Turns out malasadas ARE good enough to get you pregnant

I found out I was pregnant on St. Patrick's Day, which I am taking as a sign that I will have a red-headed child (although not, it should be made clear here, a red-headed step-child).

This was kind of a surprise to me, since February had been the month of spouse-less Hawaii trips and crippled GHs and various other not-conducive-to-fertility things. I only took the test, eyes rolling all the way, so I could stop wondering about the late period and get on with my life. So when I glanced over to the bathroom counter and saw WHAT THE HOLY CRAP TWO LINES it took a minute to register that my brain was not, in fact, falling out and affecting my eyes.

I took the test out to the living room to show GH.

GH: So . . . what does that mean?

Me: It means I'm pregnant.

GH: Pshh . . . no you're naaaat . . .

I know. Magical, right? Two additional tests and an ultrasound containing a small fuzzy bay shrimp later, he was mostly convinced.

Awhile later I got to go to my first official midwife appointment. I checked in and sat down with a nurse who proceeded to ask what I assume are the standard questions about my, ahem, menses and such. Which she then used to come up with a completely wacked-out due date that was 4 weeks off. Whatever.

Then we start getting to the fun questions. My sister Jenny told me all about how when she was pregnant with Savvy in Alaska and went to her first prenatal appointment they asked her all kinds of questions like:

1. Which street drugs have you taken, and how many days ago did you take them?
2. How many sexual partners have you had?
3. How many sexual partners do you have currently?
4. How many people have you had sex with in exchange for street drugs?

And when she answered them honestly, they told her she could have her "husband" wait outside while she finished answering them if that would make her more comfortable.

I was really excited to have this experience. The nurse handed me papers with columns of symptoms and genetic background stuff and I was supposed to go down the list and tell her if any of those applied to me. So I did that, and then there was the column that read like this:

Drugs
Alcohol
Smoking
Sexual Activity
Exercise
Seat Belt
Etc.

I asked her how she wanted me to do this column.

Nurse: Do you take drugs, drink, or smoke?

Me: Oh. Okay, no drugs, no alcohol, no smoking . . . Sexual activity? Enh, sometimes . . .

Aaaaand she typed something onto her screen and asked, "Do you exercise?" So . . . that was the end of the question about my sexual history and activity. Seriously.

I guess that must be the difference between Anchorage and Utah County. Except what did she even type? I didn't tell her anything! Does my chart really say "Sometimes" on it?