I Accidentally Got Pregnant And My Life Is Actually Ok Now

Bun in the oven.

Bun out of oven. Me and my 11 chins.

My current life in a nutshell.

So, I've been thinking. Terrible idea, I know. But I've been thinking.

As a both a blogger and a mom I tend to read a lot of blogs about, well, being a mom. I love reading about parenting ideas, pregnancy, mom life in general, and take great comfort from the fact that I'm not the first mother to sit down on the bathroom floor crying while my child is momentarily distracted by Peppa Pig. I also love reading said bloggers' past and current pregnancy announcements. Some of them are so creative, and it's seriously not normal how crazy excited I get over the fact that a complete stranger is reproducing.

So, these pregnancy announcements have me thinking. They have me thinking about my own pregnancy and its 'announcement'. Thankfully, I can finally look back on it and laugh (but maybe cry a tiny bit on the inside?) and I thought, y'know what, I'm gonna write about it.

I'm going to start with the obvious by telling you guys that no, Eli was not planned. Not even slightly. I had just finished up my second year of my Anthropology degree in London and was home in Ireland for the summer. I met a hot guy and kind of fell head over heels for him. I like to look back on that summer and romantically remember it as the kind of summer Sandy and Danny of Grease had when they first met, full of hazy sunshine, picnics and frolics on the beach. I wouldn't be entirely wrong, although there were a lot more hangovers and my skirts were a lot shorter than Sandy's. It was a hot summer, you guys.

It was precisely 15 weeks after Hot Guy and I met that I found out I was pregnant.

I was swiftly brought back down to reality. Actually, it was more like yanked out of Hazy Summer Heaven and dragged kicking and screaming into Crisis Pregnancy Hell.

My period had been late for a while, but I had taken 3 or 4 pregnancy tests that had all come up negative, so I hadn't been too worried. Also the fact that Hot Guy and myself had been, as my doctor calls it, 'actively preventing pregnancy' (aka, using contraception) I highly doubted I could be pregnant. So, one morning, naturally hungover and in last night's short skirt I took a fifth and final pregnancy test. It came up positive.

I don't really remember the following moments before I went downstairs to tell Hot Guy. I remember shaking, my vision being hazy, I remember whispering, "F** no," and then I'm downstairs. I don't remember getting there.

Hot Guy was watching football. I don't really remember this moment that well either...all I remember is crying and saying "I'm pregnant," and Hot Guy saying, "Jeeeeesus," followed by "we'll get through it." He wrapped his arms around me and I continued to cry while he comforted me (eyes still on the football, obviously).

I told my Dad over Skype, who told my mother over the phone, who told my sister by default because she was standing next to my mother on the phone. To be perfectly honest, this is the only part of the story that I still cry about. I completely devastated my parents and family. I was so deeply ashamed and humiliated. They loved me and wanted nothing but the best for me, and, in their eyes at the time, I threw the 'best for me' away and defended my situation. In all honesty I think I defended my being pregnant because I didn't know what else to do. This is the part of the whole story that I look back at and wish hadn't happened. There's no worse feeling than that of being a disappointment to the people you love the most. Luckily for me, my family is fairly amazing and have since come round and shown nothing but support for me and my new family. So if you're in a similar situation, don't give up. It might take a year, or 5, or 10, but they will come around.

I had known Hot Guy for all of 3 months, I had a year left of my degree to finish. I'm well educated and had a loving, nourishing childhood and never wanted for anything. I have good, decent friends and family. I wasn't the girl who got knocked up.

Except, actually, I was. And now I had to deal with it, because at the end of the day, life goes on and this baby was coming whether it was planned or not.

Fast forward a few months of heartache, massive arguments, a lot of vomiting, and finally, acceptance of the situation, and it was Christmas Day. I opened a little jewellery box that had been inside another box (which was in another box, etc) to find a little note that said, "Turn around." And, completely confused and totally oblivious, I turned around to find Hot Guy on one knee beside the Christmas tree, asking me to marry him.

Well, obviously, I said yes. We eloped the following February when I was 7 months pregnant. It was one of the happiest two days of my life, EVEN though I had to pee about 6598374 times a day, couldn't go in the hot tub on our honeymoon and mildly resembled a giant marshmallow in my wedding dress. Hot Guy and I have made our share of tough decisions since we met, but making the decision to make Hot Guy my Husband is the best one we've ever made. When I bring myself back to the Dark Ages that was Crisis Pregnancy Hell, and then look up from my laptop and see Colm holding my sleepy, pink-cheeked, sausage-armed son, I can't believe it's the same life I'm writing about here. I got dragged through Crisis Pregnancy Hell and came out the other side alive. In fact, in my opinion, the luckiest girl alive. Don't get me wrong, it has taken immense effort and sacrifice on both my and Husband's part to get where we are today. It has most definitely not been easy.

I feel like hungover girl in short skirts was let go a long time ago (although, she does like to make the odd appearance once in a while, mwahaha) and in her place is myself as I always should have been, albeit definitely more tired, weary, sober and sarcastic...but so much more full of love.

I'd just like to make it clear though...although things worked out for me and my little fam bam, I am well aware that not every crisis pregnancy has a happy ending. It's those women that have to go through it with no support or happy ending that I would just like to say, I have nothing but deep respect and admiration for the strength that you ladies muster. It's nothing short of miraculous.

And with that, I'm gonna go, because my one year old just tried to brush his own hair and instead stabbed himself in the eye.

Have a good one guys.