I KNOW! It surprised me more than anyone. Sometimes I feel about as ready for it as a teenager; I have my whole life ahead of me! So how the hell did this happen?
It all starts with a man and a woman, or so I’ve heard. About the man:
James and I have been together for almost six years. With three engagements, one almost wedding, and a few breakups, we’re pretty much your typical late thirties, early forties commitment-phobic, independent, successful adults (who also happen to have raced motorcycles and think crashing mountain bikes is fun).
But there has always been a lot of love.
We’ve had some really good times.
And some not so good times.
But mostly lots of good times.
As you can probably tell, I love sport. We both do. For me, I love to push myself beyond what I thought I was capable of. I love to feel fit and strong, it’s incredibly empowering. I love my independence.
And I love James. Although I’ve never felt a hard charging desire to make another human, and am scared as shit about how this will affect my delusional plans to become a professional mountain bike racer, I’ve wondered weird things lately:
- What good is my life serving anyway?
- Who will come to my house for Thanksgiving when I’m old?
- I’m tired of my brother making fun of me for being an old cat lady.
- My mom would be an AMAZING grandma!
- Who will box up all my stuff and shred my important documents when I’m gone?
- Will anyone miss me, or even remember me, after I fling myself and my bike off a cliff somewhere?
James is a big, tough guy but has a surprisingly tender side for animals and kids. And sometimes even me, too. But he was much more comfortable than I was when it came to admitting daydreams of parenthood. Given my quiet, yet bewildering feelings about my place in the universe, and having a willing and able man, I blithely suggested we take the goalie out of the game (wink wink, nudge nudge).
I probably won’t get pregnant, I said. I’m 37, I’ve been on the pill for 20 years, my mom only had me, her mom only had her, we don’t even live in the same area code, for god’s sake.
That was in the fall. Sometime in December, this happened:
I think that the upside down, topsy turvy nature of the day may have encouraged this to happen:
But of course we didn’t know it yet. In the next week or so, my resting heart rate, measured with an iPhone app in bed in the morning to delay my transition to actually having to be up and do stuff, was up about ten beats, consistently, every day.
While on a trip to Santa Barbara just after Christmas, we giggled nervously as we bought a few of these:
When we saw the result:
Now that we’ve had a little time to ponder our situation…
I’m still riding my bike, and am feeding in a little running to prepare for the day when I decide being on the bike isn’t worth the risks (unless they come out with an intra-uterine fetal bicycle helmet), but to add to the fun, I’ve also moved from Saratoga, California, to the wine country town of Santa Rosa, two hours north (hello, first trimester exhaustion!).
I’ll be starting up some pregnancy updates, inspired by the format of my friend Marisa’s blog. I’ll do my best to keep it rad here at PassedByAPregnantChick.com, but there’s not a whole lot of radness when it comes to being extra tired, super bloated, and having to keep your heart rate under your threshold.
Thanks to Vanderkitten for including me in their 2013 VIP program in spite of my delicate condition! I’ll be rocking my Vanderkitten threads at prenatal yoga, on my runs, and during many endurance hikes this summer, and sharing stories of pregnant bad assery.
Yeah. Just because you’re pregnant doesn’t mean you have to stop being rad. I have skied, bombed down rocky trails on my bike, and ridden almost 80 miles in a day (with much internal debate and 3 a.m. googlings). I’ve already stopped riding unfamiliar, technical mountain bike trails, and will soon probably stop riding technical trails altogether. I’m not sure how long I’ll stay on my road bike, but I can already feel my burgeoning belly when I’m in the drops.
James and I are both really excited. And maybe a little scared out of our minds. Baby Mayhem arrives sometime in August…