Oh Sh!t—I'm Pregnant!

Here is the thing about those fancy, computerized pregnancy tests: they do not jerk you around. You do not have to interpret some eldritch symbol nonsense to find out if you are with child; it'll just say so. 

It'll be right there: pregnant. Knocked up. Laden with the foundries of life. 

This is why I've always liked those tests. In fact, they're sold in packs with the cheaper, etch-a-sketch tests. I guess the intended purpose is if your first test result is ambiguous, you can double-check with the fancy one. 

For me, I've always liked the clear-cut "Not Pregnant". 

I'm a bit of a paranoid person. I have had exactly one positive pregnancy test my entire life out of dozens. So, when it did pop positive, I was very grateful for my boyfriend's lunch breaks. 

His job's office is close enough to come home for an hour, and he had known that I was going to take the test. In fact, we had gone to Walmart together to buy it. But, like I said, this was not something new to us. 

I was so confident that the test would be negative that I looked at him and said, "You know, you could probably just go ahead and go back to work. I'm sure it'll be negative." 

He thought about this for a moment before saying, "I mean, if you don't mind taking it now, I'd rather you do that." 

And so, I peed on the stick. The little loading screen popped up—it usually takes a while, especially if you are not pregnant—and I washed my hands. 

I glanced back at the at the toilet lid and saw the word. That one, single, little word sliced my life into two parts: before and after. 

You may be wondering why I've decided to call my testimonial on the procreation of life "How to Have Joe's Baby" as if my experience is defined by the man who participated for but a moment compared to forty days and nights of pregnancy. My experience is not defined singularly by him, but he is an extremely pertinent piece of the puzzle. 

Instead, I am trying to draw attention to the fact that there is only your way to have your baby. Everyone's experience is so, totally different. There are some wide-reaching factoids you may apply to yourself, but the experience is vastly personal. Essentially, this is not What to Expect When You're Expecting. 

This is how to have Joe's baby, not Todd's or Peter's or Lucas'. 

You may expect anecdotes, personal experiences from my own adventures in gestating, and some things I wish I had known before they happened. You may also expect content warnings at the beginning of every post as pregnancy is scary, and you may not always be in the right headspace to read about certain things.  

I do not offer my testimonial as an educator or a shamer; I simply offer it to the void as a form of self-expression, a compassionate letter of understanding to past-me. These are things I wish I had known every step of the way, and these are things I want to remember when the baby I'm carrying right now has become a mouthy teenager. So before you comment a dissertation about the benefits of educated co-sleeping, know that Joe and I toss and turn, and we would squish our baby so flat. Because this is How to Have Joe's Baby.