It was April 2011. After months of sadness, and just feeling like.... not myself, I had finally reached a turning point. I had accepted what happened to Jack, and though I wasn't "over it" because I'll never truly be over it, I was ready to look forward to the future. I hardly ever cried anymore, which was a huge change from the daily crying sessions I'd had in the fall.
We had talked in great depth about when it would be the "right" time to get pregnant again. Part of me wanted to get pregnant immediately, but I knew it wouldn't be fair to our future baby if I wasn't truly healed from our painful and traumatic experience. I wanted to enjoy a new pregnancy as much as I could, because I already knew it would be anxiety-ridden regardless.
I had resigned myself in that I knew if it was meant to be, it would happen when it was supposed to happen. Because don't we often look back on the life-altering moments in our lives and think "Man, that was good timing"?
On the morning of Saturday, April 16th, 2011, I woke up really early. Like really early for a Saturday. (Which makes me giggle now because I used to be able to sleep from 10pm to 10am every weekend - hahahaha!) I knew on that early morning if I were pregnant, a home pregnancy test would register positive.
But I didn't feel pregnant.
I had been pregnant before, but I felt nothing. No symptoms, no signs. Just that sense of "If its meant to be, it'll be." The other thing that was different about this day was that Jon said to me the week before "I think we're going to have a baby in December, and it's going to be a girl." He seemed so confident, so I was afraid to take a test because I didn't want him to be disappointed. I had also promised him that I wouldn't take a test "early" so as to not get a false negative and hold out hope when it wasn't going to happen this time.
But, like the good wife that I am, I ignored his request and stealthily snuck into the bathroom to grab a test. I had a bunch of really cheap tests, because after all, it only costs $1 to see if you're pregnant. Or 60 cents in my case - what a bargain!
So I take this cheapie test, and I don't see any second pink line.
Dammit. I was so bummed. I grabbed the stupid test in all of its smugness and went downstairs. I set it on the coffee table (gross!) just so I could wallow in my disappointment.
About 10 seconds later, my eyes did a double take. What the........ wait, what is that? Palms on the table in disbelief, I tried to adjust my eyes with the dim of the early morning.
No, that's not what I think it is.....
I walk outside and hold the test up to the light. Still in my PJs. Hello everyone in my neighborhood, why don't you come out at this exact moment. I didn't care.
There was a second line. A faint second line, but it was definitely there.
I ran upstairs and basically jumped on Jon and scared the dickens out of him. He thought he was being attacked in his sleep. Nope, just me! With tears in my eyes, I said:
"Merry Christmas, Daddy."
It took a second to register, and then he said.... "No way." I nod my head vigorously as I hand him my 60 cent test. "Do you see a line, is there a line, ohmygod if you don't see a line I'm going to cry even harder." He takes it into the bathroom, inspects it for about 10 seconds, and then gets a huge smile on his face.
"You're pregnant."
Now all of a sudden my cheapie test wasn't good enough. I ran to the store to buy a $17 test, just so I could see the most beautiful word I had ever seen:
 |
| Actual stick I peed on |
Now a year later, I can't imagine life any differently. That tiny pink line turned into this beautiful baby sitting on my lap right now, hitting the keys as I type.
And that's the story about how 60 cents changed the rest of my life.
