I wasn't planning on writing this post until my birthday. For some reason I thought it would be fun to make my big reveal on the day I turned 31. But then I thought, fuck that! Why settle for one day of congratulations when I could get two?
Okay, actually, that's not what I thought at all, until just now (because it's true). I did kind of want to wait until the bump looked more like a bump and less like some backed-up Chipotle, but gah! You guys have no idea how hard it was to wait three months to post this.
|Babies grow fast, y'all.|
|Contents: Compressed air, pizza, fetus.|
I wanted to tell you about how I managed to completely avoid morning sickness and how I felt all superior until I suddenly developed uncontrollable gas, which Jeff thinks is super sexy, especially when he's putting the moves on me and I say something like, "Baby, I don't know if I'm going to fart or vomit."
I wanted to tell you about how we saw the baby on an 8-week ultrasound and it looked exactly like the Glo Worm doll I had in 1984, except without the nightcap.
I wanted to tell you about how I hold my jeans together with a rubber band, and haven't washed them in 10 weeks for fear they will never fit again. About how my boobs grew a cup size, and how I probably could have skipped getting Jeff an expensive birthday gift because I've never seen him more thrilled.
There is so much ground to cover, I just don't know where to start. So maybe I won't. Maybe I'll save it for the coming weeks and months, which, I'm sorry to say, will likely be full of what UsWeekly likes to call BABY JOY! But don't worry, I'm still me. Just... bigger. Fuller. Definitely gassier. And with an extra heartbeat.