Love-Knowledge Baby

You know, peeing on a tiny test strip is actually pretty hard. Persons of the female persuasion usually don’t have practice aiming. The trick is, I suppose, to let loose and THEN place the target into the line of fire. I like doing things neatly, but God likes a good joke now and then . . . With that urinary challenge aside (and thoroughly scrubbed hands), I sat down to wait. It was probably 11 p.m., and Brad had already dropped into bed (and thereby was insensible to the world), but I had been feeling strange.

My breasts were tender, and I couldn’t bring myself to stay lying on my stomach for any amount of time. What did I need a pregnancy test for? I knew.

But I did have to KNOW (intellectually as opposed to viscerally), so there I sat in the bathroom, rereading the instructions and fine print. FYI: false negatives can occur, while false positives do not. So if it comes up as positive, you’re pregnant; Human growth hormone was found in your urine.

The inevitable result took about forever (a.k.a. a few minutes) to reveal itself in the tiny window.

Positive!

I was pregnant. It was shocking. Electrifying. It was mind-boggling and enormous. WITH CHILD! I’d been expecting it, lusting after it, and finally knowledge of conception triggered a rush of what the insanity of the biological clock steals from you: Fear.

Even though I had wanted this baby, I was sure that I had just ended my life. All my goals, my dreams were shattered by the ultimate sacrifice of my carefree youth. I was now about to be a mother.

I rushed out of the master bath and climbed into bed. Brad lay unmoving.

So I told him. “I’m pregnant.”

He replied, “Huh,” in a not very impressed manner, which elicited some hysterical response from my hormonal self (I can’t even remember what I said).

“What am I supposed to do?” he grumbled, and rolled over. So I started crying.

To be fair, I must note that some people tend to be rude and obnoxious when drunk, but Brad is rude and obnoxious when asleep . . . So don’t hold it against him. He wasn’t conscious to receive the news of impending fatherhood. (Or so he says.)

And that the the glorious start to the end and the beginning of my life as a mom. I must say I like it better now (7 months postpartum) than I did when the little peanut was inspiring daily, hourly trips to bend over the commode, but that’s another story.

How did this all end with me teaching babywearing, making baby carriers, and starting a webpage? Well, I didn’t plan on being an attached mom (referring to Attachment Parenting), but as a self motivated learner and a self-starter . . . pregnancy, motherhood, and everything to do with that subject were now my top research concerns.

So, I peed on a stick, surfed the net, read WAY too many books, hired a midwife, threw up a million-gazillion times, planned a water birth (which didn’t happen), and I became a mother.

What still surprises me is how happy I am to be blessed with my son Bailey, no matter what miseries I’ve suffered (or am suffering) as a result of parenthood.

Welcome to LKBaby.com where I, Leslie Kung, will share my experiences, my DIY how-to’s, my babywearing instruction, and my handcrafted baby carriers and more. This is my journey. These are my discoveries and my creations.

With Love and Respect,

Leslie Hing Hing Kung (Bailey’s Mom)