A Happy Little Accident

So, if you ever watched PBS on Saturday afternoons (or weekday afternoons, too, I guess) back in the 70s, 80s or 90s, you probably remember that soft-spoken painter with the crazy afro, Bob Ross. He was my absolute favorite. That dude could paint any mountain, river, ocean, tree, house, you name it, and it always came out looking real. My favorite part of the show was when he'd use the wrong color, or make an errant mark, and say in that soft, husky voice, "Oops, didn't mean to do that...heheh, but I like to say there are no mistakes, just happy little accidents!" He'd go on to take that unexpected color or stray mark and create a beautiful fir tree or chimney-smoked house. That dude was totally right, may he rest in peace. Happy little accidents are sometimes the best stray marks in life.

So I tell this story as a lead-in to the events of the last few weeks. Back in mid-September, I started experiencing excrutiating cramps, which then led to an intensely pressurized, pulling feeling as though my lady organs were about to fall out of my body. I started doing searches online to determine what the problem might be and all (web) sites pointed in the same direction--a prolapsed uterus or bladder. Needless to say I was scared sh*tless. I didn't want to make a big deal of things because Adam was going through the process of acquiring his "Chiefdom" in the Navy, and I didn't want my hypochondria to interfere with his concentration. But the pain and the pulling sensations would not go away. I talked to my neighbor, Mrs. Gonzales about it; she said, "Girl, that sounds like your uterus is about to fall out! You need to go to the doctor! Why are you still going to work? What are you going to do if you uterus falls out of your body while you're at your desk?" Okay, getting all that from a 77-year spitfire of a lady was enough to get my butt in gear. I immediately made an appointment to see a doctor at the local clinic and got in the next day. I dragged Adam along with me in case he needed to rush me to the ER as soon as my appointment was over.

So, I go to the appointment with Adam (yawning) in tow. In fact, I believe he fell asleep in the waiting room, as he's always pretty sure that there's nothing wrong with me. I wasn't convinced this time; I could practically feel my uterus hanging by a thread. I had to urinate really badly, so they took a sample so they could test for infection (the clinic was pretty sure it was not a prolapsed uterus, but rather a vaginal infection; I was pretty sure they didn't know what they were talking about). When the nurse led me to an examining room, she asked me a battery of questions (ie--Have you been constipated? Have you been thirsty? Have you been dizzy? Are you nauseous/vomiting?). Of course, the normal questions you might ask a woman who has a prolapsed uterus or vaginal infection. Afterward, she told me to get undressed and to wait for the doctor to come in to do a vaginal examination. Approximately 10 seconds after she left the room, she came right back in (luckily I was not yet busting out of my clothes) and said in a very nonchalant way, "Okay, Lauren, so you are pregnant." What? What?What?? So, I, uh, huh?? Pregnant?? I really couldn't believe it (still can't). And the way she emphasized are, as if she had just proved herself right and me wrong; I didn't even realize the debate was on the table! All those times Adam told me he was on birth control pills--what a liar!!!

So, I'm pregnant? The nurse went to get a sleepy Adam from the waiting room and pretty much announced the news to him in the same fashion; he literally took a step backwards he was so shocked. He looked at me as if to say, "My man pills didn't work?!?" I asked him if he was okay; he replied that he was okay, but was I okay? I told him that I was. But wow, what news. We certainly put a new spin on the term "family planning", in that there wasn't a whole lot of planning involved with expanding this family. But, after we absorbed the initial shock, we were able to really relish this unexpected, but exciting news that we were going to one day soon have a wee one.

But how to tell our families? You see, there wasn't any easy way of doing that, but not for the reason most of you are thinking. I've never been bothered by the idea of never getting married, and having kids "out of wedlock," so to speak. To me, the whole institution of marriage is bally-hoo, anyway; historically, it was the way for a man to acquire a woman's wealth upon partnership (always bringin' a sister down, yo!) and for the government to keep an eye on yet another one of folks' goings-on. The whole "matrimony under God" stuff is meaningless to me, and is just stuff people made up to make the historical beginnings of marriage easier to swallow. So although I know that both Adam's and my mother would much prefer that we be married before introducing a child into the world, it was never enough of a big-ticket item for me to spend a lot of time worrying about. As long as we loved each other, and were happy about the kid, what's the big deal?

