The line was so faint I had to put it up against a light bulb and stand back 4 feet to maybe kind of see it. The line was so faint if you squinted slightly it would disappear. The line was so faint my husband didn’t see it, didn’t believe me, and told me to test again tomorrow.
But I’ve taken approximately 99 billion negative pregnancy tests in my life. I know a microscopic positive line when I see one. It’s a gift.
My husband went to work unconvinced so I rationally packed up our child, headed to the pharmacy, spent his hard earned money on an expensive digital test, came home, took it, and took a picture of the beautiful word “pregnant” and smugly texted it to him.
He was overjoyed. I totally forgot that we should be celebrating because I was more interested in that fact that I was right and he was wrong. Then I was overjoyed as well.
Our family and five of my friends were told the good news before the pee was even dry on the test. Yes, I was only 3 weeks and 4 days pregnant. Yes, I hadn’t confirmed it with a blood test. Yes, I was way way WAY under the “safe zone” and my miscarriage risk was huge.
Given the fact that my first two pregnancies ended in miscarriage, some people expect me to be heavily guarded about sharing pregnancy news before I see a heartbeat or before the first trimester has passed. I understand people with a similar history who feel that way and I understand people actually wanting me to be more hesitant. But I can’t be hesitant.
Hiding my happy news isn’t going to stop bad things from happening. It certainly isn’t going to stop me from dreaming about gender, and names, and due dates, and personalities. It isn’t going to stop me from being utterly destroyed if I never get to meet the baby. The only thing hiding my pregnancy will do is save someone from an uncomfortable conversation if the worst happens.
But that conversation needs to be had.
It needs to be had so that others don’t feel alone when it happens to them. It needs to be had so that my child’s short but significant existence can be acknowledged. It needs to be had so if things do go horribly wrong, I don’t have to act like everything is fine.
I’m not good at acting like I’m happy when I’m not. And I’m not good at hiding happy news. Every person handles pregnancy and pregnancy loss differently. I just happen to be one of the outspoken ones. So here is my happy news.
I believe my rocky road to parenthood has given me an amazing gift. Yes, I will always dream and fantasize about the future, but I know intimately that the only guarantee I have is today. Today I am pregnant. Today I am happy.