Are You Sure It's Mine?

That is what I jokingly said to a friend of mine a few years ago when she asked me what I would say if I found out that I was pregnant at that very moment. That, again, was a few years ago, when the idea of having a baby scared the living shit out of me to the point that I almost threw up every time I even CONSIDERED it... before the two year struggle with unexplainable infertility and the heartache and the absolutely gut wrenching pain that led to the ultimate denial of everything I had built up in myself. A few months ago, when I stopped writing in this blog, I gave up. I said "fuck it, I can't do this anymore..." and I didn't. I stopped writing in this blog, I stopped talking on my favorite message boards and I sort of dropped off the face of the Earth. I just couldn't deal, and that's ok.

It was all worth it.

It was so worth it.

Because I'm pregnant.

And, for what it's worth, I did not ask my husband if he was sure it was mine when I peed on a stick at 11:30 p.m. last night and two incredibly dark lines showed up within the first minute. ;P.

I probably should keep my mouth shut about it... I just found out yesterday and, upon entering my due date into a ticker, I came up with about 7 weeks... but I can't be quiet about it. I want to shout it from the roof tops. I seriously want to travel to New York, climb up the Statue of Liberty and grab a bull horn and shout it at the world in true Ghostbusters style.

I AM PREGNANT.

And, at this moment in time, when it's still so incredibly surreal to me that I can't even grasp the situation fully, nothing else matters.

I'm going to be a mom and I have never been so mind blowingly ecstatic, excited, joyful and absolutely fucking terrified of anything in my entire life. It is a truly strange combination of emotions and I wouldn't change any of them for all the footlong veggie subs on wheat in the world.