I have ghosted my blog for several reasons. Shame, fear, inauthenticity, happiness, being overwhelmed, sick, lost, limited in time. All valid and all related to surviving loss.
September 26th, 2019, I woke up really early to go on a run. While making my coffee, I randomly decided to take a pregnancy test. Not because Matt and I had been trying to conceive but because I had been symptom spotting with an IVF friend of mine recently. The month prior was her symptom spotting and testing. And then a few weeks later I had mentioned some twinges that I had in a similar timeframe with Hannah and Heidi’s pregnancy (even though their pregnancy was IVF). So that Thursday morning I was approximately 9DPO. I POAS (peed on a stick) and made my coffee from my Keurig.
At first glance, I immediately called it a BFN (big fat negative) and sent a message to my IVF buddy at 4:45am! My coffee finished brewing and I stirred in some cream and sugar. I gave one more glance at the cheap Walmart 88 cent pregnancy test sitting under my stove light in my dark, quiet kitchen.
A FRICKING LINE WAS THERE.
Clear as day a line. On a pregnancy test. Taken on a whim. At 4:45am on a Thursday. NOT with IVF.
I started to panic, thinking, “this cannot be real. OMG.”
I send multiple pictures to my IVF friend.
Then to another friend in PA.
Then to my IVF birth group with the girls.
Then to my local IVF group.
Then to my local Phoenix friend.
And finally, to my midwife I had with Porter asking, “Could this be real?”
Remember this is at 4:45 in the morning. My entire house is asleep and I am in my kitchen having a photoshoot with a plastic pregnancy test that has pee on it while in my pajamas.
My midwife, Michelle, immediately texts me back.
“Can I come in for a beta?”
“Yes, any time after 8am.”
(Guess who was there right at 8am?)
All the people I had blasted 5 minutes prior were responding with the same reaction.
“OMG NO FRICKING WAY!”
As all this started sinking in and the line on the pregnancy test settles, it seems surreal and undeniable at the same time. I am not like other women out there that come up with adorable sweet ways to tell their husbands they are pregnant. No. Not me. Once upon a time before trying to conceive led us to the world of infertility, I planned all the cute ways to tell Matt we made a baby. But that wasn’t me anymore. So naturally, I walk into our bedroom, now it is 5am, and immediately turn on the lights and loudly announce, “I need you to look at something.”
There was no “Good morning, baby. Can I talk to you about something?”
Nope. Before he could even open both eyes, I was standing in front of him shoving a pregnancy test in his face. This poor patient man, stunned, drowsy and blinded at 5am, sat up and stared at a pregnancy test.
Matt is no novice at staring at pregnancy tests. He was equally there with my staring at early pregnancy lines with every pregnancy. He saw the line, looked up at me and said, “What? You’re pregnant? How?”
After this was a blur! I remember putting my hands-on Matt’s shoulders and repeating “HOW!? OMG!” There was a line. A solid early line on a pregnancy test. We both could not believe it that this could happen to us after everything we went through.
But it did because God.
TO BE CONTINUED…