Getting pregnant is like navigating your way around a foreign country with a crinkled up road map. Some women stumble upon on it accidentally on their way to some other exotic and exciting destinations like Romance or Commitment and others hold it every which way, scrutinizing every intersecting path to determine the best route. If you’ve ever cracked open a home pregnancy test and/or held it up to the light, you are the second type. Join the club my friend because you’re in good company.
For most women you spend so much of your young adult life trying not to get pregnant that when you do decide to change tacks and head for that new exciting destination of parenthood you are suddenly and sometimes inexplicably in a hurry to get to this place you’ve been avoiding for so long. What stands between us and happiness is that one little line.
I apologize in advance to all the men out there who like to wait around with their significant other, counting the seconds until they can go read their future on a little plastic home pregnancy test, but I can’t handle that kind of pressure. Am I supposed to hide my disappointment if it reads negative and humor you when you say, “there’s always next month.” I don’t know if men can really appreciate the anxiety ridden experience of peeing on a little stick so you know what the rest of your life is going to look like. Sure you may be going on the trip too, but women know that while you’re drinking champagne in first class, we’re piloting the plane.
Since my first positive test, I’ve learned a lot about the type of woman I am, and the type of mom I’ve become. The first time, I can still hear my voice shouting “Oh MY GOD!” so loud my husband told me later he was sure that whatever it was (he assumed the roof was caving in or something equally horrendous) was going to cost a LOT of money. Since losing that pregnancy, I look at those little tests differently. I worry about how dark the line is and if that means something about whether or not this pregnancy will be ok. I can’t wander into pregnancy the way I once did.
The first time around I was sure that losing my baby was my fault and the experience of having to say the words out loud was humiliating and awful. Listening to everyone trying to make me feel better only made me feel worse. Two healthy babies later, I know that there is nothing I did or didn’t do, say or didn’t say that caused that miscarriage. I would love to say that I’m super brave now; that the thought doesn’t catch me unaware and take me back to that awful place. But at least I know now that this is just a part of life. The fact that any of us is here is nothing short of a miracle.
I’m expecting my miracle in July 2014!
Feel free to share your good news here, even if it’s anonymously.