Well… this wasn’t exactly how I imagined making this announcement.
But surprise — I’m pregnant.
And not in the cute “we found out at 5 weeks and cried over tiny blueberry-sized baby apps” kind of way. No. Apparently my child believes in dramatic entrances only.
I found out on April 4th. Doctors confirmed it on April 14th. Then one week later I went in for my first ultrasound expecting maybe a tiny gummy bear situation…
…and they told me I was already 17 weeks pregnant.
SEVENTEEN.
Excuse me??? You mean to tell me I speedran the first trimester without even knowing it existed? I didn’t get the slow emotional build-up. I didn’t get the “OMG I’m pregnant” moment. I got launched directly into second trimester chaos like a contestant on a medical game show.
And now I’m currently 19 weeks pregnant, sitting here wondering how I somehow skipped the tutorial level of pregnancy entirely.
To make things even more exciting, I also immediately found out I’m high risk.
Which means doctors constantly tell me:
“Don’t stress.”
I would LOVE to know how I’m supposed to do that because currently my brain rotates through:
- Is the baby okay?
- Am I gonna be a good parent?
- Why does every appointment feel terrifying?
- Why do I suddenly have 900 doctor visits?
- Why does pregnancy feel like being drafted into a survival reality show?
I have to go to the doctor every single week now, which is honestly not how I pictured my first pregnancy going. Everyone online makes pregnancy look like glowy selfies and fruit comparisons.
Meanwhile I’m over here like:
Today the baby is the size of a mango and I am the size of a nervous breakdown.
And because the universe apparently thought this storyline needed more drama…
I also have to move.
Right now.
While pregnant.
Because this is the downside of renting from a private owner instead of a leasing company, apparently. So now, on top of trying to survive a high-risk pregnancy, I also get to experience the joy of figuring out housing while exhausted 24/7.
Love that for me.
Honestly, I’m just tired. Physically tired. Emotionally tired. Mentally tired. The kind of tired where even deciding what to eat feels like a group project.
And I don’t really know what’s going to happen next.
But I do know this:
There’s a tiny little human in here already turning my entire life upside down, and despite all the fear and stress and chaos… I already love them more than anything.
So yeah.
Hi.
Baby Bunny is on the way!
