I am obsessed with taking pregnancy tests. I take them at work. I take them at home. In the past few days, I've been through a whole box of them. I have them lined up on my dresser at home, and obsessively compare the relative darkness of the second line, hoping (projecting?) that the second line is darker each day, indicating that my HcG levels are doubling as they ought to be and this baby is going to stay with us.
I have what is probably an irrational fear of miscarriage, due to the fact that I have known since I was a little girl that even though I am the oldest, I was my mother's fifth try at having a precious little baby. And the fact that my best friend had a miscarriage in February. And the fact that another friend who has been on fertility treatments has had two positives turn to negatives in the past few months. The way I feel right now -- when everything is just fine -- I just cannot imagine the anguish and heartache that surrounds multiple miscarriages, or any miscarriage, when a baby is soooo wanted. I don't want to worry too much, because that can't be good for this little bean inside me, but I am having trouble helping it.
We are scheduled to go to New Mexico next weekend, and we've made an emergency appointment with the doctor first, just to check in and make sure we are OK to travel. I've been looking forward to this trip for ages, but I don't want to do anything stupid and mess this up for us. It is probably OK to travel, but I'll feel better hearing that from a doctor than just reading it on the Internet.
This morning, as I was stepping into the bathroom, Mike looked at me standing in the doorway and remarked that my breasts looked a little larger than normal. I had been dying to take a pregnancy test any way, even though it was early yet, so I decided "what the heck?" and broke out the little stick to pee on. I was floored to actually see two blue lines, albeit faint. I put the stick down, took my shower, looked at the stick again, then went to find Mike in the dining room to show him. That second line was so darn faint, he was convinced it was probably a false positive, and it did seem awfully early to me. We went our separate ways to work.
But I couldn't concentrate. So I used the magic of the wonderful world wide web to research how pregnancy tests work, and discovered that false positives are relatively unheard of (unless you are taking certain medications that I was not taking). Then I researched which brand of home pregnancy test was the most sensitive. Then I went out to CVS and bought a 5 pack of the suckers, and ran right to the bathroom to take another test. Two pink lines.
We had already made plans to attend Krempasky's weekly happy hour at Jay's. So I went there in a daze. Ordered water, but then, that's not that unusual for me; I am not a heavey drinker. Tried to maintain a facade of conversation on the usual politics and work topics, although inside I was just screaming. Finally, Mike and I left, and I wanted to shout from the rooftops, but had to be patient. He was so wound up from his work day and from happy hour conversation, he was still talking away on those topics.
In the car, Mike started telling me about the good day he had had at work, including the promise of a check from a client that had previously not been forthcoming with payment. That's when I blurted it out -- "That's a good thing, because you're going to be a DADDY!" The look on Mike's face at that point was just priceless. Luckily, we were on a deserted side street, because his jaw dropped, his eyes went wide, and he was so taken aback he almost lost control of the car. We had been wanting this, but had resigned ourselves to the possibility that it would take a year or more for it to happen. We kissed, we cried, I explained about false positives, when we got home, I showed him the stick I brought home from work.
I'm pregnant. There are a million thoughts running through my mind. Will it stick? Is this really going to happen? Is there really going to be a baby in our lives on June 6? Will I feel different? I don't feel different right now. I am afraid to get my hopes up. And yet, I am so hopeful.