A Positive Result
Ah, there’s nothing like seeing that faint little pink line appear on your pregnancy test. One day, I’m a married chick with five dogs and a cat and a 12-year-old boy’s sense of humor and the next, I’m about to be someone’s mom.
You see, when a man and a woman really love each other—and they know this to be true because they’ve found every which way of annoying one another for over a decade and still manage to stay together—they decide to make the woman pee in a stick to figure out when she’s ovulating. And one magical day, a digital smiley face flashes across the pee stick and it’s GO TIME!
What happens next is that magical five minutes where babies are made (just kidding, it rarely takes that long) and the ten minutes afterward where the woman lays flat on her back with her feet up in the air for good measure.
And, that’s how babies are made, kids!
At least the ones you planned. My first two pregnancies were surprises, that unfortunately, I lost early on. I’d spent the last three years getting myself into shape, Crossfitting, quitting smoking and drinking, and getting my act together to be healthy mom material, whatever I thought that meant.
The day of the smiley face was a great one. I remember being really excited because it’d been a long time since I’d seen one, and I was convinced there was something wrong with me. It also happened to pop up on Father’s Day, which my husband felt was a good omen. Apparently, all the good sperms come out with their A game on Father’s Day. My husband tells me it’s all very primal and biological…supposedly. Whatever gets you intentional with the baby making, Big Guy.
He spent the rest of that week high fiving me and saying things like “I think we got it this time!” I appreciated the enthusiasm.
So, after that enchanting moment where man and woman come together are the weeks of waiting for a suitable time to take a pregnancy test. Me personally, I started taking them ten days after. Ladies, if I can offer you any advice about pregnancy tests, it’s this: I’m not going to try and stop you from compulsively testing every day.
But please please PLEASE don’t waste your money on the expensive tests. The little 88 cent ones will do just fine.
And spoiler alert: Those are the same ones they use in hospitals (I know this from experience). So, save yourself a couple bucks and test your butt off to your heart’s content!
Because, if you’re anything like me, you’ll take a bunch of tests for like a week afterward too because one test just doesn’t feel real enough.
When I saw my faint little pink line, I grabbed my test and climbed back into bed with Hubs. This part was actually really cute. No, really.
“Hey, you know what?” I said.
“I’m really glad you’re happy at your new job. It’s nice that we get to work from home together.”
“I like it.”
“It’s nice to see you so happy.”
“Hey, guess what?”
“We’re gonna have a baby!”
He hugged me and I showed him my test, which I understand is a little gross, but whatever.
“Do you see it? It’s faint but it’s there.”
“Well, how about that? I told you.”
“Told me what?”
“Father’s Day. I knew I did it.”
We spent the day telling my mom and my friends and my sister. We talked about how different things would be this time because I was healthier and the last two happened so close together.
“I’m healthy. There’s nothing to worry about this time. This is gonna be fun!” I remember saying.
And it was. For about two weeks. And then the puking started. And the all-day sea-sickness. And the crippling fatigue. And the going days without pooping. And the light spotting that sent me into panic mode and an unnecessary trip to the ER.
Who knew you didn’t need to go to the ER for just spotting?
I never figured myself for a fearful person. I was all ready to approach this pregnancy all cool, calm, and collected. You know, ready to put my behind in my past and all that.
Funny how things just creep up on you (especially any unresolved feelings you have) when you’re sick, tired, and hormonal and suddenly crippled with worry about this little life you’re growing inside of you.
Cool? Not anymore.
Calm? What is that again? I spend a good portion of my day wondering if I’m experiencing a miscarriage or gas. Spoiler Alert: 90% of the time it’s gas and 10% of the time it’s my uterus stretching because it needs to do that to accommodate that human growing inside you.
Collected? Two days ago, I sobbed outside a bakery because there was a dead hummingbird on the sidewalk.
Pregnancy. It’s a freaking miracle.
About the Author: Alicia Barksdale is the Managing Writer & Editor for Gold Anchor Publications, LLC, a freelance writing and consulting service. You can follow her on Instagram @hi_fitlicia and read her blog at AliciaBarksdale.com.