Three weeks ago, I was mourning my diagnosis of probable poly-cystic ovary syndrome.
Four days ago, I turned 33.
Today, I am pregnant.
To be fair, I was pregnant yesterday, too. And probably a few weeks before. This was not a planned pregnancy. In fact, it was very planned against. Not because we don't want children, but because we weren't ready, we weren't married, we weren't settled enough in this city 2,500 miles away from our closest family.
And though this baby was not on our agenda for this week, we've made our decision to make this work. To still have a wedding in September and a possible birth in October.
This will be my own personal way to document this event and the changes in both my body and my life. Now I need a nap.
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