How do people get out of bed? I can't. I literally can not. It's not mental exhaustion although I didn't sleep too well last night. I was distracted with thoughts of money--or rather my highly irrational fears that I will not have enough money and that me and baby will live in a cardboard box under a bridge and I will obviously lose my teeth. No. This is a complete physical exhaustion. I don't even know how to move.
F. I have to go to work. It's too soon to tell them I am pregnant and I've worn out my "work from home" card post foot-surgery.
I text Caroline for advice.
"How do people get out of bed? I can't move and think I'm going to barf."
"Are you frat-party hung over?"
"Ha! I wish. The symptoms are exactly the same."
"Give yourself 15-minutes and then a 3-2-1 countdown."
Ugh. She's right. Why does everything feel like a WOD? I wallow for exactly 15-minutes and then suck it up.
Nope. Head rush. I have to sit down. I think this through. I don't need to wash my hair and can definitely take a "French" shower. I rinsed after yoga last night. I give myself 5 more minutes and then push through.
Thank god for meetings. I stay focused and team-oriented for 3 full hours. At lunch, I sneak out for a bag of ginger chews and a box of ginger tea. Then, breeze through a conference call and make one Power Point. It’s 3 pm and it is totally on point for me to wrap up at home. I am on my couch by 3:30.
Now what? I don’t feel like doing anything but I loathe the unproductivity. I check my phone and see a text from tonight’s cycling sub. She has a wicked case of laryngitis. Shit. I definitely can’t rally. I give her a quick call (I think she sounds fine) and offer her cash on top of the hourly rate. I can not do it.
I stare at the walls for the next few hours holding my bare belly and wondering what’s going on in there. I download the "What to Expect" app and learn that it's just a orange seed. An orange seed is kicking my ass and it has a tail. Ugh.
I rally for 2 more ginger chews and walk to yoga. I need to feel some semblance of control over my body and it works.
I'm home by 7 and in bed by 8. For today, baby wins.
I am in freefall. I don’t understand. Did I do something? Did I say something? What changed from “I’m all in” to radio silence? I call. I get a generic text. I text back. He “needs space.” The replies stop. I don’t understand.
I am choosing to have the baby. I could abort. He doesn’t get a say in this. I see that this is unfair. We DID talk about it. I swear he agreed this pregnancy is a miracle. I swear he said he was “all in.”
Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I heard what I wanted to. Then why did I meet his brother? Why did he talk about me to his friends? I don’t want to marry him. I don’t need him to anchor me. I did not intentionally get pregnant because I wanted to “hook him” or needed a baby. This is not my will. This is something bigger. Is he in or is he out?
It doesn’t matter. I have to make plans. I choose Drew to move it. He’s mellow, musical and works in coffee. I start looking into day care. I choose my doctor. I choose where I will deliver. I choose to tell HR and my boss.
I distract myself and de-virginize my new passport. A Friday in TJ. A weekend in Tecate. I choose to keep my pregnancy a secret from my travel companions to see if I can hold on to the fantasy that it's not real. No. No. No. Ignoring the truth won’t work. This is actually the realest thing that I can think of and I have to pull out of the delusion. It just hurts. I don’t get it.
I am not disappointed in losing a “romantic” connection to him. It’s too soon to have real feelings. I am confused at the pivot in his actions and the lack of communication that contradicts everything I had grown to admire about him in the last 2 months. I really did like him.
As a last resort, I send a text that states my confusion and requests an explanation. He agrees that he owes me one. He asks for my email so he can get clear. Fine. I realize I should do the same. I spend a few hours writing to identify my needs, outline my values and explain my thoughts on motherhood and him. It feels good to get clear.
I hit send. I receive his. We agree to meet on Sunday (why always Sunday?!)
There is a shift. Sunday night feels off. S comes over for dinner and I am filling him in on my potential room mates.
The topic is awkward. I know that no one will stay after the baby is born. I also know that I can’t afford the space on my own. It’s way too early to consider moving in with S. However, it’s a logical thought since he has an extra master suite. Whatever our relationship is, this would be certainly be easier.
I am not ready to talk about this. I’d rather continue getting to know him. I try to keep the conversation light with dumb-ass stories about the 2 candidates. I feel inauthentic. He’s a smart guy—he can sense it.
“We are not going to live together.”
“I’m not ready to talk about this. Can we wait until February?”
I shut down. He shuts down.
The rest is fuzzy and awkward. We have dinner. He leaves. I feel rejected.
I should have let the topic breathe and we could have explored it.
I need to own that. I leave an apology on his VM for trying to control the topic and some other stuff. I send him the new Tribe Called Quest album. I don’t hear back.
I won't lie. Focusing at work is tough! I told S I'd be over at 6 and can't hang at work. I leave at 4 and go to Barre class.
Snapshot of my athletic history: Between 2003 and 2007, I did 9 marathons, a Half – Ironman and at least 40 other races to prepare. From 2009 to 2012, I worked for Reebok (specifically on CrossFit) and am educated in most modalities and have thrown down with the best of them. Fitness is part of my life and I work out almost every day and still teach at Equinox and the YMCA.
However, Barre Class kicks my ass every time! I love that it forces me to stay present (or risk falling over) and it makes me feel "girly." It's the perfect distraction.
After a quick shower, I head to S's house. His brother is coming down at 8 so we have a few hours to talk.
I have no expectations.
We chitchat and then he spills his truth. This is what I hear.
