I decided to tell one of my roommates (Courtney); you know, in case I fell over or something, or started getting really hormonal. Most importantly, I needed a support system that wasn't a roadtrip away. It bonded us, I think. Just last night, she wouldn't let me play Quidditch (I know, I know, it's awesome. They have pretty much any sport under the sun here at UF. Actually, it was funny to watch because some rugby players come to the practice [since they're forming a tournament Quidditch team] and they were SUPER intense. It was like, chill out! Remember that this game is supposed to be played in a fictional world on flying broomsticks with balls that have a bad attitude flying around trying to hurt you, and an illusive little gold ball with wings that somehow seems sneaky and conniving. Not quite something to get your panties all ruffled over. But back to the actual story.) Like I said, she wouldn't let me play Quidditch, so when we walked up to the "field" and the "coach" asked what posititions we were looking at playing, she immediately yelled, "She can't play! She's pregnant." I thanked her for the announcement, and then sat by to watch the practice. And immediately realized why a pregnant woman should NOT play Quidditch at UF. Talk about a contact sport. Needless to say, Courtney is my reminder that I'm pregnant and there are many things that I probably shouldn't do.
Meanwhile, while settling myself into the swing of living on campus, I began to think more and more about the baby. It had already been addressed that I had everyone's support (everyone that knew, that is). I had even introduced myself via email to an adoptive family. Then, finally, before I knew it, the first week was over. After my last class on Friday, I packed my car and headed home. It was a LONG time before I actually arrived.
My trip was going just fine, completely uneventful, until I noticed the "Service Engine" light flashing. Then, the car started to thud, almost like the feeling of running out of gas. I looked behind me and was shocked to see smoke billowing behind. I immediately pulled over. Turns out, I would not be driving myself the rest of the way. I had to spend roughly the next two hours riding in a tow truck. Thankfully, the driver was very nice and we were able to have good conversation a great deal of the way home. Finally, I made it to the agreed meeting spot, where I was greeted by my mom and my little puppy, Mr. Bugfoo, Kungfoo Master and Gentlemen (one of his nicknames of which I am most fond). I was almost home, at last.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Spilling the Beans
I woke up the morning of my orientation after my first night in my dorm, and the the number one thing that came to my mind was Oh, shit. I'm pregnant. It was as if over night the baby had taken a vacation from my body and mind, and when it returned in the morning, I was shocked to have it there. Nothing had sunk in like I thought it had. It was like finding out for the first time all over again.
I went about getting ready for my orientation, every once in a while glimpsing the positive pregnancy test I had brought with me, like that was the only true proof I had that I wasn't delusional. For some reason, I kept it around until I finally decided that the second blue line was never going to disappear and I could definitely now classify myself as "pregnant". After 4 or 5 days, it was probably time to throw away the test. In retrospect, that was probably a good idea for at least sanitary reasons. I mean, how long is the FDA approved allotted time to carry around a stick partially covered in urine? I couldn't imagine it being long.
At orientation, I tried to soak in all the information that was being thrown at me while simultaneously thinking about being knocked up AND all the potential ruinous roads my life could take. But, mostly, I thought about my parents, how much I already missed them, and how I wanted to tell them my problem at that very moment, whichever moment it was that I was in; just walk out of the auditorium, lock myself in the bathroom, and call my mom. She'd answer and I'd say, "Momma, Momma...." That's all I'd come up with as of yet. For some reasons, "Congratulations, you're gonna be a grandma" just didn't seem like the path to go down.
Finally, it was lunch time. I let everyone pass me in the Cheeburger Cheeburger line while the phone rang to my Mom's office. After the preliminaries, the conversation kind of went like this:
"So... I'm nine days late for my period."
"Oh no."
"Yeah, I'm just warning you that I'm probably pregnant."
"Oh my gosh..."
"But when I take a pregnancy test, I'll let you know. My orientation is almost done. I still have to register for classes."
"Oh, okay. Love you. Call me back."
"Love you too."
I obviously hadn't told her the whole truth. For some reason, I felt it would be easier for her to take in sections.
I called back after orientation while I was walking back to my car and told her the verdict: I was indeed pregnant. I asked her to tell my dad. There was no way I could do it.
After they both knew, I already felt better. I felt like I could move on with the process now. But there was another snag: What about the rest of my family? Could we just not tell them? I could stay away for my whole pregnancy and just hand over the baby, come back home, and pretend nothing had ever happened. Was that realistic? Absolutely not. Especially since my resolve to give away my precious gift would melt in the coming weeks. But I still had time to think about it. Meanwhile, my big, new, world was calling my name, and, pregnant or not, I was going to explore.
