Thursday, February 16, 2012


I woke up, wide awake the morning of January 24th. It was my mother's birthday. My period was scheduled to start that day, or possibly the day before. In an effort to not wake up B, I quietly rummaged through my bathroom drawer searching for the "early-result" pregnancy test I had purchased at walmart the month before. In December, I had found myself peeing on several sticks on Christmas Eve, Christmas morning, hoping and praying that I would be able to announce our pregnancy while opening gifts with my parents and brother. No. Such. Luck. I had driven myself crazy staring at the pregnancy tests, willing that second pink line to appear.

This time, the second pink line turned pink, dark pink instantly. I said a prayer and burst out of the bathroom to my sleeping husband. "Babe!!! I'm pregnant!" I screamed. He seemed shocked and scared, and still sleepy. I was expecting him to jump up and celebrate but his eyes told of his worry. I was worried too, but I still wanted this moment of joy. We'd been so disappointed when December didn't work out for us. I climbed back into bed and he held me tight and we calculated the due date. It would be right around our anniversary if baby stayed put for 40 weeks.
It was still early, so I texted my mom "Happy Birthday, Grandma!!" With a picture of the test attached. She could not believe it. It was a very happy day, but of course the wheels of worry started to spin from all angles. My dad was texting me to take it easy, not to lift the dog. Mom was telling me to call the Dr. Unlike the last time I was pregnant, I was ready to tell everyone. I figured, if anything happened again, I would need my friends to know about it, so in my mind it didn't make sense to hold back.