It is so. stinkin’. FUN. to celebrate with you people. Truly. Thank you for all the cheers Thursday. I’m due December 20. I’ll go a week early for a c-section. We will not be finding out if Little is a he or a she beforehand… so we’re all in the same boat here except I get the night sweats and you get the laughs, ok?
It was March 15. I thought, to be quite frank, that this would finally be the day I ended up on national news for locking my children out of the house, booking a one-way ticket to Jamaica, or accidentally (?) poisoning dinner. I was dangerously close to needing an emotional intervention and possibly some physical restraints. I emailed friends. I cried. I gnashed my teeth.
The emails poured in… “hang in there”, “parenting/wife-ing is a marathon not a sprint”, “do you need me to bring you a Dr. Pepper?” God bless you all. Everyone.
Exactly 1.5 hours later, for the first time in 2 years due to pregnancy and nursing, I started my period.
To you of the ‘stronger’ gender who do not know this disphoria… this absolute mania that comes along with the abillity to grow A LIFE IN YOUR WOMB… yes, it is a blessing. An honor. And, every month, you think you are absolutely losing your mind for no apparent reason other than the entire world hates you. Every. Single. Time.
Content that I was not destined for an early check-in at the loony bin (this time), life carried on and even, I dare say, got better.
Until sometime later when The Husband returned home from work extremely cheerful. He was whistling (which I loathe) and hug-gy (which I discourage) and generally jovial (which is… annoying). As he chewed his rice (loudly) at dinner, I silently considered kicking him in the knee and running out the front door. He smiled sincerely, “Rough day?” *sigh*
I realize, I am a JOY.
This odd and specific rage was remotely familiar to me and I pushed back my chair to take a deep breath, refill my drink, and check the calendar. I was shocked to realize I was more than a week ‘late’… though I hardly thought things would be back on track so soon after a 2-year biological hiatus.
As he cleared the table, I excused myself to the restroom where I located a lone pregnancy test in a blank wrapper at the very back of the cabinet. Three minutes later, I had one blue line in each window. But- no box. No instructions. No key to the puzzle.
I stomped into the kitchen. “I think I’m pregnant. I’m not sure because this test is old and I can’t remember the rules, but I think I’m pregnant.”
Curt, still holding a plate, was stunned. “Excuse me? What does this mean? This line… this negative line is a POSITIVE test? What does this mean?”
Days later, I called my conscience in Texas. “So, I might be pregnant but the test I took didn’t have any instructions. What’s your gut?” Ever the sanity in my life, she instructed me to go to the store and buy another test. “And then call me immediately.”
So, I did… because by this time I was nothing if not curious.
Twenty plus three minutes later (with a 4 year-old audience), I was staring at a faint positive.
Twenty plus FOUR minutes later, the 4 year-old emerged from the bathroom with bare buns and the extra pregnancy test.
“Did you use this?” I asked.
“Mom. On. Me. Pee Pee. Me.” she replied.
Ry’s test was negative, just to be clear.
Nearly one month after the first questionably positive test, I called my OB to set up an appointment. The nurse asked, of course, when my last period was… which I absolutely knew to be March 15. “Well!” she replied, “Usually we hear from folks sooner! We’d like to see you sometime this week since you’re already 10 weeks pregnant.”
Yes, well… there’s a story there. Some denial and some procrastination and also some other minor complications. But that is neither here nor there. Sometimes, this is just how it happens.
I confess I took one more test the day before my appointment out of complete and total fear that I would show up and be 100% NOT pregnant and then have to explain why I thought I WAS. I took the third and final test alone and without anyone knowing.
It was positive immediately, and -alone- I smiled whole-heartedly.
Little, you punched the air and did a flip when the ultrasound shed its light on you at our first appointment. You’re going to fit in here just fine. Take your time and grow strong. We cannot wait to meet you!