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Sorry to make you wait! But not that sorry, because I’m going to make you wait a little longer while I take us back in time to Monday, a couple of hours after I wrote that last post.

On Monday Baltimore was hit by a freak spring snowstorm, and my office was closed for the day. I was home alone all alone with the pregnancy tests, with nothing planned to occupy my time.  By the early afternoon, I was going crazy.  Since the snow had turned to rain and I still needed to complete my outfit for my niece’s baptism on Sunday, I decided to go shopping.

I pulled on some jeans, put my hair in a ponytail, and went to the bathroom.  And when I wiped, I saw it: the tiniest little bit of blood, that amount of spotting that only someone who really wants or really doesn’t want their period to arrive can see.

I wasn’t sad; I was angry.  After this cycle, where everything has seemed to go so perfectly, THIS is how it was going to end, with my period overcoming the power of the progesterone supplements to start a full three days early?  I’d been so good about not testing, and yet I was STILL going to find out I wasn’t pregnant while I was alone and sitting on the toilet?  No way was I going to let that happen.

I pulled our step ladder out of the closet, dragged it over to where Henry had “hidden” the tests, and pulled them down.  I went back to the bathroom, grabbed a cup, and managed to squeeze out just enough urine to submerge the tip of the test.  I dipped it before I had time to think. I braced myself for the tsunami of disappointment that was about to hit.

And then, slowly, it appeared: that second line that I never really believed was there. For the first time in my entire life, I had produced a positive pregnancy test.

I wasn’t even really happy, I was just confused.  I had braced myself so hard against the disappointment, and I couldn’t switch gears that quickly. So I snapped a picture of the test and texted it to Henry, with the caption “Henry…”  I think his reaction was the same as mine, because he texted back “Is that real?”

I assured him that it was. We talked some more.  I practiced smiling, which felt wrong, like by showing any sign of happiness I was going to jinx it.  I called my nurse and left a message in case she wanted to move my beta to Tuesday.  And then, because I suddenly had a LOT of nervous energy to spare and there really wasn’t anything else to be done at that moment, I continued on my shopping trip.  It was a little surreal.

Now what you have to understand is that at that point I really didn’t know whether or not to believe it.  First of all, there was that spotting to contend with: what was that?  Second of all, after what happened last time, I didn’t really trust the positive.  I never took a HPT last time but I’m assuming that at a certain point I probably would have tested positive.  I didn’t want to get too excited, only to have the tests get lighter instead of darker, or have the nurse say once again, “Well, it is a positive, but it’s a really low positive.”  So, at that point, it felt less like a guarantee than just a glimmer of hope, another piece of good news in the process, like a great fertilization report.

Henry and I tiptoed around it for the next two days.  I practiced saying the words “I’m pregnant,” which felt weird.  I started a secret Pinterest board and began repinning anything with “Things You Need to Know about The First Trimester/Pregnancy/Childbirth/Newborns!” in the caption.  I lied to my mom, told her we had decided not to test until the beta (which was still on for Wednesday).  But the spotting never reappeared, and the tests (4 in all) got darker.
 

Wednesday morning I went for my bloodwork.  I showed the nurse a photo of my most recent pregnancy test, and she complimented the nice dark line.  I was nervous all morning at work.  I added my due date to my Babycenter profile, then deleted it ten seconds later, afraid of angering the gods before the number was in.  Finally, the call came…. 305!

I called Henry. I called my mom.  After work I talked to my brother, my sister, and my best friend.  Henry called his mom and dad.  I said “I’m pregnant” with a little more confidence.  And I immediately started worrying about the next step, and all the things that could still go wrong – a number that doesn’t double, a period that starts anyway, an ectopic pregnancy, a blighted ovum, a miscarriage.

My next beta is tomorrow, so I’ll hopefully get some reassurance then.  But, as I keep reminding myself, today I am pregnant. I’m going to enjoy it.

10dp5dt