Chronicles of Pregnancy…Part I
A full-time job, a husband, two inside Golden Retrievers, a house, tennis two nights, multiple unfinished sewing projects, bible study, home group, church, volunteer work, and in-town family. That pretty much sums up my week/life. Am I crazy that I want to add a baby in the midst of all that? Sometimes when I have an especially bad week at work, a dirty house, an empty pantry, two stinky dogs that desperately need baths, and a neglected husband that needs attention, I begin to wonder if I’ve gone mental for even suggesting that I’m ready to start a family.
But then when I think about all of the joys of parenthood - that moment when you see the little plus in the window of the pregnancy test, the joy of sharing the news with our families, the unconditional love that is between the parents and the child, the feeling of pride when others see your baby for the first time , their first smile, first giggle, the first time they do something on their own, watching them grow up and become the people that you hoped they would be - when I think of all of that, it makes me want a child so desperately sometimes I can hardly breathe.
Now, I am not naive. I know that along with all those joys comes multiple heartaches and hard times, when the baby won’t stop crying and you can’t figure out what is wrong, the first time they get sick and no matter how much you want to make it better you can’t, all of those diapers and potty training, scrapes and bruises, the teenage years. I know all of those things come along with a child, but the joys outweigh the hard times by so much.
With all of this in mind and lots of prayers later, my husband and I decided we would try to get pregnant. We (or I rather) stopped taking birth control in March, but decided that our official “trying” start date would be June 1. I was so excited for June. For one because this meant I was going to feel like an official adult for the first time, plus we had not just one, but two most fertile days that month according to the pregnancy calendar. I had great plans for June. I was going to get pregnant right away, I know that the average couple takes six months to a year to get pregnant but I had high hopes. We were going to the beach the first week in July, when I was also going to find out I was pregnant, share this news with my husband in the spot where we got married (we got married at the beach!) with all this special stuff I secretly bought for him, and have a great week just the two of us knowing the special secret. Both of our mom’s birthdays are in July, so we had these great plans to throw them a big birthday party together with both families and give them gifts from the baby to break the news to them! We had BIG plans.
Sometimes I forget that God’s plans are not always my own plans. The first thing that threw off my plans was I was “late” in May. My first thought was, “Wow! We got pregnant and weren’t even really trying. How lucky am I?” I made my way down that Wal-Mart aisle, proudly purchased a pregnancy test, and brought it home. I could hardly sleep that night because I knew that tomorrow my life would change. I was going to be a mom. I got up early, took the test, sat on the edge of the toilet for the full three minutes, excitedly flipped that test over, and looked with a huge smile for that little plus sign, only to see a negative. What?!? I started later that day. Well that threw off the whole two fertile days in June. That should have been my warning.
While we were at the beach, I couldn’t decide, go ahead and buy a test, wait it out, I just couldn’t decide. Luckily the stress of the trip to Wal-Mart won out and I decided to wait until maybe it wasn’t so wild in there (fat chance of that happening, huh?!?). Darn the luck I started this time on the day I was scheduled to. With that one trip to the bathroom, all of my well thought out plans went down the tube. The one plus to finding out I wasn’t pregnant this way was I got to avoid seeing that disappointing little negative sign.
I got over my disappointment, enjoyed a beautiful day on the beach and set my sights on July. I decided maybe it was the stress of the first month, maybe all the pressures of my plans, who knew? I just knew July was a new month and I was ready to start the process all over again and this time be more relaxed about it. I wasn’t even going to think about it, I was just going to let it happen naturally, except maybe on my most fertile day…and maybe the few days before. But only on those days, the rest of the time I was going to be relaxed.
I mostly stuck to my plan, I only thought about it maybe once or twice…a day. July 31st was D-Day. The day came and went and nothing. I started to get a little excited but I was going to hold out. I couldn’t do it. I bought a test, took it the next morning, and there it was….the negative sign. I sighed a sigh of disappointment and got prepared to wait for my monthly visitor. I waited and waited. Every weird feeling, tingle, flinch, anything I was like “could I be pregnant or am I just going to start?” Finally after the 12th day of lateness, I decided to take another test. Everyone that I talked to (well only the two people that knew we were trying) had convinced me the first test was wrong. I went through all of the same motions that I did before, flipped over that test. Negative. I had to wait three more days to finally start. Let’s just say I was more than disappointed.
August is a new month. Again, I am trying the more relaxed approach. I’m not measuring or calculating any of the millions of little things that you can do to make it a science and not a process. I’m taking it day by day and just hoping that the next time I peer at a little stick, it has a positive sign. I’ve had my first few bouts with parenthood, joy over thinking I could be pregnant and the disappointment of realizing that I’m not. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.