If you follow me on Facebook you’ve probably seen a few posts from me over the last few weeks about family emergencies and unplanned travel and other crazy ass shit including quitting CrossFit, going back to CrossFit, having my schedule and routine go completely out of whack and gaining 10lbs, plus of course the holidays and other major stressors. In the last few months, life has really reminded me that there are many things that I can’t control…and reminded me to stay in control of the things I can.

I won’t dwell on ALL OF THE THINGS because as of today, the most recent issue (stated in the title) is what’s most important, but the major highlights of the last few months, just to give you an idea of how chaotic things have been are as follows:

November 7th- We traveled to San Francisco on very short notice for a job interview for Brett. He received an offer the day of his interview and we spent the following several days driving around the suburbs scrambling to find housing in an area where we felt safe AND that we felt confident we could afford. STRESS!

November 14th- We returned home and I freaked out. Then Brett freaked out. We both freaked out thinking about all of the stuff we’d have to do to put our house on the market and move, literally, ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY!  I was feeling extremely emotional about it. The house we currently live in is the longest I’ve ever lived in one house (almost 6 years) it’s the house we bought to raise a family. It’s the house that instantly felt like home (for me, Brett not so much) from the moment I saw it. Did I mention I was feeling emotional?  Then we got to thinking about other factors of the move, logistics that don’t warrant details as that would be a complete bore-fest but suffice it to say, it was A LOT OF STUFF filling up all of the nooks and crannies of my brain. S.T.R.E.S.S.

November 20th(ish)-We decided that moving was not in our best interest as we both felt there were too many risks involved so we decided that we’d spend the money we would have spent on a move to do some much needed updates to our 65 year old home. Let the construction begin! Well…at least new carpet since that’s as far as we’ve gotten as of today…STRESS.

December 8th and 9th were super emo days for me. I could not stop crying. All I could do was miss my sweet Joe Dog who we lost back in August, followed by our 19 year old cat Rambo two months later. (Pretty much the last half of 2014 sucked donkey balls) Anyway, I cried and cried and cried and couldn’t stop. I knew something was off but I also knew that I had been under a lot of stress and my go-to reaction to most things is to cry.

Happy? Cry. Sad? Cry. Angry? Cry. I’m just a cry-er. Though knowing what I know now, all that crying makes more sense.

I’m getting there, I promise!

I also quit CrossFit back in November because I was such an emotional mess. Remember that? Yeah, that happened too. Which created an even bigger emotional mess which is why I’ve already gone back, in case you didn’t know…that’s a  whole other blog post of it’s own.

December 12th- We got a call from my mother in law, who lives in Phoenix, saying that my brother in law was in the hospital and not doing well. He’d had a horrible seizure that took over 20 minutes to stop, requiring so much sedation that he had to be intubated. No one knew what was wrong with him. It all happened unexpectedly and all we knew was that he was in very serious danger. Brett and I flew out to Phoenix to take care of our niece and nephew so his mom and our sister in law (his bother’s wife) could be with him at the hospital. It was touch and go there for a few days, some scary stuff, but I am happy to report that after a four day stay in the ICU and a few more days on the neurology floor, he is home and is recovering well.

December 21st- We were there for 10 days and came home just in time for Christmas. We spent Christmas Eve and Day with my family, like we do every year and then returned to our home about an hour away for our traditional Chinese food and A Christmas Story on Christmas Night. All was well with the world…until the next morning.

December 26th- My mom called to tell us that my sister was being transported to the hospital in an ambulance and asked if we could we please come pick up my nephew. Maybe keep him at our house for a few days?

Dude! What the hell?!?!

We scrambled to pack a few clothes, not knowing if we were going to end up back home that night or if we’d be staying in the town where they live. With that we were off to deal with another family emergency. My sister ended up staying in the hospital for a week and is home now. She seems to be doing much better.

Our nephew has been with us since last Friday– an absolute joy who we are not ready to return home this afternoon, but he has his own home and also has school and a family and blah, blah, blah, you know REASONS why he can’t just stay with us forever. Booooo!

And now on to the main reason for this post…

Okay so, apparently at some point, in the midst of all of these fun times, I got knocked up. Yep, it’s true. After YEARS of battling infertility, YEARS of being on an emotional roller coaster I NEVER wanted to ride again, I GOT PREGNANT.

Over the past year Brett and I had talked several times about whether or not we wanted to have children. We’d talk about it then table it, then talk about it again. In August we decided that I would have my IUD removed and we’d just see what happened. We were adamant about NOT trying. We didn’t even tell anyone that we were no longer “preventing.” We just didn’t want to make a big deal about it. We didn’t want unnecessary stress. And then during my first cycle after having said IUD removed ON OCTOBER 29th! I got pregnant! How freaking crazy is that?  It’s so crazy that there are no words to explain just how crazy it is.

