Last year, around this time, I was pregnant. Not that I really realized it. All I knew is that I was very, very tired and worn out. But with fall here, it seemed natural -- I usually get a little more run down in fall and I recall work being more stressful, so it seemed to make sense that I was tired.
However, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it might be that I was knocked up. I'll be honest that Jeff and I were trying for awhile, but it hadn't panned out until last October.
Strangely enough, I took the pregnancy test right before our Halloween party. I figured that if I was going to be pregnant, I'd better know before possibly engaging in heavy drinking. And I was. No doubt. The two pink lines told me so.
Who would've thought those lines would change my world. I'm now ruled by a tiny little dictator who smiles, coos, laughs and plays. She's currently waking me up at 5 a.m. because she sleeps so good at night.
My house is full of bright, loud toys. I don't watch much television anymore, nor do I surf the web as much. My career right now is at a standstill and I'm at the crossroads, trying to figure out my next move.
I'm tired during the day now. I nap more. I talk in silly voices more. I talk about poop, breastfeeding and sleep habits more. On occasion, I do miss the old days -- the days where I could sleep in to noon, party, go out whenever I wanted and where I wanted without care.
But then I see her smile. Yep. She ruined my life, in the nicest way.
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