Secret, Secret . . . I Had a Secret

On Monday, I called my mom at work, to see how my Uncle Dennis is doing, as she spent the weekend with him. After speaking with her for a few minutes, she said "I was just thinking of you. Are you pregnant?" I responded with the very pithy "Why would you ask that?" "I don't know," she replied. "Just a feeling I have." So, not being someone who is able to lie to my mom, I had to say "Well, yes, I am." I took the home test on Saturday and got a positive result and then a follow up test (second opinion) on Monday -- also positive. I knew it; the past two weeks I have been incredibly nauseated all day, every day, something I experienced when pregnant with Jude. There is no better feeling than being totally sick to one's stomach all day long. So, I went to the doctor today to figure out what is happening and was given an ultrasound. Sure enough, there was the tiniest little heart that I could see beating. This caused me to really stop and wonder: how far along am I? Dr. Hottie answered that question: I am about eight weeks along. Eight weeks. Two months.
So, for anyone paying attention, I certainly did not have a miscarriage, just some heavy bleeding. I wish I had known. I now kick myself for those glasses of champagne I had at the wedding, though the doctor assures me that I should not worry. Of course I worry; I can't help it. I worry that I drank champagne one night. I worry that I took pepto one day last week to try to settle an upset stomach. I worry that I haven't taken my vitamins every day because I have been nauseated. I worry because that tiny bit of cells (with a strong little heartbeat)depends on me and I don't want to let him/her down.
So, Jeff and I were going to wait to tell people, but once my mom knew, there was no sense trying to keep a secret. So, we decided to go ahead and tell people, assuming that there were a few people that my mom didn't already tell.
Oh, and the Dr. Hottie thing: that is an affectionate nickname that my doctor earned when I was pregnant with Jude. He is one of those men who is so good looking as to be almost too good looking, exactly the sort of man you'd feel uncomfortable being naked in front of if he weren't also such a good doctor.
I am already experiencing cravings, mostly for bread and some meat and an aversion to sweets. I have to go now; there is a breadstick in the kitchen with my name on it. I had to write my name on it, lest someone else in this house try to take food away from the pregnant beast.