I went about getting ready for my orientation, every once in a while glimpsing the positive pregnancy test I had brought with me, like that was the only true proof I had that I wasn't delusional. For some reason, I kept it around until I finally decided that the second blue line was never going to disappear and I could definitely now classify myself as "pregnant". After 4 or 5 days, it was probably time to throw away the test. In retrospect, that was probably a good idea for at least sanitary reasons. I mean, how long is the FDA approved allotted time to carry around a stick partially covered in urine? I couldn't imagine it being long.
At orientation, I tried to soak in all the information that was being thrown at me while simultaneously thinking about being knocked up AND all the potential ruinous roads my life could take. But, mostly, I thought about my parents, how much I already missed them, and how I wanted to tell them my problem at that very moment, whichever moment it was that I was in; just walk out of the auditorium, lock myself in the bathroom, and call my mom. She'd answer and I'd say, "Momma, Momma...." That's all I'd come up with as of yet. For some reasons, "Congratulations, you're gonna be a grandma" just didn't seem like the path to go down.
Finally, it was lunch time. I let everyone pass me in the Cheeburger Cheeburger line while the phone rang to my Mom's office. After the preliminaries, the conversation kind of went like this:
"So... I'm nine days late for my period."
"Oh no."
"Yeah, I'm just warning you that I'm probably pregnant."
"Oh my gosh..."
"But when I take a pregnancy test, I'll let you know. My orientation is almost done. I still have to register for classes."
"Oh, okay. Love you. Call me back."
"Love you too."
I obviously hadn't told her the whole truth. For some reason, I felt it would be easier for her to take in sections.
I called back after orientation while I was walking back to my car and told her the verdict: I was indeed pregnant. I asked her to tell my dad. There was no way I could do it.
After they both knew, I already felt better. I felt like I could move on with the process now. But there was another snag: What about the rest of my family? Could we just not tell them? I could stay away for my whole pregnancy and just hand over the baby, come back home, and pretend nothing had ever happened. Was that realistic? Absolutely not. Especially since my resolve to give away my precious gift would melt in the coming weeks. But I still had time to think about it. Meanwhile, my big, new, world was calling my name, and, pregnant or not, I was going to explore.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Gainesville Bound
I'd told my friends, I'd told the new daddy, but I was really, really, REALLY scared to tell my parents. I mean, I'm their BABY. No one wants to think about their baby having a baby (at least when your baby is still in college, doesn't have a job anymore, and doesn't have a boyfriend, much less a husband). So I was having a hard time picturing the look on my parent's faces. Therefore, I decided to break the news via telephone so I didn't HAVE to see their faces.
One of my friends advised me to wait to tell them until I was settled in my dorm. I was all for this. They deserved the "college experience" with their daughter: that feeling of dropping me off in a big city where I would meet people who liked the same things as me, further my college career, and really grow into a big success. Their baby, going off the college to really live away (as in more than just across town) from them for the first time. The last thing they needed to hear on the way to leave me in a new city to fend for myself was that I was pregnant.
Driving up there with my proud parents, this big secret of mine threatening to fall out of my mouth, was so NOT fun. It was kind of easy to cover because I was still getting over a chest cold, so I wasn't feeling well anyway. Finally, we reached our destination. They helped me get all settled in. I bawled when they left, already feeling alone.
One of my friends advised me to wait to tell them until I was settled in my dorm. I was all for this. They deserved the "college experience" with their daughter: that feeling of dropping me off in a big city where I would meet people who liked the same things as me, further my college career, and really grow into a big success. Their baby, going off the college to really live away (as in more than just across town) from them for the first time. The last thing they needed to hear on the way to leave me in a new city to fend for myself was that I was pregnant.
Driving up there with my proud parents, this big secret of mine threatening to fall out of my mouth, was so NOT fun. It was kind of easy to cover because I was still getting over a chest cold, so I wasn't feeling well anyway. Finally, we reached our destination. They helped me get all settled in. I bawled when they left, already feeling alone.
Friday, January 28, 2011
The Beginning
As an introduction, I'll go ahead and let everyone know that this is my FIRST blog. A friend recommended that I start one when we discussed my pregnancy. So here it goes!
Okay, so before I got pregnant, I heard a lot of Moms say, "Oh, I knew exactly when I got pregnant with (insert preferred baby name here). I could tell right away!" I always said PHOOEY to that, there's NO way someone can know they're pregnant right away! Well, it's true. It happened to me. I remember the whole night of my conception (I haven't quite decided yet if I'm going to keep this censored, but, for now, I'll try to keep it PG rated) because after "the deed" was completed, I thought to myself, I'm probably pregnant. Behold, I was right.
I treated the next three or so weeks like normal, repeating over and over my mantra of "Oh, that kind of stuff doesn't happen to me..." Don't fool yourself, ladies. This kind of thing can happen to EVERYONE (everyone with ovaries, that is). I'm 21, so I still have a little of the invincibility aura around me. Not so much anymore.
