Two years ago today, my dreams came true.
Gabe and I had been married for two months, and I had been telling him for a couple weeks that I was pregnant. I just knew it, basically the moment it happened. I just knew. It was hard to explain myself and my instincts and the subtle changes my body was already experiencing so he told me he'd believe it when he saw it.
I took the early response tests. THREE TIMES. I took them defiantly, pissing with pride, only to be slapped in the face with a single pink line when I was so sure I'd be able to show Gabe and say, "See? I knew it! Now, what do you want to name our baby?"
I was feeling dizzy, light headed, inexplicable hungry, uncontrollably tired, a little nauseous, and a little bloated. I went to work as usual, I went to classes as usual, and waited for the entire week to pass when my period was due to arrive. I was determined to wait until the end to take another test because then for sure it would validate me.
I didn't know it until this long, long week, but I was taking the pregnancy tests at the wrong time of day. I had taken them in the evenings when I should have been peeing on the stick first thing in the morning when the pregnancy hormones are most present.
And, like with my driving test, fourth time was a charm.
My alarm went off early on the morning of October 14, 2006. It was a Saturday and I was due to open at work. Gabe had the day off. I moved more swiftly to the bathroom than I do most mornings, and Gabe followed. Our eyes were barely open, but I sat down and held on real tight while I unwrapped the pregnancy test. Gabe sat on the edge of the tub, his tired head in his hands. I aimed and peed. I waited, having promised myself not to look until the time was up. I peeked a little early and there it was.
Yes, I know that's the same photo two times, but I am posting it again to stress to you how elated I was. Not only was there the simple, "I was right, neener neener neener!" but there was the huge, ground-shaking, life-changing, HOLYSHITWHATDOWEDONOW excitement of being pregnant for the first time.
I looked at Gabe. He may have fallen back asleep, right there on his perch on the edge of the tub. "I'm pregnant," I whispered.
And he smiled, and we hugged, and danced around the bathroom, and hugged and kissed, and cried a little. We hadn't been trying to get pregnant but we'd left it up to our bodies to decide for us. I didn't think it would happen right away because I only have one ovary and I'd convinced myself that would matter. But apparently by right ovary is pretty kick-ass.
I didn't want to go to work. I wanted to call in sick and stay home with Gabe, and talk about baby names and birth plans and where to live and breastfeeding and midwives and how beautiful our baby was going to be. But I pulled myself away from him somehow and arrived at work bright and early and smiled like a fool all day.
A pregnant fool.
I was so excited that I started taking belly pictures really early.
This is the first one, taken two and a half weeks later. I know, I don't look pregnant at first sight. But I was unable to suck in that little bump and whenever someone said to me, "What belly?" I pointed at it and said, "But I can't suck it in! It won't move!" This was also right around the time of my first ultrasound, when our baby was still a little bean. His heartbeat was audible, and we were amazed.
A month and a half after that, I was still working on the belly. It just looked like I had eaten a big meal but still, that belly wasn't going anywhere and I was really excited about not being able to suck it in.
That's the time when you can be happy about something like that.
Ok, I've meandered- something that's all too common for me. But today, I celebrate my pregnancy and my body and my breathtaking son. It's been two pretty sweet years.
That's an understatement.