I was four months into my marriage and three months from my degree, why not add a baby to the mix and see what happens…

I found out I was pregnant the weekend after my 28th birthday, and I went from feeling 28 to 50. So often the image of new parents; happy smiling faces, cute pregnancy announcements, and nursery decorating vlogs seem to be the norm, but no one tells you what it’s like to feel scared shitless. I’m okay now, but you know you want to hear this story…

Let’s take it back to my wedding night; before you assume I’m going to drop some sultry, sexy details let me stop you; by the time we got to the hotel, all we wanted to do was eat and sleep, but that’s beside the point. Jerry and I had joked that night that we wouldn’t start trying to get pregnant until AT MINIMUM after graduation, we got married in October in case you forgot while reminiscing on my Dad’s toast. He had blessed us with years of love, happiness, and “LOTS AND LOTS OF GRANDBABIES” (direct quote, yikes), regardless we knew we’re not going to start “trying” for a while. As the months went on I think we did the best we could, but let’s be real, your sex life reaches the ultimate level of comfort when you upgrade from boyfriend/girlfriend to husband/wife, personal opinion, love how you want to love. So to say the least, us getting pregnant was bound to happen probably sooner rather than later.

The more serious question being, were we even ready to have a kid? Jerry and I have been together since sophomore year-ish of undergrad, although we’ve grown and matured over the last 9-ish years, as I stated earlier, we’re pretty early into being married and still have a lot of growing to due. I think my favorite analogy for us is April and Andy from NBC’s Parks and Recreation, we’re still eating cereal out of frisbees until we get real dishes, but we can successfully hold down our 9-5s. Okay, so maybe not to that extreme, but damn near. Within the last year, we had downsized into a one-bedroom apartment so I could finish law school full-time, i.e. unemployed, we were overloaded on junk in said one-bedroom, and I hadn’t exactly developed my wifey skills…doordash and laundry piles anyone….

Regardless of mine and Jerry’s newlywed lifestyle, the baby voodoo had been placed upon us and little hints would start appearing weeks before my birthday even came.

Please understand I pride myself in being a woman that “knows her body,” Aunt Flo hasn’t snuck up on me in years, and I know when my headaches are from lack of sleep or lack of water…but babaayyyy when I say I turned a blind eye to these pregnancy symptoms like Trump to the coronavirus! I walked around cupping my sore boobs (in public) and brushed it off as some extended state of PMS until a friend called me out as being pregnant two weeks before I thought about taking a test.

I couldn’t do ANYTHING! I have a healthy streak of laziness like any average American, but we’re talking dozing off in class. Napping CONSTANTLY in my free time. I couldn’t even stand at the microwave long enough of heat a hot pocket (I told you, great adulting) without needing a chair. Yet, I brushed off my fatigue as senioritis for weeks (which probably did play a small role).

I couldn’t ignore my symptoms for any longer, Auntie Flo….skipped me. I waited….and waited…and waited…not a cramp, a pimple, no randomly crying at UNICEF commercials. I had to take a test. I finally got the nerve to hit Walgreens late after class. Got home………

It turned positive, INSTANTLY.

I mean INSTANTLY, the box says to wait 60 seconds, oh please, the pregnant sign came through before I could flush (TMI). My first wave of “my life is over” slapped me in the face. Every #girlpower, #BlackWomanLawyer goal I had seemed non-existent. I didn’t run into Jerry’s arms with cinematic tears of joy, I hyperventilated at the kitchen table while he tried to figure out what the + sign on the test meant.

Life set in and it set in fast, I was graduating in May, meaning my job prospects were going from “when can you start,” to how long can I go before my bump shows. Starting a new job with discussing maternity leave options.

What if no one hired me?

What if we couldn’t afford a baby?

Were Jerry and I really ready to stop being selfish?

It had been us, the dynamic duo for almost a decade. Were we ready to table our job prospects, grad school, and international vacation plans to buy diapers?? It was one thing finding a dog sitter for our weekend vacations, but you can’t leave a baby at PetSmart.

*Long Pranayama Breath *

I know at this point it sounds like I’m spiraling, but not to fear not.

Fast forward to April 15…I’m about 12 weeks and it’s finally time for my first appointment. I’m nervous, by myself (thanks COVID), and feeling awful. After being poked, pried, and bled dry…I get to hear the heartbeat.

Every fear, doubt, and selfish thought disintegrates, and every dormant mommy instinct comes rushing to the surface. I was excited to be a mom, I was excited for Jerry and me to become parents. It was REAL, and no matter how unprepared we felt I knew we had nothing but love to give.

So here’s my final thoughts:

Tbh, pregnancy doesn’t always come at the most ideal times, but I believe God doesn’t bless you with parenthood until you’re ready. This is going to be a wild ride, the train has left the station and there’s no stopping for the next 18 years. PHEW!

Tune in monthly for my Baby Love updates as we get closer to our due date Oct. 28th! Jerry and I are so excited to document our journey and share it with all of you!