Telling the story of my first trimester from having Joshua doesn’t start the best way.  I actually got pregnant before I was pregnant with him and since I wished that I was able to tell my family about my first pregnancy in person, I decided to take my son on a twelve hour road trip to Syracuse to be able to have the experience I always wanted.

That pregnancy made me pee a lot and I refused to stop every thirty minutes and wake my two year old up so yes, I totally rocked the depends.

Let me tell you, that is SO WEIRD.  I’m a huge fan of peeing in showers (and certain bar sinks where I just can’t go near the toilet) and in bushes and I heard I once peed while standing in line to get in a bar (it was in a cement thing with bushes in it.  My 30th birthday.  Four Irish Car Bombs.  I woke up the next morning with leaves in my panties) but for some reason peeing in a giant pad while driving at night just weirded me out.

I still did it though.  A bunch of depends and a grocery bag and I peed every half hour.  I had to.  It never stopped being weird.

I don’t know how far we got but I was exhausted.  I’m used to doing that drive.  I have lived in this town for 8 years and have gone to visit my home town at least every three months.  When I flew free, it was monthly.

So we pull off at a Holiday Inn that sucked ass.  The A/C was stuck and it made a ton of noise so I got charged $100 for a three hour stay (you bet your sweet ass I got that back).

We get back on the road and drive again.  My oldest is the best traveler ever.  He is patient and quiet and the dream child on a trip.  He slept until we were about 45 minutes away from home.

Suddenly, I had to pee.  AGAIN.  I had to pee so bad I got the pee cramps that give you the pee shiver when you finally get to pee.  I thought a pee like that would cause the pad to overflow so I stopped at a gas station less than an hour away from home in Cortland.

Mind you, my child is vocal.  By his first birthday he was speaking seven word sentences.  By age two it was like talking to an adult.  I brought him in the bathroom and it hit me.  I mean literally.  My stomach seemed to cave in.

I sat down on the potty (mom of two now, we say potty) and lost my baby.  Less than an hour from my home I lost my baby in a strange gas station with an inquisitive two year old asking about every detail.

The one question he kept repeating was “Mommy, why are you crying?”

Shit.  I’m crying now.  What a terrible thing for a woman to go through.  I was early on enough in the pregnancy to where it wasn’t something that would have traumatized my son, (although one strange woman at a store passed by me a month later and overheard me tell a friend and actually asked me what the baby looked like.  Asshole.) but shit, it got me.

I don’t even think my family knows about this.  I drove all that way with the best possible news and I arrived at my mother’s in tears.  I know I told her, I had no choice.  I drove nearly an hour with no phone and no one to talk to but a two year old child.  All I could do was cry.

I had my usual stay in Syracuse, although I don’t remember it.  Most likely it’s because I drank my way through it.  The good news is that the very night I returned to Charlotte, my second child was conceived.

And he’s been kicking my ass ever since.