Day One: I'm finally blogging!

I've been talking about starting up a blog to journal the pregnancy and our life, but I just now found the motivation to begin since it's just two days until we find out the sexes of the twins.

So, some background. I'm 17.5 weeks pregnant.  (Yes, I am pregnant, "we" are not pregnant. We are expecting, but Zach is currently drinking a beer and probably inexplicably losing weight while doing so, so  I'm pretty sure I'm the only pregnant one.)

I now understand why women want to count in weeks instead of months; every week is worth mentioning. I even think every half week is worth getting credit for, although truth be told I start rounding up to the next week around the half week point anyway.

"Get credit for," you ask? I know, no one is giving out credit although dammit, they should be. Praise motivates me. Even when I've done nothing to deserve it.  When I'm at the doctor's office and he notes that my blood pressure is low or that my cervix is looking good, I get a triumphant smirk and look around to see if anyone else heard it. "Get that, nurse? My cervix is awesome. Make sure you write it down in my chart. Do you have any gold stars you could put by today's visit? I think my cervix deserves it."

There are days when no one tells you that your cervix, or anything else, is looking good though.  Or worse yet, your husband stares at your stomach and you can tell he's thinking (a) holy crap, she's pregnant for reals, and (b) there's no way that's ever going to look the way it was before.  Yesterday was one of those yuck days for me, mainly because I discovered that if I sit a certain way my belly button already pops out. Gross, right? Yeah, I know.

Despite grossness and feeling frumpy and not being able to drink wine, this is one of the happiest times of my life. I know, so cheesy. But I feel so content and emotionally stable ('how crazy were you before that pregnancy hormones help?' you ask in disbelief. Pretty crazy.) And of course I wanted this so badly. It's all still pretty surreal. I'm okay with everything that happens because I know in the end I'll have two beautiful little babies whom I will adore and who will love me, and then hate me as teenagers, and then be friends with me as young adults, and finally bring me soup when I'm old and in the home. Hopefully they'll put me in a nice home. They should probably start saving now.

And that was my first post. Good luck, babies! We're in this together!