The biggest change in my life

I know I haven’t updated in ages, and I know I say this every time I write something in this blog, but for some reason, I always feel the need to point out the obvious to the one or two people who still read this.

Last time I wrote in here, I was talking about being in Minneapolis and moving at the end of the month. This time, I guess I could talk about being in Denver and finally moving into my new place.

First off, Denver sucks. It is THE most boring place I’ve ever been to and the dryness just SUCKS. I guess it wouldn’t have been so bad if we had a car, but that really wasn’t an option since the 14 hour drive from Minneapolis to Memphis just weeks before killed any urges I would ever have to drive long distances (and Denver is 16 hours at least). So we flew out there. For training purposes again, of course. His training, not mine. I am, unfortunately, still jobless, but I’ll leave that for later. Anyway, I figured it would be fun since I’d never been out west, but boy was I wrong. We weren’t even near the city and the place we were at was in the middle of nowhere. It took a good hour to even walk for groceries, and even then, the hotel we were at only had a microwave, not a microwave AND a stovetop like the place we were at in Minneapolis. And in 100 degree dry, DRY heat, walking an hour while the sun beats down on you and not one tree in sight is large enough to provide even the slightest bit of shade is NOT my idea of fun. It’s definitely easy to see why we ate out once a day…at least. But because of that, I never want to eat at a restaurant again. I just felt sick the whole time I was there and at the time, I thought it was because of the isolation, the food situation, the heat and the dryness, but as the sickness continued on throughout the entire month and into the next when we were back in Memphis, I started to wonder.

Other things started to make me wonder, too. In Denver, I would go to bed at 1am, sleep in until at least 11 the following morning and then STILL be tired enough to take one or two long naps a day (and I’m the person who is usually fully rested on 6 hours of sleep). Then there was the missed period, then there were the continuing bouts of day-long queasiness and non-stop tiredness.

The thought popped into my mind a few times while in Denver that perhaps I was pregnant. I expressed my concern to my man and he assured me that everything would be fine no matter what the case. That’s good to hear, I guess, but it still didn’t settle my worries of that one change that would most definitely affect EVERYTHING in my life…not to mention everything in HIS life, too. We never really talked about what we would do if I were to become pregnant this early on. We always just told each other that we would always be there for each other no matter what happened. There always just seemed to be an understanding that we would keep it and do the best we could because we loved each other so much.

Then after we moved to the new place at the end of July and he went off to work for the first time in two months at the beginning of August, I gathered up enough courage to finally have the burning question answered. And as the two little tests told me 4 days ago, I am pregnant. Seeing as how it’s been two months minus a week since my last period, I’m probably 7 weeks along.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about it at first. He was flying at the time so all I did was send him a text message saying that I needed to talk to him immediately. The 45 minutes or so that I waited before we could talk was spent sitting in my room, crying. I felt like my life was over. By March of next year, nothing would be the same, nothing would be “normal”.

Then he called. All I told him was that I took a test. I was too scared to tell him the results myself, but 15 minutes into the conversation, he asks, “So you’re pregnant?” to which I just mumble yes and try to brush it off. As we got to talking the next few days that he was gone and then getting to see him for the first time since the test yesterday, I haven’t been feeling so bad. He seemed happy and excited and that started to make me feel the same. Maybe this isn’t going to be as bad as I first thought. I love this man more than anything and we wanted to start a family at some point anyway. We didn’t expect it to happen so soon, but we’re both comfortable with it and have been making plans for the next year. I know things are never going to be the same, but I am excited now. We love each other more now than ever and I have to admit that it turns me on knowing that I’ll be carrying around a part of him every day for the next 7 months or so.

The problem right now is that I’m still jobless. The interview I had last Thursday led to nothing once again, just as every other interview I’ve been on since in Memphis has. I’m frustrated more now than ever, but I’m still trying to keep my head up. I’ll probably have to go to an employment agency since the job search that I’m conducting alone doesn’t seem to be taking me anywhere. I just don’t understand where I’m failing. I’m tired of continually feeling like I’m not good enough to do anything. All the jobs I want and interview for keep going to people “more qualified” than me even though I’m more than qualified for every single one of them. I don’t know. Something needs to work out by the end of the month because I’m pretty much broke.

…and we need to get married, like, ASAP
…and I need to figure out how I’m going to break this to my mom
…and he needs to figure out how to break it to his dad

I have a feeling things are going to get a lot more difficult these next few months before they start getting easier. I really haven’t told anyone - just my best friend and maybe one or two other people. I feel like I need to tell people and I really want to talk to people and get advice. What better place for that than my mother and grandmother? Unfortunately, they are the two I fear breaking the news to most. I guess that’s why I wrote about it here. It needed to get out somehow.