Him? Why do you refer to WB as him?

Wishful thinking like my mum? Actually, it's all thanks to the "Ring Test". Dangle a gold ring from a piece of your hair above your wrist (or if you are pregnant on your belly), and if it is swings back and forth it's a boy and if it spins in a circle it's a girl.

For as long as I can remember my ring test results have been boy, girl, boy and boy. 4 children. I really don't think my body or vijayjay is built to squeeze out 4 children!!!! But notice the first result is a boy - Him.

I did the ring test after visiting mum and her telling me that now I'm pregnant to try do it over my tummy, it swung side to side. So, I'm going to go with the "Ring Test" gods and assume my WB is going to be a little baby boy (and also the fact before we were even pregnant, DP and I have had a boys name since forever).

:)

The Big C

Yep, that Big C, the one that destroys families and the lives of innocent people every single day. The disease that has no cure, just methods to keep it at bay. You're probably thinking why this even relevant to a blog that is about my journey through pregnancy. Well, as unfortunate as it is to say, DPs dad has the Big C.

It's been almost 2 years that we found out, but even though it was a shock and a cause of great sadness, I don't think it has ever slowed him down. He works 365 days a year (I'm not even joking, we don't go up for christmas until lunch time after he's finished work), he runs their small lifestyle block and never ever stops even though he's nearing the 65 mark and year of retirement.

So, again, what does this really have to do with WB? I think it has always been in the back of mine and DPs head, how much time does he have? Will he ever see DPs child? Be able to run around after him? Dote on him like his 2 other grandchildren? I guess what I'm trying to say, is that it definitely helped cement the decision that we were going to make a go of this. We want him to meet his grandchild, we want him to run around after him and we want him to dote on him like his other grandchildren and I'm really really glad we can give him this.

As above, I mentioned how he never stops. His cancer doesn't either. What they thought was just Prostate cancer, had spread even further. He didn't have time to go to the doctors and before this I don't think I ever saw him sick, and because he never had check ups etc it had just spread through his body, hence the "we don't really know how much time he has". But I'm 100% sure that because he is a fighter will he see his grandchild born and grow up for a long time.

Telling the Parents

I don't think I have ever had to do something as terrifying as picking up the phone and calling my mum and telling her all about the Big P word. Im not the kind of daughter that can hide much for long for my mummy dearest, so it only took until the next day after finding out to tell her. Man though, I am THE biggest baby, this is vaguely how the conversation went down...

"Hi Mum, how are you?"
"Fine...."
"How was your day?"
"Good....why are you ringing me for?"
"Oh no reason."
"So you called me for no reason?"

*Queue the waterworks* (I told you I'm a big baby)

"You can't hate me!"
"Of course i wont hate you. Can you just bloody tell me what's going on?!?!"
"Preg...ggg....n...*choaking sob*annnt!"

And then after a wee while I managed to calm down and we spoke of the serious stuff, what are you going to do? Are you positive? Its not a shameful thing you know, the other option. To having to talk in code as my little sisters (twins!!) think they're friggin psychics and start asking mum if I'm oregnant and why did mum say daycare if I'm not? "Doggy day care" mum says ;) nice save. She even beat me to buying WB it's first item of clothing! A blue hat (wishful thinking maybe?)

My mum doesn't show much emotion in the way of dancing around the room or crying hysterically but I knew she was stoked, even if that meant she was a grandma at the ripe old age of 47. But, the best reaction would be from DPs side.

He called his parents straight after I finished talking to mum, first up was his mum, nothing major to report? Maybe a little shell shocked (join the club!) but overall not disappointed etc and she tells us that DP needs to tell his dad. "No mum you do it blah blah blah", she wasn't having any of that, so she put him on speaker with his dad and DP shared the news again. Tears. Literally. His dad cried when he heard the news. Even after 2 grandchildren before this impending one, he was so so so happy.

Best. Reaction. Ever.

I saw them for the first time last night after telling them the news and even though I'm only 8 weeks he started rubbing my tummy! I said its not the baby sticking out its just my gut, it's been there a while. I've been warned that in the coming months he's going to be rubbing my belly like its a genie, as long it's accompanied by cocoa butter to ward off the stretch marks too, I'm down.

What the F have I done?

Nothing ever goes to plan does it? At 21 I thought I had my life all planned out. Great fiancé, cute dog, full time job, part time time studies, everything.

But, life had other plans for me in the form of two, terrifying pink lines.

A baby.

This wasn't part of my plan, well not my immediate plan anyway. I wanted a house first, I wanted to pay off all my debts, my Dotting Partner (or DP for short) to have paid off all of his debts and have finished studying. That is obviously not how life (or karma) works. To be honest we played a game of sperm/egg Russian roulette, for the last year I had stopped taking the pill and being as naive as we are, we never used protection. Talk about getting comfortable (and lazy), this is what 3 and a half years does to a couple!!!

It's not all bad. At first I thought e was no way in hell that we would be able to keep Wee Bean (WB for short, getting the picture ;) ), once again coming back to the wholes"life plan", we aren't ready for is kind of commitment! A dog is hard enough, shes already like our child, I may be 21 but I still feel like I'm 16 (Hello? Is that MTV?), I'm too selfish, I have to look after a 23 year old baby by ways of feeding him and clothing him. This is just waaaay to much.

I was the kind of girl that always said that if it happened to me I would get rid of it, no questions asked, book me in. Then it happens, and along comes Google. Seriously, I googled it. Not something I would recommend (and something, after telling a couple of close friendsy warned me not to do, after I had already done it), thanks to the combined efforts of Google and Wikipedia, my mind was made up. I couldn't possible bring myself to do that! Im not saying I'm against it because everyone is their own person and has the right to make there own decisions, but personally I do not like the thought of it.

So, after a ton of crying, which never stops by the way, I had come to the decision to keep my WB on board.

Welcome to a lifetime of unconditional love. A one way ticket to motherhood. There is no turning back. You're fucked.