Well, to be factually correct and for those who may take offence, I’m pregnant! Or, if you prefer, we’re expecting!
I’ve been married for almost 5 years, and if you've read my blog posts you’ll know by now that I have no burning desire to have children. Quite frankly, this pregnancy is what us Jamaicans would call “buck up”. Despite all our excitement (read: fancy social media announcement), I’d be lying if I told you this baby was planned for or even thought of. As a matter of fact, it must have been conceived in one of those very routine, boring-married-people-sex-days because both Garfield and I are still trying to pinpoint the exact moment.
It was that uneventful. Because, well, married people sex isn’t always earth-shattering mind-blowing memorable sex. But I digress.
Since I was not planning on getting pregnant, I was almost midway through my first trimester before I even suspected I was pregnant.
And that my friends is frightening.
I thought I was on the brink of an honest-to-God nervous breakdown.
In November, Garfield did a Laparoscopic Vertical Sleeve Gastrectomy and I was a basket case. I was overwhelmed, tired, and extremely emotional. Of course, I thought it had everything to do with me being anxious about his surgery while hopelessly trying to balance the demands of work and catering to him.
Then the strangest things started happening to me:
I couldn't control my desire to sleep.
I was struggling to concentrate or stay alert at work.
So yes, I guzzled coffee, and more coffee chased with energy drink because I couldn't understand why I couldn't keep up.
But it only got worst.
I had to read a single document several times just to process it.
I was absent-minded. I kept forgetting stuff. Like to shut off my car. One day a co-worker had to disrupt a meeting to tell me my car engine was running. I had earlier returned from the hospital after checking in on Garfield and so it was running for over two hours.
I somehow managed to run over my own glasses. (I'm still without glasses, if anyone wants to buy me a pair).
I got so overwhelmed, I even wrote my boss an epistle of an email explaining how tired I was and how I was unable to cope with the pressure of work. Thankfully, he took it in really good spirit! I can laugh now, but at that very moment sitting in my office, I was sure I was on the brink of a nervous breakdown.
I kept guzzling coffee and energy drink because I had work to do. In late November, I attended the Jamaica Bar Association Conference and gobbled down wine (my poor alcoholic-hyperactive baby) like nobody’s business… because if you are going to spend the weekend surrounded by lawyers, you need alcohol to survive (#truestory).
And then there was this epic fight on the phone with my hubby who was sulking for being left alone so soon after his surgery. Let's just say I went off and if there is a lexicon for bad words, I may have exhausted it. I mean for someone who invented the silent treatment, I went off. My poor husband couldn’t help but wonder if I was possessed.
Not a proud moment 🙁
And then I hung up and bawled uncontrollably!
Curled up in my hotel room, not only was I on the verge of a nervous breakdown, I was also going bat shit crazy! (This is it Lord. Someone will collect their 20 bucks and a tin of Milo by admitting me.)
On the final day of our conference, a colleague of mine cajoled me into taking a photo with another colleague’s baby, all the while teasing me that it was time to have my own baby. He even posted the photos on Facebook.
“What are you waiting on?” He asked.
I told him to go to hell.
But it didn’t stop there.
We returned to work and the unthinkable happened, I had a sudden and inexplicable aversion to coffee.
What sorcery is this? I thought for sure all the gods were against me! How could I possibly survive without caffeine in my blood? My very existence depends on coffee.
I tried forcing the coffee. I threw up. For the next few weeks, all I could have was soup. So every day, I drank soup while cursing the gods for turning coffee against me.
In December, I was still on an emotional roller coaster.
Missing my period in late November was not a huge concern because, to be quite frank, I have tons of health issues and I usually just wait for it to pop up at its own leisure. In fact, I thought my swollen and very tender boobs were an indication of its impending arrival, and so, I walked around fully equipped.
But then I had full blown dropsy. And I still couldn’t drink coffee.
Eventually, I blurted out to my bestie at work, "No man something’s wrong! I can't be this tired for no reason!
Usually an early bird, I was now finding it difficult to get up in the mornings to get to work on time. Every day, I'd beg her to check in on me periodically to ensure I wasn't off in La La Land. I stopped lounging around in the lunch room and would hurriedly eat lunch (my soup) so I could snooze for at least half an hour. And boy, I couldn’t wait to escape the lunch room, as the food scents drove me crazy.
Until it became unbearable.
One day when Garfield came to drop off soup, (now my staple diet), I blurted out, and “I think I may be pregnant!”
His face broke into a smile. "Really? High Five!"
Grinning from ear to ear he handed me the soup. “Don't worry. We'll be good!”
Soup in hand, I walked to the office wondering, did this man hear what I just said.
And then the rising panic: The hell! I can't be pregnant! I don't want a baby. I'm not ready for a baby! I can't with this. Not right now.
But what else could explain your strange and unusual behaviour? I was now talking to myself. Well at least you’re not going crazy. Hell, I’d prefer to go crazy! A baby will drive me crazy.
I tried to calm myself down. But then I heard a small voice, “Soooo… no coffee for the next 9 months?” I almost passed out.
After work that same evening, we stopped by the pharmacy and my overly enthusiastic husband bought not one, not two, but three pregnancy tests!
"We have to know for sure!!" He replied, obviously reading the WTF look on my face.
I did the routine pee tests and like a perfectly coordinated symphony they all declared that I was pregnant (double lines and a bright red plus).
He couldn’t contain himself! Wth?! Where did my husband go? Isn't this the same man who told me (and repeated just a few days ago) that he really didn’t really care if he ever had kids. Why is he on the phone blabbing to his mom, his friends---
"Hello!!!! Please come off the phone and don’t tell nobody else! Not another soul!"
Meanwhile, I was trying to assess my own feelings: trepidation, anxiety, joy. A strange mix of all three?
I’ll grudgingly admit that Garfield’s enthusiasm was contagious. His response was a complete surprise, but seeing how happy he was made me warm up to the idea of being pregnant. Heck, I may even enjoy this, I began thinking to myself.
Until my small voice chimed in, “Calm down. Don’t get carried away. Enjoy is pushing it.”
I told three persons that night. First was my bestie at work who was just as anxious to hear the results of the tests. Actually, I think Garfield told her before I did. Then my mom, who was elated and may have even cried on the phone. And last, one of my girlfriends who had told me much, much earlier in the year that she saw the “aura of a baby around me” and she was sure I was going to be pregnant before the end of the year.
As soon as she answered the phone, I blurted out, "Do not ever tell me anything you envision, imagine or see!!! Ever! You hear mi woman!!! Thanks to you, I'm pregnant!” She was elated.
“See I told you!”
“Woman, just keep your predictions to yourself!”
Once I told my mom there was no turning back.
Wow. I’m pregnant.
But are you happy? (Enter nagging small voice)
Surprisingly, I was. Not the giddy kind of happiness of someone who has been planning or praying for a child. My happiness (or contentment may be a better word) was more like the relaxed comfort of knowing we could do this. I mean, we were married for almost 5 years. Both of us have pretty decent jobs. We’ll be fine, right?
As if reading my thoughts, Garfield responded, "Don't panic Lecia, people with far less financial resources have children every day!"
“But we don't have the home I want and do you know how much babies cost and what if something goes wrong and –“
"Shhhh... you worry too much. We’ve got this. I’ve got you!" He pulls me closer to him, kisses me goodnight and falls asleep rubbing my tummy.
I pray a silent prayer of gratitude.
Ok, let's do this! But dear God, how am I going to get this man to zip it (read: not post on social media) until we are out of the first trimester.
How did you find out you were pregnant? Was it planned?
More of my adventure to come!