“That ain't no etch-a-sketch. This is one doodle that can't be un-did, homeskillet.”

I’m pregnant. Knocked up. My eggo is preggo. Fo-shiz up the spout. And my favorite… I’m in the family way.

I couldn’t really think of a better way to let the cat out of the proverbial bag than by sitting at my computer and writing a blog post about it. It’s funny because this post will only be read by a certain few pairs of eyes, and most of them already know the news. It is just getting to the point that I am dying to tell everyone and have to get it out of my system.

“Could you tell me about the pasta special again?”
“Of course. Right after I tell you that I’m having a baby!”

It’s really getting ridiculous. I’m four months pregnant and don’t look it. Should I be complaining about this? Probably not. I’m exactly fourteen weeks on Friday. No big belly, no nothing. Just something that looks like I’ve overindulged for the past few weeks and suddenly it is starting to show in my midsection. I've even resulted to dramatically sticking out my tummy when I feel a pair of eyes on me. I just wish I could hurry this along and see what all the fuss is about. I’ve never been a patient person, as my nearest and dearest know. So, this whole waiting game thing is no fun for me.

Finding out that I was pregnant was pretty comical. It came somewhat as a surprise to us. We had wanted to wait a bit to start a family, but suddenly… there it was. After three pee stick tests and a lot of my pacing and hyperventilating, we came to the conclusion that yes indeed, we are having a baby.

The excitement has finally set in. At first, I was straddling between being over the moon excited and being completely petrified. To be honest, I am not sure that see-saw is going to go away anytime soon.

I won’t lie. There are still moments of sheer panic. I sit and think to myself all of the ways that this could possibly go wrong. Not the pregnancy or delivery—I’m using my power of positive thinking to make that go absolutely perfect. I’m talking about the fact that we are creating a life. We are bringing a person into the world that we are going to mold and form into something of a replica of us and our ideas, morals and beliefs. That is what scares me the most.

I think of the times in my life where I was all over the map—literally and figuratively. In and out of relationships, experimenting in more ways than I will ever admit and disregarding all notion of the fact that my parents actually mattered in any of my decision making. This is what shakes me. What if I get a ME?

When my husband reads this, his ego will be further inflated because I am going to say the thing I never admit out loud. I want them to be like him in almost every single way. (The stubbornness can go out the window.) But really, in all of the ways that count, I just don’t want them to be like me. I don’t want them to be careless, impulsive, unpredictable, gullible and most specifically, easy to fall in love with all of the wrong people. If my daughter ever took off to Colorado with a scumbag boyfriend that she swore undying love to, I think I would break both of her knee caps and find myself in jail. Okay, maybe that’s exaggerating just a touch. But I’m pretty sure I would stage a protest and lay horizontally in the driveway to make sure that the VW van couldn’t leave.

I need to find all of the good places in me and bring those to the surface as if all of the other dark places just don’t exist. I don’t want to pretend to be a perfect person that made no mistakes and never inhaled, but I do want to seem like someone who has got it together. I dread those bedside conversations with all of the questions about life that I just can’t answer because I am still looking for them myself.

I think my favorite part of this entire process was the reaction when people who find out you are pregnant. The most positive obviously came from people who are already parents. It’s kind of a cross between elation that someone has joined the club and then a hushed whisper of, “It’s a lot of work.” It’s somewhat irritating. B and I have decided that from now on, when someone says, “Oh, your life is about to change!” We are going to respond in the most gravely serious way, “I’m not sure what you mean?” or “Really? Oh no. I don’t think we can do this. You’re right.”

Suddenly, I have an entirely different perspective of couples who are expecting. I’m sure that view is going to continue to flourish with a plethora of knowledge over the next 26 weeks. In the meantime, I’m still attempting to get used to the idea that I have lifetime membership in a new club. To deal with the reality of this situation, I am doing what I do best: Turn on my OCD button to clean, organize and redecorate the entire apartment.

Stay tuned for more adventures in the land of preggo’ed eggos...