Last night, as I'm sitting at the Dunn's house, eating pizza at 9:30 PM, I announced to Andy, "Well, I'm pretty sure I failed my first known day of pregnancy."
I'm most sick around supper time, so I end up eating late. Although, yesterday I HAD TO HAVE Velveeta cheese. In the jar. On white Sunbeam bread. And because my Handsome Husband is the best, (and also because he KNOWS what's up) he stopped and bought me some. And then called me to make sure the "Cheez-Whiz" in the jar was an acceptable sub for the "Velveeta" variety. Oh, he's GOOD.
So that was supper. Then popcorn. Then pizza. Oh, and I had a twizzlers. Food groups? Who needs 'em?
Our general feeling is that this all happened so much quicker than we were expecting. Like, there was supposed to be more waiting and pondering. More tearful mornings holding negative pregnancy tests. Trips to specialists. Our biggest topic of conversation is who to tell and when to tell them. Probably there will be a trip to RI in our near future.
I wore my skinny jeans today- the 14s I FINALLY was able to fit into after a year of dragging myself to the gym. I know for a fact I'm concerned about gaining back all that weight. But the reason I was losing was to get to this point. So it's all good, right? Right.
And in parting: The Proof