So it begins...
Last weekend I took three pregnancy tests and they all turned up with the same result: A decidedly unspectacular and uncompromising +. Each little plus sign showed up with varying degrees of conviction, but if I'm to believe the pamphlet included in the tests, as I suppose I should, ANY sign of a + is still a + (wherein + = baby). (Using a "positive" symbol to denote pregnancy is a bit presumptuous on the part of the manufacturer as I'm sure there are many women [and men] who have seen that + sign and not felt terribly positive at all.)
So in the past week I have hopped heartily onto the wagon (gonna miss you like crazy, mister booze) and managed to snag a job, better-paying than the one i left two months ago. It happened so fast that for a moment I wondered what I could accomplish if I really set my mind to large and lofty goals. Then I flushed and went back to Game of Thrones.
Aside from the wagon-hopping and job-snagging, I've also been trying to navigate the weird, wild and wonderful world of state and federally funded health care programs, trying to see what kind of help (or handouts) I can get. I am totally in favor of free, especially if I can't afford it otherwise. It's been a boring road, with a lot of waiting, but I'm brushing up on my Spanish while I wait.
BD (we can let that stand for Baby Daddy, but don't let me stifle your imagination) and I are on good speaking terms. I'm just going to leave that at that for now.
My tits hurt, I feel great, and I'm not telling anyone (else) for at least another month.
