Holy Crap!

Three weeks ago, Lawrence, my fiance, turned to me as we were driving to the store and said, "I'm pretty sure you're pregnant. We should get a test."

I had spent the previous week debating whether I was just late or going to go the entire month of March without a period. Lawrence and I discussed it several times. Even the day before his proclamation, Lawrence was convinced that we should wait a little longer to get a pregnancy test.

Back home, the pregnancy test purchased, I went to the bathroom to pee on a stick. Even before I washed my hands, the line in the "pregnant" window was beginning to appear. Two minutes later, I called Lawrence into our room so we could look at the test together. With a big grin on my face, I handed him the test. We were pregnant! Parents were called, roommates were told and Lawrence and I settled in to deal with this happy and life changing news.

Since then, I've been to my first prenatal appointment with a registered nurse. According to estimations based on my not so accurate data, I am 8 weeks along with a due date of November 21st. Right now, the fetus (which is not only medically accurate but also what we've been affectionately calling it) is the size of a kidney bean and just developing webbed hangs and feet. I've had the joy of being nauseated at least once a day (if not more) and have certainly felt fatigued. All in all though, I'm loving being pregnant (even if I'm still not entirely convinced that I am, in fact, pregnant).