Now it’s starting to hit me.

This weekend I started to realize how drastically my life has changed in the past two weeks. I went home to tell my dad he’s going to be a grandpa and ended up staying Saturday night at a friend’s house. Basically, I was too much of a weenie to go to my dad’s on Saturday, so I put it off until Sunday. My friend (Hi Abbs!) had promised a few others that we would go out to the bars with them, and I, being the complete dumbass that I am, thought I should probably go socialize, because in a month it’ll be a bit strange for the pregnant girl to be hanging out at college bars. I drank water, avoided smoke and watched drunk people act completely ridiculous. And honestly, I didn’t really want to join in. I had no problem saying no to drinking. It was the left-out feeling that was worse than the lack of alcohol in my body.

Every time a boy looked at me or started to hit on me I wanted to stare at him and say, “Seriously, I’m pregnant. You really want to hit on me?” That would scare them off! And more than anything, I realized my life will never be the same. Especially for the next seven months. I guess at first I thought everyone would take a break from the partying because I had to, but this is obviously not a reality. I don’t want everyone to stop having fun because poor, pregnant Megan can’t go out. Even Trent, who has been more than wonderful throughout this whole thing, is going to get drunk on Jager and Red Bull and have his buddies over. I’m still going to come home to beer cans on the porch and throughout the house. Just, hopefully, not as often.