Putting my pills on chill

*fact that is a lyric from the most ridiculous R. Kelly song ever called “Pregnant.”  You should definitely youtube that immediately because it’s hilarious*

Like most things in life, I was ready for a baby before my husband.  Yes, I know there’s the occasional rare case where the husband’s ready first, but this wasn’t our case.  We bought our first house and I finally was in a place careerwise that it made sense.  At first, my husband really wanted to wait longer as he had this idea in his mind about how he didn’t want to be a dad before 30….then I amazed him with pregnancy math and showed him that in the fastest timeline possible, he’d be a dad maybe a week before he turned 30.  After reviewing the math, he agreed I could go off the pill.

It was exhilarating taking that last pill.  I felt like we were on the brink of this incredible journey.  I walked around the house fantasizing about how I would tell him the happy news when it happened and enjoyed walking into our junk room that would soon be a nursery.  I mentally rearranged nursery furniture and dreamed about watching the sunrise with a little burrito of a baby in my arms swaying in a rocking chair together.  I’d look at the extra bathroom that we had dubbed to someday be “the kid’s bathroom” and could already hear the giggles of bubbles and bath time in our near future.

I was giddy beyond belief and at the same time a healthy amount of nervous.  I mean, I think that it’s fair and normal to feel slightly overwhelmed at the idea of being responsible for a tiny human, totally dependent on you.  Giddy and nervous I tossed that last pack of pills into the trash, preparing myself not to get disappointed if it didn’t happen the first month but feeling oddly certain that it would.