My Personal Worst Pregnancy Announcement

Anyone want to hear the story of the worst pregnancy announcement I ever heard?  Yes?  I’ll take that as a yes.

It was last August.  I was going to the beach with my family for a week, and Henry was coming to join us about halfway through.  Also due about halfway through the week?  My period.

I hadn’t told anyone in my family that we were trying.  However, I’m close enough with them that I would have told right away, so I was excited about the possibility of announcing a pregnancy on our annual family vacation.  I’d already worked it out, and if I was pregnant I’d be due around mid-April.

At this point I had monthly battle with myself over whether to take a pregnancy test before my period.  Every month, encouraged by women who posted on message boards about getting that second line seemingly hours after implantation, I would start testing four or five days before my period was due.  When the test was inevitably negative, I would exist in a state of see-sawing depression and hope, alternately crying and reading discussion threads with titles like “Anyone get a BFP after BFN 14DPO?”  There was always someone, so there was always hope, but my period always came.

I decided to force myself to wait this time by having Henry bring the tests if my period hadn’t started by the time he was coming.  Without the option of testing, I figured I could get my mind off of my possible pregnancy and relax.  It would have worked, too, if my boobs hadn’t started hurting on the drive to the beach.

This hurt was unlike any pre-period boob hurt I’d ever felt before; I once read someone describe pregnancy boob soreness as feeling like little zaps of lightning, and I swear that was exactly what I was feeling.  The whole four-hour trip, I would smile each time I felt a zap, certain that it was my body starting to build the milk-making machinery I’d need in nine months.  I didn’t need any test to tell me- I was pregnant!

The whole week I planned my announcement.  I created complicated mixing schemes to ensure that it wasn’t only my 16 year-old sister getting the virgin drinks.  I texted Henry “Make sure you bring the tests!”

When he arrived,  I ran into the bathroom, peed on a stick and… one line.  My heart broke.  I’d been feeling symptoms for days; if I was pregnant, there were enough hormones to get a positive.  I told myself that I’d try again in the morning, when the hormone would be more concentrated in my urine, but deep down I knew that it was over.  I emerged from the bathroom and tried to act normal as I watched a movie with my family.  When it was over, I went into my and Henry’s room and cried myself to sleep.

The next morning I woke up early with dark circles under my eyes and a splitting headache.  I took the second test into the bathroom.  Still nothing, except for a little bit of pink when I wiped; I was officially out.

My mom is also an early riser, and whenever I am sleeping in the same place as my parents we spend the hour or so before everyone else is up on the porch with our coffee.  I knew I’d never be able to get back to sleep, so I joined my mom outside.  I couldn’t decide whether or not to tell her; the words came to my lips several times but I chickened out at the last second.  I just wanted her to ask what was wrong, and finally she did.

“Honey, you seem sad. What’s wrong?”

[Bursting into tears] “Henry and I have been trying to get pregnant and it’s not working!”

“Oh, well, that’s exciting!  It’s ok, it’ll happen.  How long have you been trying?”

[I’m crying too hard to answer so I hold up four fingers]

“Four….” I see the wheels turning as she realizes that it can’t possibly be four years, “… months?”

[Nodding]

“Well that’s not that long, sometimes it takes a little while, especially with the first one.”

“But I really thought it had happened this month! And it doesn’t seem to take long for Tracy!” (Tracy is my super-fertile cousin who was pregnant within three months of getting married, and whose second baby had just recently turned one)

“Well, yeah, Tracy’s weirdly fertile, but It’ll happen for you when its time. Jeeze, from the way you were crying I thought Henry had cancer or something!”

We talked for a little while and I felt better, but still pretty sorry for myself.  The pity party lasted through the morning, until it was time to go back down to the beach after lunch.  Henry and I were walking ahead of everyone else, so I had a few minutes to breathe. “I’m not going to feel sorry for myself anymore,” I thought. “I’m in one of my favorite places in the world, and I am not going to let this ruin my week.  It’ll happen eventually.  I’m going to drink a very strong pina colada and have fun.”  I could literally feel the weight of the disappointment coming off of me.

I swear I’m not lying when I say that not two minutes later the rest of my family walked down to the beach, my sister running ahead. “Did you hear?” she said. “We just got a text – Tracy just found out that she’s pregnant again!  She’s due in April!”

Fuck. My. Life.  I grabbed Henry and said “Let’s go for a walk!”  As soon as I was out of sight of my family, I sat down on the beach and sobbed in front of all of the tourists.  It was the worst I would feel until the day I found out I needed IVF.

So, WHY am I telling this story now?

Because that’s the baby shower I’m going to on Saturday.