Well, the big deal, GULP!, is that we are already married. Yup, this what's-the-big-deal-about-marriage-anyway?-liberal-hippie got hitched back on February 29th, Leap Day. It was not out of some strong desire to fill the vacant hole in my heart that was persisting from my seemingly eternal single status. No, I was okay with being single in the eyes of Big Brother; Adam and I have loved each other since we started dating and that has been romantic and meaningful enough for me for the last nine years. No, it was because upon Adam's and my return from our travels out west earlier this year, I secured a full-time job that unfortunately, did not come with benefits. Adam was still covered from his deployment with the Navy, so we decided, for practicalities' sake, to do the deed. So we did it the day after our nine-year anniversary, in our home, with Kika there, and Shabbi's ashes in the background. It was private and wonderful (and just the stress-free affair I could really appreciate) and we went out for a fancy meal afterward.

But we decided not to tell anyone. Why hurt the feelings of friends and family who would have wanted to see us get married? Why not just keep it a secret, have a more public ceremony down in Key West sometime next year and just let everyone think that to be our (only) wedding day? Well, you know what they say about the best-laid plans...one local friend saw me wearing my wedding band out in public, another saw the wedding announcement in the newspaper, and it just started to snowball from there. So, many of our Lansing friends figured it out, but Adam and I decided to stay mum with our friends throughout the rest of the country (and world), and not a word was spilled to family, for fear of hurting feelings. But of course, all that would have to change with the news of Wee Willie Mittman's imminent arrival. We'd have to spill the beans.

Luckily, friends and family have taken the news (ALL the news) quite well and have been nothing but supportive. We are very lucky in that respect. It's still weird to talk about or refer to "my husband". Adam doesn't say the "w" word very often, either. But we've both been pretty keen on the idea of becoming "Mum" and "Daddy"; who'da thunk it would sit so well with either of us?


So, just a few quick facts before I end this e-mail so you can sit in a slight state of shock and ponder it all:

--I am currently about 9 weeks along (just got the first ultrasound done yesterday!) and all is well.

--My due date is somewhere between May 26-31. Originally they thought the 31st based on my last period (remember the pico de gallo story???) but the measurements they did on the little one yesterday suggest I'm actually about 5 days further along.

--I'm really sick and uncomfortable. Eating is a chore or an impossibility. I have not thrown up yet, but extreme nausea is my constant and unavoidable companion.

--I still have the pulling and pressure feelings, which evidently, are normal signs that my uterine ligaments are stretching, preparing for the bodily changes of pregnancy (hmmmm....okay)

--This 15-year long vegetarian is finally constipated. My normal "3 times a day!" routine has stopped up (literally) at a prolonged and rather eventful once a day visit to the throne.

--I can't maintain a stable body temperature. It's like I'm reptilian and I'm always ducking for a blanket, hood or extra sweater because I'm too cold. Just when I feel like I'm comfortable, I'll get a hot flash and I'm stripping off clothes like $1 bills are waiting at the end of the stage. It's not pretty.

So, everything is fine for now--baby is progressing healthily and I'm doing (relatively) well. Adam is a constant support, although his departure this week for 6 months of training has been difficult to swallow. We are toying seriously with the idea of my moving out to Virginia for the duration of the pregnancy after the New Year, but this still remains to be seen. My boss was totally cool when I told him everything yesterday, and he said I'd still have a job come July when I was back in town and ready to work, so I'm thrilled by that. Now I just have to sit down with Ads and figure everything out. Oh yea, and come up with a name. I'm fond of Wee Willie for now. And no, we're not going to find out the sex of Wee Willie. He or she will just have to deal with that name until s/he is born.

Bye now.