I've written some blog entries since finding out I was pregnant, but haven't posted any until now. At first it was I simply couldn't post because we weren't telling anyone about baby until the end of the first trimester. Now I'm almost 15 weeks and everyone knows, but I've still been dealing with morning sickness, which has until recently been a 24-hour event for me. I've not had the brain power to post anything.  Then I had a medical issue (blog to come) and now currently a cold w/a double ear infection. I've been in bed or on the couch going on four days now. Maybe it's boredom, but I've decided to post a few of the blogs I've written.

The positive day...

Dec. 23

6:15a.m. (ish)

I’m tossing and turning in bed when I should be sound asleep cuddled up against my husband. I just can’t get comfortable. My stomach is a little upset. One continuous dialogue runs through my head. “You’re pregnant.“ “No, I’m not.” “You’re pregnant.” “No, I’m not. Shut up so I can go back to sleep.” “You’re pregnant.” “Leave me alone. I am not pregnant.”

And on it went for over an hour.

We’ve been trying to get pregnant for almost a year. Next week I’m planning to call my OB/GYN to schedule an appointment to discuss me not getting pregnant. I’ve had a rough few years medically in that area; including a surgery in July followed by several yeast and bacterial infection. I’ve always felt that I would need help getting pregnant. I went on the pill at age 18 because my cycle wouldn’t regulate. The few times I’ve gone off the pills in the last dozen years my cycle never got better. Women in my family have had to work with doctors to be able to conceive. With all that and my medical history I knew and accepted I would need help.

I should back up, before I make that call to the doctor, I need to have a talk with my husband. He’s always said he wasn’t sure about having kids after he turned 40; he turned 39 just a few weeks ago. I am step-mom to his two sons, ages 8 and 9, from his previous marriage. I don’t have the overwhelming urges to have a baby as some of the women I know have had. I know if I don’t have a baby, being mom to the boys is more than enough for me.

Yet, there is a part of me that says, “Try. At least give it a chance. See if your body even works.”

A year ago after talking to my husband about our life and what we want in the future, we decided to try to get pregnant. He may say he’s not sure about having a baby after 40, but he loves being a father and would love to expand our family.  And the last few months I have been feeling a little more anxious, even a bit desperate about having a baby. I just haven’t figured out if it’s desperate to have a baby, or desperate to healthy and able to do this.  So we need one more talk before I call the doctor, to make sure we're still on the same life page.

Since my cycle isn’t regular I’ve stocked up on pregnancy tests. I am a woman with back-up plans for my back-up plans so for my own piece of mind I take a test at day 30 or later; and sometimes take a second test if cycle is extremely late. I’ve got this test mastered and toss the instructions the moment I open a box.

For a 28-day cycle today would be the earliest I could start, but I’m always late so there’s no way I’m starting today. My parents and one of my brothers are coming out for Christmas. I’ve made myself promise myself not to take a test until they leave. I do NOT need my mom finding any used pregnancy test in the trash by mistake. I do NOT need to stress myself over this while my mom is here.

This is where life is, but the internal argument continued relentlessly.

“You’re pregnant.” “No, I am not. And I’m not going to take a test now just to confirm what I already know and chance that another minus sign on a stick will make me sad before my parents arrive. I do NOT need my mom asking about any future grandbabies while I’m drinking red wine at Christmas Eve dinner. I can’t guarantee the wine will help me be all nonchalant about it if she asks. I have a much better chance of holding it together if I don’t have the minus-sign confirmation. I am NOT PREGNANT!”

“You’re pregnant.”


Around 7:30 a.m. I make myself get up. I march to the bathroom and with my eyes closed in hope I can go back to sleep when all this is over, I pee on the stick. I lay the stick down. I watch because the two minus blue lines always come up so quickly as the urine is absorb throughout the stick. One blue line. Two blue lines. “See I told you. NOT pregnant.”

As I stand to wash my hands I see the faintest vertical line cross the big horizontal line to make a plus sign. I sit back down in disbelief.

I’m not sure how wide open my eyes are but I feel the shocked expression on my face. My heart is racing and my hands are shaking. “What? A positive sign?”

Now I’ve always thought of all the romantic ways to tell my dear husband that I’m pregnant. Cook him a meal and for dessert hand him the positive pregnancy test. Wear some risqué lingerie and await him to come in to the bedroom to see me all posed and holding the positive pregnancy test. These are just two of the scenarios that have played out in my head.

There are no thoughts in my head. I think my brain is even shaking. I find I can still walk though. I walk into our bedroom and say in a very shaky, hoarse voice, “Shawn, I need you to come here. Please come into the bathroom.”

He rolls over and groans. “Hmm? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Remember I’ve had some recent medical issues. He’s had to come to the bathroom to help me for other reasons. I could tell I worried him, but couldn’t respond with anything but, “come.”

He follows. “What is it?” He asks.

“Uh, well… uh, I’m pregnant?” I say in a question instead of in a statement.


“Do you see that faint line making a plus sign? That says I’m pregnant.”

“It does?”

“I think. I don’t have the directions anymore, but I’ve never gotten a plus sign before. It has to mean pregnant.”

By now he’s awake. “You’re pregnant? I wasn’t expecting this Christmas present!”

“Yes… I don’t know! I can’t be!”

“Do you have another test?”

“Yes, one more, but I don’t have to pee anymore!”

My heart has not slowed and my hands have not stopped shaking. “I’ll take the test tomorrow morning. The directions always say the first pee of the morning is the best.”

I don’t really remember the rest of the conversation. I know it was a lot of me not believing the test. Finally Shawn suggests we move back into the bedroom. He’d like to celebrate the news by repeating the love action that created the positive sign. “Yeah. Okay.”

Well, at least part of one of my scenarios to share the news of being pregnant with my husband came to be…