The After Glow

The days around positive peanut test were magical.


Is that cliche?

It sounds cliche.

Cliche and magical.

I was just so pleased with myself.

I immediately chucked any bad habits and embraced my inner hippie that had been on hiatus.

I ate old-fashioned oatmeal with raisins and pumpkin seeds, brown rice with peas and hearts of palm, a freshly mastered vegan pumpkin pie, and spoonfuls of cashew and peanut butter.


I ate and ate and ate.

Something I wasn’t always so permissive of.

I ate just until I was satisfied and then I floated away from the kitchen.

Something I was never really good at doing.

I exercised to nourish the peanut instead of exercising myself to depletion.

I moved the pre-natal vitamins out of the drawer and onto my dresser.

And then I had strong impulses to tell random strangers the wonderful news.

Surely, they would be as pleased as I was.

And surely they would feel magical too.

I kept it in, not wanting to tell a stranger before I told my family.

Because I couldn’t tell my family yet.


Oh my God how am I supposed to live with this secret and this peanut inside of me?

It didn’t take long after that for the freak out to happen.

The freak out which included waking up in the middle of the night thinking that the name that I had in mind, the name I had chosen ten years prior, was absolutely the dumbest and most ridiculous name that a child could ever be named and I was absolutely not going to name my child that.

I then proceeded to think irrational and fearful thoughts until the wee hours of the morning.

After that I’m pretty sure I went into shock.

Because suddenly it didn’t seem real.

The days that I had spent pouring over books, blogs, podcasts and websites that seemed overwhelmingly informative now seemed irrelevant.

Perhaps it was because the initial excitement had subsided or perhaps it was the fact the I finally pooped after a long, long week and I was no longer sporting a “bump.”

Because nobody tells you that constipation can set in on day one thanks to a spike in hormones.

Regardless, the state of disbelief settled in.

Moments of planning the cloth diapers to come and feverishly researching prenatal workout programs are smothered by a sense of nothingness.

Is it fear?

The peanut is attached to my uterus and my heart.


I am so afraid of losing that.

I hug the peanut from the inside out and tell it to hang on.


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