So many of the greatest blessings in my life were not part of my grand plan.

Yet every time something new comes along, something that was not part of The Plan, I panic. I doubt my abilities to adapt. I dread change. I grieve what I thought was going to be.

It’s hard to admit, but this pregnancy has been that way, too. Nearly one month ago, only 36 hours after getting engaged, I walked into that gas station thinking I would take a quick pregnancy test and my mind would be put to ease, like it had a few times previously.

They only had one test on the shelves. I grabbed it, paid, and beelined it to the bathroom, praying the clerk wouldn’t put two and two together but also not really giving a shit if she did. I peed on that stick and prepared to wait three minutes for peace of mind.

Instead, I waited about 20 seconds for a plus sign. Nothing prepares you for that moment. Time slows. It’s a moment you can pinpoint as being the moment everything changed, a moment when you know there is no going back.

I made an effort to collect myself, shoving the test back into the bag and trying to hold myself together as I walked back out to the car to Brandon. I opened the door and threw the test to him without a word. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that moment. He looked at it, covered his mouth with his hand, and just sat there in shock. We both did. We didn’t know what came next.

So, we drove from that gas station to my parent’s house. In that moment, I just needed my mom. I’ve always known I was a surprise to her, but she’s also always made it know that I was everything she didn’t know she needed. I needed to hear that from her again, to know that this would be OK — better than OK, even.

These past few weeks have been really damn hard in some ways. I’ve spent countless hours worrying, trying to process this new development. Anyone who knows me knows that having kids was always a ways off, something that Future Beth would confront. I’ve never felt overly maternal, and that worries me. I worry I won’t be enough for this little one. I feel like I’ve spent time grieving the loss of what I thought would be a year full of wedding planning and celebrating. I’ve been drained physically and emotionally. And then I start feeling guilty for feeling all these things. And poor Brandon. He has been absolutely amazing — cleaning the house, holding my hair while I puke, letting me cry and cry. He is my rock.

But despite these weeks being hard, I also feel like I’ve grown quite a bit. I was scared that when I saw that first ultrasound, I wouldn’t feel anything, or it still wouldn’t be real. But instead, my heart filled up with the need to protect that little one at all costs. I found myself actually thinking it looked pretty cute — this little black and white blob, cute. And I think really, that reaction tells me enough. It tells me that I do have those maternal instincts, even if they haven’t always been at the forefront for me. It tells me that I can do this, I can be a mother, even though it wasn’t scheduled into this part of my life specifically.

As with everything in my life, I plan on being real throughout this pregnancy, which means sharing the good and the bad moments. I don’t want to pretend that it’s all rainbows and unicorns, because it certainly hasn’t been, and I know some of the most difficult parts are still ahead.

And I’d just like to add that Brandon and I appreciate the support from everyone so, so much. I’m already blown away by how many people love this little human, to the point that it’s brought me to tears a few times. We appreciate you all, beyond words.