The day I knew...

August 2, 2011

I woke up at 7:25am with a full bladder. Before I even opened my eyes I immediately thought, "Pregnancy Test! Pregnancy Test!"

I had a lot on my mind last night as I was falling asleep. I was thinking about the episodes of 24 your dad and I watched, all the things we had to get done, all the boxes we needed to pack for our move to San Diego, how great Nichole's wedding dress turned out (since I had just finished it) and how much I should charge her, and of course, my worry that I would forget to take one of those expensive pregnancy tests when I woke up in the morning with a full bladder. Quite the opposite of forgetting, I couldn't just lay in bed ignoring my need to use the bathroom like I usually attempt to. I was feeling fidgety and nervous, probably because I knew without taking the test that I was already pregnant.

So I got up, and in the dim morning light coming through the bathroom window, I made a good guess at my aim to take that pregnancy test. I washed my hands, then found a blanket to wrap around me as I sat on the couch and waited for what seemed like the longest three minutes I can remember.

I picked up the test stick that was sitting on the arm rest next to me. Was that... two lines? Was one just really light or was I imaging it?  I walked over to the window for more light.

Two lines. There were definitely two little pink lines.

I set the stick down on a shelf in the bathroom, unsure of what to do next, so I crawled back into bed where your dad was still fast asleep. As I did so, he rolled over and put an arm around me, pulling me closer to him and sighing with relief. Even in his unconscious sleeping state he loves me.

But I couldn't go back to sleep. I couldn't even keep my eyes closed. I scanned the bookshelf against the wall I was facing. I remembered that your Aunt Ashley had given me a pregnancy planner a while back because she didn't need it and thought I might find it useful some time relatively soon. I couldn't see it. I needed to find it. I needed to find something to grasp onto and answer the questions and concerns that kept filling up my mind.

I slipped back out of bed and got dressed. There was no way I could just lay there for another hour and a half until my alarm went off. I looked at the bookshelf and found the planner, hidden behind a larger notebook. I pulled it out and crept into the living room, sitting down in the armchair next to the big front window.

So many things ran through my mind: How far along was I? When would I be due? We don't have health insurance. How can we afford this? Who can I talk to? Everybody will talk to everyone else--I don't want to tell anyone yet. I don't want to tell my mom or Trina or Ashley yet. It's too early. I almost don't want to tell Bob.

I opened the planner and looked at what the first trimester will be like. I looked in the back at what was happening to you at this point, looking at images, reading about your growth, and trying to understand how tiny you were at that instant. I determined that I must be 3 or 4 weeks along. That means you'll be born close to my birthday.

I sat deep in thought for a little while. Just two days ago your Aunt Trina asked if I was pregnant because of some foreign old wive's tale someone had mentioned to her about Peyton's behavior that day at church. I'd said no, but the rest of the day I couldn't stop considering it. I was having some symptoms--I was gassy and had random stomach cramps, tenderness in certain places, and I'd thought I was just PMSing the other week, but if that was the case then I should have been menstruating by now if not sooner.

I spent a few hours online researching insurance and medicaid possibilities, signing up for free emails, tips, ideas, and baby products, and trying to get myself well aware of what to do next.

Your dad woke up around 9:00am when his alarm clock went off. After going to the bathroom he came out and sat next to me at the computer. He looked on the desk where I'd laid that pregnancy planner.
"Are we going to have a baby?" he asked.
"Maybe."
"Are you ok with that?"
After a pause I said, "I think so."

I guzzled water and took the other two pregnancy tests in the box at different times. I wanted to be sure. I didn't even have to wait three minutes for them--each time they came up with two pink lines within 15 seconds.

It wasn't until lunch time that I cried. I made chicken salad sandwiches and as your dad asked a blessing over the food, he specifically prayed for us, for you, and for our future. I'd been on the edge of tears on and off all morning, and that was finally what sent me over the edge. They weren't sad tears, or frightened tears, well--mostly not. They were tears of comfort and timid joy.

I can't imagine living life and enjoying eternity with anyone but your father. I can't imagine trusting anyone else to be a loving, protective, fun dad for you and your siblings other than him. Of course we'll figure everything out, and I trust that he'll work hard to make sure all of your needs and mine are provided for. I'll do my part, and he'll do his. We'll be the best parents we know how to be, and hopefully Heavenly Father knows what he's doing and knows that we're ready for you, or that we will be ready in 8 or 9 months.

We're so excited to meet you in this life, to see you as a brand new person, and hold you in our arms. I've been anticipating that moment when I'll get to hold your little body and spirit in my arms, knowing that our family is closer to being complete. I've agonized with tears of sadness, aching because I've missed you and wanted you to be here as my child so much. Although I'm nervous, I'm thrilled. These next several months are going to be full of challenges, memory-making, physical discomfort, spiritual growth, and most of all--absolute happiness at the thought of holding you in my arms--finally.

We love you. We always have, and we always will.