Blueberry Week!

I’m 7 weeks pregnant as I write this.

That’s according to my last period, of course. Who knows how far along I really am. I should be 7 weeks and 5 days today. My little bean is the size of a blueberry. Her brain is rapidly developing, faster than the rest of her little alien-body. Her little arms and legs are just little buds, and her inner ear is nearly complete. I’m praying first of all for a healthy baby; but also for a girl. So I’ll be referring to my little bean as “her,” thank you very much.

We’ve told only our immediate family, but nobody can keep a secret around here; so pretty soon everyone will know. It’s okay though. I’m so thankful to be a part of such an involved family, and even my community at large, that people care to spread this precious secret. I don’t know how people in larger areas with few connections do it.

Maybe it’s the fact that I’m 100% extrovert, and I love attention on top of that. Maybe I’m just used to it. I know there are many who shudder at the idea of living in a place where everybody and their brother knows your business. They like feeling isolated, insulated from opinions and prying eyes. Perhaps some people enjoy a level of anonymity. Not me.

If you’ve never lived in a small town, where half the county is related to you in some way and the other half you know by proximity, you don’t know the joy of feeling known. There’s a comfort in the fact that were some tragedy to befall me, I would have dozens of caring people at my door, bringing food or prayers or gifts or simply a shoulder to cry on and arms to wrap me in a hug. The stability of a support system is truly a blessing.

I digress.

I’m so excited. I still can’t believe that there is a little human life growing inside me. I’ve taken six different pregnancy tests - the 98-cent one from Walmart, three of the classic pink early results, two digital Clearblue tests and even went to the doctor to take one - but I’m still so afraid they are wrong.

I’m not far enough along to be showing, not far enough along to get an ultrasound at my OBGYN, not far enough along to feel my child’s little kicks. I’m tired, my boobs are super sore (weirdly, they HURT at night. Like when I wake up in the morning and roll over, they are HURTING). I’ve not been nauseous at all. Every cramp, every twinge I feel in my pelvis I frantically google “symptoms of pregnancy” or “what does a miscarriage feel like?”

Does this anxiety every go away? At what point will I really feel pregnant? When I hear my baby’s heartbeat for the first time? When my belly begins to swell, the cultural hallmark of a pregnancy? Will I feel better when I make it to the second trimester, or when I reach the week of viability?

There’s so many unknowns at this stage. Am I really 7w5d? Will my sweet little bean make it? Should I be grateful for no morning sickness, or does that mean something isn’t right? Will it hit me like a ton of bricks one day? Were all those pregnancy tests wrong? Am I dreaming?

So many of my fears are totally unfounded. But I can’t help it. My first ultrasound is in three weeks. I’ll be on pins and needles until then.

I still haven’t taken any good progress pictures (Bump pictures? Bumpdates? Bumpies?). I keep saying I’m gonna pick out a good outfit I can wear all 9 months, but I can’t decide; and honestly it seems pointless right now. I look - maybe - like I ate too much Taco Bell for dinner. I sure don’t look pregnant.

I keep acting like I’m guarding this big secret - there’s lots of people I haven’t told - but I’m not sure why, since half the county probably knows by now. Secrets spread like wildfire in a small town. I want to do some kind of social media post, but for now I’ll hide in the obscurity of unpublished blog posts.