16 weeks
We didn’t tell anyone (except Maren and The Viking’s best friend) I was pregnant for the first 12-13 weeks. It was partially because all the sources say not to because of the risk of miscarriage (I’m not here to judge you if you didn’t wait, or don’t want to wait. Do what you want, I’m not the boss of you and neither is the American Academy of Pediatrics). But it was more because I couldn’t handle people knowing yet. I couldn’t handle the thought of people congratulating me — all excited, and assuming that I was excited about it too when I wasn’t.
I didn’t want to talk about it, I didn’t want to think about it, I mostly wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening. Then the morning sickness hit. By morning sickness, I mean feeling like shit all day every day for weeks at a time. I couldn’t not think about the fact that I was pregnant. I had a constant nauseating reminder that I was pregnant all day every day. Cool thanks, God. It’s not enough that I have to have this kid, I have to spend 10 months growing it too? Awesome.
The worst part is, you have nothing to show for all the sick. No bump, no external indicators that people should be nice to you, and no easy excuse to leave a party because you feel awful, nothing. You just wander around the grocery story looking for something to eat, and trying not to throw up. The baby was the size of a walnut and it was already ruining my life.
When we told my family most of them thought I was joking, my Mom was super confused. The Viking's family was thrilled because this was the first grand baby on their side. I accidentally told another one of my friends on April 1st. We low key announced on social media when my husband wished me a happy mothers day in May. Needless to say, we did not do a gender reveal party. I barely agreed to participate in a baby shower because we actually needed a bunch of baby things, and apparently you have to suffer through a baby shower in order for people to give you things. (Shout out to my Sister-in-Law, Sister and my Mom, for throwing a really chill and completely bearable baby shower for us).
Once the cat was out of the bag, the questions started. “Omg! Congrats! are you so excited? Is it a boy or a girl? Do you have names picked out? Are you going to go back to work after the baby is born? Where is the baby going to go to college? If its a girl, have you chosen her wedding dress yet?”
Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but the questions made me uncomfortable. They prodded a tender place inside me that believed that if I didn’t have an answer, and if I didn’t act like everyone else than there was something wrong with me. This isn’t necessarily a new feeling in my life, and I generally maintain an IDGAF attitude about most things but somehow with this motherhood thing dark on the horizon, they got to me.
We told people I was pregnant, and shit got real.
