Two Fridays ago, I decided that I'd had enough of peeing. There had to be a cause to this. I'd awakened several times the night before to pee and I woke up with resolve. I'd decided to go to Trader Joe's for the first time on my bike, with my spiffy new dual grocery baskets.
I called my OBGYN and made an appointment, on principle, for next Wednesday. This way I could skip home testing and if something else were wrong, we could handle it all at once.
No home pregnancy tests for me, no sir. I had wasted a good $12 or so the previous month, when in a fit of anger, my aunt convinced me that I must be pregnant and hormonal, rather than just fed up with some folks, I purchased a kit and used it a couple of days before my cycle was expected. The test was negative immediately.
This time, I'd waited until the day on my cycle, and even alloted a couple days for pilot error or funny counting. I was now about 2 days late no matter what type of math I was using. So I bought the test, silently with no word to my husband or anyone. Then I rationalized that I'd still wait until the end of the day to take the test, to still give Aunt Flo a chance to catch up.
No such thing happened. While riding home, I crossed paths w/my husband driving the opposite direction in my SUV, so I knew I'd have a chance now to take the test alone. Since he'd scoffed at my assertion at being pregnant the day before, I wanted to know first.
I get home, now a pro at test taking, get a dixie cup (no stream chasing for me, buddy) and prepare. When I insert the test into my vitamin-rich collection (gotta get your folic acid before you conceive, even if you're not sure you will) it started IMMEDIATELY to get the 2nd pink line. It said to wait three minutes, so I put it down and walked away, pretending to not know the answer just in case some funny business happened and it ended up negative despite the initial hint of YESSSSSSSS. I come back and, of course, it's TOTALLY positive. I smile, in awe, and go grab my camera to now document this most historic pee moment in my life to date.
6 pictures later, I hear Mark return from the bank. "There's something you should see in the bathroom," I tell him and he looks at the sticks and bursts into laughter. Then he hugs me and I proceed to photograph him with the stick. I tell him that his response is better than I'd expected, considering his scoffing the day before. He informs me that I thought I was informing him of a food baby when I'd showed off my tumescent belly the day before during some work deadline he was busy with. Silly boy.
So now, we're pregnant. And I'm nervous because the reason I knew I was pregnant, in addition to the constant need to potty was the fact that my ribcage felt like it was stretching and imploding in a manner similar to what I expect Michael Jackson's nose has done, and it didn't feel so good.
So I call my OBGYN to get an appointment, and I get one for Wednesday of the next week, the same day Mark's parents are coming to town.
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