconds and he wouldn't let me hang up. He kept asking if everything was ok in which I was reassuring him yes. But then he didn't understand why I just couldn't tell him . . . after he kept needling I just hung up. I went back into the office and called him back. By this time he's really confused and wants to know what is going on. I told him I was pregnant and he says . . . Congratulations. I say thanks. Long pause. . . . well, I'd better get back to work. I'll talk to you when you get home. I say ok, I love you. He says I love you. We hang up and the awkwardness of the conversation lingers. This isn't the way it's supposed to be! It's supposed to be fun with the hug where he picks me up and swirls me around and I have on a headband and capris and he has to sit down his suitcase in the foyer and the dog barks in approval and we look at the dog and then look at each other and laugh because we're giddy. You know, the stupid crap you see on tv that makes you say, "That's dumb. Nobody does that. " Instead we were both silently stunned on the outside and screaming obscenities on the inside.

Tanner called me back a few minutes later and apologized for the first call. He was just shocked and I told him that I was shocked too. Who tries for months to get pregnant, takes fertility treatments, and is shocked when they are pregnant? Me. I'm an idiot. Tanner suggested we go out to dinner to celebrate and I thought it was really sweet. When I arrived home, he had a bouquet of pink flowers waiting for me on the table. That's when I knew I was having a girl. We went to dinner and talked about everything except being pregnant. How weird, we were dodging the topic that brought us there in the first place. More awkwardness. Awesome. Finally, he brings it up and we ultimately decide that we are happy. We opened up about our fears and anxieties and made a game plan on what our next steps would be.

It was the scariest day of my life. Especially after I realized I had gotten schlammered the weekend before. Good start Mom.

*btw, Turner is a boy and not a girl as I insinuated in the last big paragraph. he forces me to look at his manhood on a daily basis as a reminder.