I don’t like children. On the whole, I think they’re expensive, gross little petri dishes that ask too many questions. Besides, FAT and PREGNANT is hard to pull off (unless you’re the amazing Tess Holiday — loooove her!!).
I remember, vividly, the first time someone asked me when I was due. I was working as a dog walker in the West Lakeview neighborhood of Chicago, walking an ancient Golden Retriever, Sonny. Some lady driving by, stopped and asked me when I was due. I smiled, rubbed my full tummy and told her I was about 6 months. I wasn’t pregnant. I was just fat – and mortified. I started my first blog that day. Not Pregnant, Just Fat. It was my first experience with blogging and WordPress, and I had NO IDEA what I was doing. Needless to say, that fell very far to the wayside.
Fast forward ten years – I’m still not pregnant, just fat.
I didn’t really want children until I met Vince. I can still remember when negative pregnancy tests were a relief. After I met him, something odd happened to me – I wanted to have his children. It was so crazy. I wanted to make tiny humans with him.
We will have been married for three years in October. When people ask when we’re going to start having children, I think I’m going to start responding by crying. Maybe they’ll stop asking then? Maybe???
Part of me feels like, my fertility is none of your business, but that’s not me. My cookie cutter response goes something like this “We’re trying – it just takes some time.” I hope it translates into “We’re both pushing 40. Do the math!” My favorite responses are “Stop stressing” “God has a plan” “It will happen” “Everything happens for a reason” “Are you sure you’re doing it right”
“Have you tried…”
b. Getting drunk first
c. Holding your breath underwater in the Caribbean while eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while doing an headstand
…I totally made C. up, but that’s the kind of crazy specific advice people give you when you’re trying to conceive. It’s never personal experience advice either – it’s a third cousin twice removed who’s uncle knew a guy. I know that they mean well, but sometimes it is a bit much.
Then it DID happen.
On March 17th, I pushed the button for assistance. You would think that the unassuming little button would alert the key toting Walgreens folk with discretion. Something less obvious than “Assistance needed in the baby aisle.” Sigh…I should have known. That should have been my sign. The kid came and unlocked the case so that we could pick out the test, but we could only look at one at a time. Apparently they have very strict rules with pregnancy test inspection at Walgreens.
I didn’t think I was pregnant. I knew that I was late and that my boobs felt like two balloons that were ready to burst. I was certain that I had cancer and I was dying – either that or it was early menopause. After years of trying, how could it have been anything else?
Pregnant. I was happy and terrified at the same moment…mostly terrified. I scheduled my first prenatal appointment – and then I started bleeding and the real terror set in.
The pregnancy was not viable, it was ectopic. Two rounds of methotrexate, an emotional nightmare and many weeks of blood tests later, I was finally not pregnant again.
Still – not pregnant, just fat.
There were a couple of positive takeaways. We can get pregnant naturally (yay!). I was able to join Weight Watchers (yay!).
I’ve lost 18 pounds so far (I know I’m up a bit from hurricane Harvey) and we started trying again last month.
Hopefully next time it happens, I’ll be less fat AND pregnant!