I woke up early that day, too eager to keep sleeping. That, in and of itself, is odd, as I much prefer five extra minutes of sleep to getting up early. I’d made myself wait until that day to take the test because I was too afraid of being disappointed and heartbroken like I was the month before. Anthony, since he was still on summer break, kept sleeping. I climbed out of bed and made my way to the bathroom to do my thing and take the test – without letting on that I was doing so. I tried not to stare anxiously at the test as I waited the requisite three minutes. This time, unlike last time, the test didn’t instantly turn negative. I left it in the bathroom and went out to the sink to brush my teeth…and watch the timer slowly, ever so slowly, go down to zero.
At last – long, long last – three minutes had passed. I went back in when, lo and behold, the test was positive. I smiled and tried not to squeal and wake Anthony up just yet. I snapped a few pictures of the positive test and tried to keep from bouncing off the walls. I went back out into our room and Anthony was stirring as he began to say something about testing that night or the next morning. I told him not to worry about it as I made my way over and showed him the positive test. Recalling the joy of that moment still brings tears to my eyes. The look on his face and the joy in his heart when he realized we were pregnant and well on our way to parenthood is a look I hope I never forget. We rejoiced at the little miracle that was already growing inside of me. It didn’t take long before I insisted – with obviously renewed vigor – that we paint the nursery. As I got ready for work we talked about names and hopes and dreams.
The drive to work seemed like a blur. We agreed to wait until we saw certain people, or could at least call them together, before we told people our news. We wanted to tell family before we posted our news on Facebook, and yet the knowledge that I was pregnant made it incredibly hard to focus at work. How long would it be before I began to show? When would I start getting sick? How would I manage work and morning sickness? How would I tell my boss – especially knowing that I was due right around Easter – among the craziest times of year for my department? How would people react? All questions that swirled around in my head. I snuck out of my office just after daily Mass to the parking lot where I called my doctor to schedule our first appointment.
Somehow the day passed by and I made my way home, stopping to pick up prenatal vitamins and a special journal to which I’d write to our child in throughout his or her life.
The joy of that day was simple – yet untainted by people’s less than stellar comments. The joy was pure, and it was ours, a miracle to revel in, the depths of which only one other could understand: the God who gifted this miracle to us. The joy was real and the fear was virtually no where to be found (except in wondering how sick I’d get – I loathe throwing up). The simplistic beauty of that day is something I often wish I could get back, or that I could have reveled in just a bit longer. Sure, we wanted to share our news, but looking back on it now, I wish we’d have let it just be for a little while longer. Either way, that day was beautiful – a day I wouldn’t trade for anything.
The days pressed on and the pregnancy has continued. Obviously I won’t be blogging about every single day of the pregnancy, but look for more posts in the coming weeks about different aspects of the pregnancy – the good, the joyful, the ugly, and everything in between.