Grovel grovel

Hi. It's me.

I'm sorry.

I know I've been a bad friend - very selfish, only thinking about myself, not sharing. But I promise I'm back to my old self ... and I want our friendship back. Is that cool?

So I'm ready to spill the beans. Want a glass of wine first? I'm fine, thanks; I'll stick with the ginger ale. But I will have that chocolate cake. With ice cream. Thanks.

OK, here's the scoop: I'M PREGNANT. Oh, I already told you? Ok, well here's what has happened since:

After my fantabulous birthday present, I went to the doctor and peed on another stick - and I guess this is the legit stick, because I really didn't believe I was pregnant until this point. But it said I was, so, YAY.

Fast-forward a few weeks. I went for my first ultrasound. BumpMister came with me and it was all goody goody gumdrops. We saw the little pulsating lima bean on the screen, I cried ... it was very Nicholas Sparks. Until the ultrasound technician said, "Oh look, you're special."

Heart - stop. Just, stop. "Excuse me?"

"You have a special uterus. It's heart shaped." She smiled.

"Well what the hell does that mean?" By this point, BumpMister was holding my shoulders down on the exam bed so I wouldn't sit straight up.

"Oh ... the doctor will tell you more about it."

But she didn't. Not really. The doctor said it was called a bicornuate uterus and it may be a septate uterus and that it was nothing, really, there's just a slight chance for miscarriage or preterm labor.

What I heard, however, sounded like this: "Haha, gotcha! You think you're gonna have a baby? Think again! We're taking it back!"

I left the office in a daze, while BumpMister kept repeating what has become a mantra: "It's fine. The doctor said it's fine. Don't worry about it." I completely ignored him, and the second I got home I did the most horrible thing I have ever done: I Googled it.

Ladies, never Google. Google is the hope killer.

Anywhoo ... I'm going to skip over a few days (weeks) of crying and agonizing and let you know where I am right now.

Today I'm officially 11 weeks 3 days pregnant. All is wonderful. Last week we went for our second appointment and heard the baby's heartbeat on that Doppler thingie. BumpMister said it sounded like PacMan eating the pellets in the arcarde game. It did. But more wonderful.

I go for my scary ultrasound on Friday (the one to test for those bad diseases). I'm petrified. Not necessarily of downs syndrome or any of those, but of my stupid malformed uterus. But if all is OK, we're going to tell the world. Which scares me even more.

I tried to get pregnant for 14 months. And now that I am, I can't help but think it's going to be taken away. I'm trying trying TRYING to be positive. And this message board has helped a lot. But every once in a while, doubt sinks in.

So I'm back, because I need to share. Because if I don't share, I'm going to explode. So thanks for forgiving my shatty friendness. I promise to be there, if you are.