Written October 16.  8 weeks.

Officially 8 weeks today, and getting really excited about 2 things: 13 days until my first doctor appointment (!!!!!!!!!!!!) and only FOUR MORE WEEKS until I can share our news with the world.  Can.not.wait.

I spend about 75% of my day feeling nauseous.  So that stinks.  My days have typically been looking like this:

6:00 am – Alarm goes off.  Feel ill.  Hit the snooze.

6:09 am – Alarm goes off again.  Still feel ill.  Hit the snooze.

6:18 am – Alarm goes off again.  Still feel ill.  Decide to shower.

6:35 am – Get out of the shower.  Go to the kitchen and get a Sprite.  Get back in bed and sip my Sprite hoping to settle my stomach.

6:55 am – Stomach is not settled, but realize that if I don’t get up and moving, I will be very late for work.

7:25 am – Put 3 granola bars in my purse, take my vitamin, and grab a brown sugar Pop Tart to eat on my way to work.

Around 9:30 am – Suddenly I’m STARVING.  Eat a granola bar.

Around noon – Am I hungry?  Maybe?  Go to Subway and get a chicken sandwich.

Around 12:30 – Realize that I wasn’t hungry, now feel really sick.

Around 1:30 – Feel pretty alright.  I’ll make it through this day!  Afternoons are generally pretty good.

Around 4:45 – On my drive home, realize that I actually kind of feel like shit.

5:00 pm – Get home.  Look around the house and see that laundry needs to be done, the kitchen needs to be cleaned, and that Peter has been eating frozen pizza for dinner every night.  I WILL cook something tonight!  Eat a granola bar.

6:00 pm – I feel like shit.  Put on my pajamas.  Watch tv.  Cry a little because I’m feeling really guilty about being a horrible wife.

6:30 pm – Pete gets home.  Asks how I’m feeling.  Tell him I’m feeling shitty.  He hugs me and says that I should lay down.  I cry because he’s being so nice.

9:00 pm – Go to bed.

The other night, Peter was being SO NICE to me, and watching tv with me as I laid on the couch wondering if I was going to throw up, or if I was just going to continue being uncomfortable.  Then, I started to cry.

S: I’m so sorry, Peter.
P: Why??  What’s the matter???
S: Because I haven’t cooked or cleaned and I feel like shit, and you are the one that has to deal with me because I can’t just start to cry at work.
P: Sara!  Oh my gosh, don’t worry!
S: *crying harder* YOU’RE JUST BEING SO NICE TO ME AND I’M NOT BEING THAT NICE TO YOU.

The good news is that Peter has actually really been enjoying eating frozen pizza for the last two weeks.  He feels like a bachelor again.

The bad news is last night when I got home from a Pampered Chef party, he had made a frozen pizza, and the smell just about put me over the edge.

So, needless to say, he’s slightly concerned about his love affair with frozen pizza.

Written October 5.  6.5 weeks.

So, lying sucks.

Last week, I was in Madison for World Dairy Expo.  This coming week I’ll be helping with a tour of around 180 international visitors.  Tours include dinners each night with lots and lots of wine.

Last year when I was at a conference in Uruguay, I was suffering the affects of Dramamine and was also very congested, so took a preventative Advil Cold and Sinus.  The first dinner, I didn’t have a glass of wine and my oh my did my coworkers let me hear it!  Was there something I wanted to tell theeeeeem????  I was like “Seriously, you guys, I’ll be completely off my rocker if I mix any alcohol with this medication cocktail I’ve already got going on.”  I told this story so that you can see that I was already being bothered about not having a drink a year ago when we weren’t thinking about starting a family.

This past Thursday, I went to dinner with a bunch of my coworkers, and it was really fun and I laughed a lot and we had a grand time.  Everyone ordered an alcoholic drink.  I ordered a water.  The waitress came back, and I stuck with water.  And then I heard allllll about how I’m only having water.  Honestly, I’m beginning to think that people like liquored up Sara better than sober Sara.

Obviously, because I don’t do well in situations like this, and because I couldn’t yell ALCOHOL MAY HARM THE FETUS THAT IS THE SIZE OF A LENTIL INSIDE OF ME, I lied.

I took preventative cold medicine because I was feeling a little congested and didn’t want to get a cold right in the middle of this busy two weeks.

I thought I was SO SMART.  No one can dispute that!!  Then, my coworker next to me said, “Oh, actually, you know what you should have if you’re feeling congested?  Scotch.  That’ll clear you right up!”

I pretended I didn’t hear him.

The following night, we had our welcome banquet for all of our international visitors.  I was one of the first people to arrive because I had to set some things up.  After two of my coworkers left, I approached the bartenders.

