Having a really huge (tiny) secret for 13 (now 14) weeks has felt like forever. Thanks for all the congrats on Twitter. It felt good to let that out of my head and into the open, and have so much support. It's been a bit of a lonely time, exciting, but also with its share of anxiety.
Sure it wasn't unplanned. I'd always known I wanted to have kids. But as I entered my late 20s and came into a career I loved the priorities of babies got pushed back. It's a million things that pushed it back and brought it back. But I vividly remember last May when I went to run the Vermont City Marathon I was eating breakfast with my family out at Panera. Like my whole family. And this little family my grandparents knew from church came in, and they were just over the moon to see those kids. It jarred something in my head. Like, sure this career and this running revival in my life are amazing and consuming, but I think I can fit kids in here too.
That's why I picked Chicago and started right back in. The plan was one more big race, throw it all in, then throw the pill away. Which I did right before I popped my post-race bottle of Champagne. Even though I didn't get the B standard, I knew I was ready. Our toast was for the race hard run and to not not trying. I figured we'd not not try for awhile. But apparently my body, who'd rebelled against everything I suggested for years when it came to running, knew just how to get a baby started.
The week before Club Cross County Nationals on December 14, I was feeling really off. I was queasy every time I ran, I was exhausted. I took a pregnancy test on the Wednesday before we left, negative. I laughed at myself a little for being so naive. How did I expect to get knocked up on our first not not trying month?
Headed to Bend, still exhausted. Raced as hard as I could. Oy. Danced (and DJed) until 1am. We drove back the next morning and that night as I got ready for bed I saw the one last test in the box and thought, meh, I have to buy more anyway. Took it out of boredom. Set it on the counter, brushed my teeth and glanced at it before throwing it away. But there it was. A plus sign. I was ice cold, pass out mode. Shaking. I had to hold myself up, I leaned on the sink and just tried to breath.
I couldn't even tell Owen right away. I danced around him until bed. Then I said something really thoughtful like... I think I'm pregnant.
The Wednesday before I flew home for Christmas my doctor fit me in for a quick appointment to verify the pregnancy. As if I hadn't peed on 7 at home test in 3 days, true story. I told her about my race and late night and glasses of Merlot and she reassured me it was fine. The baby was a little ball of cells that wasn't depending on me for nourishment yet. Even up to 10 weeks it's still living off the little yolk sac it brought along while you build the placenta. BYOYS. Nature is so smart.
So here I am 14 weeks along, which feels so long, but is really just the start. We've seen the tiny heart beat twice. Seeing it that first time, 8 weeks, I fell in love so hard it was terrifying. It's the most vulnerable I've ever felt. To love someone so delicate, so dependent. To love a little heart inside my own body.
But the best things in life have that punched in the gut terrified in love feeling. So here we go!
Sure it wasn't unplanned. I'd always known I wanted to have kids. But as I entered my late 20s and came into a career I loved the priorities of babies got pushed back. It's a million things that pushed it back and brought it back. But I vividly remember last May when I went to run the Vermont City Marathon I was eating breakfast with my family out at Panera. Like my whole family. And this little family my grandparents knew from church came in, and they were just over the moon to see those kids. It jarred something in my head. Like, sure this career and this running revival in my life are amazing and consuming, but I think I can fit kids in here too.
That's why I picked Chicago and started right back in. The plan was one more big race, throw it all in, then throw the pill away. Which I did right before I popped my post-race bottle of Champagne. Even though I didn't get the B standard, I knew I was ready. Our toast was for the race hard run and to not not trying. I figured we'd not not try for awhile. But apparently my body, who'd rebelled against everything I suggested for years when it came to running, knew just how to get a baby started.
The week before Club Cross County Nationals on December 14, I was feeling really off. I was queasy every time I ran, I was exhausted. I took a pregnancy test on the Wednesday before we left, negative. I laughed at myself a little for being so naive. How did I expect to get knocked up on our first not not trying month?
Headed to Bend, still exhausted. Raced as hard as I could. Oy. Danced (and DJed) until 1am. We drove back the next morning and that night as I got ready for bed I saw the one last test in the box and thought, meh, I have to buy more anyway. Took it out of boredom. Set it on the counter, brushed my teeth and glanced at it before throwing it away. But there it was. A plus sign. I was ice cold, pass out mode. Shaking. I had to hold myself up, I leaned on the sink and just tried to breath.
I couldn't even tell Owen right away. I danced around him until bed. Then I said something really thoughtful like... I think I'm pregnant.
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| From chapter one of What to Expect: be sure to race a XC 6k at altitude followed by hours of dancing. No? |
So here I am 14 weeks along, which feels so long, but is really just the start. We've seen the tiny heart beat twice. Seeing it that first time, 8 weeks, I fell in love so hard it was terrifying. It's the most vulnerable I've ever felt. To love someone so delicate, so dependent. To love a little heart inside my own body.
But the best things in life have that punched in the gut terrified in love feeling. So here we go!