So that was a shock…
After returning two days ago from our two week trip to Vegas (where, ironically, we partied like rock stars, drinking, smoking, staying out late, and even riding rollercoasters…), I found myself not overwhelmingly concerned about the lateness of my period. I mean, I’m nearly always late, but…
At some point this last week, I THOUGHT it had arrived, but really, it was barely there and lasted only a day or so… which got me to thinking….
I remembered that day a week or so before the trip, when I was topping up my tan in the backyard and suddenly retched up a large batch of ham that I’d eaten earlier…
I remembered the dream I’d had about two weeks after my last period when I imagined giving birth to a fullygrown girl-child who told me her name was Lubull. (WTF, right?)
I remembered the wild mood swings I was having from just after we arrived in Vegas. Anger so vivid that I several times stomped off into the Vegas wilderness without Mark, even abandoning him when he was loading our luggage into a taxi at one point…
I remembered Mark getting super drunk at a club and telling all his friends that his girlfriend would be the best mother ever and he couldn’t wait to have a baby “with little fingers and little toes!” For the rest of the trip, all his friends teased him mercilessly about it…
I remembered the sore breasts that I put down to imminent menses…
I remembered laughingly taking my mother aside after she’d met Mark and telling her how excited I was that he was on the same page as I was when it came to babies. Mom knew that my ex-husband had fobbed me off for years, so she was overjoyed to hear that “we’re not trying, but we’re thinking about not preventing it later this year…”
Before he went to work this morning, Mark (who shared in my half-hearted worry about being late) suggested I go and buy a test to put our minds at rest. Neither one of us was super concerned… I mean, I have PCOS and a history of fertility problems. And Mark had tried with his ex to get pregnant, and he’d had no results.
But just after the shops opened, I found myself at the local chemist, buying a two pack of home pregnancy tests.
I didn’t have to pee right away, so I whiled away part of the morning just playing online. I figured it was probably a good time to take a bath, so I began to run the water and strip down. Always one to pee before getting in the tub, I grabbed one of the tests and proceeded to read the directions. Fairly easy. Pee on the stick, wait three minutes. If one line shows up you’re fine. If two lines show up, you’re pregnant.
I had to look twice. Surely this couldn’t be real! I know I’d had all the symptoms and had ample opportunity to GET pregnant… but how the hell could it be true!? No, it must be a mistake. I have two tests… I’ll take the other one ASAP.
I got in the bath and sat there shellshocked for 90 minutes, staring across the room at that tiny plastic stick. Had my life just changed forever?? Was I going to be a mother??
No fucking way.
After guzzling my weight in Dr Pepper, I was ready to try again. I grabbed the second stick and carefully followed the directions perfectly. I waited until I had started peeing. I held the stick in the urine stream for exactly four seconds. I placed the cap and set it down on a flat surface.
I looked again…
Erm… So now we’re two for two…
Mark was at work. My mother lives thousands of miles away and is currently 8 hours behind me in time zones. My best friend is at work….
I felt as though I was going to explode. What could I do?
I thought about preparing a lavish dinner for Mark and telling him in the evening. I thought about calling my mother and waking her up to get her advice. I thought for a few minutes about jumping on a plane and leaving the country!
But mostly, I just thought, “Well… okay… we don’t have to panic… maybe BOTH tests are wrong…” I mean, they were cheap tests and could have just been defective, right?
Then another thought hit me… Mark and I’ve not even hit our 5 month anniversary together yet… I’ve only just moved in. If I’m pregnant, it must have happened sometime in mid-May, when we were barely three months into our relationship! What if he reacted badly?? Sure, he’s been saying since day 1 that he wanted to have babies with me and that he’d be overjoyed if I got pregnant… He even has taken to offering the thought after sex, “What if we just made a baby?” with a big soppy smile on his face…
But the reality is different. He might hate me. He might feel trapped. Hell, *I* feel trapped!
And let’s face it… I’ve had miscarriages before. Even if I AM pregnant, I’m only about 6 weeks in… Anything could happen. Do I even really need to tell him???
Yes. I really did.
So I called him. He was in his car driving to an office go-karting day out. I told him to pull over. He did.
I told him he was going to be a father.
It was terrifying. He was in as much shock as I was. But he said he was happy. He took it well… as good news. That was a blessing.
I had to wait a few more hours before he came home, and I spent them all on tenterhooks. When I heard him coming around the house, I tensed up and waited for a reaction. He came through the door, dropped his bag to the floor, looked at me for a few seconds, and then strode across the room to where I was sitting and enveloped me in a hug and passionate kiss.
He was happy.
Still not entirely convinced, I suggested we run straight to the store and buy another test… a more accurate one. He laughed and agreed. Off we trotted into town and got a digital Clearblue Easy test. We nearly RAN home, and I went straight to the bathroom.
This time, the answer was clear:
Mark and I are going to be parents.
Whatever I have to do, I will do. I will NOT lose this baby. I will love it and cherish it and do everything in my personal power to ensure it comes into this world happy and healthy.
This is what my life is for.