Because of my complete lack of acknowledgment to the fact that I probably really was pregnant, I went about doing everything I was doing: drinking, smoking cigarettes, staying out late every night, attending a few classes in the mix, and just being your average 21 year old. Thankfully, babies seem to be quite resilient at their start. So don't freak if you've been drinking or smoking around the first trimester, your baby will most likely be okay. However, it's kind of mean to your little sea monkey if you keep it up after you find out.
I had friends assure me, "You're not pregnant. There's no way. Are your boobs hard?" I would feel my boob, and then relay the information that, yes, they were extremely hard.
"Oh, well then you might be pregnant." That's pretty much how it went for three weeks up until the night before I took my pregnancy test (which I irresponsibly spent drunk because I knew I was taking the test the next day. I look back on that and feel like such an ass.)
At the point of my conception, I was only weeks away from moving to Gainesville to be a Junior at University of Florida (Go Gators!). The day I took the pregnancy test was the day before my departure. All of my stuff was packed, I'd had my going away party, said Au Revoir to my friends, quit my job, and had everything sorted out. Until I saw those two little ominous blue lines. My hands were shaking, my breath was caught in my chest, and I immediately saw my future and my current weight loss goal go up in flames. However, I've always been an advocate against using abortion as a birth control. I knew what I had done, it was half my fault that I was pregnant, and I knew that I couldn't take out my frustration and panic on my unborn child. So I opted for adoption which I assured everyone was going to be a piece of cake. Yeah, right.
I had friends urge me, plead with me, to get an abortion. They assured me that my life would be ruined and I would never have fun again if I went through with the pregnancy. It made me angry. I was horrified at what they wanted me to do to my baby. Have any of you ever seen a picture of an abortion? It's horrible, absolutely disgusting. I thought about posting one, but it truly is awful and I don't want to subject anyone that doesn't want to see it. Instead, I will post a link. Please don't go to this link lightly. Series of Abortions. You have to scroll down a bit. I'm warning you again, these are very disturbing images.
So, clear with my decision to go to term with my baby, I went forward with my schooling, continuing with my move to Gainesville. I tell you what, I have no regrets whatsoever about deciding not to abort my child. It is truly a miracle. As for the adoption part, that resolve took a bit of a harder hit.
Well, that concludes the beginning of the story. The rest continues in Gainesville.
Okay, so before I got pregnant, I heard a lot of Moms say, "Oh, I knew exactly when I got pregnant with (insert preferred baby name here). I could tell right away!" I always said PHOOEY to that, there's NO way someone can know they're pregnant right away! Well, it's true. It happened to me. I remember the whole night of my conception (I haven't quite decided yet if I'm going to keep this censored, but, for now, I'll try to keep it PG rated) because after "the deed" was completed, I thought to myself, I'm probably pregnant. Behold, I was right.
I treated the next three or so weeks like normal, repeating over and over my mantra of "Oh, that kind of stuff doesn't happen to me..." Don't fool yourself, ladies. This kind of thing can happen to EVERYONE (everyone with ovaries, that is). I'm 21, so I still have a little of the invincibility aura around me. Not so much anymore.
Because of my complete lack of acknowledgment to the fact that I probably really was pregnant, I went about doing everything I was doing: drinking, smoking cigarettes, staying out late every night, attending a few classes in the mix, and just being your average 21 year old. Thankfully, babies seem to be quite resilient at their start. So don't freak if you've been drinking or smoking around the first trimester, your baby will most likely be okay. However, it's kind of mean to your little sea monkey if you keep it up after you find out.
I had friends assure me, "You're not pregnant. There's no way. Are your boobs hard?" I would feel my boob, and then relay the information that, yes, they were extremely hard.
"Oh, well then you might be pregnant." That's pretty much how it went for three weeks up until the night before I took my pregnancy test (which I irresponsibly spent drunk because I knew I was taking the test the next day. I look back on that and feel like such an ass.)
At the point of my conception, I was only weeks away from moving to Gainesville to be a Junior at University of Florida (Go Gators!). The day I took the pregnancy test was the day before my departure. All of my stuff was packed, I'd had my going away party, said Au Revoir to my friends, quit my job, and had everything sorted out. Until I saw those two little ominous blue lines. My hands were shaking, my breath was caught in my chest, and I immediately saw my future and my current weight loss goal go up in flames. However, I've always been an advocate against using abortion as a birth control. I knew what I had done, it was half my fault that I was pregnant, and I knew that I couldn't take out my frustration and panic on my unborn child. So I opted for adoption which I assured everyone was going to be a piece of cake. Yeah, right.
So, clear with my decision to go to term with my baby, I went forward with my schooling, continuing with my move to Gainesville. I tell you what, I have no regrets whatsoever about deciding not to abort my child. It is truly a miracle. As for the adoption part, that resolve took a bit of a harder hit.
Well, that concludes the beginning of the story. The rest continues in Gainesville.
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