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I ran to the mirror just to witness the expression on my face. And you know what? I’ve honestly never seen myself happier. I was positively giddy! I giggled at myself in the mirror and began jumping up and down. I looked down at my belly and smiled. We had created life. I wanted to introduce myself to the embryo and tell him to enjoy the ride. And I clearly remember thinking: I’m going to be a great mom.

My husband wasn’t coming back to the hotel for ten more hours and that was the longest wait in history. But the wait was worth it. I didn’t want to tell him on the phone. I had to see the excitement on his face. When he walked in the door he noticed a funny look on mine. I couldn’t stand it and said casually, “I’m pregnant, baby.” He looked at me and his face softened. He hugged and kissed me and then he praised his sperm. He was so proud of himself. I was proud of us. We fell asleep talking about names and whose features we hoped our baby would have.

Little did my husband know what was headed his way. Not the hardships of a newborn, no. He had to get ready for the wave of craziness and sometimes hell his pregnant wife was about to experience. Follow us down that happy, hellish hole . . .

Barf-O-Rama

(Morning Sickness)

As anyone who has ever endured it knows, the term morning sickness is bullshit. Morning has very little to do with it. For me, it started in the morning and went straight through the night. The label morning must have been thought up by a man who thought it was all in our heads and hoped that limiting the definition would make us all shut up by noon. Well, I don’t think so, buddy! I say, come on over to my house around 5 p.m. so I can heave on you.

Some women I know have had this worse than others. Some have puked every fifteen minutes all day long and others just a few times a day. I consider myself to have had it even harder than the pukers. I was in a constant state of queasiness that would cause me to gag or dry-heave. You know that second before you throw up where your mouth gets really watery and you start to sweat and you do that horrible run to the bathroom hoping to just get it out so you don’t have to feel that anymore? That was me . . . ALL DAY. I was stuck in that in-between state where nothing would come out. I would just stare at the toilet sweating and praying to the porcelain God not to let me dwell any longer in puke purgatory. I would have sold my soul for one of two options: Either let me puke or let me feel better.

Going to the grocery store was a freakin’ nightmare. I was terrified every time I had to go. Celebrity life isn’t all personal assistants and glamour, let me tell you. Oh yes, I do my own shopping. I would walk in pale and sweaty with my little list in my hand and run through the aisles. To me, the meat counter smelled like dead animals that had been left in the sun for a year. I would cringe and hold my sleeve up to my nose as I passed. Everything in that store disgusted me. Strangers gawked at me as they saw me gagging in Aisle 3 holding up some cheese. It’s hard having these symptoms in public when you don’t look pregnant. If I were nine months along they would look at me like “oh look, poor little pregnant lady doesn’t feel so good.” Instead they looked at me as if to say, “Don’t bulimics puke after they eat?”

Television food commercials killed me. I loved them for cravings later on, but during this early stage I turned green when I saw someone eat a greasy cheese-burger or some Hamburger Helper. Speaking of green, if any type of vegetable or salad was in my vicinity (or even talked about in passing conversation), I would feel the need to eliminate the healthy little bastard. Everyone always talks about eating healthy for the baby, but the only healthy thing I ever got down in nine months was an apple. I was worried my kid was going to come out looking like a chocolate chip cookie. Health food DISGUSTED me.

You’d think with all this aversion to food that I would lose weight during this period . . . nope. Instead, I gained a lot. Probably