"I needed time to think about this and to talk to some friends. I am sorry that I left you hanging. I didn't know what else to do. I am scared, the timing sucks and I am all in for whatever you need. My friends think you sound great--you are great--and that I will be a good father. "
"I want to keep dating you and getting to know you. I can't have it be intimate now because that can't be all that we do."
Wow. He is thoughtful, smart and well-spoken. He is honest and authentic. It is clear his words are unplanned and from the heart.
Ding-dong. His brother arrives. We order pizza. They crack a few beers. His neighbors come over. It's fun! By 10, I am beat. He walks me to my car and I leave him to enjoy the night and celebrate the weekend with his brother.
I schedule my first prenatal appointment on my mom’s birthday, November 10. I choose a doctor who is within network, close to home and highly recommended by a friend. I am nervous and get there 15-minutes early to do new patient paper work.
The staff is nice and the intake is easy and efficient. Pee in a cup. Get weighed. Undress and put on a paper gown. I am sitting, waiting and reading “Fit Pregnancy.” My doctor walks in.
“So, what brings you in today?”
“Well, I’m 6-weeks pregnant and over 40 so thought I should come in.”
She smiles. “Phew, that makes this a lot easier! Yes. You are pregnant. We never know if you already know!”
I love her. She is knowledgeable, gentle and had a child when she was my age. I get an ultrasound, a clean bill of health and am sent on my way with a picture of the embryo, a packet on hospital programs and an order for NIPT, a simple way to discover chromosomal conditions through blood tests.
That’s it. I call my sister on my way to work and go on with "business as usual" when I get there.
I'm not super in to the election.
I've done my part in the Primaries and will definitely vote today. However, let's be real--Donald Trump is not going to be our president. Yes. We as a country seem to be afraid of women and Hillary's got some shade, but seriously, Trump?
The day is off to a good start--or at least an early one! My new wake-up time is 3:49 am. I decide to work out since I have energy and to find a sub for my 6:30 pm class (because by then, I won't).
After breakfast, Trevor stops by for his daily smoke. I'm kind of rushed but make time to shoot the breeze. Plus, he seems anxious.
Good reason. He tells me he is moving out and would like to be out by January 1. He knows he does not want to live with a baby and it's time for him to move in with his girlfriend. He hasn't slept at home in months.
Not ideal, but, I get it and support it. She's great. He's great. I'm happy to be the catalyst to make this happen.
Still, it does make me anxious. Trevor already has someone lined up for me to meet and I have a few names in my back pocket I can call.
After I vote, I head to work and have a good day. I am pumped I don't have to teach! I make it home by 6, pop dinner in the oven and take a lap around the block to distract myself while dinner is cooking.
I call my friend Amanda and while we are chatting, I get a strange string of texts and VM from S.
"Are you okay? Please let me know."
"I haven't heard from you. Did you make it back from Wisconsin? Are you okay? Please call me."
I let Amanda go and call him. He's pretty frantic that I haven't responded to a text he sent on Monday (I never got it). It's unexpected and somewhat sweet. We make plans for Thursday.
I settle in to bed early (with no idea what the morning will hold) and for the first time in a week, sleep through the night.
I am a Badger. In 1990, I moved into Sellery Hall at UW Madison armed with hairspray, XXL sweatshirts and lots of leggings. One day, I was giving my tops the “Gap – fold” in the hallway when my neighbor Caroline walks out of her room.
“It’s my birthday.”
“Cool! Happy Birthday. What are you going to do?”
“I have to go to work.”
“That's crap. Where do you work? I’ll get you out of it.”
I ran down to Pop’s Club (aka the Freshman Cafeteria) to find the shift supervisor. I let her know that I had planned a massive surprise party for Caroline tonight and that I really needed her help getting her shift covered. I promised her a bottle of Jägermeister and it worked!
That’s the night Caroline and I became friends. We celebrated her big “1-8” with shots of vodka and chasers of sugar-free Kool Aid. We became housemates for the next 4 years and have been in and out of each others lives ever since.
In the last 25 years we’ve made it through my parents’ deaths, her mother’s cancer. Her wedding, my break-ups. Her daughter’s birth, my career explosion. The Beastie Boys and Depeche Mode.
When I got laid off in 2012, I spent 10-days on her couch in Flagstaff. The week I found out that I was pregnant (and she went on her first post-divorce date), I booked a flight to Wisconsin.
Madison is not an easy place to get to from San Diego. I end up using miles and fly to Milwaukee, the hour drive will remind me what Autumn really looks like.
I land and head east scanning the radio for a good hip-hop station. I pause for a smooth voice with a friendly political reminder from Donald Trump. Here’s the logic:
Damn. I immediately miss Cali and decide to give S a quick call. I haven’t heard from him all week and it rings straight to VM. I let him know that I am in Wisconsin and would love to hear from him.
The weekend is great. It’s 70 and sunny. On Saturday, we go to yoga, the Farmer’s Market, tool around State Street and meet up with an old friend for lunch. We have deep talks about divorce, unplanned pregnancy and kids. We have shallow talks about everything else. We go make-up shopping, watch Napoleon Dynamite and avoid whiskey. I feel safe and relieved to be around close friends.
On Sunday, Caroline is busy so I head downtown for an outdoor yoga class. I am huffing my way up the hill to meet a friend for lunch (NOTE: the whole “shortness of breath” thing is real) and I get a call from S. We have a good chat and decide to meet up next week.
I head back to San Diego early Monday morning feeling refreshed and supported.