My heart was about to beat out of my chest.
Answer. Answer. Please answer.
“Hello?”
“Dear, I can’t make it to lunch today — I just got a noon assignment for the Journal Sentinel.”
“OK, I will just see you tonight.”
“Sounds good, bye bye.”
He bought it. My story was so typical, he barely blinked.
I grabbed my keys, hopped in the car and headed to Target. There was no assignment; I just couldn’t eat sushi — not now, not for the next nine months. And I sure wasn’t going to tell my husband the news over the phone.
They say a double pink line confirms. But honestly, the body I’ve trusted for 28 years told me weeks before. All that extra pink line did for me on Good Friday morning was give me a dang heart attack … while I was home alone.
I parked my car, walked into the store and picked up a little red shopping basket. Target will never realize the retail therapy it’s provided me through the years — what better place to be while recovering from the shock and excitement of a positive home pregnancy test. As I headed straight to the kid’s section, I heard every tiny voice, every little cry, every angry scream. This is going to be me, I thought as I sorted through miniature blue jeans and newborn swimming suits. I was in search of a children’s shirt with the words, “Big Sister.”
Let me explain: I never wanted to be the woman who stuck a pee stick in her husband’s face and proclaimed, “I’m pregnant!” Gross. I once read a story about a lady who wrapped her positive pregnancy test in a Chipotle burrito and gave it to her husband the moment he got home from work. In my book, that’s a total waste of a delicious burrito. I quickly decided the pee stick was out.
So what’s about half as crazy as sticking your pregnancy test in a burrito? Buying a Big Sister shirt for your dog. Duh.
Best $7.99 I ever spent. Period.
Hours later, I found myself pacing back and forth in our living room. Couch, window, repeat. “I’m so nervous!” I said to Mya as she sat on her pillow, dressed in her t-shirt. I had one camera set up on a tripod, filming video, and another camera in hand.
Within minutes, Tommy turned down our street. He got the mail, parked his car, unlocked the door and walked in.
Here’s where human reaction becomes unpredictable: Tommy wasn’t the least bit phased I was shooting pictures of him the moment he stepped in the door. Because that’s what I do, right? He looked at Mya, dressed in her ridiculous shirt, and said with a smile on his face, “What are you wearing?”
He walked a little closer, put down his keys, and read aloud, “Big Sister.”
He looked at Mya. Looked at me. Looked at Mya. Looked at me. The dots connected. “Are you pregnant??”
I set down my camera and told him, Yes, he was going to be a dad. We hugged. We were shaking. We were laughing. We were nervous. We were excited. Mya anxiously remained on her pillow, wearing her silly shirt. From that very moment, our lives changed. Some days, the change is amazing. Other days, it’s nothing short of terrifying. But I wouldn’t trade this blessing for the world.
I’m currently about 14 weeks along. (Yay, we’re in the second trimester!) Our baby is due Jan. 1. Remember when I said I heard every cry, every scream in Target the day I found out? When I nervously thought to myself, “This is going to be me?” It’s amazing how God makes you ready. He has a way of saying, “Yes, it IS going to be you, and pregnancy is nothing short of a miracle, so please don’t take it for granted. Not for even a second.”
This pregnancy hasn’t been text book. It hasn’t been all roses. But it’s still the greatest blessing ever.
Over Easter weekend, Tommy and I reveled in our secret. Although, something about the secret didn’t feel quite right. I was having some major pain in my left side. As my family was enjoying their ham and hot cross buns, I was quietly Google’ing my symptoms on Tommy’s iPhone. Monday morning, we headed straight to the doctor.
Throughout the week, I had blood drawn — the results indicated miscarriage. Tommy and I held hands through ultrasounds that showed no baby. I cried in the doctor’s office as he suspected an ectopic pregnancy. We learned about slow-rising HCG levels, methotrexate injections used to stop any growth, and most of all, we learned about faith. After countless prayers, days of waiting, four ultrasounds, three rounds of blood work, two incredibly supportive doctors, and one angel ultrasound technician named Julie, a miracle happened: We found the baby in the right place, and my levels started rising appropriately.
As for the pain in my left side? It wasn’t ectopic. It’s a fibroid. Unfortunately, I have a very large, non-cancerous tumor attached to my uterus. It causes me pain and makes me look a little further along than I actually am. Beyond that, we’re concentrating on the baby. I’ve learned not to Google “fibroids during pregnancy” and instead, say a prayer for our precious little miracle. Yes, fibroids can cause complications. Yes, my fibroid is really big. And no, I never knew I had it until I got pregnant. No signs, no symptoms, no nothing. I didn’t cause it, and I can’t get rid of it on my own. (Although, I can try my hardest to beat it.) 🙂 In the end, this pregnancy is about a tiny little baby. It’s not about a fibroid. And Tommy and I couldn’t be more excited for the next chapter in our lives.
“Every good and perfect gift is from above … ” James 1:17
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