Hi, friends, I have a big favor to ask you.  I am expecting, but I do NOT want my coworkers to know or suspect anything, so when I come up to the bar, I’ll ask for a rum and Diet Coke, but if you could just put Diet Coke in a drink glass with a lime, that would be fabulous.

They offered their congratulations, and said they were happy to help.  Woohoo!

A bit later, I was chatting with my coworker T, who was at dinner the night before and one of the people giving me grief about sticking to water.  She mentioned that my cheeks were really flushed as we were walking up to the bar to get a drink.

Yeah, I’m feeling really warm, so I’m just going to drink a Diet Coke.  The last thing I need is alcohol in my system making my cheeks rosier than they already are!!!!

After I got my drink, I continued talking with T.

T: It’s really nice that they put the drink in a bar glass for you – it makes it look like a real drink!
S: I know, I’m really glad about that.
T: Yeah, no one will think you’re pregnant.  Not like last night when there were 7 people around the table thinking you were when you only got water!
S: Hahaha! I know!  Seriously though, T, do you REALLY think that I could keep it a secret if I were pregnant?
T: No, you’re right.  You definitely would NOT be able to keep that a secret.

So here I am, with five and a half more weeks of having to keep a secret.  Which, as previously stated, is just torture.

Read Baby Romenesko Post 6: Poor Peter

Written September 26, 2014.  5 weeks.

Do you know what is PURE torture for an over-sharer?

HAVING TO KEEP A SECRET FOR MONTHS.  Literally.  Months.

I’m going insane, and am fairly certain that I will also drive Peter insane.

Last night I went over to B’s to celebrate the return of one of our favorite shows – Scandal.  It was fabulous.  You know how you KNOW that someone is a true friend?  You can show up at their apartment immediately after exercising/sweating profusely for an hour and they are still happy to see you and are not judgy at ALL.

Side note: sweating is one of the “side effects” of pregnancy.  Joy.  Just what I DIDN’T need… more sweat.

She made a fabulous dinner of steak, sweet potatoes, and glazed carrots, followed by pumpkin cupcakes for dessert.  It was the perfect night!

My problem, however, was that being only 5 weeks along, according to the internet and then confirmed by the nurse I talked to on the phone today when I made my doctor’s appointment (ah!) I didn’t want to tell her about the human that was the size of an apple seed developing in my womb.  Let’s get serious.  I WAS DYING TO TELL HER but I knew that I shouldn’t.

Anyways, B and I had been talking about this enjoying a bottle of wine (Frozen Tundra White by Parallel 44) with our dinner for weeks.  If I didn’t have a glass, she would know.  After trolling the internet, I decided that one glass would be fine.

After a glass, B was like “Want another?” and I said yes.  (B is going to die when she finds this out.)  So, she poured me another glass.  I took a little itty bitty sip of it.  A little bit later, she went to the bathroom and I RAN (“ran”) TO THE SINK AND DUMPED OUT THE GLASS OF WINE.

And then there was only a teency bit left in the bottle, so B and I “finished it off”, which meant that I took another itty bitty sip, and then ended up dumping the rest out with the lame excuse of “not wanting to finish the last 2 sips because I was driving home.”  I felt like a dope.

Another side note: I am a horrible liar, so hopefully people are actually believing this bologna.

Read Baby Romenesko Post 5: Secrets

Written September 24.  5 weeks.

I’m neurotic.  I mean.  Completely cray.

Also, this post might get a little uncomfortable because of womanly things so… fair warning.

After getting the glorious double pink lines on Sunday’s test, and then again on Tuesday’s test that I took to make sure I wasn’t insane on Sunday… Obviously I had to be more sure because Tuesday and Wednesday I started feeling… shitty.

Did you know that women often mistake symptoms of early pregnancy for PMS?  Yeah, the internet taught me that.

I am one of the super lucky women on earth that gets horrible cramping, off-the-wall emotional and just downright miserable the first few days before and first few days of my period.  Midol is my BFF4L. I also really enjoy sweatpants and hoodies, and I could eat, well, anything.  I can’t forget to mention that I can hardly get out of bed in the morning, and am drag-ging throughout the day.  I want to sleep. all. the. time.  Seriously, it’s a really fun time.

I already warned you that this might get uncomfortable.

Tuesday and Wednesday I was feeling all of my symptoms.  Including one of my coworkers saying “Hey, are you feeling alright?  You have been looking really tired.”

I blamed it on needing a new pillow.  Not the fact that my body is like, “Holy shit!  We have to get ready to incubate this little human!”

And then I was like OMGEEEEEE why the HECK am I PMSing??  I took TWO pregnancy tests!

So obviously on Thursday morning I took a third.

Spoiler: it was positive again.

My bathroom counter currently looks like this:

Because you know… I have to have a constant reminder that this is actually happening, and I’m not dreaming.

Read Baby Romenesko Post 3: Secrets.