After the early December cry-fest I decided to take a pregnancy test (12/11) because, like I said, I knew something was “off.” It came back negative, but I wasn’t surprised. I knew it was REALLY early and told myself that if I hadn’t gotten my period by December 15th I’d take one again then. As we were packing our bags to leave for Phoenix, I packed my “period supplies” and told Brett that I’d be really surprised if I actually needed them. I knew I was pregnant. I just knew it. Come December 15th, when there was no period in sight, I tested again and there it was…a faint but undeniable vertical blue line. The line I wanted to see so badly for YEARS, the line I had completely given up on four year prior was finally there and…I don’t know. I just…I couldn’t believe it.

I tested again the next day with two different kinds of tests, just to make sure. And then again a few days later, ’cause you know…it was REALLY HARD TO BELIEVE! Each test came back darker than the one before.

We told Brett’s family since we were there and we told my Phoenix family while we were there too and then we told the rest of my family on Christmas. We told them all that we were cautiously excited and reminded them that it was REALLY early so we didn’t want to get carried away.

By the end of the second week of knowing, I was feeling more confident that it was REAL and allowed myself to “FEEL” rather than just, “think” and “say”.  That was hard for me because I’m a thinker more than a feeler: logic over irrationality, function over fashion, fact over fiction plus I don’t like to be wrong or feel misled. And I especially did not was to feel lied to by a stick on which I peed. That makes me sound so pessimistic but I’m really not, I swear. I fancy myself a realist and a skeptic but not a pessimist…and yes, I just used the word “fancy.”

I had my confirmation appointment at the OB/gyn on December 30th where the PA told me that I was 8 weeks pregnant. She told me that we should schedule an ultrasound. She told us that we’d be able to hear the heartbeat and see the baby on the monitor. My eyes filled with tears. I was NOT expecting that AT ALL! Lucky for us they had an appointment available that afternoon so we figured why not! We went and got some lunch, dropped my nephew off with my mom for a while and returned the to doctor’s office.

I peed, undressed from the waist down and slid all the way down the bottom of the table with my feet in the stir-ups. It was an internal ultrasound, you know the super romantic kind where they lube up a wand and then shove it up in your personal space with the only words being, “this is going to be cold” and “you’re going to feel some pressure.” Ya think?!

The tech looked at the screen, moved the wand around, moved it some more, then some more, all while her face began to draw down. She used her other hand to hit some keys on the keyboard and then said something like, “I don’t see anything.” I don’t remember her exact words but basically what it boiled down to was that according to what she saw, I had an empty gestational sac that was measuring 4 weeks 6 days– far from the 8 weeks that the PA originally said. I asked her if that was 4 week 6 days from conception for from the last menstrual period. She told me that she couldn’t tell me that, that, “there’s no way for her to know.” Which means she either didn’t understand my question or didn’t have an answer or didn’t want to say. All I know is that what she saw was nothing. She told me there should be a fetal pole but she didn’t see one, “Could be too early. You’ll need to come back in two weeks.” And that was that.

One minute I’m eight weeks pregnant with a due date of August 11th and the next minute, I may or may not actually have a baby growing inside of me. She didn’t use the words but I got the feeling that she believed I have a blighted ovum— an empty gestational sac, AKA no actual embryo or fetus or whatever it’s called at whatever week/phase I’m supposed to be.

So now we wait TWO LONG WEEKS to find out if in fact there is anything growing in there.

I’ve had a few moments of despair but for the most part I’m feeling optimistic. My boobs hurt like a son-of-a-bitch and I have had occasional slight nausea and a few food aversions, so hopefully that means things are progressing. Though if it is in fact a blighted ovum my body probably wouldn’t actually know that yet which means the symptom would continue regardless. So…again, we just wait.

I cannot change whatever has or hasn’t happened. I can’t change what will happen. This part is totally out of my control. Even though I’m a cryer, I’m also very matter-of-fact and I accept life as it comes. (Some of the people closest to me actually tell me that I’m dead inside– in the most lovingly way possible, of course.)  But the truth is that I refuse to live in constant fear of the “what-ifs” so until I have a confirmation either way, I am going about my daily business, assuming that I am growing a baby inside me. I am taking care of myself just like I always do. I am eating well and exercising. I am taking my prenatal vitamins.  And even though I know it will be extremely painful if we hear the potential words, “this is not a viable pregnancy.” I also know that if that happens, I will survive and I suspect Brett will too.

So here’s hoping that in 9 very long days from now I will get to post one of those cute “We’re Expecting” announcements complete with an ultrasound print-out of our adorable baby (AKA black and white blob) and we will be able to celebrate what will be a major life change!

I will keep you posted.

*If you’re a close friend of mine and are upset that I haven’t told you personally, please know that I wasn’t keeping this from you.  It’s easier for me to write than to talk sometimes. This would be one of those times. Please respect that and know that it was nothing personal.  No one was singled out. <3