As I mentioned before, I am, in fact, pregnant.
My poor, poor husband.
I have been, to put it mildly, a complete and total emotional basket case ever since "the stick turned blue" as they say. PB knew I was pregnant before we got a positive result, because while making breakfast one morning, I dropped half of my bagel on to the floor and promptly burst in to tears. I didn't even really want the bagel. Being the highly intelligent man that PB is, he said and did nothing, but simply acted as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. So, when I did in fact get a positive result on the pregnancy test, he wasn't exactly shocked.
Ever since that first fateful bagel morning, I have been up and down more times than an elevator in a 50 story building. One minute I'm laughing hysterically, and then I'm sobbing and can't stop. I think that above everything else involved with pregnancy, the emotional side effects have been the hardest to deal with. My family has a bit of a history with mental health issues, so acting like a crazy person is not exactly cool with me. PB was brushing his hair one night before bed, and noticed that his hairline was receding. He has the thickest head of hair I've seen on any man, next to Dirt (who's almost 20), and by receding I don't mean it was a noticeable bald patch, I mean that he had maybe three fewer hairs at his temple than he had a year ago. Not exactly look-in-to-hair plugs worthy, but nevertheless, I burst in to tears and spent the next 5 minutes trying to stifle the racking sobs that were pouring out of me. Apparently, I really, really like his hair.
PB came up with the fantastic idea last night that he would create a Pregnant Bear doll. This doll would have one big button in the middle of her pregnant belly, and the fun part would come when you pushed the button, because you never knew what kind of reaction you would get. Could be good, could be bad, could be nothing at all. This, my friends, is what my hubby has been dealing with for the last 18 weeks, and has the pleasure of dealing with for the next 18-22 weeks.
I'm pretty sure he's even more anxious to meet our baby than I am, as it will theoretically mean that I will go back to being the fairly rational, mostly stable woman he married.