February 19th 2008...so there I was with a plus sign preggo stick in hand. My first thought was, "At last." My second thought was, "Oh...my...god." I've been here once before. Last year in May. That pregnancy ended sadly, but not uncommonly in an early miscarriage that was quite protracted and ultimately clinical and invasive. Here I was again deathly afraid that history might repeat itself.
I did some breathing exercises and let the sad thoughts slowly drift off before speeding (sorry baby!) out to Waimea to pull Nick out of his office with an early birthday card announcing, "You're going to be a Dad. Congrats!" I had picked out the card months before, with lovely thick paper and a small nest nestling a tiny bluebird egg, saving it for this exact purpose. It took him a second to actually get what I was on about but his happiness was clear and immediate.
The next day I was scheduled to see an dentist for which I always have to take an antibiotic due to a slight mitro valve prolapse. Would an antibiotic hurt a barely four week old zygote? embryo? I decided to ask my doctor when I went to pick up the prescription and was promptly given a pregnancy test by the nurse. And then another one. Both were negative.
Could it be that I'm actually not officially "late" until tomorrow? What about the two Sigg bottles I drank in the last two hours? I knew I was pregnant. The doctor shook his head, "Let's put it this way, if you actually are pregnant I'll have to reevaluate the brand of pregnancy tests we buy for the office." I felt like pounding my head against the wall but instead I did something worse, started crying. I hate feeling weakness in a clinical white room. Doctors and pregnancy, my ambivalence from last year started to creep back. I went to the lab for a blood test and was promised the results the next day.
The evening, another positive pregnancy test. The next morning, another positive pregnancy test. Nick then forbid me from peeing on any more sticks. "Enough already, we'll find out either way really soon."
Morning goes by...no phone call. Lunch passes...no phone call. 2pm my cell phone rings. "You're not pregnant."
But...the 3 positive tests I've taken? "There is something wrong with your urine" before hanging up.
Oh god...I've hysterically induced a pregnancy. I call Nick. Is it possible I've hysterically induced a pregnancy?
Phone rings again. Same doctor. "Lab mixed you up with someone else. Congratulations."
And so we were off...